Archive for November, 2015

Hot on the heals of their stunning second album, Post War Glamour Girls offer up one of the album’s (many) standout tracks, ‘Cannonball Villages’ as a digital single . It’s backed with a 12-minute remix courtesy of Richard Formby, cult producer and Wild Beasts collaborator. It perhaps goes without saying that it’s stonking. Get streaming below.


Cult of Luna and The Old Wind will be releasing an epic riff-filled EP together on 29th January via Pelagic Records. The label have posted a teaser trailer which you can watch below. We’d reccomend you do.


In reaction to the current refugee crisis, Martin Creed presents a brand new body of audiovisual work. Comprising “Let Them In” and “Border Control”, this is the Turner Prize winning artist’s sharp, pithy response to the humanitarian disaster. In keeping with his two albums, “Love To You” and “Mind Trap”, both are gloriously succinct yet potent bursts of buoyant, ramshackle pop, albeit underlaid this time around with an urgent call to arms.

Kudos to Creed. Bono he isn’t.

Stream the tracks below and download them for free from Telephone Records.


Christopher Nosnibor

As something of a newcomer to Chelsea Wolfe’s work, having discovered her through her latest album, and having since heard many positive comments on her live performances, I was eager to witness one for myself, and to experience the impact of the tracks from Abyss in person.

There’s not a lot to say about support act Masakichi: for all the layered, atmospheric guitar work and enticing intros, they fail to really present anything beyond mediocre – and by design, commercial – folk-tinged rock. Halfway through the fourth song, they amped it up and hinted that they’re capable of much more, but on the strength of this outing, they prefer to play it safe and likely have an eye on the mass market with their Cranberries meets Warpaint stylings, the hints of ethereal celtic-folk seemingly an affectation rather than a blood-deep influence.



I find myself wondering while waiting for the main event if the guy and girl to my left are a couple or brother and sister. The place is packing out fast now, and a hipster couple bustle their way to the front and stand next to me. He has the obligatory beard and slicked-back short back and sides, his denim jacket sleeves rolled just so to reveal the cuff of his plaid shirt, turned up to reveal the sleeve tattoo which encroached to the lower reaches of his wrist; her vest top displaying a similar array of tattoos, plus designs on her thumb and the back of her hand, weighted with chunky rings. There were a fair few such clones in the crowd, although it was pleasing to observe a fairly broad demographic more generally.

The regular PA mix gives way to some dramatic choral and orchestral music, building the drama nicely before bang on nine-thirty, the backing band, led by drummer Dylan Fujioka, walked onto the dimly-lit stage. Striking up and unleashing a thunderous sound, it’s a mighty intro as Chelsea Wolfe herself appears to head the sonic demolition of Abyss’ opener, ‘Carrion Flowers’. Immersed in a deep smog of gut-churning bass violent bursts of noise, I’m reminded of Swans and Cranes: the jarring force of the instrumentation coupled with Chelsea’s voice, which reaches the parts other vocalists don’t even know exist, combine to create an experience that’s spine-chilling.

Chelsea is an incredible, towering presence, and not just physically (she is tall, and wears four-inch heels, and twists her ankles in some crazy contortions while playing the guitar). Her voice is something else, barely of this world. And when she ditches the guitar in favour of a pair of maracas and stalks the stage dangerously, as she does during the languorous ‘House of Metal’, it’s utterly compelling. Yet when she speaks between songs – which she does only very rarely – she’s barely audible.


Chelsea Wolfe

That the set draws heavily on Abyss is something I’m certainly not about to complain about. ‘We Hit A Wall’ is noteworthy for some mammoth drumming, which dominates the sound over screeds of overloading guitar bursts. The tumultuous percussion counterpoints beautiful, soaring dramatics of Chelsea’s vocals again on ‘Maw’, perhaps the closest thing to a pop song in the set. That said, ‘Iron Moon’ is one of the most magnificently doomy epics you’re likely to hear. The quiet / loud dynamic still works like nothing else when well executed, and as she belts out the colossal chorus, I melt.

It’s all about the contrasts, of course: to paraphrase from a previous album title, Chelsea and her band channel beauty and pain, and moreover, the beauty in pain. The lighting is minimal, and in terms of performance, there isn’t much to see: and yet as a show, it’s utterly transfixing. It’s not only Chelsea herself, but her band: they’re not simply playing the songs, but channelling everything that the songs contain.

Zola Jesus would also stand as a fitting comparison in some respects. ‘After the Fall’ explodes in a deluge of overdriven bass, and ‘Survive’ whips up a maelstrom of utterly devastating proportions. Again and again, Fujioka’s drumming stands out, the dynamism of his playing equalled by his force. ‘Colour of Blood’ runs thick with a dense, sludgy bass, again standing as the perfect contrast with Wolfe’s hauntingly evocative vocals.

Chelsea Wolfe cntrast

Chelsea Wolfe

The encore concludes with the dolorous ‘Pale on Pale’ from 2011’s Apokalypsis, and it’s truly hypnotic. Chelsea leaves the stage while the rest of the band wring the final squalls of feedback from their instruments amidst a crashing thrash of cymbals. The rapturous applause is well deserved.


Some nights everything comes together. In a venue that’s not only my favourite my miles, but ones that’s received manifold plaudits and is loved by all who attend, not to mention the bands who play there, an outstanding artist played an outstanding set to a respectful and abundantly appreciative – and diverse – audience, with immaculate sound in every corner of the venue. It doesn’t get much better than this.

Something of a neoprog supergroup, The Mute Gods are a brand new band centred around renowned bassist, chapman stick player & vocalist Nick Beggs, accompanied by drummer Marco Minnemann (Steven Wilson), and long-time Steve Hackett collaborator & keyboardist Roger King. Their debut album, Do Nothing Till You Hear from Me is set for release on 22nd January 2016. Ahead of this, they’ve unveiled a video for the title track. It’s no criticism to note that it sounds as you might expect. You can check it out here:

Fuzzkill Records – 19th December 2015

James Wells

“I am just emailing to ask if you would be interested in reviewing ‘Rainbow Yawn’ the new EP by Breakfast MUFF?” asks the email from the label, and forwarded by my editor.

Of course I am. The band is called Breakfast MUFF, for a start. Oh, and their record – sorry, cassette – is being released by Fuzzkill records. So, while there’s likely a most apposite SuperFuzz BigMUFF reference-cum-gag to be made there, the label and band name serve as recommendations in themselves, and what’s more, Breakfast MUFF – a three-piece glitter-trash punk band from Glasgow – describe themselves as, ‘Like Hole, but funnier’. Of course, much as I love Hole (at least the first couple of albums, the later stuff, not so much), ‘funny’ isn’t a word I, or anyone else is likely to associate with them. Consequently, I’m sold on Breakfast MUFF (note the shouting capitals of ‘MUFF’ there, too) before I even hear the music. The audacity and attitude is in your face from the outset.

And it so happens that, as you’d perhaps expect, the songs are scuzzy, lo-fi punky grunge-pop, like Shonen Knife if they’d come from Glasgow and had recorded their songs on a 4-track in one of their parents’ garages. Spiky, abrasive but bouncy and fun, overproduction isn’t an accusation you could level at this lot. But that’s precisely what makes them cool.

Breakfast MUFF

Ritual Productions recently announced the signing of The Poisoned Glass, a duo comprised of two members of the legendary doom band Burning Witch – vocalist Edgy59 and bassist G.Stuart Dahlquist. Ahead of their album, 10 Swords, scheduled for release in 2016, they’ve paired up with artist Richard Forbes-Hamilton to produce a short film by way of an album trailer.

The film entitled ‘The Final Act of Geng Yaoting’, by artist Richard Forbes-Hamilton, uses a mixture of oil painting and digital animation to tell a terrifying tale of the process between dreaming and dying; the conscious and unconscious. Made ever more chilling with Dahlquist’s droning detuned bass, siren-like organ and Edgy59’s unbridled and jarring tenor, the film offers sonic snippets of new The Poisoned Glass songs ‘Low Spirits’, ‘Toil and Trouble’ and ‘Plume Veil’.

It’s as dark as hell – and makes us eager to hear the album. You can watch The Final Act of Geng Yaoting below.

The Poisoned Glass will also be touring Europe in the spring of 2016. Dates are as follows:

14th April – Roadburn / Green Room – Tilburg – NL

15th April – Magasin4 – Brussels – Belgium

16th April – Bastard Club – Osnabrueck – Germany

20th April – Blitz – Oslo – Norway

21st April – Kuudes Linja – Helsinki – Finland

More dates are set to be announced in the near future


Stephen O’Malley from SUNN O))) guest hosts BBC 6 Music’s Freak Zone this Sunday (22nd November) from 8-10pm.

SOMA takes over the air waves with a playlist of artists programmed by Sunn O))) who play Le Guess Who? festival the same weekend in Utrecht, Netherlands. Expect your Sunday sonic palette to include fellow Le Guess Who? Performers – who were personally chosen to perform by Sunn O))) – such as the legendary Annette Peacock and bass clarinetist Bennie Maupin, in addition to the the likes of Southern Lord  heavyweights Goatsnake and BIG|BRAVE; two bands who have both seen new releases this year.

But that’s not all – SUNN O))) will also be sharing an exclusive track from Sunn O)))’s highly anticipated forthcoming album Kannon, due for release December 4th via Southern Lord. Pre-orders are now available via the SUNN O))) store, the Southern Lord store, including the European store and via bandcamp. A limited number of white vinyl LPs will also be available at participating Record Store Day outlets Black Friday, November 27th.

And remember, even if you find yourself at Le Guess Who? you can still listen live to SOMA’s playlist for 30 days afterwards at the BBC website.

Finally, here’s recent live footage of SUNN O))) in Berlin courtesy of Boiler Room. We strongly recommend it.


Smith Research – SRV 21

Christopher Nosnibor

This limited release – one of just 100 pressed – isn’t for sale, according to the Ceramic Hobs’ Facebook page: ‘The distribution of this recording is very special. It is not available for sale. No enquiries regarding it will receive a reply. Attempts to exchange money for it will result in your death. This is not a joke. You will be contacted individually at our discretion. We will watch eBay and discogs resales very closely. Attempts to sell what you received for free will also result in your death. Again, after thirty years, do you think we’re joking? We ask recipients kindly not share scans or photographs online of their individually made artwork in order to maintain the clandestine integrity of this operation.’

I’d just performed a selection of Rage Monologues as one of Sue Fox’s support acts at her book launch for The Viceral Tear, when a guy – who had previously ventured a question to the author about the connection between her publisher, Oneiros Books, and Creation Books.

Despite their credentials as ultra-avant-gardists, Ceramic Hobs demonstrate their ongoing non-conformity after some 30 years in existence with a pair of songs which are short, corresponding with the low-down, dirty lo-fi gritty punk rock they epitomise. And like the best punk rock, it’s not clean, pretty or overly concerned with melody or slick production values, favouring attitude – and even more attitude – over technique. And of course, it’s confrontational. 50 Shades of everything is all the rage (perhaps apart from my ’50 Shades of Shit’ e-book edition of This Book s Fucking Stupid), and while the dismal prose of EL James’ Twilight knock-off ‘mummyporn’ novels have spawned countless parodies and a lame softcore movie while supposedly spicing up the sex lives of middle England by introducing a dash of light simulation bondage, Ceramic Hobs with their connection to the industrial / power electronics scene were always more Sade than any pulp lit you’d find being marketed and available to purchase on the shelves of your local Tesco, ‘50 Shades of Snuff’

And so it is they serve up two slices of expletive-filled barrage of gnarliness. It’s like The Anti-Nowhere League covering GG Allin. Or maybe the other way round. And yes, it’s ace.

As for the flipside, what’s to say about DiscoMental’s take on ‘Never Can Say Goodbye’? A well-covered song, originally recorded by the Jackson 5 in 1971 and again by Michael Jackson alone in 1988 and by Gloria Gaynor in 1974, it also provided The Communards with one of their biggest hits in 1987. Popular it may be, but the truth is, it’s a fucking awful song. Needless to say, this version certainly won’t be a hit. It’s also utterly deranged, and while barely listenable, is far superior to any other version. A thumping rhythm produced by a primitive drum machine, simply programmed, pounds away to accompany gruff echo-drenched vocals. And that’s it The simplicity is its genius.

Since this record isn’t for sale, I shan’t recommend it, but if you happen to be offered a copy, take it.

Fancy a spot of raw but melodic punk rock with driving guitars and female vocals? We certainly do, and it doesn’t get much better than the second release from this London duo. Don’t just take our word for it: listen below.