Archive for July, 2023

7th July 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

I recall, when I was growing up, people often being admonished for using the word ‘hate’. ‘It’s such a strong word’, would be the lecture. Usually it was adults telling teens this: no, you don’t ‘hate’ school, you don’t ‘hate’ that band, or that annoying kid in your class. I never saw it as such a big deal. I suppose, on reflection, we were using ‘hate’ in a hyperbolic sense. Now, however, we seem to use the word somewhat less frequently, but feel hate – real hate – being expressed more freely. It’s not pleasant, and while much is said and written about the toxic environments of social media, the real world really isn’t any more pleasant. From toxic work environments to increasingly right-wing governments creating division and stoking hatred of minorities, be they immigrants, the poor, or the disabled, the world we live in is not a nice place to be, and it’s small wonder that mental health issues are at an all-time high.

‘Full of Hate’ isn’t about the outward projection of hate onto individuals or groups, but the inward-focused grapplings of torment, as the accompanying notes explain: ‘The song captures the suffocating feelings of anger and isolation that engulf us and often leave us with a feeling of being confined. Moreover, the song does so within the span of ninety seconds.’

And that it does: they’ve condensed all the intensity of emotion into a minute and a half. Zero fat here. It’s the bass that defines ‘Full of Hate’. By which I mean it’s a 360-degree immersive sound, the thick distortion secondary in impact to the booming frequencies. So dense is the sound that it almost submerges the mechanised drums and growling vocals. The vocals are unexpected, at least on first listen: there’s an association with screaming and full-lunged roaring as giving vent to anger, rage, and catharsis. But on ‘Full of Hate’, the vocals are controlled, focused, all the more difficult to process in context. There are some moments of dodgy autotune, but overall, it’s that sense of keeping a lid on things that suggests psychopathy, and which renders ‘Full Of Hate’ all the darker, all the more intense.

It’s one powerful, tension-blasting minute-and-a-half that’s awkward and uncomfortable, seething rather than foaming as the rage flows.

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Upset The Rhythm – 7th July 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Personal confession: I’ve had a tough few months. No, I don’t really want to talk about it, but the name of Newcastle-based artist Jayne Dent’s musical vehicle is one which resonates – because the fact is, it’s easy to lose sight of yourself, especially when under stress, especially when under pressure, especially when dealing with difficult circumstances.

Yes: me lost me, albeit briefly, meaning the moniker s relatable. But you have to get lost to get found, and without fail, at least in my experience, music has a remarkable capacity to have a positive effect on one’s mental state.

If old favourites may offer solace, discovering new music can often prove cleansing, as you approach it fresh and without association, and because you’re engaging and exploring instead of retriggering recollections as with music that’s familiar (I find listening to music I know well is only half-listening while my fills the gaps, and I suppose that’s part of the appeal: it’s easier and less demanding when you know every word and exactly what’s coming next, than grappling with something, and familiarity is comforting. But the challenge of the new seems to run through different neural pathways, and in paying attention to something, your focus turns to that something instead of idly looping over those forefront throughs you’re seeking respite from.

I suppose it’s the same reason people enjoy and become rather obsessed with Role-Playing Games, or RPG: they offer an escapism that the passivity of TV or movies don’t. While I’m not a fan myself – having reluctantly dabbled with Dungeons and Dragons, I found it slow and contrived and it simply didn’t grip me – but I get it. I get it. What I get more is the tension which runs through this album, the fourth from Me Lost Me, which started out as a tentative solo project before subsequently expanding to a collective. What I get are the themes, as set out on the accompanying notes:

‘Hauntological in part, RPG is concerned with tales and with time – are we running out of it? Does insomnia cause a time loop? Do the pressures of masculinity prevent progress? Jayne Dent asks these questions and more on RPG, her homage to worldbuilding and the story as an artform, calling back to those oral traditions around a campfire, as well as modern day video games – bringing folk music into the present day as she does so.’

It certainly feels as if we’re running out of time, and an exponentially-accelerating pace. We’re recording the hottest global temperatures on record and are looking like going the way of the dinosaurs not long after the whole of Lincolnshire – our largest county for domestic agriculture, which sits several feet below sea level – is reclaimed by the waves, turning Boston and its stump into the Atlantis of the 21st Century, yet our government is more preoccupied with ‘stopping the boats’ and painting over murals that might look a bit ‘too welcoming’ to asylum-seeking children than stopping oil and fracking. Once again, as I type, I’m hot and flustered and short on breath. In this context, ‘Heat’, released a few weeks ago, hits the mark. We’re on a collision course with the end of days. RPG explores – in its own way – this end of days anxiety.

‘What things have you seen in real life and thought that’s not real, that’s like a video game?’ Those are the words of the sample which open the album, on the hypnotic collage that is ‘Real World’. It got me thinking: what have I seen? Truth is, simply turning on the news seems unreal these days: every day there’s something that makes you think ‘you couldn’t make this shit up.’

‘Festive Day’ exploits traditional folk instrumentation with spartan strings, plucked and scraped, and drones, and there’s an ‘old’ vibe to it, particularly with Dent’s lilting vocals, which occasionally soar magnificently as she sings of sand and sea. ‘Mirie it is While Summer I Last’ is pure folk, an acapella round of traditional-sounding folk that would be perfectly as home on a Steeleye Span album, and instrumentation on ‘The God of Stuck Time’ is minimal – but there are warping electronics and contemporary issues strewn through the lyrics, not least of all in the refrain of. ‘Checking in again / Checking Out’. It speaks of the world we live in.

Where RPG succeeds is in that is doesn’t moor itself to any one form or period: ancient an modern, sparse folk and fractured electronica alternate and sometimes collide: ‘The Oldest Trees Hold the Earth’ is magnificent in its simplicity, its earthiness, and Jayne’s voice is magnificent. It evokes the spirituality of the centuries when alone or with minimal accompaniment, but when backed by electronica or more jazz-leaning backing, it also works, as an instrument and as a carrier for the words, which cover considerable ground, both ancient and modern.

RPG sounds pretty, but it’s serious and it’s quite dark in places – but it also traces the contours of landscapes past and present with a lightness of touch that’s uplifting. With so much texture, detail, and atmosphere, this is an album that’s subtly moving, and there isn’t a moment that’s predictable here as it veers between folk, electronica, ambient, and abstract noise. Lose yourself in it.

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London-based thrash-metal quintet LOKUST have recently revealed a music video for a new track titled ‘Parasitic’ off the band’s debut album Infidel, which will be self-released on July 28th.

Watch it here:

Formed in 2017 by guitarists Alexy Khoury and Jeremy Pringsheim, London’s LOKUST initially released a pair of instrumental demo videos to advertise their search for a full lineup, including ‘Guiltless’ featuring drummer Krimh Lechner (ex-Decapitated, Septicflesh), which was very well received and attained more than two million views on Youtube.

The duo spent the next few years searching for the right vocalist, and in the meantime recruited Euler Morais on drums and Patryk Kopo on bass. The newly established four-piece then started the recordings of their debut album which was fully written by that point. Drums were tracked in Germany with Sky Van Hoff (Rammstein/Aborted) and all the guitar and bass tracks were recorded by the band themselves.

The four-piece eventually found the singer they were looking for in Alex da Costa, whose venomously expressive vocals and menacing presence finally completed the monstrous and muscular sonic attack of LOKUST. They soon recorded the newly composed vocals with Justin Hill of SikTh engineering, and to fully realise the intensity and ferocity of their new songs, recruited Mark Lewis (Whitechapel/DevilDriver) to mix and master their long awaited debut album Infidel.

Featuring eleven tracks, Infidel is a creatively complex and thunderous dose of modern metal, brimming with pummelling drums and bass, shredding guitar riffs and blood-curdling vocals – although simultaneously featuring moments of dynamic introspection and poignancy throughout the album.

"We always meant for LOKUST to exist on the border between old-school and contemporary – we use a lot of layering in our songwriting as well as aiming to integrate the full array of what a metal band can do these days, technically and production-wise – but our loyalty to imperfections, raw expression and humanity remains paramount." Says the band about this new record.

“We’ve always aspired to follow in the footsteps of the bands we first fell in love with, who seemed to have a more transparent, expressive way of executing their music, rather than what we perceive as the more careful and polished approach of a lot of bands these days.” They add.

Set to be released on July 28, Infidel is packed with furious riffs and massive groove-laden hooks that will surely position LOKUST as one of the most promising and talented metal bands in the current UK metal scene.

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skoghall rekordings – 30th June 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Racking up a second release in its first month of existence, new Swedish label skoghall rekordings – the gentler sibling of Dret Skivor – offers up a reissue of the second album by Farming Incident, originally released in 2008 on Wrath Records, home of The Scaramanga Six and Eureka Machines.

The tags which accompany this release include ‘experimental’, ‘hip hop’, ‘ambient’, ‘anarcho-folk’, ‘folktronica’, ‘politics’, ‘post-punk’, ‘post-rock’, and ‘space rock’, and if that seems an incredibly eclectic cocktail, it’s a fair summary of a band who never sat comfortably in any category, at a time when crossovers and hyper-hybridity were still pretty uncommon and even less accepted: this was a time in the wake of the 90s emergence of rap-rock crossovers and around the time when instrumental post-rock’s ubiquity was waning after what felt like an eternity but was in fact a span of maybe four years at most.

For this, their final album, Farming Incident had expanded its pseudonymous membership to four, with Agent Jones (guitar, bass), Agent Mays (drums) and Agent Procktaur (vocals, guitar, bass, keyboards) being joined by Agent Pushkin (backing vocals, guitar, bass) ‘to allow more flexibility in instrument swapping’. And that’s certainly a lot of guitar and bass-playing contributions across their personnel.

‘Elk vs Volvo’ is a choppy slice of post-punk that crunches Gang of Four and The Fall together with sinewy guitars propelled by energetic drumming. It’s also got that authentic lo-fi eight-track early eighties sound, and really only being familiar with Dave Procter’s work from the last ten years or so, it’s something of a revelation to hear him doing vocals – and actually singing(ish) – in a more conventional indie / rock context. The verses on the goth-tinged ‘Sadism vs Fadism’ (although it’s more early Pulp with a dash of PiL and Rudimentary Peni than The Sisters of Mercy or The Danse Society) finds him in more recognisable voice, with a Sprechgesang delivery with flattened northern vowels, before coming on more like David Gedge in the choruses.

There’s indie-surf and straight-up indie in the mix, and it’s all going on really. Casting my mind back to 2008, and some of it’s hazy because time, and beer, and so may gigs and albums, but this doesn’t sound like an album from around that time. The nagging bass and guitar of ‘Stiletto’, which reminds me of Murder the Disturbed but with the synths from B-Move or even Ultravox, giving it very much a feel of c79-81, before it locks into a motorik groove.

‘The Terrorist You Seek Is in the Mirror’ finds Procter in the kind of lyrical territory he’s made his home since, slogging out slogans with passion, but with a fairly standard four-square punked-up pub-rock instrumentation, it’s perhaps the alum’s least interesting track, particularly as it’s overshadowed by the atmospheric stroll of ‘G.O.T.H.’ which explodes in a colossal crescendo three quarters of the way in, flange and chorus heavy guitars dominating.

They chuck in a surprise grunge tune in the shape of ‘Phobos’, but it’s also got that early 90s noise rock slant that owes as much to the more obscure acts. And then there’s the final track, ‘Owls’. It’s a goth—tinged alt-rock screamer, one of those longer songs that simply could never be long enough even if it was half an hour long, in the same way that The Honolulu Mountain Daffodils’ ‘Tequila Dementia’ is simply too short. ‘Night vision, owls are gonna get you!’ Dave sings, channelling paranoia and panic while prefacing the avian themes that would resurface latter in his career on songs like The Wharf Street Galaxy Band’s ‘No Puffins For You, Lad’.

A lot has happened in the last fifteen years. We’ve had thirteen years under a Conservative government for a start, and the whole world seems to have taken a nosedive socially, politically, economically, and it seems impossible to think now that Trump and Brexit and Johnson and Covid were only the tip of the iceberg. But while we’re seemingly more divided than ever as people wage war over pronouns and images of Mickey Mouse in hostels for asylum-seeking children, we do seem to have become more accommodating of music that is so eclectic as to seem rootless. Nine Degrees of Torture probably feels more at home in 2023 than it did back in 2018, but even now, it doesn’t really sound like anything else. Bits of stuff, yes, like a magpie raid on bits and bobs from all over, but it’s not grunge or post-punk or anything really, but somehow it hangs together nicely.

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Alien Creation has unveiled their latest single, ‘Super Villain’ following the success of the previous single, ‘Red Pill’. ‘ Super Villain’ primarily addresses the idea that people bring out the worst in others; something everyone can relate to.

Super Villains often have terrible childhoods or are bullied or have a terrible accident in the lab or something. Thus, a Super Villain is born. The lyrics in "Super Villain" are inspired by a phrase heard from the popular T.V. show, The Big Bang: Theory; “Watch out, he’s one lab accident away from becoming a super villain”.  

‘Super Villain’ is a powerful tongue-in-cheek tune-laced with textured synthesized layers of hard-hitting sound enriched by the power of real guitars, powerful bass drum and fretless bass. This is all carefully crafted to deliver an incredibly infectious dance track that probes deeply into the senses.

Check the video here:

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23rd June 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Talk about moving fast: as their bio details, ‘The Bleak Assembly was formed in July, 2022. Two weeks after its inception, the first EP, We Become Strangers was unveiled. The Bleak Assembly’s meaning takes inspiration from Charles Dickens’s Bleak House – the ‘Bleak Assembly’ being the chain of people in the story whose lives are destroyed by the promise of wealth.” This seems a fitting parable for modern times, and show how we never, ever learn from history.

Comprising Michael Smith (all Instruments) and Kimberly (from Bow Ever Down), they continues to create at pace (ugh – I hang my head at having written such a corporate phrase in a review… but, phraseology notwithstanding, it’s true), and followed up their debut EP with the ‘Alibi’ single in February of 2023, and now they present Strangers Among Strangers. The goal of this EP, says Michael Smith was to “try a different sound. Bands seem to fall into a certain sound after a while, so if that should happen to us. I wanted to open it up to a more electronic sound to give us more room in the future.”

They have pedigree and experience, having between them shared stages with the likes of Assemblage 23, Razed in Black & Switchblade Symphony with their own individual projects, and it’s unusual to see them declare up-front that The Bleak Assembly will likely remain strictly a studio project. But why not? Sometimes the creative process evolves organically and feels like it needs to have that live outlet, while at other times, recordings simply don’t lend themselves to being replicated live. And then there are logistics, not to mention economics. The latter is a very real factor in determining how artists operate now. Funny (not) how the cost of everything has gone up apart from wages and the fees paid to artists.

But this sounds like a studio project, also. And that’s no criticism, and no bad thing. Oftentimes you’ll find bands striving – and failing – to capture the energy of their live performances in the studio. It’s often the case that they developed out of playing live and that’s the platform on which they’re familiar and on which they thrive. And fair play to them: but other acts evolved in the studio and are detrimented by distance, while others simply don’t feel comfortable as live entities and feel they simply cannot replicate their studio works in a live setting. Whatever the case with The Bleak Assembly, they’ve clearly found a method which works for them, facilitating a rapid stream of material.

With Strangers Among Strangers, The Bleak Assembly, who clearly have something of a fixation on strangers and the unheimlich have crafted a crisply-manufactured piece of electropop, and while it’s got some strong gothy / darkwave elements, there’s a lot of Midge Ure era Ultravox and Violator-era Depeche Mode in the mix here, as is immediately apparent on ‘A Night Like This’ (which isn’t a Cure cover).

Strangers Among Strangers is solidly electro-based and packs some real energy. It’s synthy and it’s dark – and nevermore dark than on ‘Ready to Die’, where Kimberley faces straight out into the abyss and confronts the ageing process and, ultimately, the end, against a backdrop of swirling chorus-soaked guitar that’s pure 1985. ‘Remains’ is similarly bleak on the lyrical front, and these songs channel a lot of anguish. It may well be that they’re common tropes in the field of goth and darkwave, but the delivery is gripping, as well as keenly melodic. There’s something of a shift on the EP’s second half, moving to a more guitar-driven sound, but the throbbing synth bass and cracking vintage drum machine snare keep everything coherent and push the songs along with a tight, punchy feel. There’s much to like.

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After releasing their latest album Meanwhile in February on Kscope, Klone embarked on a UK / EU tour with Devin Townsend.

Following a successful campaign, conquering territories all over Europe, the band returned to their native France for their headline show at ‘L’Empreinte’ in Savigny. Now the band unveil a moment that was captured during their magnetic performance on April 15th in the form of the live video for ‘Night And Day’.

The video was mixed and mastered by Romain Bernat and directed by Lodex Charrieau and effortlessly reflects the duality in Klone’s sound in a beautiful visual representation.

Watch it here:

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Gizeh Records – 30th June 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

In this sense, Bleaklow is a rather different proposition, and in some respects, the instrumentation is a significant factor in the shape of the sound, with Claire contributing ‘Voice, Nord Electro, Yamaha PSS-170, field recordings, Moog Taurus’, and Richard contributing ‘Electric gtr, drones, field recordings, Yahama PSS-170, Moog Taurus’. But by the same token, there is something about anything Richard Knox does which has something of a signature – not a signature sound as such, more of a signature feel, which comes from the kind of wispy ambience and dense atmospherics.

The overall effect of Bleaklow’s debut, Glume, is mellow, amorphous washes of cloud-like sounds drifting softly on invisible air currents, but there are moments where the textures are coarser, more abrasive, and these provide vital contrast. ‘Husk’ scrapes in with a wash of distorted guitar before tapering tones supple piano and vocals, layered to a choral effect surge and swell.

Claire’s voice by turns evokes Kate Bush and Cranes, haunting, ethereal, and as much as this sits in the post-rock bracket from which Richard and Gizeh emerged back in the early 00s (the label put out not only the The Heritage, the debut mini album by Her Name is Calla, but Knox also put out a super-limited CD of ‘Condor and River’ in a crazy corrugated card sleeve, as well as Arrivals, the debut album by worriedaboutsatan, wrapped in a chunk of blown vinyl wallpaper, which looks and feels amazing but is a real bugger to store… but I digress) it also very much harks back to 90s shoegaze, with a heavy debt to Slowdive and My Bloody Valentine, but then again, it’s impossible to listen to this without recourse to The Cocteau Twins. If this sounds like a catalogue of touchstones, it’s testament to how deftly they draw on myriad elements and whip them into a sonic souffle with the texture of candyfloss – not that this is particularly sweet, but it is lighter than a feather, lighter than air. And nowadays, the packaging is a little less DIY, but still very much focused on sustainability: the packaging for Glume is a recycled cocoa-card sleeve, whereby the ‘recycled card is made from 40% Post Consumer Waste and 15% natural fibres (by-products derived from the food processing industry which would otherwise go to landfill.) Turning a waste product into a natural, GMO free, raw material derived from nuts, fruits etc, resulting in distinctive colour shades’. It’s not just commendable, environmentally: it taps into the physicality of a releasing music and rendering the physical release a work of art rather than a commodity of plastic in plastic.

Everything on Glume happens at a sedate pace, and everything melts slowly together. The chances are that at some point, you’ve sat, stood, or even laid on the grass and simply looked at the sky and watched the clouds slowly shifting shape, rabbits and elephants becoming elongated and increasingly deformed, until they’re no longer rabbits or elephants, but abstract shapes stretching and fading to formlessness. The songs on Glume are by absolutely no means formless, but the sounds are like mist and the structures are supple. It’s a magnificently realised work: textured, detailed, nuanced.

It may not be bleak, but it’s dark, and it’s got detail. Bask in it.

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Another month, another new song from Argonaut, as they continue to expand their open-ended album Songs from the Black Hat.

This time around, ‘We Burn Bright’ is a nifty little tune that brings some indie jangle and a dash of 60s-inspired pop to the band’s quintessential DIY sound. Hear it here:

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Cruel Nature Records – 30th June 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Less than a year on from Their Invisible Hands, and just nine months after Undergrowth, Clara Engel serves up Sanguinaria. The all-too-common ‘returns with simply isn’t appropriate here, since it implies absence, and Engel’s rate of output hasn’t only been consistent, but if anything has accelerated lately, with this being their eighth release since Hatching Under the Stars in April 2020.

The advent of streaming has unquestionably changed the face of the music industry, and it seems to be broadly accepted that the change is most certainly not in the favour of artists, with Spotify CEO suggesting that if artists want to achieve more streams and therefore more royalties, they need to be producing more content, and more regularly, famously telling Music Ally that it’s “not enough” for artists to release music “every three to four years” and that they ought to maintain “continuous engagement with their fans.”

This speaks volumes about his view of music – that it’s not art, but a commodity. And of course, his interest in artists cranking out product on a conveyor-belt is quite clearly in the profit it generates for his company and him personally, not those who produce it. It also shows a complete lack of understanding of the creative process: try writing and recording material while being continuously engaged. Moreover, many creative types aren’t extroverts by nature, and aren’t disposed to sharing endless videos and vlogs and updates on their time in the studio. And do audiences really want or need that anyway? We don’t necessarily need to feel like we know the artist or have a ‘chummy’ or direct connection with them: we just want the music and prefer a bit of mystery and distance.

In the 60s and 70s, it was commonplace for artists to prelease an album every six months, and there’s a very good reason this practise stopped: it simply wasn’t sustainable, and it was invariably the artists who suffered rather than the labels who effectively owned them.

But where I’m going with this is that every artist is different, and the creative process is a personal and individual thing, and sometimes artists experience huge creative flurries, while at others they may experience creative slumps. Clara Engel is clearly experiencing a flurry of late, and the remarkable thing about it is that they’re producing work not only in quantity, but of a remarkable quality.

If in terms of output, more may be more, the stark arrangements of Sanguinaria abundantly evidence that less is very much more in most cases. There is a beautiful achingness which pervades every moment of the album’s downbeat folk contemplations.

The songs on Sanguinaria are sparely-arranged and it’s Engel’s voice which is to the fore, at least in term of the mix. ‘The sky is huge, and the sea is green’, they sing in the reflective refrain of ‘Sing in Our Chains’, and it’s an evocative pastoral feel that nags at you and makes you feel… sad, haunted, makes you look inside yourself. You may not necessarily feel comfortable in doing so, but this is only one of several reasons why it’s worth spending time with Sanguinaria.

Although a solo album and a minimal one at that, Engel – a multi-instrumentalist who plays a fascinating array of instruments here, notably, according to the liner notes, ‘electric cigar box guitar, acoustic guitar, talharpa, gudok, cajón, wooden trunk with soft mallets, tongue drum, melodica’ – is accompanied by a number of contributing musicians who add subtle detail and essential texture and depth. The picked strings and sad-sounding violin forge a mournful dark folk sound on ‘Poisonous Fruit’ and it calls to mind Dark Captain, a band I still miss and feel were criminally underrated. ‘I Died Again’ is so simple, so melancholy, so human, it’s impossible not to be moved by it: Engel’s vocal is rich, but uncomplicated.

‘Extasis Boogie’ introduces percussion for the first time, with hand drums quietly bopping behind an understated guitar, while the lap steel drones on ‘A Silver Thread’ add a weight to the slow sadness that drips from every note.

These are songs which are carefully crafted, considered, and feel so natural and rich; there’s no hint of their having been rushed or being partially-evolved. As such, Sanguinaria feels like an album that connects the feelings behind its creation and the final output.

Engel’s soul is bare on this finely-poised and thoughtful album, and perhaps because of, rather than ins spite of, its minimalism, it’s a gripping work.

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