Posts Tagged ‘buzz’

12th November 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

While the approach to recording his latest album is pretty much standard for Lithuanian sound artist Gintas K – that is to say, ‘recorded live, without any overdubs, using computer, MIDI keyboard, and controller’, the inspiration and overall concept is a little different this time around, with Gintas explaining that ‘The album is a subtle allusion to Flann O’Brien’s absurdist novel The Third Policeman, reflecting its surreal and enigmatic atmosphere through sound. In itself, this is quite ambitious – not quite the musical equivalent of interpretive dance, but nevertheless.

And, in contrast with many of his other albums, which tend to be relatively concise and often contain some shorter, almost fragmentary pieces, this one is a whopper, with thirty-one tracks and a running time of over two hours.

Initially, it’s display of K at his most manic, with ‘black box#1’leading the first four-track suite more frenzied and kinetic than ever, the sound of an angry hornet the size of a cat trapped in a giant Tupperware container. There aren’t always discernible spaces between the individual pieces, and after just the first eight minutes of wild bleeps and buzzes, I’m already feeling giddy. ‘black box#1 – 4’ is a quintessential Gintas K blizzard of noise which starts out like trickling digital water tinkling over the rim of a virtual glass bottle and rapidly evolves into an effervescent froth of immolating circuitry.

The second suite of pieces, ‘black box inside#2 Dog Hoots’ is made up of eight chapters – compositions feels like a bit of a stretch – and while there are a couple of sub-two-minute blasts, the fifth is a colossal nine minutes and forty in duration. This marks distinct segment of the album, in that it sounds a little more structured, like the sounds of a toy keyboard or a mellotron, rewired and then tortured mercilessly. It grinds and drones, hums and yawns, it bubbles and glitches and whirrs and it fucking screams. Before long, your brain will be, too.

The third segment, a set of six pieces labelled ‘black box inside… Calmness’ is anything but calm: in fact, it’s more likely to induce a seizure, being more of the same, only with more mid-range and muffled, grainy-sounding murk. There are more saw-like buzzes and crackles and pops and lasers misfiring in all directions. It’s not quite the soundtrack which played in my head as I read the book, but the joy of any art is that it affords room for the audience to engage and interpret on a personal, individual level.

The nine-part ‘rolling’ (or, to give it’s full title ‘black box iside#4 Rolling’ is more fragmented, more distorted, more fucked-up and broken. The pace is slower, the tones are lower, and it’s the sound of a protracted digital collapse. It’s unexpected to feel any kind of emotional reaction to messy noise, but this conveys a sense of sadness. By ‘Rolling – 4’ it feels like the machine is dying, a breathless wheeze of a thick, low-end drone, an attempts to refire the energy after this are reminiscent to trying to start a car with a flat battery. It’d messy and increasingly uncomfortable and wrong-sounding as it descends into gnarly distorted mess. ‘Rolling 7’ is creaking bleats, woodpecker-like rattles. and warping distortion, with additional hum and twang. The last of these is no more than roiling, lurching distortion, without shape or form.

Arriving at the four pieces tagged as ‘omnium – The Fourth Policeman’, its feels like you’re surrounded by collapsing buildings and the exhaustion is not just physical. Gintas K has really pushed the limits with this one. The is an arc, a trajectory here, which can be summarised as ‘gets messier and more horrible as it progresses’. Artistically, this is a huge work, a work of patience, and a work of commitment and focus. As a listening experience, it’s intense, and will likely leave even the most adventurous listener feeling like their head’s been used as a cocktail shaker and that their brain has been churned to a pulp. Outstanding.

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Parisian fuzz fanatics Electric Jaguar Baby return to burn down the garage with Clair-Obscur, their wildest, heaviest, and most electrifying album to date, set to be released on September 5, 2025 via Majestic Mountain Records (Kal-El, Saint Karloff).

Today, the duo ignite another surge of fuzz-fueled energy with the release of their latest video, “Bring Me Down,” featuring a special guest appearance by Patrón.

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This follows the release of the raucous lead single ‘My Way’, and the recently premiered ‘Heroine’, which features guest vocals by Chris Jr. of Greek doom heavyweights Acid Mammoth, another fuzz-drenched bombshell from the upcoming LP.

Formed in 2015, the duo comprised of Franck (drums/vocals) and Antoine (guitar/vocals), have spent the last decade distilling garage, stoner, punk, psych, pop and grunge into pure fuzz-fueled chaos. Known for their explosive live shows and no-rules approach, they’ve shared stages with everyone from Sepultura to Death Valley Girls.
Now, “Clair-Obscur” marks their third full-length and most fearless outing yet. Recorded live and drenched in distortion, the album rips through 11 unfiltered tracks of raw sonic adrenaline, with killer guest appearances from Lo (ex-Loading Data) and Chris Babalis Jr. (Acid Mammoth).

With a new EU tour in the works and their amps permanently stuck at 11, Electric Jaguar Baby are revving hard into a new era and you’re invited along for the trip.

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26th January 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

New year, new lineup, new project… having wrapped up their ‘open-ended’ album project Songs from the Black Hat and been whittled down to a three-piece, the prodigiously productive Argonaut herald the arrival of 2024 with a song for Dry January. They describe ‘The Hole’ as ‘A ten minute hymn to sobriety, hibernation and transcending the January blues. A lullaby of heartfelt harmonies trailing into ambient drone to aid deep, meditative alcohol free sleep…’

Lyrically, it’s sparse, and self-explanatory:

People say it’s hard

Because there’s a hole

A gap in your heart

A space in your soul

But I say it’s easy

Because the hole is a bin

To throw the self destructive thoughts

And all the alcohol in

I’m not one for dry January myself, although I certainly respect anyone who does, and I certainly get it. A lot of people do very much overdo it in December, stretching festivities out over the entire month. There are work dos, friends and family to catch up with, and more often than not, doing so involves feed and drink. It’s no wonder people feel like shit and feel the need to quit booze, go on a diet, do Veganuary, and take out a gym membership while making a new year’s resolution to lose the stone or so they gained the previous month.

Perhaps what’s every bit as hard as demonstrating brutal discipline in January – the darkest, bleakest month of the year – is maintaining moderation the whole year round. Such asceticism isn’t easy in such grim times: people naturally seek comfort in food and whatever else makes them feel better – and it’s alright if it makes you feel better, to lift a line from Shellac’s ‘Song of the Minerals’.

I digress: ‘The Hole’ does mark a significant shift for Argonaut, who have pushed forth strongly pursuing a trajectory of snappy to the point songs best defined as choppy lo-fi indie / post-punk crossover with lots of fuzz and reverb. This is a dreamy, drifty dronezer, dominated by thick reverb-soaked synths which surge and swell, ebb and flow. It very much does transport s back to the early 90s on so many levels. It’s not quite The Orb, but it is a very spacey effort which is predominantly instrumental and built around the repetitio of a synth wave and looped bass – or xylophone, or something – sequence of a handful of notes. And so it goes (and yes, I’m referencing Vonnegut there). And it goes… and it goes. It is every bit as meditative and ambient as they suggest, and I can feel my blood pressure dropping as the track progresses.

Counterpart release / nominal B-side, the ‘ambient mix’ runs for some twenty-two minutes, and it’s a thrumming buzz, a piece which stings like a swarm of bees frustrated at their confinement. It’s more of a track to let drift over your, rather than one to listen to intently. But this ‘Post-industrial ambience for urban meditation’ is far from soothing, even by candlelight. The tones are serrated around the edges, and possess a certain edge of aggression. Perhaps I need another whisky. Make it a double.

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Christopher Nosnibor

Almost invariably, when there’s a buzz building around a DIY act, they’ve had some kind of assistance or boost, either via a PR campaign or radio play, and / or some fortunate support slots. Not so Benefits, whose profile has grown with the speed of contagion of the pandemic: they’ve thrived during lockdown without management, any ‘proper’ releases, and next to no press (although that’s changing fast); but instead of them seeking out the coverage they’re the ones being sought out.

On paper, their appeal is limited: shouty sociopolitical spoken word paired with blistering squalls of electronic noise is kinda niche, right? Like Sleaford Mods only more noisy and a bit shoutier, right? Sociopolitical ranting aside, not so much. Mods have very much exploited the affront some people feel about their not being a ‘real’ band, and have turned the lack of performance into a schtick. Benefits are very much a band, and despite the swinging, rhythmic hip-hop style delivery of some of the lyrics, Benefits share more with harsh post-punk noisers Uniform than another other contemporary act that comes to mind.

Steve Albini perhaps sums up the two key, and seemingly opposing elements of what Benefits do in referring to the period of musical foment of the early 80s, with ‘the Crass/Pop Group ranting lefty/anarchist punks, and Whitehouse/TG/Cabaret Voltaire pure noise’. He’s not wrong when he writes that it’s ‘Been a while since something evoked that era as effectively as this Benefits track.’

But Benefits don’t only evoke that era: they’re a band that are precisely of the moment. During lockdown, people were on edge – and they still are as they emerge, blinking, into a world that has changed, and not for the better. More divided, more violent, it’s a difficult place to navigate. People are scared, and they’re also disaffected. Benefits channel and articulate all of this, and the buzz around tonight’s show was positively electric.

Feather Trade could easily be mistaken for being a ‘haircut’ band on face value, but their tousle-topped singer’s vocals invite comparisons to The Cooper Temple Clause’s Ben Gautrey, and the comparison to TCTC doesn’t end there as the trio blast through some jagged alternative rock defined by solid, meaty bass and gritty guitars. With a post punk vibe, great voice, the lineup may have been hastily-assembled, but they boast a truly great rhythm section. Switching between acoustic and electronic drums varies sound, and the line ‘fuck your trust fund’ from closer ‘Dead Boy’ is a sentiment we can get behind. Keeping the set to a punchy five songs, they made for a compelling opener, and I doubt I’m the only new fan they’ve won on this outing. I liked these guys a lot.

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Feather Trade

Some guys I never really liked are La Petite Mort: in fact, my last review of them was pegged to a single line in parenthesis. But this newly-resurrected iteration shows that they’ve evolved massively in the intervening years, transitioning from a novice sixth form indie band to something altogether more challenging, and altogether more powerful. If anything, there are shades of The Young Gods both sonically and visually. Now a duo with laptop and live drums, they’re dense, dark, intense. At some point, just as he has for Avalanche Party on occasion, Jared Thorpe whips out his sax and starts tooting away. No, it’s no euphemism. La Petite Mort embrace a slew of genre styles, and nail them to some tight, technical jazz drumming and lots and lots of reverb.

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La Petite Mort

This all leaves us ultra-hyped for the headliners, and they sure as hell don’t disappoint with their spoken word grindcore hybrid. With some brutal electronics from Robbie Major, they build from sparse, acappella hip hop to a blistering wall of noise. They build and build and rage so, so hard it’s savage. There are some smoochy hip-hop vibes, but they’re a stark contrast to the raving lyrics. ‘You get what you deserve’, Kingsley Hall warns, menacingly. Against the backdrop of Russia invading Ukraine as we look on, we hope it’s true. They venture into post punk / Sleaford Mods-ish territory just the once over the course of an hour-plus long set. Hall reads the lyrics to ‘Meat Teeth’ from his phone in a state of anguish. The song itself is stark, harsh, and it hurts. And yet this pain is what connects us with the band. Hall’s openness and honesty when he speaks between songs is like a body blow. This isn’t a performance, this is real. “What a fucking country, what a fucking state…. Sausage roll man… Tory cunt.” He admits to struggling with the whole being on stage thing, but it’s clear from the way he attacks every line, this is something he feels he simply has to do.

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Benefits

In a recent interview with Loud and Quiet, Hall explained, “I’ve got this pent-up anger and desire to speak and to shout and discuss. But how do I translate that?” On stage, that anger is anything but pent-up: it’s channelled into an eye-popping storm of words dragged from the very soul.

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Benefits

‘Flag’ steps up a level just when there seemed like no more levels to step up, with punishing percussion and snarling noise. It’s harsh, but so, so invigorating and cathartic. The encore / not encore is a perfect example of the way Benefits don’t conform, don’t play the game. And while doing things on their own terms in every way, they stand apart.

There’s no pithy one-liner to wrap this up: I leave, borderline delirious, simultaneously elated and stunned by what I’ve just witnessed – a show that was, frankly, nothing short of incredible.