Posts Tagged ‘Noise Rock’

Swedish crust/grind outfit CHILD have just dropped a brand new track off their second full-length album ‘Shitegeist’, which is set to be released on March 29th via Suicide Records.

Check out ‘Creative Inventions of Killing’ here:

The band has this to say about this new track: “We seem to be paralyzed in order to come up with ways to save this world, the climate, the animals, ourselves. But we never seem to fail in finding new ways to kill it all. Another creative way after the other. We’re good in that sense, the human species. We’re good at killing ourselves.”

Founded in 2015 by Albin Sköld and Alex Stjernfeldt, two prolific musicians from the Stockholm scene whose curriculum includes names like Grand Cadaver, Novarupta and Aardena among others, CHILD was created with the intent to play a nasty and caustic blend of grindcore, punk and hardcore. The line-up was completed in 2021 when Jocke Lindström, Staffan Persson and Per Stålberg joined the duo and started writing material for a full-length, which was released in 2023 on  Eat Heavy Records and garnered strong reactions from both fans and press.

Recently the five-piece outfit signed to Suicide Records for the release of their second album Shitegeist, a powerful album that delivers a furious mix of grindcore, crust punk, death-metal and noise rock.

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5th February 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

People often say they hate surprises. I know where they’re coming from, although by and large, the surprise is less the issue than their reaction being seen. As children, we’ve all had the Christmas party and the birthday where we’ve suffered a head-exploding embarrassment where something’s been sprung unexpectedly, and where, as a consequence the walls have closed in and you’ve felt entrapped within a tight, tunnelling space and simply wanted to disappear – right? But there are two kinds of surprises: good ones and bad ones, just as there are two kinds of music: good, and bad.

‘Cryptic Bodies’ is good music, and the perfect surprise, presenting as a discordant chaotic mess of purgatorial abrasion, which smashes its way into a collision of post-punk and… well, what else is hard to say, beyond sinewy, straining dissonance. Really, this is one of those ‘what the fuck is this?’ releases. Personally, I absolutely love this kind of stuff, that’s challenging, shouty, difficult to listen to, let alone define. The music shifts in tone and intensity, a meandering twisting thread of jangliness and extraneous noise that bears jazz influences without being jazz, noise-rock elements without being noise-rock. What does it mean? What is it for? Cryptic is certainly the word, and perhaps it’s best to simply revel in the strangeness than attempt to unravel and decipher it.

But there’s more. The track is lifted from Hungarian artist Porteleki’s forthcoming album Smearing, which is out in March, and it’s not his first work by the title ‘Cryptic Bodies’, as a moment’s cursory research brings us to a ‘documentary’ film on YouTube, uploaded in three parts, which captures Porteleki – a percussionist first and foremost – performing a solo score, which is ‘structured yet improvised’ as the audio backdrop to ‘a contemporary dance piece, where 5 dancers traverse through space, body and time to throbbing experimental live metal music. The work is inspired by ancient bodily practices such as Egyptian mummification and Mesopotamian occult healing rites’.

Being instrumental, and extending to around forty minutes, it’s a powerful soundtrack to a visually striking and remarkably compelling multimedia experience, which also showcases Porteleki’s inventive, atmosphere-building approach to guitar playing. Elsewhere online, his SoundCloud uploads present an array of experimental works, ranging from minimalist dark ambience to wild, maximalist bursts of noise, meaning how representative of the album this cut might be is anyone’s guess. But given the title track, which is currently streaming on Bandcamp, there’s a strong possibility that it’s going to be an extremely varied and extremely unusual collection of highly experimental bits and pieces. ‘No genres’ he states on his Bandcamp. No kidding: Porteleki’s modus operandi appears to be to shatter every mould there is. He isn’t so much leftfield, or outside the box, but outside the field, and he’s burned the box to ashes.

Porteleki clearly likes to push boundaries, and none more than his own. ‘Cryptic Bodies’ offers a gateway into the world of an artist who warrants exploration – but not if you don’t like surprises.

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Aural Aggro faves Hammok follow a brace a monster EPs – Jumping/Dancing/Fighting and  Now I Know with a new single, with ‘Seance’ providing the latest taste of their upcoming debut album look how long lasting everything is moving for one. The single is served up with an explosive one-take music video produced in the childhood home of vocalist Tobias Maxwell Osland.

‘Seance’ shows the band’s most direct side yet. The song barely rounds out two and a half minutes and at that time gives you a masterclass in hardcore chorus flair. The soundscape is controlled by a constantly forward-propelling drum machine and a metallic synth bass where vocalist Tobias Osland is given plenty of room to dominate the listener’s eardrum.

With fragmented images inspired by horror films and occult traditions, ‘Seance’ brings out a deeply dark and disturbing reality where the protagonist finds themselves in their worst nightmare. A feeling of being haunted or persecuted, a life where your reality is terrorized. Where it all began, in a SEANCE.

Check it here:

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21st November 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Nova Scotia’s Rootabagga describe themselves as a ‘weird wiggle rock band’. I have absolutely no idea what that means. It’s not a genre. Is it? No… it’s not. Unless you count the song by Willie Mitchell as a template. ‘Meatball Subwoofer’ suggests not. But it turns out it’s a pretty apt description of this mangled math-rock, that sits somewhere between Queens of the Stone Age and Butthole Surfers, being demented drawling stoner rock, only with a nagging technical aspect with busy guitarlines tripping over one another all over – and then it goes ever more crackers, with full-throated shouty guttural vocals and there’s a dash of Dillinger Escape Plan going on… but ultimately, this is completely deranged.

A quick flick through their previous releases on Bandcamp – all standalone singles apart from their debut release, an album entitled Abbi Normal, which came out in the summer of 2020 – confirms that this is entirely representative of their output, and reveals something of a fixation with monsters and mythical creatures, not to mention some rap-rock / nu-metal leanings, which makes for an even more bewildering mélange.

I think it works. At least, most of it. No, it does. For all of its perverse outlandishness and oddity, ‘Meatball Subwoofer’ has a fairly conventional verse / chorus / bridge structure, only with some additional wibbly bits tossed in here and there – which is perhaps what they mean by ‘wriggle rock’. And then there’s the last forty-five seconds or so when it crashes down into the most brutal metal.

Very much one for fans of music that doesn’t conform and aren’t troubled by being addled and bewildered by a sonic bombardment of uncategorisable stylistic content.

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Norwegian noise rock innovators Barren Womb have just shared a brand new single off their fifth full-length album titled Chemical Tardigrade, which is set to be released on digital and vinyl formats through Fucking North Pole Records/Blues For The Red Sun on February 16th, 2024.

Entitled ‘Bachelor Of Puppets’, you can hear it here:

“’Bachelor of Puppets’ came together through a swift writing process, mostly by jamming round this crude beat with definite husky tendencies,” says Barren Womb’s drummer/ vocalist Timo Silvola. “It became something we felt sure to be the envy of cavemen everywhere. The title came before the lyrics and they were written very much like a jam as well: late night with beers and a demo version blasting loud through our PA system, comparing notes and reading through the lyrics for Master of Puppets.
”The result became a sordid tale of a Chemical Tardigrade, a half-fictional dope fiend struggling to escape the stale grip of the bourgeoisie. Both being huge fans of The Mandalorian, yelling ‘this is the way’ as a chorus made for a perfect trashy Trailer Park Boys-esque punchline.”

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Barren Womb released their fourth album Lizard Lounge, a bombastic slab of modern noise rock in the vein of Daughters, Metz and Viagra Boys, to critical acclaim through Loyal Blood Records in 2020. They have played close to 300 shows in the US and Europe so far, sharing stages with among others Entombed A.D., Voivod, Conan, Nomeansno and Årabrot, and have played festivals like SXSW, by:Larm, Tallinn Music Week, Øya and Pstereo.

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Crazysane Records – 24th Nov 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

The press release describes Zahn as a ‘German post–modern noise rock ensemble’, while their bandcamp bio offers ‘A bold escape from your daily life through technicolor transmissions of post–rock, krautrock, dark jazz, noise–rock, post–punk and electronic music. Influenced by the likes of TRANS AM, THE JESUS LIZARD, METZ, THE MELVINS and TORTOISE’, adding that ‘Adria is a compelling soundtrack to a 1980’s anti–utopian road movie!’

As a prospect, it’s head-spinning, sounding like an everything-all-at-once hybrid, and the actuality isn’t much different. There are plenty of driving grooves, largely propelled by solid bass and insistent drumming, but there are also some angular riffs and big splashes of noise.

The first track, ‘Zebra,’ boasts a bulbous bass with some big low-end and some easy, noodly synths which wibble and wander agreeably and mellifluously… and then towards the end it builds and distorts and things get altogether more twisted and less pleasant. And this is a feature characteristic of the compositions on show here. They don’t mash everything into every second simultaneously, and there’s none of that jazz / Beefheart kind of stuff that sounds like each band member is playing a different tune in a different key and time signature all at the same time. There are times where that kind of avant-gardism most definitely has its place, and works, but this isn’t what Zahn are doing here. In keeping with the road movie concept, the pieces are constructed around transition.

The ten-minute ‘Schmuck’ is a magnificent example of their ability to do mellow, with clean sounds and even a tinge of a country twang, it swings along breezily and evokes sunshine and expansive vistas. Then, near the seven-minute mark, the bass steps up to a crunching grind and things get a whole lot noisier, from where it builds into a big, driven riff which crackles with energy. ‘Yuccatan 3E’ is another colossus of a cut, running to almost nine and a half minutes and manages to take it time in pushing outwards and working a single passage for a fair while, but equally packs in at least three or four songs’ worth of ideas.

The changes feel organic, and sometimes emerge gradually, and at others there will be a sudden and unexpected swerve, and there’s so much happening that the absence of vocals barely registers.

Because the mood, tone, and tempo differs so radically between songs – and between sections – Adria very much does feel like a journey, through space and time. ‘Apricot’ is a sparse synth work with crispy vintage drum machine snare cutting through quavering analogue synth sounds – then, without changing the instrumentation or the simple repetitive motif, it goes massive. A post-rock Depeche Mode chronically undersells it, but it’s as close as I can get, at least off the top of my head. The final minute is an extravagant climax, and truly magnificent.

The majority of the album’s eleven tracks run past five minutes, with the majority sitting more around the seven-minute mark, but the eleven-and-a-half-minute ‘Faser’ is the album’s megalithic centrepiece. It blasts hard with a fuzzy, scuzzy repetitive riff cycle with stoner rock tendencies, and it’s dynamic and exhilarating. Dropping down to bubbling synths in the breakdown around six minutes in, the threat of a re-emergence of the heavy lingers suspensefully. When it does land, it does so with a vengeance, before transitioning once more into something altogether different again, skittering its way into Krautrock territory.

The power blast of ‘Tabak’ hits square between the eyes and feels unexpected however expected it actually is. These guys are absolute masters of the unpredictable and varied structure, and conjure some highly evocative and atmospheric passages, and while the playing is technical, it’s not technical for its own sake: there’s nothing showy or extravagant, and the focus is very much on the compositions, the structures, and the impact. ‘Amaranth’ piledrives a full-on doom riff, slogging away at it for what feel like an eternity. It’s a heavy trudge, and really hits the spot – again, when you least expect it.

Adria straddles many, many genres, and does so in a way that’s incredibly imaginative. The key to its success is its execution, which balances precision with passion.

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Human Worth – 10th November 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

I know it’s not really cool to make that you’re cool because you’re in the know or whatever. A few years ago, it was the way of the hipster, but after what felt like forever, they seems to have disappeared, probably because everyone grew beards during lockdown, so the hipsters had to shave and resort to telling people they were wearing a beard before the pandemic or something. Nevertheless, I can’t help but take some satisfaction from having observed Beige Palace from their very dawn, at their first show in the now-lost CHUNK rehearsal space-cum-gig venue way back in the spring of 2016. The place was a bugger to get to from the train station, being practically in the middle of nowhere you’d actually want to go, and to describe it as basic would be polite. But what CHUNK provided was a place where anything went. It was BYOB, pay what you can, and it was a hub of creativity which lay at the heart of the DIY scene in Leeds. And so it was that Beige Palace – perhaps not quite a supergroup at the time, but simply people in other bands (Freddy Vinehill-Cliffe (Thank), Kelly Bishop (Gloomy Planets) and Ant Bedford (Cattle)) doing something different together – came to be.

They’ve come a way since then, notably with slots at The Brudenell supporting Mclusky and also Shellac, with a personal thumbs-up from god himself, Steve Albini. There’s likely a number of reasons for this, apart from the simple fact that Beige palace are bloody good, a major one being that they make angular noise without being overly abrasive, preferring instead to push sounds that are slated, skewed, imbalanced, jarring, jolting. This is right up front at the start of this, their second long-player, with ‘Not Waving’, a scuzzy collision of Shellac, The Fall, early Pavement, and Truman’s Water. The bass is right up in the mix, the vocals down low, and everything about it is absolutely wrong in terms of conventional sound. You can imagine sound engineers all around the country shaking their heads and saying “but that bass is just booming… it’s drowning out the vocals… and the guitar, maybe you should take the treble down a bit?” But Beige palace’s sound isn’t conventional, and they’re not going for radio-friendly pop tunes.

The album’s title appears to make a nod to XTC, and calls to mind the band’s hit ‘Making Plans for Nigel’ (surely one of the greatest snappy tunes of the New wave era) and the fact that Andy Partridge was co-frontman of XTC. Coincidence? Am I joining dots and identifying references which simply don’t exist? Possibly, but then again, for all the wrongness, the off-key and the off-kilter, there are some neat hooks to be found leaping out from the rumbling basslines and loping drums. ‘Local Sandwich’ is representative: the rhythm section strolls along kicking a loose groove where the bass and drums are seemingly playing alternate to one another, the discordant sprechgesang vocals of the verses overlap one another, making for a tense combination – and then out of nowhere, pow! Hook! And then a squalling climax.

The genius of the songwriting lies in its unpredictability: for as much as the compositions are largely built around repetitive motifs, hammering away at the same nagging loop for minutes at a time, adding and subtracting elements such as keyboard or guitar, they’re prone to veer off somewhere else or otherwise change tempo or burst into a scratchy blast of noise at precisely the moment you least expect – and just when you expect something unexpected, a song like ‘My Brother Bagagwaa’ doesn’t do it. They’re as keen to explore the space in between the notes as the notes themselves, and there are numerous passages on Making Sounds for Andy where they pull things back to stark minimalism. This makes the crackling bursts of distortion and clattering drums all the more impactful.

Leeds has a habit of birthing weird bands who are nosy but not noise, with the legendary Bilge Pump and the should-have-been-legendary Bearfoot Beware providing a brace of examples – but Beige Palace are very much their own band. Making Sounds for Andy is a bold celebration of ramshackle lo-fi, delivered in such a way as to hit hard. It’s got ‘underground classic’ all over it.

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German post–modern noise rock ensemble ZAHN will release their second full–length album Adria on 24th November. Adria offers a bold escape from your daily life through technicolor transmissions of post–rock, krautrock, dark jazz, noise–rock, post–punk and electronic music. Influenced by the likes of TRANS AM, THE JESUS LIZARD, METZ, THE MELVINS and TORTOISE. Adria is a compelling soundtrack to a 1980’s anti–utopian road movie!

Adria was mixed and mastered by Magnus Lindberg (RUSSIAN CIRCLES, CULT OF LUNA) at his Stockholm studio. The cover artwork, based around photographs by Lupus Lindemann(KADAVAR), was designed by Fabian Bremer (RADARE, AUA).

The album is a testament to the incredible power of this trio and its ability to effortlessly ensnare your attention for the duration of a ten minute–song of purely instrumental music. Over the course of the album’s 11 tracks ZAHN emerge as a form of PINK FLOYD of noise rock, relentlessly pushing the envelope on what’s already accomplished while remaining tasteful and tasty at every corner.

Listen to ‘Schmuck’ here:

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‘Dead Air’ is the lead single from ferocious noise rock duo Modern Technology’s new full-length Conditions of Worth.

‘Dead Air’ kicks into life with a dense smog-like atmosphere, engulfing the listener in a battering of hard-hitting drums, fuzzed out bass riffs and gruff, acidic yelling. The song’s chorus “IS THIS HOW THE WORLD ENDS!?” becomes a cautionary mantra as the duo reminisce about good times gone, trudging on through a world that has become increasingly scarier, more dangerous, inhospitable and absurd. Dead Air is a sonic beatdown forged from chaos, restlessness and hostility concerning our impending shared future. The goal for the Dead Air music video was simple – to capture the rawness and visceral live energy of Modern Technology’s celebrated live performances.

Shot in exquisite black and white, director Chris Purdie favours simplicity and authenticity, stripping everything back and placing the duo and their live gear into a proverbial blank space, captured in minimal unbroken takes. Even devoid of an audience feeding back their energy, the heavy pair showcase the sweat, fury and unyielding power that makes their exhilarating shows so compelling. With this song and much of the album being written and demoed during the pandemic, the band’s on screen solitude echoes the conditions in which the album was conceived. The visible anguish on the faces of band members Chris Clarke and Owen Gildersleeve mirror their shared concerns about social unrest, austerity, the climate crisis, and the feelings of fear, hopelessness and anger that came from such turbulent times – the very themes that make up Conditions Of Worth.

Director Chris Purdie, who has previously worked on seminal videos for the likes of Oxbow and AVSA, says of this project “I knew from the first time I heard Modern Technology that I wanted to work with them on a video like this. Visually I felt we shared similar aesthetics, so I pitched to them the idea of a RIFF.Underground-style performance video, minus the trappings of the live environment. When the band explained the meaning behind the song to me, it became clear that we were all on the same page so the visual design came together quickly. Having that extra freedom to explore meant we could really go to town with extreme camera angles, fog, and especially light placement.”

Watch the video here:

Amphetamine Reptile Records – 16th July 2023 (CD, DL) / 23rd July 2023 (LP)

Christopher Nosnibor

The late 80s and early 90s were my time in terms of musical discovery. Door seemed to open door seemed to open door… and these were exciting times, too. There was a lot happening, and a lot of it was noisy. While endless column inches were given to Sub Pop – and not wrongly – two other labels stood out to me at this time: Touch and Go, and Amphetamine Reptile, the former home to the likes of Shellac, and Girls Against Boys, the latter, Cows, Helmet, Tar, Dwarves, and the mighty Melvins. It’s hard to overstate the importance of these labels at the time. But latterly, Sub Pop turned pop, releasing fay indie by Fleet Foxes, while cranking out reissues of the albums that put them on the map as the home of the ‘Seattle Sound’, and Touch and Go reduced its roster significantly few years after The Butthole Surfers hauled them to court over (lack of) contractual issues, releasing only a handful of more commercially-orientated artists in recent years.

And then there’s AmRep. They’ve kept on doing what they do. The label never put out masses of releases per year, and perhaps that’s been a factor in its sustainability, focusing on curation. That, and the fact that The Melvins’ output alone is enough to keep the label both busy and afloat. A label dedicated to alternative and noise rock, Mr.Phylzzz are right at home here.

Fat Chance, the third album from Mr.Phylzzz, and which swiftly follows its 2022 predecessor, Cancel Culture Club, promises a ‘a distinct tonal shift while staying true to the band’s signature style’ and ‘an unrelenting, dynamically charged experience, described by the band as their most straightforward and focused record yet.’

It was recorded at Electrical Audio studios, a fact which speaks for itself, and the tracks were laid in just four days. Having road-tested the material in advance, the recordings capture a big, dense live sound and a real sense of immediacy. And there is very much a sense not only of focus, but of purpose, which radiates from the songs, and the sound quality and production is much improved but with no loss of power. Squalling noise and cacophony has yielded to tight structures and slugging grooves.

‘Pontiac Grand-Am’ brings blistering slabs of guitar and pumping drums, driven by a wild energy, and it’s one hell of a way to start an album. With Clinton Jacob’s yelping vocal style, I’m reminded of Electric Six and Pulled Apart by Horses, although it’s the latter they clearly bear the closer overall sonic resemblance. But the difference is that this mad, manic chaos of noise is created by just two guys instead of a full band. And this is a mad, manic noise that takes no breathers. The majority of the songs are two-and-a-half to three-and-a-half minutes long and are defined by absolutely piledriving riffs.

‘Maybe’ takes what starts out sounding like a fairly standard Nirvana-inspired riff and then chops it into a jarring, stuttering churn. The first six songs are crammed into sixteen eye-popping minutes without a second’s let-up, and it leaves you panting, your heart palpating.

And then there’s the obligatory long song to bring the curtain down, and the seven-minute ‘Pick Scrape’ delivers what it says on the tin, an experimental instrumental with a pick scape that builds through a series of crashing crescendos, something that’s somewhere between no-wave and avant-garde jazz, and one hundred percent racket.

If stylistically, Fat Chance has its roots in grunge and the noise rock sound of the 90s, it’s also an extremely contemporary album, and not just on account of duos being very much en vogue (although as likely a fashion borne out of practicality and necessity in terms of logistics and finances in this direst period of capitalism yet, which finds the artist at the bottom of the pile when it comes to making their work pay). Sonically, and in terms of its delivery, and its all-out, in-yer-face attack, Fat Chance is an album of the now – and it’s a blinder.

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