Posts Tagged ‘Review’

James Wells

Having toured together, Parasitic Twins and The Carnival Rejects release a split EP. It makes sense, really: why not having shared a stage and an audience?

This is a bit of a mix, and rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrraw. That’s no criticism: both bands espouse a credible punk ethic, and while so many contemporary punk acts preach it, they bot keep it real, with The Carnival Rejects’ three songs going in hard and fast and favouring energy over technical prowess. And yes, they may be a bit standard fare in some respects, with their three-chord thrashabouts and terrace-chant choruses, but that’s their thing, and there’s a substantia audience for three-chord thrashabouts with terrace-chant choruses delivered with passion.

Parasitic Twins, Max Watt and Dom Smith are altogether gnarlier, nastier, and more abrasive. Their grind/thrash/metal cover of Babylon Zoo’s ‘Spaceman’ is killer: gritty as hell and with full-weight chug and raw-throated vocals, it’s utterly brutal and barely recognisable for the most part. But from amidst the rabid racket emerges a rendition of that chorus that’s worthy of Napalm Death

‘Feel Nothing’ is even more explosively raw, a snarking mess of distortion with drums and vocals and mangled as the guitars, the chords indistinguishable in a tempest of raging overdrive that sounds like it was recorded in a garage on a phone. And it wouldn’t work if done differently: it’s not pretty music, and it wouldn’t be right to pretty it up. Instead, putting its ugly, blunt force to the fore, it hits hard like a punch to the gut.

The two bands spin different sides of the punk coin, and jointly deliver something powerful, pure, and above all, strong.

PR EP

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30th April 2019

Christopher Nosnibor

The last thing you’ll get from Whalesong is any ambient relaxation sound piece or ‘blue planet’ chillout. Formed a decade ago in Poland by Michal ‘Neithan’ Kielbasa and drawing on elements of industrial, no wave and drone, the ever-shifting collective have established a reputation for extreme weight and extreme volume.

Their third album, following on from Disorder (2017) and Disorder Deconstructed, features a stellar host of musicians Thor Harris (Swans, Wrekmeiste Harmonies, Xiu Xiu), Waclaw Vogg Kieltyka (Decapitated), Aleksander Papierz (Sigihl) and award-winning vibraphonist Tomasz Herisz. But ahead of the release of the double-disc Radiance of a Thousand Suns, they’re treating us to the Gateway EP, the title of which suggests it offers the listener an avenue, an opening, through which to pass to the album proper.

The twelve-minute title track begins with a slow, torturous industrial beat, a plodding trudge that sounds like sheet metal being hit with a sledgehammer. Extraneous noise hovers around, while the vocals, detached, inhuman, echo into the bleakness. And then the drone hits. It’s a dense, distorted, agonizing drone with the volume of a jet engine. Everything screams pain and anguish. And still that constant metallic thud crashes with metronomic regularity, and hammers into your brain. And it goes on forever. The effect is purgatorial, the relentlessness punishing. Sitting obediently on a bed of nails and brandishing a club alongside Swans circa 82-86, ‘Gateway’ is music for masochists at its very best.

Promising to display difference facets of the band on this release, ‘I Am Not Here’ (which may or may not be on some vinyl pressings) is lighter, a bright conglomeration of dulcimers, hanging bells and chiming percussion ring out in unison. Flickers of rhythm emerge from the rippling jangles, although there is no distinct form to be found here. Nothing really happens: it simply jingles along pleasantly, although with endless repetition eventually comes a sense of disquiet.

They’re not kidding when they say the vinyl release is limited: the hand-numbered 10" lathe cut vinyl, which comes in folded black art paper with ‘100% hand-made screen-printed silver metallic artwork’ featuring a picture by Michal Biel, and with packaging design and layout by Mentalporn’ comes in. transparent vinyl limited to 10 copies, some of which will have hidden bonus track on side B, while black vinyl is limited to just 1 copy.

Needless to say, these were sold out before I came to review the release, but at least there’s still the digital option….

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GATEWAY FRONT

16th November 2018

Christopher Nosnibor

The latest offering from gothy New York duo GHXST is appropriately titled. That said, ‘gloom’ carries connotations of moping, listlessness, and the six tracks here are anything but mopey or listless: the downcast, foreboding bleakness of atmosphere is matched by a crackling tension which provides a more complex dynamic.

It begins with a dark pulsating throb and a heartbeat bass drum, distant, buried. Guitar excess howls over the top before settling to a dirge-like crawl of spindly, echo-soaked twang reminiscent of latter-day Earth with hints of Neurosis-inspired post-metal. Shelly X croons and whispers, a combination of ethereal longing and menace as shoegazey washes of sound carry her disembodied voice through the clouds towards the stratosphere.

‘Ocean is a Desert’ is still atmospheric, and combines searing country an psychedelia into the mix to create something epic and immersive Moreover, it brings a greater sense of solidity and a more obvious structure as they start getting riffy and the mechanised drums kick through the murk, and things grow denser still on ‘Vaquero’, which invites comparisons to Chelsea Wolfe and Esben and the Witch at their most sonically dynamic with its brooding drama.

Samples and strings and quivering synths pave the way for the 80s-shaded synth-goth of ‘Bad Blood II’, a chilly, steely grey song that’s both graceful and tense and calls to mind Curve at their best. Single cut ride is dark and dense, taking cues from The Jesus and Mary Chain’s ‘Mushroom’ and offering hints of A Place to Bury Strangers to deliver a deep, dark buzzing throb of mid-tempo droning guitar noise, before ‘Ride’, unveiled in advance of the release, is a gritty, grainy, mess of low-slung low-end riffage swamped in reverb and dirty distortion. And that’s the appeal of GHXST right there. Music to get lost in and to drag you down into the undertow of those dark, deep currents.

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GHXST - Gloom

Pak40 – Crusts

Posted: 14 September 2018 in Albums
Tags: , , , , , , ,

5th September 2018

Christopher Nosnibor

I practically creamed my pants over Pak40’s live show in York, just up the road from my house, a few months back. I didn’t exactly know what to make of them, which was part of the appeal – they didn’t conform to any one style, but they were bloody good. And noisy. And now they follow up their live show with a ‘live in the studio’ EP. ‘Crusts’ was recorded live in one take, and released it the same day, the band leaving it ‘warts and all for a loud, crunchy listening experience’. And that’s exactly wat they deliver. While this type of set-up rarely works for guitar-orientated bands, York-based Pak40 prove the exception to the rule with their crossover style and experimental, big-noise approach.

A spot of research reveals that the 7.5 cm Pak 40 (7,5 cm Panzerabwehrkanone 40) was ‘a German 75 millimetre anti-tank gun developed in 1939-1941 by Rheinmetall and used during the Second World War.’ It figures: these guys sound like total war, a sonic blitzkrieg from beginning to end.

The first track, ‘Sausage Roll,’ is formed around a rolling, strolling, trippy psychedelic bass groove. It’s hefty, trudging, a mid-temp sludge-soaked stoner workout that emerges from a hum of feedback before it slows and speeds and grunts and grinds and powers along with some packed-in density. And when it slows to early Melvins pace around two-thirds in, it truly sounds like a Sabbath 45 played at 33. If you’re expecting some laddish indie jauntiness based on the title, with its connotations of working-class / low salaried simple pleasures in Gregg’s and various greasy spoons, think again.

It bleeds through a humming sustain into the ten-minute centrepiece ‘Rain’, a slow-burner that begins quietly with more strolling bass and some understated percussion. It goes nowhere fast, and in fact doesn’t do anything fast, burrowing deeper into darker depths as the squirming bass worms its way down, down, down. Time stalls: it trickles along and tapers away.

‘Pyramid’ hits a powerful groove and also calls to mind That Fucking Tank, only gnarlier, messier, more downtuned and bottom-heavy. In concluding with a definite finale, the EP has the shape of an inverted bell-curve in terms of the listening experience, and Pak40’s obtuse approach is something to be admired.

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Pak40 - Crusts

Ipecac Recordings – 15th June 2018

Christopher Nosnibor

Having teased us with the Cure cover which accompanies four remixes from their Seismic LP and provides, in part, the EP’s title, Spotlights deliver the rest of the tracks.

There’s substantial range here: Kris Dirkson’s remix of ‘Hang us All’ (retitled ‘The Hanging’) hinges on cinematic shoegaze, ethereal but, whittled to half its original length, feels focused and tightly structured.

Mario Quintero’s remix of ‘Ghost of a Glowing Forest’ (‘Till Darkness Comes Out’) is quite the contrast: a sprawling, murky, dubby beast that transitions from near-ambience to slow industrial thud, it sits between NIN and Portishead.

‘The Size of a Planet’, here reworked by Void Mains and retitled ‘I’ve Giant’ accentuates the heavy, bass-led doom drone that lies beneath the graceful lead parts on the album version, and draws it out to almost seven minutes. It’s pretty hefty. In combination, they make for a strong release, and while standing well in their own right, serve to return the attention to the album that spawned them.

The rendition of ‘Faith’ is utterly breathtaking. They’ve not messed with the original in terms of form or structure, and it’s remarkably faithful (sorry) and respectful – but with the heavy guitar work and even heavier drumming, it amps up the intensity to epic levels.

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SpotlightsEPcoverlores1

1st June 2018

Christopher Nosnibor

It all starts with an air-raid siren. A historical sound with connotations of WW2 for many, but still heard in places like South Korea and Japan, it’s a sound which provokes an almost biologically-wired shudder of unease. They may only be tests, but the sound of sirens in the last 12 months reminds us that stability is but precarious. And then the snaking, surfy bass strolls in, awash with reverb… and then the guitars… It’s all pinned to a locked-down groove, and Trond Fagernes’ voice rises up from amidst it all as if from the back of a cathedral. You saw it all coming, right? They obviously did and approach by stealth, before building to a whiling cacophony by way of a climax. But for all of its noise and tension, this feels more introspective than anything they’ve done before.

Norway’s Mayflower Madame draw heavily on post-punk influences – music born out of the dark days of the early 80s, corresponding with the period when cold war tensions escalated to warrant the labelling of ‘the second cold war’, and the economic boom years widened the chasm between the haves and have-nots was rendered more conspicuous by the rise of the yuppie. And so on.

What Mayflower Madame bring to the gothy party is a potent dose of Nordic noir psych and a dash of shoegaze, all doused in massive reverb, and the four tracks on Premonition continue the trajectory of their 2016 debut album, Observed in a Dream.

The claustrophobic focus continues on the swirling, shoegazy ‘Before I Fall’; the guitars twang through a gauze of drifting synths and echoey fx that create a certain distance between the listener and the actual song, an unusual sense of both space and an absence of space. ‘Alma’s Sermon’ is centred around a backed-off yet insistent motoric beat and has greater immediacy and – it’s all relative – upbeat vibe. But then closer ‘Siders Seek’ plunges deeper into darkness: a paranoid shiver runs down the spine of the track’s tremulous guitars, and everything about the song’s construction seems to be about concentrating the tension. And yes, this is tense.

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Mayflower Madame – Premonition EP

Jahmoni Music – JMM209 – 23rd February 2018

James Wells

Straight into weird shit territory here. Wordless, atonal vocals layer up, ululating and droning and whatever, the tape stretched and slowed and generally fucked about with, while a monotonous bass throb and thumping industrial beat holds an insistent four/four. Think The Fall crossed with Throbbing Gristle. It’s not the full picture, but is a flavour of ‘To Evacuate is Difficult and Infrequent’. It may or may not be a song about bowels. But probably is.

DJ Marcelle is certainly not a DJ in either the conventional or contemporary sense: nor does she present the image of the club DJ throwing down bangin’ tunes for the euphoric masses. Her website uses a kind of Scooby Doo Mystery Machine typeface, and her tour photos all document the soups she’s consumed. This explicit lack of coolness is a cause to celebrate her as an artist. This is not about trends or commercial endeavours: this is about making art with sound.

‘To Reveal the Secret’ is a lo-fi mess of sample loops and clattering drums, and calls to mind the jittery experimentalism of the early 80s avant-garde scene: again, the shadow of TG looms, but equally, the playful oddness of early Foetus and lesser-known acts like Meat Beat Manifesto offshoot Perennial Divide. It pretty much bleeds into ‘Walking Around Aimlessly’, another mash-up of looped samples and old-school tape effects, mining that seem of William Burroughs cut-up inspired audio experimentalism that marked Cabaret Voltaire’s first few albums. Firecracking percussion and wild analogue bleeps provide the fabric of the frenetic finale, which lands in the form of ‘To Sing Along’. The irony is as heavy as the bass, and it rounds of a set that’s noteworthy primarily for its weirdness and apparent celebration of the random.

And random’s where it’s at. Psalm Tree is weird but groovy.

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DJ Marcelle