Sunday, January 30, 2011

Hiroshima Bird Market - Bridge Bypass All CDr

Gone are the buzzing furies and baking hot cauldrons of the previous release, replaced on this three tracker by a cleaned up, focused, slow bled virgin of a sound that’s molested and shadow fed.

Myasnoye begins as a dirgey violin tune-up, flecks of key synthetics anaconda through…the sounds are unstable, as if staggering in an intoxicated haze… a bubbling condensation of valves… scraping basifications, coruscating into guitar sparkle, stabs and tempered throat drones...Suddenly, the track finds a pulse, sets up tenancy… the guitar hitching a ride… a lovely recurring chord structure flashing its flanks within that mouth organ haunt and sporadic violin scurry. Germanic narration grabbing a foothold, loose cymbal/drum chattering within the sentences… chords supplying extra percussive plunges, bent chimes…

Everything gathers up to quite a dreamscape, then cuts back into trk two’s pastoral glazery…More narration spreads out over the strum, with secondary shouts from low in the mix punching through.. gets quite angsty, frustrated with the dull clip of apathy... ending far too quickly on the oasis of ‘…sometimes I feel like crying’.

The last track, Bridge bypass all is an infinitely darker beast, a reprise of the first track, but more consecrated…the amps UFO saucering, climbing a bass incline…. violin scraping… drums falling through the gaps in pitted refrain…. curls of horse hair fed to the feedback shadows… finger spans travelling a Kafkaesque gloom…

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

One of the best defunct french bands ever

Flaming Dragons of Middle Earth - The Seed of Contempt

'I’m in a wheelchair, I have muscular dystrophy... and I'm a lead singer, singing apocalyptic improvisation lyrics' barks Danny Cruz the self professed leader behind the Flaming Dragons of Middle Earth... He comes across like Tiny Tim’s aggressive twin, while his collection of non musicians throw out some suitably off key harmonics around him, like an audio equivalent to the wicked crayoned artwork that houses this baby.

This freeform rabble is not to everybody's taste… his 'off the cuff', 'in your face' jabbering takes some getting used to... sounding not unlike Zed from Police Academy... And it's not until the first side hits the 13 minute mark that the albums' outsider promise really begins to shine in the form of a lovingly realised freak-folk ballad I think is called Shadow of the night ... A low-key Comus thumble of Beefheartean hints carried on a ram shackled melody almost picked bare and gently swept up by wisps of trumpet... a dog barks along, the phone goes off... all seamlessly absorbed into the flickering splendour... 'hate myself today...' whines Danny...blood in my eyeballs...' 'heart half arachnal...'

From here on, the record never looks back, further pushed home by Evil knows your name... a banjo and spoons peel with an orphaned synth line weaving greasy smears...

The second side relives the experience, with a piano nailing that overbearing vox... Later on, they totally slaughter Lennon’s Power to the People to great effect... ends up a million times better than the original... builds up a lunatic energy from the jarring guitars and misaligned drum flurries … repetition giving way to an insane shrillness that would no doubt leave Simon Cowell in a coma of disbelief.

There should be more of this in music, doing it for the sheer hell of it... messing with the salesmen and connoisseurs tiny worldview, unafraid of that crippling notion of uncool ... un-tutored, gutsy, it must be said there's a whole heap of musical wrongness on this slab of vinyl but enough oblique beauty to make it a worthwhile investment...

Swallow This Turd

Quite enjoying this free 33trk collection of oblique new rave/cute indie/guitar molestering whatevers from the tic-tac-totally vaults, just submit yr email address and it's all yours

Monday, January 24, 2011

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Kunstformen der Natur

loose yourself in the detail... part of the artforms of nature series...

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Guilty (not so) secret

For all its faults (and there are plenty), DIJ's new offering Peaceful Snow is fast becoming my guilty (not so) secret of twenty eleven. The simple balladry is sticking in my head more and more, the piano adding a refreshing depth from that camp-fire acoustic Mr. P has been strumming since 'symbols shatter '. Wasn't expecting the past, but somehow this has snuck in there and taken me hostage... There's an online assassination over at sputnik music, a lot of which I completely agree with, by rights i should hate this... but ironically it's outplayed the latest Nurse with Wound collaboration hands down...

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

A Horseback Ride To The Temple Of Montu and much more

Reviewed this sun dappled cassette last year... now after disappearing into the ether it's been resurrected over at the FMA along with plenty of other tasty Tanzprocesz morsels...

Thursday, January 13, 2011

Squeeze me Macaroni, Ultrakill, Timothy Weary

9th January - The Croft, Bristol

Oh man, Fairhorns was a total no show and I think Ten pulled out, but the disappointment was totally quashed by Serena’s set…

She was definitely worth the trip, as the stormy weathers and toy xylophonics of last year’s Cube show were ditched in favour of bespoke beat backdrops and more of that captivating riffage. Smashing the mic into the stand… she cut the resulting loops up with hand claps and eerie guitar scrapings, adding a liberal amount of delay along the way… A real mesmeric performance as the architecture built up …emotive guitar lines thrown over depth charged cauldrons, adding low-end fret meanders and then garnishing them further in some blinding top end romanticism …… Nothing outstayed its welcome, the density, after short bursts of intensity, mostly guillotined to solitary stirrings … navigating moody Labradford territories shot through with glittery cycles of light and a haunting vox that simply strung your mind … If you ever get the opportunity to see Squeeze me Macaroni go for it… the ease with which she does her thing is breath taking.

Somebody on solo snare was up next (think this was Ultrakill, but could be completely wrong)…he launched straight into a Corsano drilling of the drum skin… A blur of stabby jazz angles and torqued tippings, sticks, a snapping of teeny alligators …between his two short tracks he shrugged his shoulders and related that Matt invited him along then didn’t turn up…and all he had was a snare and cymbal… Surmounting the obvious limitations, he jabbed out a quick fire Queen request…then another short improv burst before calling it a day… sneaking off the stage looking a bit embarrassed.

Last up was some tasty finger picked country vibes from Timothy Weary, but I could feel myself fading…the grim remnants of flu clinging on still… so decided to call it a day after only three songs.

Thursday, January 06, 2011

Blue Sabbath Black Fiji - Mistake of a Small Bird Cdr

No ugly autopsy of harshness here, but super bright squidzella psyched foldings... choking on fast food concoctions and slippery textiles... deft hands keeping each track just tuneful enough to scream sheer genius without cramping any of that day-glo pzazz spurting through yr ears at an unquenchable rate... The whole album mainlining a pure N-ER-G that's incredibly infectious... particularly partial to the rampaging monster cut-outs that the sexy Screamin Janin B charges your mind with, but there's plenty of other tasty directions wrapped up in these eight tracks... this definitely feels like the future with a fucking massive smile on its face...

Now available in sumptuous vinyl for twenty eleven