JULY 2019

Surveillance - Man [Various]
Since I presented an utterly essential east Canadian platter of recent vintage last time, how about I just do it again?

Simply put, the sole 7" by Halifax's Surveillance is perfect. After scanning Wikipedia's list of musical groups from Halifax, I feel comfortable proclaiming Surveillance to be the greatest band in Halifax history based on this record alone.

"Death" tears out of the speakers sounding like a scuzzed out Visqueen, the most effortless of power pop moves played in a truly beautiful ugly fidelity. A delicious piece of sticky ear candy rolled in dirt and lint. The equally tasty "Bud" eases off the gas while staying in the red. Vocalist/guitarist Rachel Fry knows how to coo with guts, making the perfect foil to the clangorous production. At one point, I recall having "Bud" stuck in my head simultaneously with "Dream Police" and "Way of the World" (by Cheap Trick). The three of them were rabidly tussling for my brainspace, fragments of each of the songs all colliding with one another. Empirical proof that Surveillance literally writes hooks that compete with Cheap Trick's.

When I first got this record, I kept playing side A over and over. With these two songs it was already a perfect single. The flip could have been a 5 minute recording of the trio puking up bad seafood or whatever they eat up in Halifax and I wouldn't have felt the least bit shortchanged. At some point, I resolved that I would fight the urge to drop the needle on the A side for the umpteenth time and venture forth and flip the record, with the full expectation that it couldn't possibly hold a candle to the first side. And you know what? It might actually be better.

At about 4 minutes, the titular "Surveillance" is seething and comparatively epic. The charming sweetness of side A is gone but it's no less infectious. Raw, cathartic and 100% alive with angst, "Surveillance" makes a strong case to be the best of three sure-fire #1 hits (on my charts). Even with the accompanying lyric sheet I'm not quite sure I know what's being sung about but I feel it without question. If you have any interest in the past three or four decades of rock music, this is as essential as they come.

A band called "Surveillance", a record called "Man", and a label called "Various", that's a recipe for a search engine nightmare so I've helped you guys out: seems like Various and the band still have copies so buy that shit and thank your lucky Nova Scotian stars.

Prana Crafter - MindStreamBlessing [Eiderdown/Cardinal Fuzz]
Seattle's Eiderdown Records is creeping ever closer to the 10 year mark and in that time they've established themselves as one of the go-to outposts for modern psychedelia. No easy feat! In conjunction with Yorkshire label, Cardinal Fuzz, Eiderdown is reissuing one of its tapes as an LP for the first time, so if you weren't one of the lucky few to get Prana Crafter's MindStreamBlessing in your cassette deck, you can now get it on your turntable.

The world is filthy with one-man psych units but Prana Crafter a.k.a. Will Sol stands apart, or sits cross-legged or whatever. Sol avoids the trap that less astute psych-mavens fall into of overprocessing everything with effects, leaving a soupy haze that blunts the impact (there's a pun in there somewhere that I'm feeling too lazy to tease out). The recording and production is vitally important to the record's success: the guitar fuzz has hair on it, the percussion sounds dry and woody coming from the corner of a small room, the keys have a graceful amount of warble. There's a lot of detail to take in for those that really want to listen. But even pitch-perfect production is nothing without the tunes and Sol brings them in spades.

"At Agartha's Gate" is an inimitable opener, with a chiming guitar line that wiggles deep into that brain of yours and never leaves. Cushioned gently by organ tones, it's a plaintive little wonder and I won't blame you for replaying the track a few times before you jump in to the rest of the record. Sol does a quick about face on "As the Weather Commands" where he unleashes The Shred immediately over hand drums. Somehow, from its wildfire beginnings, the track resolves into one of the silkiest moments of the LP. Sol makes a habit of these juxtapositions, as on the drifting "FingersFlowThroughOldSkokRiver" which is roused awake into a Appalachian-style rave-up.

The second side features some strong tunes as well. "Mycelial Morphohum" takes on a creepier tone and it suits Sol nicely. Fuzzy oscillator drones, disembodied chatter and rumbling tones make a fertile bed for his excursions on untreated acoustic guitar. "Luminous Clouds" takes this idea and ups the ante, taking MindStreamBlessing to its most dramatic and blistering point. Weaving piles of fuzzbox debris in and out of a hypnotic repeating arpeggio, Sol shows some serious compositional chops here, keeping things dangerous but finely controlled. MindStreamBlessing's final chapter "Bardo Nectar" jumped out at me immediately when I first jammed the tape way back when and its luster hasn't waned one bit in the years hence. Saving his catchiest tune for last, Sol walks up the neck dropping a heck of riff as he goes and layering on multiple melodic counterpoints to make the whole thing sing. A finely honed piece of work. And like literally every release Eiderdown has birthed, the LP oozes lustrous visual beauty. Looks good. Sounds good. Feels good. Total package.

Takahiro Mukai - Helplessness [Degenerate Trifecta]
I'm a perpetual neophyte when it comes to techno. Acid is the one with the 303 and the hi-resonance filter sweeps right? I'm woefully unqualified to be writing about techno, but when techno cassettes show up at the door, duty calls (even if it means I'll be embarrassing myself). I have no teknowledge bank up in the noggin to pull from to offer up detailed analysis. I can provide little more than a rating of It Bangs or It Does Not Bang so that's what I'll do.

Luckily for a tech-no-nothing schmuck like me, Seattle's Degenerate Trifecta label offers up online liner notes for its releases helping me suss out what branch of the techno tree my heart is thumping along with. Detroit techno? German club techno? Broken techno? (Now that last one sounds intriguing.)

Degenerate Trifecta dropped this tape titled Helplessness by Japan's Takahiro Mukai earlier in the year and when I read the aforementioned notes by DT, I was admittedly apprehensive at the word "glitched". I remember the Glitch (sub)genre being in vogue in my younger days and, to be honest, it always sounded a bit annoying to me. I wanted techno to kick my ass like that popular Prodigy record (or was that electronica? Is that different than techno? I know nothing!) not sound like a beat up CD. But to my surprise and glee, Helplessness doesn't sound like that, it sounds good!

With a name like Helplessness, you get the sense this could be real dark and scary, or maybe a moody downer thing, but I think this stuff is catchy. This fueled some big time apartment cleanup so, if anything, I'd be lobbying for a reissue under the title Helpfulness.

Mukai starts out unassuming enough with a grinding low frequency sawtooth and unbothered drum loop. The lead-off track "#422" acts like it doesn't need your attention but quickly gets under your skin. It's minimalist not so much in sound (there's no silence) but there's like only three things happening max at any given point. Reminds me a bit of that Ssleeperhold LP from some years back. "#424" is more active without betraying the modus operandi. Rolling along on a sinister bass groove, a calm, cool and collected Mukai layers on some tastefully chattering filter squelch.

Conversely, "#425" is a reluctant freakout, like the sequencer lost its meds and is just trying to keep it together for one more jam. Things expand a little with "#426". Lost of bubbling, babbling and skittering slowly moving between the channels over a mid-tempo trot. Mukai switches his synth to the "idling car motor" preset and closes with "#428", a slowly throbbing concoction of syncopated electronic clatter culminating with an even thicker saw than the tape began with.

It bangs.

Preening - Greasetrap Frisbee [Ever/Never]
Back in my impressionable years (early 2000s) no wave influence had a bit of a resurgence in the contemporary indie scene (Ex Models' update on DNA has always been my favorite of that ilk) but I can't think of a band mining that neo-no wave territory since then that has really turned my head. But Oakland's Preening have with this EP, and I think they might be onto something.

Preening pack five jams into this small 33rpm platter, first of which is "Associated Press" which is as good of a thesis statement as any--deliciously jittery, hitting harmonious and dissonant notes in all the right places. Near the end it sounds like there may be a power drill in there somewhere. The track sums up Preening's sound: a stripped down power trio channeling late 70s Contortions. Not a guitar in sight just like that Playboy record I raved about last month... Which begs the existential question, if the band is playing bass, drums and sax, then who's playing the drill?

The trio is comprised of Bay Area skronk vet Max Nordile (of dual-sax duo The Blues, Uzi Rash and a hundred other things, as well as, FNU Clone inc.'s preferred hornblower), and Alejandra Alcala and Sam Lefebvre on bass and drums, who are both new to me. Nordile and Alcala split vocal duties, and I think the trio is at its best with Alcala at the mic. Nordile's vocals on "PO Box" and "Poison" lean a little goofier without enough of the edge that Alcala brings. Plus, the more Nordile sings, the less time he's got to huff and puff on that horn of his, and I really like when he does that.

The brief title track is a highlight, nodding toward a This Heat-style collage aesthetic but the final track "Face/On" is the obvious hit. Armed with a delectable sax riff that just won't quit, Nordile volleys between playing it straight and twisting it up like a pretzel and unfolding it again. The rhythm section is tops, surprisingly sparse and tastefully plodding, the perfectly sturdy yin to the saxophone's elastic yang. Alcala's vox are totally on point too, adding just a touch of brimstone. Really, really good.

Adrian Knight - Vacation Man [Galtta]
Considering Adrian Knight had such a huge hand in Nick Stevens's fantastic tape last summer, I was very keen to take a listen to Knight's new tape when it arrived earlier in the year. After dropping something like 15 releases in the past decade (not to mention his work on other people's projects like Stevens), the ever-prolific Knight rolls with a very distinct style and, admittedly, it's taken me a bit of time to figure out how I feel about it. To be honest, I'm still not quite sure, but that almost always turns out to be a good thing in my experience.

After a brief intro, Knight launches right into his patented concoction of jazz-funk-space-pop. Sounding like what would be ruling the charts in 2135 in a movie from 1996, a jump through a wormhole would no doubt reveal a host of socialites grooving to the title track along with their nano-vapor cocktails or whatever the party animals are ingesting at that point in time. The production is thick. So much going on at every moment. Palm-muted guitar plucks, multi-tracked vox, swinging bass, complex percussion and copious amounts of synthesizer. You almost don't even realize it when David Lackner drops in with his woodwinds because they're so thoroughly processed and blended into the arrangements.

I'm surprised that it has taken me so many years to realize this but I see a similarity in Knight and Canadian electro-pop weirdo Man Made Hill. But where Man Made Hill makes the decision to play it strange, Adrian Knight makes the stranger decision to play it straight. Knight really leans into the glossy kitsch and cheese factors that often shroud themselves in irony (if not make themselves the target of punchlines) and embraces them guilelessly with great vigor. It's easy to respect something so pure.

The one thing that holds me back is Knight's vocals aren't strong enough for my taste. They have a tendency to get lost in the hyperactive mix, perhaps blending in too well. That may be by design, as Knight seems to revel in blurring the edges of the bevy of elements in each track, and I may just not be aligning with his aesthetic. That's probably why I went bananas for the Nick Stevens tape; it features so many of the signature qualities I enjoy about Knight's work but with a more compelling vocal presence at the center.

With all that said, there are plenty of great tunes here, like the aforementioned title track and back to back romps "Waiting to See" and "Anna Marie"--the latter of which features the hook of the album courtesy of a plinky synth. Everything considered, the tape is a hell of a lot of fun. If you've ever wanted to groove like it's 2135, look no further.

Gary Wrong Group/Wizzard Sleeve - Halloween Violence [Jeth-Row/Pelican Pow Wow]
The mark of a great split is when you can never settle on which side is your favorite. After the first few rounds, Wizzard Sleeve was the leader but Gary Wrong Group has been sneaking up ready to pounce and wrestle the belt away. Both projects are lead by Mr. Wrong so it figures quality is equally high across both sides.

Gary Wrong Group deliver "Dream Smasher" which grinds along in no particular rush, layering on plenty of thick fuzz, sci-fi synth seasoning, samples of glass shattering and a casio-style vibraphone lick that totally seals the deal, transforming this sucker into a total earworm. Gary creeps along muttering about violent dreams in stereo. What I like most about this track is, despite the preceding description, it's quite pleasant to listen to. The track seems to just be smoothly gliding along for I'm guessing 5+ minutes, very dreamlike and otherworldly in its particularly odd and ugly way.

"Loupgarou" on the Wizzard Sleeve side ventures forth with a lobotomized lope. Dragging knuckles and dragging its cloak and sickle as you drag your feet when it takes you to your final resting place. The Sleeves summon swirling visions of an exotic alternate-universe Flipper who only played through busted theater sound systems after midnight movies. Nocturnal sludge.

Whichever side you pick, Halloween never sounded so sick. (The B side label is an iridescent moon, which is pretty choice.)

Drunkdriver - Born Pregnant [Parts Unknown]
Born Pregnant*, Drunkdriver's debut LP, is nearing the 15 11 year mark which is a bit crazy to think about. The band apparently disintegrated at the end of the decade due to drummer Jeremy Villalobos being accused of sexual assault and Load deciding to scrub their, at the time, upcoming follow-up from its catalog. (This lead the band to self-release the LP which I still have yet to come across in my record store travels.)

Liberated from the shackles of having a bass player drinking 1/4 of their beer on tour, Drunkdriver consisted of drums, guitar and Michael Berdan's agonized screams. Berdan's angsty shouting and cry-for-help liner notes were fine but never particularly moved the needle for me. The real reason I'm still listening to (and writing) about Drunkdriver in 2019 is that guitarist Kristy Greene is a speaker ripping terror.

I'm over here like a maniac with a loupe in hand trying to make out her gear on the dingy inner sleeve photo, jonzing for some clue as to how she gets this soul-quaking, building-crumbling tone. (Metal Muff, Morley A/B box, Boss tuner. Interesting!) I'm not sure there's been a guitarist who has so thoroughly and successfully melded rock guitar and undiluted harsh noise. I listen to the record in that way too; I never pay attention to any of the, I don't know, let's just say 8 songs, and I definitely couldn't name one without glancing at the jacket first. I view the record as two side-long blasts of face-melting sonic savagery, thanks to Greene. To be honest, I still get a little scared to pull this one out cause whenever I play it, I feel like this could finally be the time the whole hi-fi goes up in a blaze. Nothing left but a ruinous pool of melted plastic, charred metal, and smoking rubber.

Greene never released any music post-Drunkdriver that I'm aware of (please correct me if I'm mistaken!) and that's a goddamn shame. Such an incredible talent with so many more faces to melt. I, for one, feel cheated.

*Fat Worm of Error definitely one-upped DD on their album title game when they dropped Pregnant Babies Pregnant with Pregnant Babies the following year on Load. Just ignore this whole spiel regarding the (incorrectly asserted) album release dates. I don't know how time works.

JUNE 2019

As has been clear for fuckin' years now, I don't have a lot of time to crank out (long ass) reviews with some degree of frequency like I did once upon a time. There's probably not gonna be many "featured"-type reviews going forward and things are probably gonna be mostly in this vain, which is some blurbs about things I'm listening to (both submissions and just shit from my own collection). 

Playboy - Celebration [Negative Jazz]
The greatest Canadian record of all time? Well maybe not as good as Leonard Cohen's, but better than the Matthew Good Band's. All seriousness aside, this is the greatest Canadian record of all time. I can't stop listening to it, and when I listen to it I can't stop punching the fucking air (until I have to stop and flip the record). And when I'm listening and punching the shit out of canuck ghosts, I also have to drink ice cold English gin. I can't figure this out because they're Canadian and I'm a whiskey/rum guy. It doesn't make sense. But when I listen to Playboy, I'm a gin guy. I actually keep gin in the freezer so it's available whenever the moment strikes. I don't know why, it just feels right.
So Playboy sort of has that early No Trend or Flippery vibe. Thuggish and sluggish. The bass grinds as much as it grooves (and has this odd, somewhat metallic quality that I still can't pin down--adding just a hint of Shellac-y seasoning). The rhythm section is really the foundation of Celebration, with A Frames-like precision, it churns like a machine. Its importance can't be overstated. But the thing that sets Playboy apart is those clarinets, man.
Is it one clarinet? Is it a cadre of clarinets? I can't tell, but they can really wail! Every so often I hear a bit of barely-there synthesizer but when it comes down to it this is one of the most arresting, rocking, virile and tough-as-shit records I've ever heard, and without a guitar in sight.
Normally, packaging isn't especially important to me but this is top notch stuff both in production-quality and the cool cartoons-meets-vorticism design aesthetic. Los Angeles's Negative Jazz imprint (LA rules, fuck you) did the whole fucking world a solid dropping this hot little number.
Just fuckin' buy it, buy a fuckin' case of Ford's or whatever's on sale and don't stop listening 'til yr dead from a busted liver. Be a part of history and own the magic for a mere 10 bucks. Oh, Canada. 

Aaron Zarzutzki & Nick Hoffman - Exhaustive Expulsion [Pilgrim Talk]
As far as I know this is the cacophonous duo's follow-up to the the bizarre and awesome LP Psychophagi and its accompanying cassingle Opening Band. This dual tape set of live performances is no less obscure or interesting in its sounds but less of a curatorial eye was taken in its construction. The LP had a single 20+ minute improvisation and two more in the 10-12 minute range; the cassingle was fascinating as it distilled Hoffman's and Zarzutzki's efforts down to under five minutes a side. 
This session of dual hour long tapes is more difficult to consume and a bit of a "fans only" affair. But if you can't get enough of a spinning metal plate scraping other pieces of metal, you know who you are and you should have this dynamic duo's full discography in your collection. There are dozens of us!

Amalgamated - Spark I [Intangible Cat]
Amalgamated is a crew operating somewhere in Illinois (I think) with a bit of an unusual set-up that makes their name ring true. Four people generate music, not sure if they’re all jamming separately or together, and then another two people are responsible for editing and other post-production duties. Apparently this 3” CDr had been in the works for some time and saw the light of day earlier this decade (yeah, I'm late). The vibe is mostly chilled out electronic music drawing on a variety of sources. I’m assuming there might be some acoustic instrumentation in here but I’m not positive, there’s definitely a hearty dose of synths, samples and drum machines often spun through spacey dub delay and filters. To the group’s credit, I don’t think this sounds like 6 people had a hand in it; it sounds like it came from one mind to me.
“Rot Makor” features some heavier synth percussion but the tracks generally yield to a smoother pulse. Usually, at least one element in the mix is set to ultra-glide at all times. So even when things get a little crunchy, there’s a plush keyboard somewhere smoothing out the bumps.
People into the trippier electronic music spheres take note, if you haven't already that is!

Back Magic - Chorus Line to Hell [Milvia Son]
I woke up one Sunday morning and had a hankering for Back Magic's Chorus Line to Hell LP. Figured I could try out one of those "Now Playing tweets" and link to the review I wrote about it. Except after some mildly frantic searching, there was no review to be found. Could've sworn I'd written one but once again I reveal myself to be an incorrigible fuck up. So here comes the review that I thought I wrote and definitely should've:
A pungent concoction of punk, surf, no wave, medieval folk and moldy psychedelia (that doesn't quite sound like any of the above) emanating from some basement in Indiana. Back Magic is the work of the Brothers Hoffman, billing themselves as Hair EXP on guitar and sometimes voice and Terror Trans on drums. Chorus Line to Hell marks their debut LP following up 8" and 5" lathes (which included one of my favorite punk rippers from last decade "Cough Syrup Buzz") and a tape on Nick Hoffman's Pilgrim Talk label. And I did actually review those (here, here and here).
This is full of bangers and well worth grabbing to hear all the alleyways the Back Magic boys trek down but a couple favorites are the lo-fi punk anthem "Peace Police", "Thing I am" which heads into a noise rock zone (with a certain Suicide-ish propulsion), the Middle Eastern vibin' of "Paradise of Skulls" and the eerie and droning "Class Coven" with its 60s Italian pulp film score fumes. Oh yeah, there's a ripping Crass cover too because obviously an LP as magnanimous as this should end on a Crass cover.
You can grab yourself a copy from Back Magic themselves here.

Bearded Astronaut - 9.8 m/s^2 [Green Tape]
Like all projects released by Illinois's mysterious little Green Tape label, Bearded Astronaut is a little mysterious. Nearly every phrase on the j-card (save for the label's URL) has at least one space or physics related term: the artist name, tape title, track titles feature words such as "Moon" "Trajectory" "Stellar" and "Transmission" and, probably the most telling "Third Sun from the Stoned." 
Bearded Astronaut at first really subverts the general, sonic expectations associated with "space." There's no ethereal, cosmic keyboards, no 'future sounds'. The tape sounds decidedly terrestrial. Clean-toned guitar offers pleasant arpeggios amidst a backdrop that sounds more than a little raw and gristly. There seems to be a light coat of rust on everything, nothing is space age or state-of-the-art. Bearded Astronaut mostly ambles along pitching makeshift song structures comprised of said guitar, fuzzy bass and stumbling drum machine. 
You know, when I said there's nothing here generally associated with space? Well that only holds true for so long as "Pause and Reflects" does feature pretty organ and guitar glistening. The drum machine still thumps underneath giving the universe a heartbeat. It's a humble, quietly beautiful piece--certainly the centerpiece of the tape. After soaring for so long the piece crashes and burns into a crude 8-bit drum machine loop. Maybe there's some sort of concept going on here: Bearded Astronaut beginning in the terrestrial sphere, ascending upward to the heavens before falling face first once gravity gets its paws on the spaceman again. Jus' sayin'...
"Final Transmission" marks a spiritual heir to "Pause and Reflects." Gliding organ notes are overcome by pulsing static and humming feedback into another very fine track, the aforementioned "Third Sun from the Stoned." There's nothing radically "new" about this tape, but there's something a little intriguing about how they concoct the recipe.

Body Morph - Pussy for Breakfast/Medical Fame [Moon Myst]
Who love da sax, baby? Are there still sax duos out there nowadays? Haven't been keeping my finger on the pulse but Daniel Dlugosielski was in a pretty rad one called Uneven Universe which I hope you heard back in the day. Dlugosiekski helped to pioneer those moldy scrape 'n creep "jazz" moves that oozed out of Michigan on a regular basis (and has since been coined "psycho jazz" if I'm applying the proper meme).
Double D has been in the game a long time and Body Morph is his ongoing solo project of processed sax and mildew. This hour-long album luxuriates across two 30 minute tapes. Bleary-eyed sax drifts from place to place via the occasional sputter and bend of electronics and tapes. There's an occasional harsh punctuation but mostly Dlugosielski lets you just sink in the foggy bog, cushioned by tape hiss.
Each half-hour tape is given a separate title (Pussy for Breakfast and Medical Fame respectively) but they blend together as one big clammy mass for all intents and purposes, though the lovely, drifting melodies of Medical Fame's first side do stand out. When you're in the mood, there's nothing that scratches the itch like Dlugosiekski's brand of reedy, feverish lethargy. Soak up the sonic smells while lying flat on your back and except no substitutes.
Tape's longggggggg sold out as far as I can tell because I'm a pathetic no good loafer, but there's a host of other great ways to ruin your ears from Moon Myst.

Embarker - Point Location [Send Help]
Embarker - False Purview [Send Help]
It comes with the territory, but in the realms of the that's-just-noise genre there are some folks that just seem to fly a little too under the radar for my liking, not getting the amount of pub they deserve from my vantage point. Michael Barker better known (or perhaps not) as Embarker fits into that category. He dropped a self-titled LP over a decade ago, my first introduction to his work and still one of my favorite harsh needle drops in the AuxOut home library. He's been plugging away since, dropping a tape every year or two on labels such as Phase!, I Just Live Here and Spleencoffin, but lucky us, The Bark dropped a tape twofer last year of Point Location and False Purview.
I was gonna try to work this next bit into paragraphs with complete sentences and shit, but I decided fuck it. Here are my listening notes, reproduced verbatim:

point location
side a

track 1
cut-up freak out - killin' it
track 2
Unexpected shift in to vintage Yellow Swans territory. sheets of electric needles crashing on the beach - hell yeah
track 3
splits the difference between the first two
track 4
clicky percussive track, longggg

side b
heavy, violent herk & jerk, sounds like hightops on a basketball court (sick. where are the wells fargo center samples?), some background whispers (really sounds like a mashup of first two tracks)
then back into clicky percussive track, longggg
banger.

False Purview is a 60 minute slab of twisted tech(no)ise. The opener "Chrome Hill" embraces the minimal, patiently building around a thick, irregular throb while "Skeeball w/ Georgio" could totally bang at an adventurous club if you upped the BPMs a bit.
The casual yet insistent slow burn of "Haze Gradient" is far better than so many recent techno 12"s I've heard (okay, I probably haven't heard that many) but, still, Barker's grasp of pacing and drama is far better than most. Somebody offer this guy a record deal!
Even though False Purview is the most approachable Embarker joint that I've heard, dude's not looking to go pop anytime soon dropping the title track's 21 minutes of trance-like rhythmic noise nirvana on the listener only four minutes into Side A. I don't know if False Purview represents the current Embarker phase or if MB has already moved well on to some other exciting territory but it's a direction he certainly excels at.
Check for the tapes (and the excellent LP) HERE

Future Storms - "Chew Me Up" & Other Dance Hits [no label]
The thing that attracted me most about this tape when I received it was the recording credits which read: "I did everything my goddamn self." In places such as "Nacho Mountain" and "Crap Island" no less. How could you not look forward to listening to something with that scrawled inside. This tape is lo-fi. And not just in terms of genre or sonic affectation, this truly sounds like it was recorded all by someone's "goddamn self." There are five tracks, maybe 15 minutes?
It seems like the tracks could be sequenced chronologically based on the date of recording as the production seems to shift as the tape rolls along. "Stellaphone" which opens Side B, while blown out, sounds much louder (and better) than the first side perhaps indicating a musician figuring shit out. The track really thumps with a great little guitar lead peeking out near the end, easily making it the high point of the tape's hissy, buzzy Future Storming. The kicker is that tape ends with a verbal "You're Welcome." Yes, thank you very much Mr. Storms.
Not sure how you're supposed to acquire this tape, but it exists.

Things Falling Apart - One Must Not Move Quiet [Green Tape]
I am curious if there is any overlap in personnel between Bearded Astronaut and Things Falling Apart, as there were certain touches of post-rock dynamics among the mounds of basement grit. Well this tape pretty much eschews the basement grit and amps up the post-rock. 
My relationship to post-rock was always something of a love/hate affair; for every piece of genius like F#A#∞ that the genre produced there were another 25 completely underwhelming, useless albums. Maybe it's been so long that the bad taste has worn off or maybe post-rock just doesn't seem so damn priggish on a cassette but this tape is pretty enjoyable. Even the goddamn title One Must Not Move Quiet is coming straight out of the A Silver Mt. Zion or Do Make Say Think playbooks. With the world drowning perilously in a sea of crooked cheats, some truth-in-advertising is more appreciated now than ever. Thanks guys.

Voicehandler - Light from Another Light [Humbler]
Whoa. This one is potent. If I see percussionist Jacob Felix Heule's name attached to anything my expectations skyrocket, from my discovery of Ettrick back in '06 to this modern day banger by Voicehandler, every experience I've had with his live or recorded work has delivered. I missed out on Voicehandler's debut several years ago so this is fresh territory for me and it certainly stands apart from Heule's other work that I'm familiar with.
Voicehandler marks Heule's percussive prowess teaming up with Danishta Rivero's processed voice and things get wild. This CD collects three sessions recorded late May/early June 2017 in Berkeley ranging from 11-18 minutes, which is kind of great for a short attention spanner like me cause I just pop on an individual set if I just need a 15 minute dose.
That's not to say that care wasn't taken in the track sequencing as "June 8" is a perfect introduction to the album with its kosmische freak jazz vibes. Shards of digital synthesis ping hard back and forth across your speakers, with feral chirps and barks creeping in and, of course, Heule keeping the foundation ever shifting as he volleys between manic and minimal modes. Particularly excellent is the breakdown midway through which sounds like Heule practicing his chops to an alien transmission instead of a Milford Graves record.
I wasn't familiar with Rivero before this but her contributions here are pleasantly unexpected. It's my own bias speaking but when I see "voice & drums" I assume the vocalist is going to be going for a lot of volume (shrieks, guttural moans, whatever) but Rivero's work is wonderfully subtle and calculated on Light from Another Light. She has her in-yr-face freak out moments for sure, but she derives a lot of interesting textures from her voice and electronic processing. The tactile nature of the sounds fits seamlessly with Heule's approach.
That kosmische vibe I hinted at earlier comes thick and heavy on "June 1" which is a sort of twitchy, witchy drone track, really tossing the jazz elements by the wayside with percussion emulating crackly patterns of static. The longest session "May 25" concludes the disc, with Heule picking up the sticks again for some focused, champion-level workouts and Rivero droppin' some wigged out Gremlins-inspired vocal exhalations, an angelic coo or two and a heap of cyber-mainframe pulses.
Great care was put into the recording and it sounds sharp as hell, listen loud on a decent system if you can. Hit up Humbler records for the pro-pressed CD which looks quite spiffy with artwork supplied by Brittany Nelson. Edition of 200.

Ricardo Dias Gomes - Aa [Kill Shaman/SDZ]

Happy New Year! Uhhhh... Well, quite embarrassingly, at AuxOut HQ we're kicking off 2019 in March. This one's been caught in the meat grinder for too many months now. But I promise you it's tops and well worth the wait. The record I mean, not the review. I never vouch for anything written on these pages.

When Kill Shaman puts out a record you always have to take notice and the LP Aa by Brazilian artist Ricardo Dias Gomes is their first release since 2016's essential jaw dropper by Heimat. Teaming up for Aa with Parisian label SDZ, who's no slouch in it's own right, makes a lot of sense considering the two labels released records by several of the same artists (The Rebel, Dan Melchior, and AuxOut favorites, Cheveu) over the past 15 years. Gomes stands just a bit to the side of that trio, however, forging an unquestionably specific aura within the grooves.

Forever late to the party, I was unfamiliar with Gomes's work before Aa, despite a heavily praised solo debut in 2015. My first encounter with Gomes was the music video for "Precipício" released summer 2018. (I excitedly called it "DAF in slow motion".) A gooey, grunting quease with an obsidian gleam, and it kicks off the LP in style. When I listened to the record I anticipated more of the same, and while you get "Tela Parada" which grooves with ease on a thick electro-throb and chopped up hand percussion, that's not totally what Aa offers. As a big fan of the DAF ethos I obviously would have welcomed revivalism in that vein, but Gomes serves up something more his own. A blend of agitation and gentleness, always proffered with as few instruments as necessary.  

Aa is interesting to me because of this minimalism, but minimalism itself isn't all that interesting anymore, it's that Gomes is applying a trajectory burdened with pretensions to a short record comprised of, at their core, pop songs. (Pop songs to my mind anyway.) I'm probably overreaching using the loaded "pop" term as these aren't exactly verse-chorus ditties and their structures feature built-in abstraction. "Paranormal", for instance, is founded on a simple bassline. Gomes's vocals sit midway between a purr and growl. And it's just those two elements aside from a few bars of drums that pop up out of nowhere and disappear just as suddenly. Fittingly, after so much quietude a brief maelstrom of fuzzed out voice and guitar erupts at the end of the track.

"Partimos Daqui Pt. 2" follows suit but even eschews the trappings of drums, guitar, and distorted voice--anything remotely conceived of as aggression. A soft voice and electric bass in ballad mode, and nothing more. Just as "Partimos Daqui Pt. 2" fades, Gomes hits home with the biggest surprise of the record. "1 2 3 Nenéns" begins this time in full-fledged ballad mode with a downright lovely tune of finger picked acoustic guitar and a lyrical bassoon(?) line with Gomes showing off he has quite a nice singing voice.

Aside from that DAF mention, I've found it's a bit of a struggle to pinpoint specific comparisons for the record. I keep coming back to Young Marble Giants. Not a similarity in sound so much as rationale. Also, I'm surprised to say this but there's a distinct flavor of Kid A-era Radiohead (Kid Aa?) on "Fogo Chama" but Gomes chooses to undercut the somnambulist charm by inviting Arto Lindsay (DNA, etc.) to lurk in the shadows and lay down a bit of tasteful guitar skronk.

Aa clocks in around 20 minutes but you'll feel as if you've traveled much further. When dealing with temporal media, length is an aesthetic feature. For some films it's important that they run for three hours and for others it's just as important that they run for 90 minutes. It's no different with records. I believe that the enigmatic qualities of Aa would dissipate some had it run for 30-35 minutes. Gomes practices perfectly calculated restraint, giving the proverbial Listener just enough that it can't walk away after a single listen, or a second, or a third...

For a while I was spinning this everyday before work and before bed; Aa's either thoroughly invigorating or thoroughly relaxing depending on the time of day. Gomes has made a record that slots in perfectly to relieve us from this inveterate 21st century lifestyle of ours.

If you're stateside you can grab the record (cut at 45rpm for the audiophiles!) from Kill Shaman, in Europe you can grab it from SDZ or from the artist himself.

Nick Stevens - The New Age [Galtta]

Do you like listening to things that sound like Leonard Cohen? Or even Leonard Cohen himself? If the answer is "fuck yeah!" (it should be) then read this review and buy this tape.

Nick Stevens's portrait on the cover suggests a cross between Nick Cave and Dr. Jacobi of Twin Peaks fame. To be honest, that's not too far off in terms of how this brand new cassette sounds. A marriage of baritone brooding and garish, meta-cornball textures.
Mid-period Leonard Cohen, when he transformed the sonically tawdry and tacky into transcendent, is the number one touchstone in play here, and I will be mentioning the Bard of the Boudoir quite often so buckle up. At its weakest, The New Age is a damn good impression of a Cohen album and at its best, it's an arresting re-contextualization of 80s Cohen hallmarks transmuting them into something of Stevens's own.
No effort is made to disguise the Cohen inspiration and, in fact, there may even be a wry attempt to draw attention to it. To my ear, the first few seconds of the opening track, "The Vow", mirror the first few seconds of "I Can't Forget". Considering that these are the first few seconds that someone will hear when they pop in this tape, I assume they were carefully selected. Or maybe this is just some musical Rorschach situation and as a person who used a line from "I Can't Forget" in his wedding vows, it's no surprise that I'm hearing its echoes here.
After "The Vow" closes, Stevens makes his first true gambit, smacking me in the face with the enjoyably kitsch, dare-I-say? Rick Astley-ish intro of "Inviting You (Into My Life)". Stevens stops at nothing, including dropping in a lengthy nylon string guitar solo, to perfect the groovy, easy listening experience.
Escorted by a vibrato-laden synth lead "Easy to Hold" is an early stand-out, and the first glimpse of the heights Stevens and producer and co-writer Adrian Knight are truly capable of. The track is the kind of thing Puff Daddy would have sampled into oblivion in the Biggie days had this cassette dropped in 1988 rather than 2018. A muted sex jam that concludes perfectly with a chanteuse repeating "I may be easy to hold". Prepare to put this one on repeat.
Some of these tracks just feel good to have on the stereo, infusing your environment, like "(Beyond) The Law" and its slinky, operatic groove augmented by wordless "hmmms" and exhalations. I've definitely found my pew in Stevens's therapeutic disco-church.
"Colors of the Sunset" might be a little too Leonard Cohen for its own good—in the sense that I don't recognize enough of Stevens in it. It's not a bad tune whatsoever but it simply hasn't stuck with me through several listens like the rest of the album.
Another one of my favorites "All Night Messiah", more obliquely takes on Death of a Ladies Man (think "True Love Leaves No Traces" but freshened up with Stevens's mellow disco vibe). I would be sorely remiss if I didn't point out the fantastically fluttering lilt of the guest sax and flute work by David Lackner. The classy synth-cheese on the outro courtesy of Adrian Knight is superb as well. Magnifico!
Stevens follows up "Messiah" with another big time banger, title track "The New Age", finding a remarkable sweet spot between Cohen worship, rock solid songwriting, and dark-edged Depeche Mode-style overtones and production before pivoting into finale "Motorcycle", a gently propulsive Smog-gone-synth pop situation with Stevens crooning in a higher register and gliding into the ether.
Even though his name isn't on the spine, producer Adrian Knight has to be commended for his massive contribution. Other than the occasional wind instrument, female backing vocals and Stevens's voice and rhythm guitar, Knight is the backing band. Stevens does his part for sure, but The New Age wouldn't be what it is without Knight; they make a great team with Knight even co-writing a couple tunes as well. I definitely hope this collaboration has a future.
Grab yr tape here before the normals catch on and this thing goes gold.

The Doll - Hiss [Big Sleep]/Patrick Cosmos - Tonal Rotors [Big Sleep]

On today's menu: a compact cassette tape twofer from the Jersey boyz at Big Sleep Records.

The Doll - Hiss [Big Sleep]
The Doll is a secretly great sonic moniker (soniker?) because it completely guards against assumptions of what an artist called The Doll sounds like. Some iteration of "doll" I would have at least had a hint. The Babydolls? Doll Face? Doll Eyes? The New Jersey Dolls? But just The Doll? I had no fucking clue. Literally no ideas popped into my head. The red bubblewrap cover didn't prod me in any direction either. Now Hiss was potentially a proper clue, but I don't know, maybe after all this it's just neo-post-neo-nü-shügaze?
Turns out this is a slovenly cassette concrète-ish whirlpool. The curtain raises on "Bubblewrap" a repetitious dirge that sounds like it's composed of the looped snap of the titular popping bubblewrap, a digital glitch and a field recording of a running toilet fully immersing you in the Hiss-y mood.
"Saw" is a bit of a bedroom-version of a 60s horror movie soundtrack, bristling with uncomfortable idiophonic overtones. The Doll is really speaking my language on "Wheel" with a garbled something or other that could be some gnarled-ass cassette tape scraping along the head or maybe just The Doll blowing bubbles in her Coke cup. I'll let the people decide.
"Silence" is not quite that but it's close, capturing the occasional incidental noise in ragged fidelity but with a heartbeat pumping from the far corner of the room. The track lasts a mere 98 seconds and vanishes right as the hypnotic spell is really starting to take old; I would have easily traded the following track, the lo-fi fuzzy strum-drone of "Lean", for an extended cut of "Silence". "Radiator" doesn't start off with The Doll getting behind the wheel (that would be "Static") nor does it feature a honking car alarm for a backbeat (that would be "Home, Sweet Home") but it does feature teenage drum practice dusted with feedback emanating through the air ducts in the living room from the basement. The best thing about Hiss is how it creates very specific environments while listening.  
Hiss is difficult to write about but if you're intrigued by any of the above (you know who you are) get at it and listen for yourself.

Patrick Cosmos - Tonal Rotors [Big Sleep]
And now a tape so nice it was pressed twice... Tonal Rotors is a long player from Pat Cosmos and who knew that Mr. Hilarious on Twitter, a real Ryley Walker meets Neil "DeGrassi" Tyson personality, was out there pounding the pavement, wiring up some synth&sampler contraption and rocking that old Guided By Voices tee?
As a person who (occasionally) writes about music, I try to avoid reading press releases because sometimes that really fucks me up. I did, however, make the mistake of reading the one for Tonal Rotors. It's actually a pretty accurate description so that's not the issue. It read: "a 2000s-era IDM/drill n' bass album condensed into the poppy, proggy, quick-hit format of a GBV record" and that is actually impressively accurate, but when we're talking three letter acronyms, IDM (which I actually don't know that much about) and GBV (which I know much more about) don't hold equal weight in my mind. Unconsciously, I got it fucked around and was expecting "a 2000s-era GBV album condensed into the poppy, proggy, quick-hit format of a IDM record" (nonsensical as that may seem) and it took several listens to unlearn that bullshit and start from scratch. After doing so, I could finally see that this tape is a fun time.
The man of the Cosmos whips through 22 tracks at a rapid pace, modulating his approach from track to track. The first three tracks illustrate this right away. Elegiac opener "Portentious Omen" would slot in quite nicely over a credits sequence in the post-OPN and SURVIVE-as-film-composers world. "Narrowly Avoided Pun-Title" flips into a 20 second chopped/screwed blip of the Yo-Yo Dieting variety and the longest of the three "SX-150" conjures memories of the most raucous moments of Endtroducing... deep fried in synth-batter. That gives you an idea about the parameters of the sandbox that Cosmos is playing in.
Despite the long list of tracks, cassette is a perfect format for Tonal Rotors and I don't think there's a benefit to skipping around the album. "A Helicopter with a Computer in it (for Joe)" is nice to return to on its own but the pleasure of the unexpected thump of the filtered bass thrum is increased when in the context of a mid-side movement. Similarly, the peppy techno-power-pop of "Fear of Heights" that follows immediately is a perfect foil that would lose some impact following another song. All I'm saying is the sequencing is aces and I'm never gonna listen to this thing on "shuffle."
To totally contradict my previous point, the transcendent flutter of "The Blood and the Soil" and virile dog bark 'n groove of "There's Always Something (feat. Squints)" are so potent that they'll succeed regardless of attachment or detachment to the rest of the proceedings.
The second side of the tape gets a little more expansive with some longer tracks, best exemplified by the wordy standout "Maybe My Best Friend is a Dog, and This is My Dog, and I Made My Best Friend a Sweater" which shirks the fragmentary concept of many of the tracks for a steadily mounting dynamic. "Profanity-induced Parity Error" follows as an all-too-brief coda which drops a sick Depeche Mode-styled banger in the last 20 seconds. Hope we get more of that on the next tape.
As alluded to earlier, I don't have any credentials to flaunt with regard to IDM, techno, or whathaveyou. But I can say as a person who doesn't get particularly excited about the prospect of listening to a techno tape, that this stuff is definitely good enough to earn a picky layman's approval.


Hiss dropped recently and is available and, as alluded to, Patty Cosmos is cruising along on his second pressing which is also available. Dank audio squalor or introspective techno-bro jams, Big Sleep is here to serve you so take your pick. Or be cosmopolitan and pick both. There's no wrong way to buy some tapes HERE

*e* - Red Sammy [Green Tape]/Napoleon Blownaparte - Inside a Tree [Green Tape]

Some longhairs out there are all about them long tapes: "c-60, c-90, c-120, who cares? It just means the trip's gonna last longer" or so they say. But, you know what, life moves fast and some of us got responsibilities—we've got no time to waste so give us the straight dirt. These, here, oxides do that in spades, or more precisely in as few spades as necessary. Enjoy Part 2 of this two part series on short-ass tapes.

*e* - Red Sammy [Green Tape]
Long running Midwest iconoclast Green Tape has been in the short-ass tape game for a while now, with being the pioneer of the c-3 and all, it's probably got the greatest short tape claim to fame of all the short-tapers out there. That's right, 3 minute tapes and total commitment. Barrabarracudas' ode to Yellow Swans, Draft Dodging Sexual Vietnam (for Gabe and Pete), is a classic c-3 and personal favorite and these are the latest c-3 installments from Green Tape by my calendar.
I assumed this tape by *e* was about a "red sandwich" when I first popped it in, but that doesn't seem to be the case. The titular Red Sammy seems to be a person of sorts but I haven't completely written off the theory that it's in fact a "red salmon." Although the question is merely academic, because anyone with ears will tell you "Red Sammy" is a sweet slice of shambling, jingle jangle vaguely reminiscent of, say, the K Records clan. Agreeable female vocals, a walking (or rather stumbling) bass line, and a chiming clean-tone guitar arpeggio over a shuffling mid tempo drumbeat. If this is your thing, then this is your thing. The ditty cleaves midway through as we hit the tail leader on side A—not unlike Harry Pussy splitting up "Nazi USA" (my favorite HP track) into two sides of a 7inch just to punk me all those years later when I discovered it—but the brief interruption doesn't keep "Red Sammy" from getting stuck in your head. Maybe that's the game they're playing. My favorite part is the slight return at the end, when after the embers seem to die the band marches right back into form.
Red Sammy. Green Tape. If nothing else, this is a perfect tool to teach your toddler the colors.

Napoleon Blownaparte - Inside a Tree [Green Tape]
While they are not the Green Tape house band (that would have to be Churchburners who have probably dropped 20 releases over the years) Napoleon Blownaparte is no stranger to Green Tape. Inside a Tree, however, does mark Monsieur Blownaparte's first foray into the world of c-3s.
Can't recall if all M. Blownaparte's recordings feature a duo line-up but this one does. We got one member wylin' out on a gift shop spirit flute and the other kickin' up a racket with every hollowed out thing he lays eyes on. They take turns taking the lead on each side. Side A has the vibe of a 5th grade recorder soloist getting kicked out of the ensemble before the big school-wide assembly for going too Ayler all the time. The pots 'n pans man dutifully supports him, even delivering a rock solid beat at one point. Spiritual unity indeed.
Patience is rewarded as the pots 'n pans man finally gets his shot to wig on the flip, sounding like Animal, the Muppet, the morning after he discovered Milford Graves's Percussion Ensemble. Baby Ayler keeps things close to the vest, careful not to upstage his partner's 90 seconds in the spotlight. These guys sound like best friends.
This is the kind of thing most groups of this ilk would slop onto a 45 minute single-track CD-r you would never finish listening to. But this is restrained-free music, which is no oxymoron. 3 minutes can heal all wounds. More c-3s please. 
Green Tape is perhaps the only org left in the world rockin' a Freewebs url—pro tip: scroll down on the home page—so you have no reason not to visit and check out these tapes and Green Tape's other brews (many of which are available for free download on their blog.) While you're at it, make sure you ask if they still have copies of Gang Wizard's God-Time-Man Universal Continuum Calibration Disc and grab one if they do.

Famous Logs in History - Famous Logs in History [Fuzzy Warbles]/Portopak - Bull Inside the Echo Chamber [No Label]

Some longhairs out there are all about them long tapes: "c-60, c-90, c-120, who cares? It just means the trip's gonna last longer" or so they say. But, you know what, life moves fast and some of us got responsibilities—we've got no time to waste so give us the straight dirt. These, here, oxides do that in spades, or more precisely in as few spades as necessary. Enjoy Part 1 of this two part series on short-ass tapes.

Famous Logs in History - Famous Logs in History [Fuzzy Warbles]
I've never heard of these Famous Logs before but when you're talkin' log, the barometer for fame can't be too tough. I mean we're talkin' The Log Lady's log and the list ends there, right? I think I'll table the subject for when the Ladies in the Radiator send me a tape so I can get on with this review.
The Logs don't do anything particularly "new" on this c-10 but it is a thin slab of fine solid oak. Wound up to a springy consistency, not spiky but still prickly, the whizzbang maestros deliver four twinkling, clean-ish toned power pop tunes in under 10 minutes. "Ground" thumps away with a clipped jangle, and a repeated sax-like bleat seals it for me at the midpoint. Before you know it, that's a wrap. "Crawling for Freedom" is comparatively expansive lasting beyond the two minute mark with an actual repeated verse-chorus structure.
"Slabsides" is the hit of the bunch, with a rev'd up bassline and earworm keyboard line replete with a split-second feedback freakout. Thumbs up to that one. Before waving goodbye, the Logs throw their hat in the ring to be the voice of the Trump generation with the one-minute mantra "(This is) Not Normal". Sing along with them, you'll feel better.
I'm reminded a bit of Montreal's Sheer Agony (who delivered their own brief but tasty delight once upon a time) but the Logs are a bit more single-minded in their aesthetic.
The tape is available at a bargain basement price from Fuzzy Warbles. Check it out!

Portopak - Bull Inside the Echo Chamber [No Label]
Ah, the cassingle, the much maligned and underappreciated format. Feels great to get one of these from time to time and this one arrives via Pittsburgh's Portopak. Portopak comes with the disclaimer of "Gameboy + Guitars = Portopak" and I gotta say I always get a bit of insta-apprehension whenever I read "Gameboy" as an instrument. Portopak is firmly in the 8-bit pop category, but the burner on the first side transcends that innately-limited categorization.
After a frenetic intro right out of the home screen of an unpublished game, "Bull Inside the Echo Chamber" jets off to a hot start. Employing my favorite guitar, the Squier Affinity Stratocaster, Portopak a.k.a. Justin Channell lets it rip shaping the track into vintage video game guitar pop. The relentless fuzzy, buzzy bassline generated courtesy of the Casio SK-1 or the ubiquitous Gameboy anchors the whole damn thing with a viscid energy providing an effective foil to Channell's soft, somewhat distant vocals. The heavily hummable sugar rush is about as perfect as something in this vein can sound, at least to these un-chiptuned ears.
The flipside brings the "The Unfriendly Dreamer" a solid enough instrumental piece that leans into bouncy Nintendo pulse waves in a surprisingly fluid manner. It's not something I'll probably ever reach for specifically but it does its job as a b-side providing you a solid soundtrack while you bask in the afterglow of the hit on Side A. Your mileage will vary based on how enamored you are with those signature beeps and boops.
Three bucks nets you both tracks suspended in oxide coating. HERE

Garbage Man - Tobacco Bong Rips [Personal Militia/Forbidden Place]/Slush - Frog Water [Personal Militia]

When a package showed up from Sheboygan, WI, I thought it might be some Gus Polinski & The Kenosha Kickers reissues. I was wrong. So wrong.

Garbage Man - Tobacco Bong Rips [Personal Militia/Forbidden Place]
This ain't news anyone but there's a lot of irony in music these days. Not so with Garbage Man. They named their band Garbage Man and they sound like a band named Garbage Man. Tobacco Bong Rips is a double-A-side cassette-turned-sludge barge zippin' down the Mississippi. The guitar player's named Nick Duude, the bass player's named Roach and the drummer's named Jeff, so you know you're in the right place.
This thing is heavy on the bass frequencies, at least on my system. The guitar and bass are nearly indistinguishable creating a thick fuzzy morass on "Hillbilly Kick Squad" punctuated by the pop of the snare drum and Duude trying to shout above the racket.  The 49 second "Dinners" and "Engine" drift more into hardcore territory while "Sea Shanty for Planet Hopping" delves into some straight up metal riffing. Somewhat ironically, my favorite track is the "bonus" entitled "Belinda Would Make a Good Car Aisle" which is less Melvins, more 90s Touch & Go.
The bottom line is simple: Garbage Man lives to pummel. There aren't many hooks here, so only listen if you want to get thumped. Don't worry, the bloody nose is normal.
There is one big no-no here though, dudes you gotta get your spine right side-up next time around.
Nab the tape here or if you prefer your sludge served on a platter you can pre-order Tobacco Bong Rips on a blue and red 7" at the same link. But no "Belinda" on that one so choose wisely.

Slush - Frog Water [Personal Militia]
While we're on the subject of band names, "Slush"instantly evokes the vibe here sounding like some short-lived slumrock outfit that split a 7" on AmRep in '93 and disappeared. That sort of gets you in the general range, but Slush, to their credit, throw a staggering number of curveballs making it difficult to actually identify what the hell they are.
The 80 second blast "Your Place" kicks things off in style, riding a relentless riff that sounds like it's emanating from a battery powered amp. Slush quickly shift gears to a heavily 'verbed organ-driven surf ditty called "Predator" topped off with plenty of ride cymbal. The singer is barely a blur in the midst of everything. Didn't see that one coming.
Much like their brothers in Garbage, Slush shows a hardcore side on "H.O.L.E."--but not content to be merely conventional, I'm pretty sure they've stuck a trumpet in the mix somewhere. The title track makes be think Slush might just be fucking with me with a long-ass intro chugging along on a cello riff and some cackling right out of the 60s spooky surf  genre. If the Bomboras could get a major label record deal, why can't these guys? I didn't even mention that the eventual frenetic riot marking the middle of the track ultimately breaks up into a weird lounge act.
"Losing" is maybe even the most unexpected track (are those 7th chords?) with a surprising bit of Strokes-vibes (circa the one good album they made) with a reasonably compact space-prog conclusion. I don't know what's going on but I'm feelin' it.
"Victim" gets your head throbbing again malformed into a degenerative half-breed of "Zoo Music Girl" and Faith No More-style jitter metal. Sweet. They wrap Side A with a campfire singalong "In the Junkyard" because of course they would.
Opening the second side, "To Mind or Care" dips back into those space-prog vibes lead by echoing piano strikes and militant snare rolls hitting the post-rock power ballad target with ease. The average song length just about doubles on the flip so Side B brings different, more expansive and/or dirge-like vibes than the spunky, agitated Side A. The final track is an unholy collision of 50's doo-wop ballad and arena metal rave up, and, yeah, it's about as strange as that sounds.
All in all, this is a weird weird and warmly welcome dose of mad rock & roll science.
Slurp some Slushy Frog Water here.

Ivy Meadows - Zodiac [Moon Glyph]/Capricorn Vertical Slum - "Various Portals & Sleazo Inputs Vol. 1: Tourism" [Moon Glyph]

We have a salty/sweet astrological double feature on the docket this evening from the Bay Area's preeminent lunar linguists at Moon Glyph. Let's get to it.

Ivy Meadows - Zodiac [Moon Glyph]
The praises of this one have already been sung by much sharper individuals than I, so I'm not sure how helpful me chiming in is, but that's a question I've asked since AO's inception. Why answer it now?
From the first glimpse of Zodiac my antennas were up: (1) We've got a handsomely packaged tape with a watercolor of a spirit woman (wrong term I'm sure) on the cover with the scrawled subtitle "Magic is life." (2) We've got a heavy dose of the astrology horseshit that I've spent nearly 30 years ignoring in the form of 12 tracks each named for a sign of the zodiac. (3) And, perhaps most importantly of all, this is a long-ass tape. (Hard to tell with pro-dubs but probably a c-90.) I was all ready to write the "how many fucking 90 minute neo-New-New-Age cassettes do we actually need on our cramped shelves?" think piece which I'm sure would have gone over swimmingly. Ivy Meadows threw a wrench in my plans, however, because after a few listens I gotta say this is good stuff. Meadows a.k.a. Camilla Padgitt-Coles is clearly very skilled at crafting these ethereal wisps and imbuing them with gravity (I've heard legions of mediocre drones in my day, so it's easy to spot talent when I hear it.) She doesn't just drench everything in reverb and call it good. Rather, Padgitt-Coles finds the right balance between too-little and too-much nearly every time. And this thing just sounds stellar (props to Zeljko McMullen's mastering as well).
The extent of my criticism of Zodiac is simply that it's too long. "Taure" is nice but I don't need 9 minutes of it. With the most unambiguous rhythms on display, "Géminis" gets the blood pumping near the middle of the album which is welcome but it could stand a bit of editing as well. Yet, because I'm forever the hypocrite, the longest track "Capricorn" may actually be my favorite. Go figure, I'm just a mixed up kid.
 As with all things this comes down to taste, some folks wanna jam out to the dulcet tones of Zodiac for an hour and a half, other folks (me) would rather have an abridged c-30 but the vibes are good ones nonetheless.
Grab the tape from Moon Glyph here.

   
Capricorn Vertical Slum - "Various Portals & Sleazo Inputs Vol. 1: Tourism" [Moon Glyph]
Sticking with the zodiac theme, we move on to Capricorn Vertical Slum. The stars aligned for me on this one (is that how astrology works?) as I came across this cassette of an early Moon Glyph vintage (MG13 if you're a nerd) during some bandying about the state earlier in the year. The differences from Ivy Meadows are stark, but I always welcome differences into my tape deck.
In fact, the vibes fit well within the "that's my shit" zone. Buzzy, scuzzy, slob-on-the-outside/savant-on-the-inside hand smeared tunes. Probably a lazy comparison but Psychedelic Horseshit popped to mind, though CVS eschews the against-the-grain, "fuck you" petulance for a more eager-to-please beating pop heart. In particular, "Palatial Estates in Wallpaper" and "The Best Cocaine in the Canyon" are wisely indebted to Marc Bolan's bubblegum stomp and it doesn't take a lot of squinting to imagine a different version of rock history featuring a teenage T. Rex whittling away on his Tascam during the summer of 1989. Even the ballad on the b-side is really a well-formed change of pace in the bedroom genius mold. Eight good songs, zero bad ones, no time wasted, thumbs up. I wish reviewing music was always this easy.
And now for the bad news, according to Discogs, there hasn't been any new music from Capricorn Vertical Slum (or its single credited member, Colin Johnson) in eight long years. Basically, where the fuck is Various Portals & Sleazo Inputs Vol. 2? What gives, Universe?
You are in luck however, because these suckers are still for sale on Moon Glyph's website for a lowly fiver. Act on your impulse here.

Graham Repulski - Success Racist [Rok Lok]

As is plain to see, reviews have been on a downward trend for the past, I don't know, many years. This is not because I lack great music to write about, but because I'm old and busy now. And because I'm a loquacious blowhard who starts writing (and writing, and writing) a review and rarely gets around to finishing it before some life thing happens that requires my attention. I never seem to get back in the zone to finish what I've started. 

So many casualties litter the graveyard of half-written drafts that I'm scared to whistle past the place. Basically, I don't have the time to write a treatise on a twenty minute cassette like in my younger days. So that means I have to change. More specifically, I have to force myself to change. It will be better for everyone; more artists will get reviews and I won't feel like such an unproductive dirtbag. At least, if things go according to plan--which, in all honesty, has never been my strong suit. 

To focus my energies, I've created a hard and fast rule of 300 words or less for each review going forward. A rule to live and die by. A rule to never be broken. On my first try--this review you're currently about to read--I ended up with just under 500. Which I think is a pretty good start. Rome wasn't built in a day folks.

This is a tape I've listened to (and enjoyed) a lot the past couple years but it's proven quite tricky to write about, alas the radio silence. Success Racist sounds EXACTLY like early Guided By Voices. I mean exactly--this is some Wolfgang Beltracci-level artistry. And, just to be clear, this is not a pejorative statement. The production, the hiss, it's spot on. But the truly beguiling quality of the whole affair is the songwriting. The entire history of rock & roll is founded on out and out theft, so hearing an artist heavily indebted to prior forerunners is an everyday occurrence. If I had a dollar for every time I discovered that a band I thought to have an "original" sound had been beat to it 20 or 30 years earlier... well, you know what I'd be. All that said, I've never heard someone inhabit another songwriter's skin so completely and so triumphantly. I mean the only real explanation is science-fiction. Clearly, through a series of strange, forbidden experiments, Repulski has re-animated the corpus or corpse (if yr into conspiracies) of Bob Pollard from half a million beers ago. If not more.

Even the lyrics are suspiciously on point, the kind of idiosyncratic nonsense I've become so invested in after hours and hours of Bee Thousand and Alien Lanes despite never having a clue what the fuck Bob and Tobin are talking about. Case in point, my favorite track: "James Run". I have no idea what the "James Run" is or means, but man, when Repulski sings "Where did you go? Where did you go in the 'James Run?" I really feel it. I couldn't tell you why but I do. Over and over again. Or "Crying Machine Shakes at the Moon" which, I mean just look at the title. The money shot, "And counting backwards from suicide..." just pops up into my head from time to time. And that's the special thing about this, most of these songs can stand shoulder to shoulder with just about any from the classic GBV era. So many of these songs have carved little homes in my brain just like the GBV records that came before them.

Things do go a bit sideways at times, whenever I hear the opening notes of "Elevator Tricks" my brain automatically thinks I'm about to be hearing "The Ugly Vision" from Alien Lanes and then realizes it isn't. Don't know if this is really a bad thing but it is a disruption in an otherwise seamless listening experience.

This is the only Repulski tape I've heard so whether this is a life-long commitment or a one-album experiment, I don't know. But it is a success, that's for damn sure.

Oh and Graham, what's a "success racist"?

The tape can be obtained from Rok Lok here (two copies left!) If you have a proclivity for compact discs you can get one from the artist himself here.

Sea Moss - Bread Bored [Crash Symbols]

After grabbing my first Crash Symbol at a local cassette retailer (a nice tape by French cruisers Exotic Club) this cassette by Portland, OR duo Sea Moss showed up in the mail a day later, along with a banger by Charles Barabé and Ratkiller. I guess the universe just has my back sometimes.
I'm still a Crash Symbols neophyte but from the few I've heard it seems like they hop around between different sonic territories without skipping a beat which is certainly a favorite quality to find in a label.
The sonic territory Sea Moss fits into is pretty easy to peg in my mind. The duo of Noa Ver on electronics and voice and Zach Agostino on drums would have nestled in quite nicely among early 00s Load Records jammers like Lightning Bolt, Neon Hunk and Friends Forever. So anyone yearning for those simpler days ought to give Bread Bored a whirl pronto.
Sea Moss is at its best when Agostino's grooves swing thick and heavy as on the opener "Diurnal Enuresis" or the dance floor-filler "It's Pudding Time!" building a sturdy, funky trunk for Ver to provide some leafy color to with her electronic whatzits. Ver's heavily distorted and (I'm pretty sure) wordless voice forms the spine of much of her contribution in the duo as in the middle of "Wanna Sea a Trick?" but with her hands on home-made oscillators as well that's hardly the extent of it. Her electronics pump and pulse with abandon and at times it seems like they may be processing the drums as well. "Sea Section" kicks off a kind of Skin Graft-y skronk-punk vibe that seems to balance the three elements with relentless percussion, quivering synth melodies and feverish exhalations finding equal footing.
When it ends, Bread Bored's got me reaching for that Black Pus/Foot Village LP for another dose to keep the party going.
This isn't a criticism per se, but I will note that the tape is not particularly dynamic in its production or composition. Bread Bored sounds like Ver and Agostino doing their thump 'n squelch routine in real time in a dark, moist room somewhere in the Pacific Northwest--the kind of environment where moss thrives, no doubt. There's no studio wizardry here, bedroom or otherwise. The tape's designed to give you a hearty jolt of what it's got and nothing more, and considering Sea Moss is in and out in twenty minutes they do their job mighty well. File this one under the "In the Mood to Jam!" section of your library.
There is one (that's right! one!) copy left for sale so if you're interested hit up Morgantown's finest outpost without delay.