Review :: Whores :: Ruiner

Whores
Ruiner
Brutal Panda Records

Just when I thought the rest of my life would be all about sitting down to pee and blushing with pride whenever the lady of the house called me the King of Chardonnay, a band like this comes along and punches me in the balls. Yep, they're still there.

Fire-breathing noise rock out of Atlanta (album produced by Kyle Spence of Harvey Milk) that's knee deep in sludge. These shit birds definitely bring the bad vibes. They've got the sledgehammer bass thumps of Charm City's Dope Body but with more menace. Whuh do you wanna bet they get their inspiration cruising around nice neighborhoods aiming an unloaded snub nose at all of the playgrounds they pass? Somebody oughta report um.

So I was going to brew some decaf tea, take a bath, and crash early with sweet thoughts about all the chores I was going to finish tomorrow, but I'm awake now, and all I want to do now is grow a mustache and shoot Beam, so I'm going to plant my ass down, watch Bronson movies and make this happen. Thanks for the man tap.

Review :: Psychic Dancehall :: Dreamers

Psychic Dancehall :: A Love That Kills

The notion of a Psychic Dancehall hasn't been this perversely seductive since David Bowie's lip gloss defined my nightmares in 1986. Having released a 7" on ArtFag earlier this year, San Diego's version of Psychic Dancehall has had me wondering about a full-length ever since. Last month finally saw it's release, again on ArtFag, and it's streaming in full over here. Go, listen, eat a bag of Fritos, and read a few more words about it from me...

Dorian Wartime and Sylvia Innocent live in a rented apartment above a gay playhouse and write hypothetical scores for the performances that go on below them, one of which involves a transvestite beating her lover to death with a dildo. Where are your ArtFag credentials? They record in their own playhouse attic space, equipped with what seems to be a drum machine, a few cheap synths, and a crate full of Scott Walker, Suicide, and Phil Spector records. With Dreamers, the duo have created a melodically rich and stylistically diverse debut, one that stands out just for having hip-shake appeal and the potential to teach you how to croon. Not to mention a spectacularly-positioned cover of The Crystals "He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss)". It's dangerous, propulsive, druggy, and dare I say, just a little bit romantic throughout, which is to say this album could easily be renamed Natural Born Killers. Be a survivor and buy it.

News :: Pepe Deluxé :: In The Cave

Very little should be said of Pepe Deluxé here, mostly because I know pretty much nothing about them other than their recent signing to Asthmatic Kitty. Maybe I'll dig into them at a later time, but this is more a story about technology and science than it is about arts and entertainment. More about the green wedge of your Trivial Pursuit hex and less about the pink wedge. Sorry, pink wedge.

Long story short: the largest musical instrument on the entire planet is located underground in Luray, Virginia. A four-manual organ triggers hundreds of rubber mallets trained on the same number of stalactites that have been filed to perfect pitch using precision tube oscillators. The original organ (all 42,000 square feet) was completed in 1957 by a man named Leland Sprinkle, but fell into disrepair and remained silent for decades as it underwent massive renovation. I've had recurring dreams about this organ since I first saw it as (oddly enough) a cave- AND organ-obsessed little boy. I even named my hamster Leland Sprinkle, and developed most of my world-views while watching him chew cedar and shit splinters.

Earlier this year, Mr. Pepe Deluxé (actually two people) had the unique opportunity to exploit the newly repaired and retuned Great Stalacpipe Organ, composing, performing, and recording the very first piece of original music written specifically for the instrument. The composition will be included on their upcoming full-length in January 2012, featuring a handful of other songs recorded completely above-ground and having nothing to do with the greatest instrument known to man. Fortunately, the organ plays beautifully and resonates with tone colors I've not heard anywhere before. Unfortunately, in my admittedly ass-backwards and mostly emotionally unstable opinion, Mr. Deluxé have failed at presenting a piece of music as unique as the instrument itself, instead opting for a slight, two-minute slice of faceless hymnal they've criminally named "In The Cave." Honestly, I don't hate the piece, but I was hoping for something less pop and more pioneering. Less pinkwedge-core and more greenwedge-core. Decide for yourself below:

News :: Upcoming Shows :: November

Unicorn Hardon making noise and drinking Pabst.

11/04 :: Scratch Acid :: 9:30 Club
              Zongo Junction/Co La :: Subterranean A
             The Cheniers/Edie Sedgewick :: Fort Fringe
11/05 :: Weekends :: Fort Fringe
11/09 :: Heavy Medical/The Deads :: Wasted Dream
11/10 :: Medications/Cloud Nothings :: Black Cat Backstage
              Aids Wolf/Unicorn Hardon :: Comet Ping Pong
11/11 :: El Reys (surf rock)/Les Rhinocéros :: Fort Fringe
11/12 :: Ted Leo/Medications :: Sacred Heart Church
              Radio CPR Record Sale :: La Casa
11/13 :: Youth Lagoon :: Red Palace
11/15 :: Ganglians :: Red Palace
11/17 :: Purling Hiss :: DC9
11/21 :: Cheap Time/Mannequin Men :: Black Cat Backstage
11/24 :: King Louie's Missing Monuments/Thee Lolitas :: Black Cat Backstage

Review :: The KVB :: Subjection/Subordination

From the UK's Clan Destine Records comes a new tape release for the KVB. Short for Klaus von Barrel. As in barrel of whiskey, double-barrel shotgun, barrel over the falls.

On first listen you're going to pigeonhole this band all wrong. Pu-pu-puh-please let me tell you about your mistake. First thing's first: you gotta dig into the psych, man. Don't think of it as black nail polish disco. Consider the drums, the photon blasting synth sound. This is speed metal for the toxic waste crowd, sludgecore for treadmills. Songs like "Burning World" and "Slow Death" owe more to Wooden Shjips than they do to, I don't know, pick some band that looks like the Cure but sounds like Men at Work. Klaus brings the burning grooves the way that soothes that itch. The one where you find yourself at work and you just gotta jump outta yer skin if you don't shadowbox your way to the greatest fire-able offense story the water cooler ever told. About to freakout, my man? Slut up to the Klaus. You know you like to wear your pants tight for a reason, am I right?

You want my opinion? I say these guys belong on Thrill Jockey if they come stateside (aka the correct side). Which isn't to say that Clan Destine hasn't done right by these guys. The label that's also a second home to Ela Orleans is one to watch with your ears open wide enough to see your brain.

So, yeah, bandcamp's been treating us well these days. Too bad you can't buy a shot and a beer for a computer. The tape's limited to 100 copies cause that's how you keep em begging for more. And good luck converting the change in your pocket into pounds if you want to pick up a copy. Guess you gotta better chance of making your cursor click play down below for all of zero dollars.

I wish I had the right setup to be able to slow these tracks down to a gurgle. Is it possible to improve your listening experience by sprawling limp on the floor and groaning? Cause I'm giving it a try. Gotta swutt it out. Swutt! Spelled with two t's cause that's what's upp.

News :: Crystal Stilts :: Radiant Door

Well, tickle my giblets and call me Butterball, it looks like Crystal Stilts are letting a little light into their rooms. The crumpled-up Twister mat above is the new digs for the Brooklyn psychmongers, who've apparently discovered color and displayed it for us in neat little circles. Gaze into them, lick them. The second one from the left tastes like a hybrid of cranberry sauce and blood. It's five songs short, it's called Radiant Door, and Sacred Bones will have it just in time for the locked-bedroom refuge some people call Thanksgiving. I'd tell you the necessity of playing it at full volume, but you already knew that.

Crystal Stilts :: Dark Eyes

Video :: X-Ray Eyeballs :: Deja Vu

Well, The Walking Dead is finally back on television, but already I can safely say I much prefer these girl(and guy)s' version of the zombpocalypse. What I really want in my zombie dramas are the banal details of a zombie's quieter moments - gnawing on deer carcases, tripping over tombstones, hanging out with other zombies, moaning out of sheer boredom. Something I can really relate to.

Xray Eyeballs - Deja Vu

This track is the b-side from their recent 7" on Hardly Art. Brains.

Review :: Roedelius :: Velvet Lounge 10.12.11

I've attended so many damn shows over the past several weeks that live music has become some sort of gross ritual, separate venues have bled into one sticky auditory sex club that I cannot pull myself together enough to keep out of. From flute-driven quivercore at DC9, protest singers in Baltimore, cavernous freakouts at Subterranean A, to John Maus in the fucking wilderness, I've had to pawn my roommate's electric razor and dumpster dive from my own employer to continue the habit. But, I'm not complaining; within this recent fertile patch of performances, I had the genuinely unique opportunity to witness Hans-Joachim Roedelius lay down some piano meditations on the incredibly unlikely stage of The Velvet Lounge. We've discussed Mr. Roedelius before, upon the reissue of his Self Portrait series, so no need to dive into his patent-pending invention of ambient music and his generous permission for others to call it their own. The real epiphany is that I thought this man was flat-out dead. Kicked the binary bucket. Bought the frequency farm. Gone to wherever synth-lords go to meet their monophonic maker. Nope, the geriatric German drone-generator is definitely alive, and he owns an iPhone. He sat on a cold cinder block for 45 languid minutes and busted out the dopest piano sonatas this side of the Rhine. Admittedly different from what I expected (exposed brain floating in a glass pod overseeing the proper integration of six patch bays being supported by nothing but mindpower), it became clear to me over the course of the brief set that Roedelius' musical signature remains completely intact. The heavily-treated oscillations may be absent, and the Moebius-supported space-drift of their Cluster collaboration is a thing of the past. But the heart of Roedelius' work was and remains to be a tribute to the pastoral quality of nature. All evidence suggests that he's no more than a fantastic space hippie with an effortlessly mature sense of melody. What we saw on this particular evening was a man at a piano, doing what he's always done, and with a gracefulness that could only come from knowingly handing off the reigns.

Don't watch the video below unless you want to fully absorb what I mean by "handing off the reigns."

Hans-Joachim Roedelius mit Albin Paulus und Stefan Steiner - Lunz/See 2010

Video :: Dirty Beaches :: Lone Runner

DIRTY BEACHES /// LONE RUNNER from Kevin Luna on Vimeo.

The director, Kevin Luna, has produced one of the most compelling narratives of any music video so far this year, a perfect match for Dirty Beaches, one of the most engaging performers currently touring.  This video may be the first time I've been so keenly aware as my voyeurism developed into self-hatred that tapered finally into an apparently unanswerable moral ambiguity, umm...more or less like drinking alone at a children's toy store during the Friday night closing shift.

Alex Hungtai is currently on tour in Europe--great job if you can get it--and you can track his progress over on his blog. His new 7" (b/w Electric Chair) is out tomorrow on Suicide Squeeze.

Review :: Tunnels :: The Blackout

Okay, so I know I'm not setting off any metal detectors here with this review, considering this tape's been floating out there for a few months now, but...

The fact that this is a solo project is what really gets me excited. Beyond feeding my delusion that I could put something together like this given enough time in a closet with no food, the Tunnels project points to another spoke on the creative wheel surrounding the members of Eternal Tapestry, a phenomenal psych band with multiple recordings this year that are all quickly reaching our year end top ten list. Nick Bindeman's the dude's name behind Tunnels. Remember it. From the Thrill Jockey page:

In the spring of 2008, Bindeman began playing live sets singing over a four track recorder. His initial output, like a dirtier, playful Suicide, with backing tracks acting as vehicles for live exploration. Bindeman would often go into a frenzied state, mumbling and slurring through slapdash songs. These performances gradually evolved into more cohesive and clean music and recording became the focus of the project, writing material through the recording process and eventually falling victim to the lure of pop.

Tunnels sounds like some kraut-y version of flightsuitwave, a brand new subgenre I just made up so that I can feel better about the fact that my collar's flipped up while I write this. And The Blackout could have been the soundtrack to some East Berlin bootleg version of Top Gun if the cold war had been fought purely over cultural differences like it should have been--wait a sec, that's right, I found a German dub of Top Gun on Youtube, for you, and then I slathered Berlin's video on top. Now you can't possibly claim I don't love you. Shh. I said, shhh, now. Let me just brush back your bangs.

Back to the Blackout: there's plenty of bedroom tape aesthetic smeared across this release, but the production's got a poppier, hookier, and less abrasive sound than that might lead you to believe. Even if Bindeman's purpose hadn't been to set a bunch of assholes loose in the clubs windmilling with a stiff posture and a gold-rimmed pair of aviator's on,  that's exactly what Tunnels has done for us (Urban dictionary def: 2. I was at the club the other day and this one guy totally showed me up when he started windmilling. He got like, nine chicks). It's mechanical music, but it's not macho. There's a dancefloor backbone to it that makes this the right shit to kick at parties, and I dare you to resist pumping the keg with a more perfect efficiency.

You can listen to the entire damn thing on Soundcloud, or you can do what I did and get suckered in by the prospect of engaging with some sweet, sweet 20th century tech by buying the tape from Thrill Jockey (originally available on Troubleman Unlimited).

I'd call my band Chunnels, by the way. Anglophile-style. Fuck, it's past noon on Saturday. Time to starch some turtlenecks.

  Tunnels - The Blackout CS by sweatingtapes

Instagram :: Grave Babies :: Deathface

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Finally had some luck. Listening to newly purchased Grave Babies and by some fucking miracle, I'm not hungover.

Instagram :: Lands & Peoples :: Red Onion Records

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(taken at Red Onion Records & Books)

Review :: The Servants :: Youth Club Disco

The Servants :: Loggerheads

A photocopied clipping on the back cover of this Servants reissue advises that the best way to dig for the next big thing is to always show up for the opening act. It's at once pleasingly familiar and profoundly fresh for a nearly 30-year-old comment. A no-brainer, sure, but the fact that this has been a tradition for so long in an art form rather young justifies all the hardcore fandom and cult folklore. I'm somewhat skeptical of Captured Tracks on this release, having to ignore a growing sense that perhaps they were scraping the C-86 landscape (literally, the compilation's original tracklist) for something, anything, that their legion of fans hadn't heard. It's also noteworthy that the aforementioned clipping was in reference to a show that Felt headlined, whose (largely un-reissued) decade-long catalog dwarfs The Servants paisley-chain of mid-80s EPs.

That said, the brevity of the David Westlake-led Servants allowed for a concentrated and streamlined statement so cultish that even Stuart Murdoch couldn't track it down. The folks at Captured Tracks have realigned the band's sessions and singles previously released by Cherry Red (see: Monochrome Set, another Captured favorite) to flesh out their tastemaking hitlist. And I commend them. So much of what we've heard from the Brooklyn label over the past year and change has the unmistakeable echo of bands such as these. Present, melodic bass, trebly and for fuuuucks-sake jangly (how about tastefully pluck-strummed?) guitars, 4/4 time, and detached vocal delivery. It's reassuring to know that a growing label is looking out for what came before, allowing for rediscovery that translates fluently to where the fans already stand.

But really, this isn't a review of the state of boutique record labels. Youth Club Disco paints a pocket-masterpiece of 80s guitar-pop reflection, one that's more noir and cosmopolitan than some of their drifting and arch contemporaries. Witty but not condescending, spacious yet concise. And really just refreshing. Nowhere have I read comparisons to fellow Creation-mates The Loft, which is unseemly and baffling, but telling: they're not considered precious for nothing. Everyone wants a band to call their own, and the best of them fit the bill timelessly. This is the cult that Murdoch was referring to in 1996.

Features :: Left-Coast Luminol :: Debacle Records

"Records" in a looser definition here, like "recordings," as in the event of capturing a sound intended for replay to a pair of impatient ears. Those vulgar and mysterious funnels on the sides of your head which too often get plugged up by peculiar Apple-white nodes of diminished sound quality. People still buy vinyl? Get on with it - that is so absofuckinglutely 2007. Cassettes? Early 2011, best. The sooner we agree that CD-Rs not only sound amazing, but put the entire coaster industry out of business as if by afterthought, the sooner music will finally divorce format from fashion-statement. Universal sigh of relief, time to pull out your Case Logic suitcases again. Debacle Records is blazing the trail on this front, organizing a wide swath of the Seattle drone scene under one donut-shaped silver saucer. No hate here - founder Samuel Melancon is a fantastic citizen of the American West, and we could all learn a lot from him. Since starting a subscription series in 2004, Debacle has expanded to international artists, and continues to act as an effective siphon to bigger labels. He sucks those artists right up into that mouth of his, swishes them around a bit, and with puckered lips, squirts those little guys right out. And everyone's happier in the end.


Two of the more recent finds are Karnak Temples and the fairly-flippantly-named Brain Fruit. The former is drone via Lara Croft OD'ing on medpacks, the latter is drone via Ralf Hutter getting stuck in traffic. After a heavy night of drinking.

Video :: The New Lines :: Voyager Program 1977

The New Lines - Voyager Program 1977

Not much to say about my absence on here other than that my new bionic blogging hand has been successfully installed and I'm still out to murder my father. Mainlined a shit-ton of metachlorians, kissed my sister, and I'm good to go. She even bought me a new lightsaber. I asked for coral, but it turned out more salmon. Apparently no one updated her Pantone chart. Here to propel us to the outer reaches of cool nonchalance is The New Lines from Princeton. It doesn't take long for this one to lift-off, and it never lands. Can't seem to dig up a release date, but their debut is due out on The Great Pop Supplement sometime in the next few weeks. Fasten your re-entry helmet and enjoy this video for the time being, you jerk.

News :: Upcoming Shows :: October

10/1 :: Pissed Jeans :: Golden West

10/4 :: Lands & Peoples :: Red Onion (6pm in-store)

10/7 :: Trans Am/Les Savy Fav/The Psychic Paramount :: 9:30 Club

10/11 :: Dinosaur Feathers/Lonnie Walker :: DC9

10/12  :: Yuck :: Black Cat

10/13 :: Acid Baby Jesus/Black Mamba Beat/JJ Damage and the Bandits/Beach Bloods :: Asefu's

10/15 :: Moss of Aura/La Big Vic/Family Portrait/Future Shuttle :: Subterranean A

10/17 :: John Maus/Young Prisms :: Black Cat

10/19 :: Double Dagger/Imperial China :: Black Cat

10/21 :: Zola Jesus :: Black Cat

10/22 :: Dum Dum Girls/Crocodiles/Royal Baths :: Black Cat
Weatherbox/Sainthood Reps/Buildings :: Subterranean A

10/24 :: Jacuzzi Boys :: Talking Head

10/25 :: Future Islands :: Black Cat

10/27 :: We Were Promised Jetpacks :: Black Cat

10/29 :: Boris/Asobi Seksu/Liturgy :: Black Cat
             Foul Swoops/Wax Idols/Terry Malts :: Comet Ping Pong

10/31  :: Dead Meadow :: DC9

Video :: Ganglians :: Bradley

The new DOUBLE Ganglians album is out now on Lefse Records. If you haven't heard of this label, they also just released the new Youth Lagoon album and Youth Lagoon will be playing tonight at DC9. So now you got your watchings and you got your news. How's it feel to be you, old-timer?

Review :: Barn Owl :: Lost in the Glare

Barn Owl :: Turiya

Where the fuck did everybody go? Alright, alright, this one's on me. Been brooding in caves for some time now, slurping on the black blood of the earth, cause there's not much else to sustain you down there. Came up with a good find, though. Kinda wish I hadn't been hiding out, avoiding tall buildings and noisy girls who carry on about their wedding plans and their much loved dachshunds with more personality than them. "What prep school did you go to? Oh, you didn't go? I guess you must be poor." Shit yeah, I'm poor.

This San-Fran drone band takes me back to my school cafeteria days. Pass your tray down and let me slop some psych on it for you. What, you don't like black blood of the earth? Guess you'll just have to starve then.  

Lost in the Glare plays like the soundtrack to a Jodorowsky movie, the heavy, slow riffs are full of one-armed bleeding men wandering the desert with their palms smacked flat against their brow, stuck in the moment of realization that they had to do a whole lot of fucking up to find themselves in their current situation. Lead-off track, "Pale Star," is a grower with solar flare moments of noise and "The Darkest Night Since 1683" has about five solid minutes of burn in it. So, yeah, make sure you pack a lot of water for this trip.

Barn Owl played Dirty City's Sonic Circuits this past Sunday and made it down to Hopscotch before that. The new full-length's out now on Thrill Jockey. Find it and buy it.


Barn Owl - Turiya from Thrill Jockey Records on Vimeo.

Remainder :: Bass Drum of Death Releases T. Rex Cover

Barely beating me to the punch for my new 4-track cover of Celibate Bummer...Think I'll be famous?

Bass Drum of Death :: Celebrate Summer

If you like Marc Bolan, you'll probably like this, but really I'd rather hear from you if you don't like him. Gotta lot of love for his man skin pants, but, seriously, how many fucking people have to crawl out of the sewer to prove that the diamond dog was king for a day? I'm tapping Dave Thomas to sub in for my Bolan festish. Sir Thomas, I'd like to personally welcome you to my collection of Pere Ubu stitched pillows. Hope you've always wanted to know what your death mask would look like in macrame.

Totes B. Dumb of Meth. Gonna catch them in tobacco town this fall for Hopscotch Pest.

Reviews :: Factums :: Gilding the Lilies

New double LP from members of Intelligence may be the most ambitious album to be released in years, and the shit'll shoot hot lead through your veins, too. Experimental, noise, garage, eleki, surf punk, tribal psych. You can't throw enough adjectives at these guys and hope to catch their meaning. So you look for consistencies in the material to maybe make sense of what you're hearing. Familiar drum/guitar rhythms, submerged vocal tracks that sound like they were recorded in the trunk of a car, driving south on I-10--waves in the distance, tires turning on blacktop, and the specter of the Manson family behind the wheel--and this withering electric guitar burn that picks up seemingly whenever these jokers just feel like being badass.

Factums :: Another Place

I'm not clocking these guys, but I'd say most of the tracks are coming in under two minutes, which means they're either trying to squeeze every penny out of their studio time, or they're trying to get Mike Watt's attention and maybe make his fucking face melt, or maybe all of the above and something more. It may not sound like it at first, but Gilding the Lilies is pop music. It's just way more concerned with the nature of sound and the human experience of that sound than anything else new coming out these days.

What they're able to accomplish with this format (long record, short tracks) is absolutely worth noting: long range and varied gestural experimentation, gestures that materialize and fade on the hard, flat surface of the band's practiced repetition. Gestures pointing to every influence and every contortion of those influences as they strain to find the next sound, or some impossible future for sound and, more importantly, pop music. This may not seem like an obvious point on listening alone, but it's maybe more plain from their name, factums. I don't feel like boring the shit out of anyone here, but I feel that the Factums may be the most important American band going right now for the very reason that every element of their songs is engaged in the disentangling of controversy, and they reorder the disarray of modern music by issuing an epic, double vinyl replete with musical statements of fact. The last time I had a listening experience like this one was when I bought two separate Sun City Girls collections on a whim, having only ever heard the band's name in passing. Shit, was that ever a brain-blasting experience. I think my roommates found me face down in my closet, bulbs broken in my room, resting on a pile of chicken bones...and incredibly I've lived to experience that sensation again.

Factums :: Near the Beach

 I'm not doing them justice, Assophon Records makes sense of the Factums sound this way, and I won't even try to do it better: 

This mythic release has been rumored and debated for some time and to say this is their crowing achievement is an understatement. Factums have been shrouded in mystery, rarely playing live -- this hermetic Seattle/Chicago combo have been releasing rustic/futuristic artifacts for a variety of labels over the last few years. On Gilding The Lilies, all the ideas come together: sci-fi surf rock, post-apocalyptic murder ballads, musique concrète anthems, hell, on Gilding The Lilies they even dedicate the latter half of this masterpiece to Far Eastern exotica and incorporate sitars and tablas. Yeah, this ain't no Beatles trip, it's a Factums take on their inner chakra or pith helmet exploitation or whatever the kids are calling it these days.

Factums cranked out a C45 tape last year that's apparently an abridged, reordered version of the Goliath pictured above, and that's what you're hearing from the linked mp3s in this post.  Whoever these guys are, I get the sense that they're sitting on a solid stockpile of effects pedals that they should pack up and take on the road with them. To have any idea of just what the fuck these guys are really up to, buy this limited one-time pressing from Forced Exposure while you still have a chance of getting any enjoyment out of  life.

By the way, pith helmet exploitation is now my new world view. I'm adopting it right now.

Video :: True Widow :: Skull Eyes

Been spinning True Widow's Kemado Records release for a while now, and they're garotting DC tonight at Rock and Roll Hotel with a serial killer lineup. The theme of this post is way more wan/fey/goth than any of the bands playing tonight. Gonna paint my nails black, and then go check out some freak folk.

RNR lineup...
7pm: True Widow
8pm: White Fence
9pm: Woods
10pm: Kurt Vile & the Violators

Reviews :: Biosphere :: N-Plants

Geir Jenssen's newest album for UK label Touch is one of the most beautiful and technical representations of post-bomb, world architecture to be attempted since Kraftwerk first harnessed the essence of radioactivity. Jenssen's execution has more depth and feel to it as though the music successfully encases the motorik urgings of his No-Euo (kinda like Fro-Yo, but with more blonde, blue-eyed kids holding ice cream cones) predecessors. Only, there's no paranoia here. There's no grim acceptance of nuclear energy's potential. Or any other portentous message for the generations. For me there's a distance between the viewer and the subject like Jenssen's crawled out of his fallout shelter to discover a  world in which objects no longer hold their old meanings, in which there's time enough at last to look over mankind's creations.

Jenssen completed recording a month before the Fukushima Daiichi disaster, he had this to say about the album's production:

Early February 2011: Decided to make an album inspired by the Japanese post-war economic miracle. While searching for more information I found an old photo of the Mihama nuclear plant. The fact that this futuristic-looking plant was situated in such a beautiful spot so close to the sea made me curious. Are they safe when it comes to earthquakes and tsunamis? Further reading revealed that many of these plants are situated in earthquake-prone areas, some of them are even located next to shores that had been hit in the past by tsunamis.
 
A photo of Mihama made me narrow down my focus only to Japanese nuclear plants. I wanted to make a soundtrack to some of them, concentrating on the architecture, design and localizations, but also questioning the potential radiation danger (a cooling system being destroyed by a landslide or earthquake, etc). As the head of the Nuclear and Industrial Safety Agency said: “the plants were so well designed that ‘such a situation is practically impossible’.

The album was finished on February 13th. On March 17th I received the following message from a Facebook friend: ‘Geir, some time ago you asked people for a photo of a Japanese nuclear powerplant. Is this going to be the sleeve of your new coming album? But more importantly: how did you actually predict the future? Kind regards, David.”






Here's a bonus photo of Jenssen... recording avalanches. I suppose I don't know of another way to go about it. Just never thought it would look so damn easy.

Features :: Mixtape :: Swanchez's Mind Eraser Mix

Mind Eraser Mix by machinedream

1) Bedhead - Disorder
2) Clams Casino - Wizard
3) John Maus - Believer
4) Xander Harris - Fucking Eat Your Face
5) Moon Duo - When You Cut
6) The Caretaker - The Sublime is Disappointingly Elusive
7) Nathaniel Mayer - White Dress
8) Purling Hiss - DUI
9) Zomby - Witch Hunt
10) Ariel Pink - Revolution's a Lie
11) Factums - Sod
13) Pissed Jeans - Fantasy World
14) Flight - Goodbye Horses
15) Dent May - I'm an Alcoholic

News :: Upcoming Shows :: August

Dope Body.

It's gonna be a slow month for shows round here, but here's what scuzz city's cooking anyhow...

8/9 :: Memory Tapes/Sleep Over @ Red Palace

8/10 :: Kurt Vile/Woods/White Fence/True Widow @ Rock and Roll Hotel

8/12 :: Hume/Dope Body/Buildings @ Comet Ping Pong

8/19 :: Celebration/Deleted Scenes/Tree River @ Subterranean A

8/25 :: Richard Buckner @ Iota

News :: Upcoming Shows :: July

Nobunny.
 
7/5: John Maus/Puro Instinct/Geneva Jacuzzi @ Black Cat
       Liturgy/Dope Body @ DC9

7/6: Nobunny @ Black Cat

7/10: Real Estate/Dent May @ Rock and Roll Hotel

7/12: Wild Nothing/Twin Sister @ Ottobar

7/13: Bill Callahan/Ed Askew @ Rock and Roll Hotel

7/15: Cass McCombs/Lower Dens @ Black Cat Backstage

7/16: Wild Beasts @ 9:30 Club

7/22: Heartless Bastards (acoustic) @ Iota

7/25: Teengirl Fantasy/Pictureplane/Gatekeeper @ Subterranean A

7/26: Mountain Man @ Iota

7/28: Sonny & the Sunsets/Sandwitches @ DC9
         Craft Spells/Gardens & Villa @ Black Cat Backstage

7/29: Marissa Nadler @ Red Palace

News :: Our Machine Watches Your Machine :: Bmore Musically Informed

Well, shit holler. Last month Baltimore music blog, Bmore, posted a double-sided mixtape of up-and-comer Baltimore bands. We're ripping the stump up by the roots here when with this post. Gotta give credit where credit's due, so head over to Bmore Musically Informed, cruise around, see what the north has got to offer. I like to check it pretty regular. See what's what. Been awhile. Then about a month ago, up pops this sweet set of sounds.

I've still got to give this one a few more listens, but already the stand outs for me include Zomes, Ecstatic Sunshine, Dope Body, and Winks (for delivering the best song title in the pack). I'd like to personally vouch for Weekends for delivering a solid, noisy set at a Friends Records event hosted by Subterranean A. Adventure, to his credit, put in one of the more surprising live contributions this year when Benny Boeldt's voice turned out to be as strong as his gaming thumbs at the Toro y Moi show at Rock and Roll Hotel. His newest record out on Carpark has some of the best melancholy synth work I've heard  in a while, swelling into a new style I like to call Ninja Gaiden-Goth.

Oh yeah, and add Dope Body's July 5 DC9 show to your summer viewing list.

Side One
[Side A] Baltimore: Spring 2011 // a bmoremusic.net mixtape by Bmore Musically Informed
1. Zomes - "Openings"
2. Weekends - "Home Alone (acoustic)"
3. Ken Seeno - "Cedilla in My Monogram"
4. Lands & Peoples - "Sexting"
5. White Life - "Real Things"
6. Eachothers - "Wild Yonder"
7. Microkingdom - "Aire Metal (Chopped and Screwed)"
8. Ponytail - "Honey Touches"
9. Adventure - "Feels Like Heaven"
10. Daytime - "Life / Afterlife (edit)"
11. Ecstatic Sunshine - "Hello Money"

Side Two
[Side B] Baltimore: Spring 2011 // a bmoremusic.net mixtape by Bmore Musically Informed
1. Celebration - "Only The Wicked (acoustic)"
2. Zu Shapes - "Olivia"
3. Moss of Aura - "Charter"
4. Winks - "Slap Me Choke Me Cum On You"
5. Dope Body - "The Shape of Grunge To Come"
6. Inflatable Mattress - "Green Tea Girlfriend"
7. Thank You - "Pathetic Magic (Dan Deacon remix)"
8. Avocado Happy Hour - "Daytime Television"
9. Gem Vision - "Untitled 1"

Video :: Remote Viewing :: Cold Showers

Cold Showers

"I Don't Mind"

Highlands 7"

Mexican Summer

The video by this new Mexican Summer band isn't for everyone, but I must admit that I've got quite a thing for squirting animal blood in my friends' faces. And, boy, do they love it. They can't get enough of the funny way I chomp my good tooth down into some raw meat right before their startled eyes. 

This is music made, apparently, for Mansonites. Just once I'd like to see a video that takes place at an ordinary party where people are just sitting around a quiet living room, occasionally spooning out potato salad onto paper plates and admiring carpet patterns while their jaws flap around on loose hinges like guppies. Instead I'm now one step closer to understanding what Sharon Tate went through.

Summer-loving times aside, Cold Showers has got a pretty sweet vibe going. The singer's voice will give you freezer burn if you sit to closer to your shitty macbook speakers. That's right, you'll smell like year-old corn dogs after you listen to him. MC Corndog on the mic.

News :: Upcoming Shows :: June

6/2
Dirtbombs :: Rock and Roll Hotel
Future Islands/Titus Andronicus/Okkervil River :: 9:30 Club

6/4
Stiff Little Fingers :: Blackcat

6/10
Thao and Mirah :: Blackcat
Radian :: Velvet Lounge

6/17
Strangeboys/White Fence/Heavy Breathing :: Comet Ping Pong

6/21
White Denim/Mazes :: Rock and Roll Hotel
The Spits/TV Ghost :: Blackcat
Coathangers :: Red Palace

6/23
Chiptune Showcase :: Velvet Lounge

6/25
Dinosaur Jr. :: 9:30 Club

6/26
Centromatic :: DC9

6/27
Hanni el Khatib/Bass Drum of Death :: Red Palace

Video :: CCTV Channel Surfing :: Mattress (aka Rex Marshall)

No, I'd never fucking heard of this guy. But the loose, cat blood scrawl on the floor beside my bed augured his coming. I write my dream diary in cat blood, so what? I bet you write yours with a Sharpie, downchuh, ya prissy fop?

Dirty Beaches covered the desolate "El Dorado" by Mattress at a recent Blackcat meltdown (and at other stops along the tour) and you would never guess how faithful he was being to the original. As mind-opening as the Dirty Beaches live set turned out to be, I realized that I'd have to chase this one to the root. Dismiss all the reverberations of Suicide and Roy Orbison and burrow my hands into the synth-loosened soil.

So without further fucking around, let's swivel our super awesome, spaceage Herman Miller chairs toward the CCTV. Now shut your eyes, little girl. Shut um and let's to see what we can see:

The opener from Low Blows:


Mattress :: El Dorado


Mattress :: Roll Roll Roll



From the Portland Mercury:
It wasn't mere '80s nostalgia that drew Marshall to synths. The groundwork of his appreciation for Gary Numan and Suicide was laid by his love of author J.G. Ballard, the sci-fi bard of synth-pop. Ballard spoke to Marshall's own pangs of future shock. "I'm overwhelmed by the pace culture's moving in," Marshall says with another chortle. "There no longer seems to be a zeitgeist. Or there are 1,000 tiny zeitgeists."

The Reservations (Rex Marshall's post-Mattress project) :: Live Forever


Mattress :: Bad Times
http://www.dirtybeaches.blogspot.com/


From Analog Beach (the Dirty Beaches blog):
Had the pleasure of finally meeting Rex tonight in Portland, AKA Mattress, AKA Reservations. Who was a huge influence on the conception of early Dirty Beaches back in 2006 after I saw him perform at Cagibi in Montreal all alone on a stage, crooning. Armed with tape machine back up tracks, pedals, and other machinery, he rocks the mic like a shadow dancer in the night. Incredible voice.

Mattress @ the Pink Room playing God knows what:


Mattress :: Pollution @ the Lafayette Footbridge:

From videographer's description:
On June 23rd Mattress brought his gritty, uncontrolled moves and electronic music to the railroad footbridge on 20th and Lafayette in Southeast Portland to perform his song “Pollution.” This turned into the craziest setup of any episode yet after the generator failed to start. We ended up powering the whole shoot (computer, mixer, amp, tape player and microphone) off of electricity from a car cigarette adapter. Our crack team of sound engineers — Matt Huiskamp, James Jacobsen and Clemeth Abercrombie deserve some recognition for their electronic miracle-making that day.

Mattress @ Burgerville (2 songs):



From Dusted Magazine writer's blog, Still Single:
There’s a little bit of sleaziness to the whole thing, like it could slip into some seedy, non-existent cocktail lounge or the middle of a Ween record, that really helps you notice that Marshall has written real songs and is not just dicking around with spontaneous, uninspired notions.

Now aren't you glad you let daddy have the remote?

Feature :: Guest Post :: Echo & the Bunnymen

Today's post was written by Mt. P's very own Duke de la Roach Fuck-O (toldja i could spell that shit).

When I was starting high school cable television came to town in the form of a telephone call to my parents telling them that our family had been the first selected in our town of 24,000 to get wired for cable, if only they could be there on a certain day. A minor rebellion broke out amongst the teens in the family when we were told that the cable company was told to come another day and that we would not be the first. That rebellion was bloodily suppressed.

But get it we did, a few days later and with it came something known as mtv. Back then it was not the home of teen soaps, game shows about tv, spring break marathons or anything else. It was music video after music video with only commercials and breaks for the vjs.. These were J.J. “Triple J” Jackson, Nina Blackwood, Mark Goodman, Alan Hunter, and the mainspring of cool, Martha Quinn. And since there were few american bands doing videos, we were treated to the best of the british in the early 1980s with a smattering of near-independents, such as DEVO.

The music and look—spiky hair, synth, it was nothing like rock radio—if you liked it, you were on the outs, baby. Like it I did, though, through multiple trips to the aptly named rave-on musuc in the neighboring suburb, the source of anything worth having in life.

And the suburbs were the only existence we knew. Life was like John Hughes film, Hughes was basically filming the lives of the million-teen occupied-collar counties of chicago. It was like the movies were made about me, my friends, and enemies.

And those bands on mtv? I loved them all, Joy Division, New Order, the Cure, and most importantly, Echo and the Bunnymen. They got me on to the high school radio station, got me into life and music.

Echo and the Bunnymen originally consisted of a store-bought cassette tape of Crocodiles, which ran past the play head of a yellow “Sports” walkman, and into my unbelieving ears. These three-chord charlies with the jarring guitar, the bouncy, wry lyrics suggesting immediate disaster and pain, why they were high school personified. They completely understood my isolation, my need for the girls to notice me, my need to be something other than the two poses offered by midwest whitebread high school existence. Maybe they didn’t know it, being, you know, british and all, but they got me straight on. But you have to give a band credit when they have the cojones to call their fourth album “the greatest album ever made” without batting an eye.

Echo has lost some members to motorcycle accidents and attrition, but the core is there, McCullogh’s cigarette-soaked voice and Will Sergeant’s jangly single-coiled soaking wet reverbed-out delay. You’d either be a fool or plain broke to miss them.

Kelley Stoltz :: I Don't Get That

Echo & the Bunnymen play tonight at 9:30 Club. Kelley Stoltz opens. Werd is few tickets remain for what could be an easy way to relive the vomit-spattered nightmare that was your pretty pretty prom night.

Review :: Psychotronic Wiretap :: King Tuff

Brattleboro, VT's Kyle Thomas aka King Tuff spreads himself way too thin. Between this project, Witch, Happy Birthday, Feathers and who knows what else, he seems to be in a state of perpetual distraction, and it's a fucking tragedy that King Tuff has only released one record. He serves us mashed potatoes, fried okra, and cornbread, but all I really want is the meatloaf. To tease us, he's offered up some leftovers here, like a cold meatloaf sandwich where the grease has turned the color of mother of pearl. Iridescent and chalky, fairly bland until you let the bacteria on your tongue break it down into a fatty syrup that coats your insides. "Hands" is a re-recording of an old demo from the Mind Blow CDR, dating back to the early 2000's. Dig the choked-up garage guitar. Dig the slap-back nasal commands. Dig the vaguely muppetesque background vocals. The brilliant Scion AV has kindly included the track in its garage 7" series, along with Austin's Hex Dispensers. It's good to know that King Tuff is still cooking, but it's time for a new entree. Liver delivery.

Hands

Review :: Psychotronic Wiretap :: Washed Out

Let's talk about me for a minute. More specifically, let's talk about my funeral. It's inevitable, unless of course I'm completely forgotten and perish face down in a flooded ditch on the side of the road, which seems comfortably natural to me. But, if I were to die and some assembly claimed my body upon their lazy Sunday afternoon with nothing else to do, I guarantee they'd find a mixtape somewhere on my corpse. You know why? It's because I keep a tape labeled "Songs I'd Like Played At My Funeral" in my pocket every day. That's how morbid I am. I don't want an epitaph scribbled into my headstone... I want a goddamn iPod docking station with my Funeral Mix forever glued into my grave.

Washed Out already holds a place in this mix to end all mixes, and this cut from the forthcoming LP Within and Without (July 12 on Sub Pop) is a strong contender. If by the off-chance there's a lofty heaven, and the further unlikelihood that I make it there, this is the sound of the clouds breaking. Cheesy enough? Try spending a day in my shoes.


Washed Out :: Eyes Be Closed

News :: Upcoming Releases :: May

5/10
The Antlers :: Burst Apart [Frenchkiss]
Liturgy: Aesthetica [Thrill Jockey]
Mountains: Air Museum [Thrill Jockey]
Blank Dogs: Collected by Itself: 2006-2009 [Captured Tracks]
Tyler, the Creator: Goblin [XL]
Wild Beasts: Smother [Domino]
Family Portrait: Family Portrait [Underwater Peoples]
Psychedelic Horseshit: Laced [FatCat]

5/17
Jay Reatard: Teenage Hate/Fuck Elvis Here's the Reatards [reissue] [Goner]
Thee Oh Sees: Castlemania [In The Red]
Weekend: End Times 7" [Slumberland]
Gold-Bears: Are You Falling in Love? [Slumberland]

Kid Congo & the Pink Monkey Birds: Gorilla Rose [In the Red]

5/24
Boris: Heavy Rocks and Attention Please [Sargent House]
White Denim: D [Downtown]
Friendly Fires: Pala [XL]

5/31
Shabazz Palaces: Black Up [Sub Pop]

Video :: Remote Viewing :: Craft Spells

Craft Spells

"You Should Close the Door"

Idle Labor

Captured Tracks

Features :: Machine Dream Spring Mix 2011

Gotta whole other soul in my pocket bought cheap from A-number-one vato down Shepherd Alley near Chinatown. And when I gave him my money, before the migration of spirits went down, he leaned close or askt me to lean in close. And I heard him whisper, and I strained to hear. Between ambo sirens and a faraway lady too late awake, waiting for her something other to come home through the door, I could make out these spare words: lay your woes at my feet...cup your hands before me...seek in me as you would seek in yourself...prayers will be allayed, answers delayed.

Gotta hole in my soul and so I'd feed that mole with all you see before you: A-number-one hundred post and a Machined Ream mixtape. Talking in tongues aside, I have to say I came out of this one feeling a whole lot better about the state of new music these days, like I'd been cleansed, my mind bored to a certain size.

I see fists. Feel like a fight?

Tracklist:

01. Sweatmother (Tobacco)
02. It's a Nightmare (Apache Dropout)
03. No Summr4U (oOoOO)
04. Dinner (Blood Orange)
05. Harsh Realm (Widowspeak)
06. Sister Ray (Woven Bones)
07. Quantum Leap (John Maus)
08. Hashshashin (Lumerians)
09. Neon Kids (Cosmonauts)
10. an echo from the hosts that profess infinitum (Shabazz Palaces)
11. Les Neuf Soeurs (Mode Moderne)
12. Fractured Light (Weird Magic)
13. Casual Diamond (Sleep ∞ Over)
14. Sunsetter (Ghost Wave)
15. Gonna Listen to T-Rex (Burnt Ones)
16. I Want More Than Blood (Xander Harris)

Play, download, delete, do what you got to do.

MDtape 02 by machinedream

News :: We Can See the Future :: The Peelies

Oh, shit, it's an all-girl band. What are they doing here?  Well, I was walking out the door, and my head felt bare, so I headed back in and went for my top hat. I'll be damned, the Peelies popped out like a quintet of magic mutherfucking rabbits.

That's not a true story. I don't wear rabbits. Just when I could imagine folks approaching me at the totally rad parties I go to, saying things to me like:

"You seem like someone who's really plugged in." To which my best answer would have to be: "It's cause I'm the plug, man." A short cry from saying "I hate myself. Now that you're here, help me justify my boredom-induced solipsism, you bottom feeder." Not to hit too close to talking about the 2007 Tom Sizemore movie, a damn good year for the S'more Man.

Back to the tunes: These ladies have got the dry, surf garage down. How dry? So dry I feel like putting their tape on and taking a vermouth bath. Or maybe I'll bathe in tape and pour vermouth on my record player. Jesus Christ, I guess this is the day I sit around dealing with what can never be. Suppose you stop standing around with an empty cup, staring at me: would you be able to refill and make another round, try to find someone who didn't sound like they despise you as much as they despise themselves?

And just when you think the Quebecoiselles got the garage rock vibe on lock, they hit the francophone button and go full speed. Don't stop me: I'm making magic here. My words are goddamn original scripture.

If you like music, and you like it when music comes to your hometown, drop five bucks on the band's album from--wait, what?--one fucking year ago. Guess I'll trade in those psychic pasties for a big ass bottle of Jay Dub. Thought I hadda talent for this type uh thing. Guess my parents were high when they told me I'd be a suck-sess. Guess I'll just kick back and say fuuuck iiiiiiiiitt.

By the way: don't click on the top hat link unless you deal well with sensory overload. Also, it's not a bad idea to kill an hour on a Sunday google-mathing the phrase "psychic pasties." Boy or girl--just sayin...

News :: Upcoming Shows :: May

5/6: Yuck/Tame Impala @ Black Cat [SOLD OUT]

5/7: Apache Dropout @ Comet Ping Pong

5/9: Dirty Beaches @ Black Cat

5/10: Phosphorescent @ Red Palace
         Trail of Dead/Surfer Blood @ Rock and Roll Hotel [SOLD OUT]

5/11: Echo & the Bunnymen @ 9:30 Club

5/13: Adventure @ Subterranean A

5/14: Reverend Horton Heat @ 9:30 Club

5/19: Tune-Yards @ Red Palace

5/26: The Death Set @ Red Palace

5/27: Quintron and Miss Pussycat @ Red Palace

5/30: Times New Viking/The Babies @ Black Cat

Review :: Armchair Telepathy :: Naked on the Vague

Naked on the Vague :: Twelve Dark Noons EP :: Sacred Bones :: Released March 29

I set out on a reconnaissance mission the other day, rescuing beaten and hogtied slabs of vinyl that might otherwise have fallen into the crippled hands of a nonbeliever. I ducked into Smash and picked up some Neil Young and Magazine records, but decided to leave behind nine copies of the same Municipal Waste album. I passed by Crooked Beat, having had enough déjà vu for the week. Red Onion was tranquil as ever - I picked up some sounds from the Austrian woodlands, then relieved the pressure in my head by drilling a Sacred Bones-sized hole in my skull. We mentioned this release and the film of the same name back in December. The teaser gave little indication as to what the soundtrack would do to my ears, but that's why it's called a teaser. I haven't really grown up from being the butt-end of ridicule on the 4th grade four square court. Naked on the Vague knows this, told me I looked exquisitely handsome and that I must come from a wealthy family, and then pummeled me with brutal sonic vulgarities. And the sick part is that I hide the tears, put a smile on my face and continue following them.

Naked on the Vague are contributing to the legion of Australian psych bands currently turning the Outback into an obliterated wasteland. "Dracula fronting the B-52s" as male-lead Matthew Hopkins put it, and he really couldn't be more spot on. But, to be clear, Hopkins has apparently been at the necks of every other member of the band, and they're all in a gothic lock-groove throughout the EP. Like a functioning nuclear vampire family that hasn't grown tired of eachother after 400 years. Or maybe the lack of a life force negates the need for cooperation?

The Twelve Dark Noons film premiered last night in NYC, with a special performance by NOTV. Check out the music video for EP cut "Clock of 12s" below:

News :: Sometimes We're Allowed Outdoors :: Crystal Stilts

Crystal Stilts/German Measles

Black Cat Backstage

1811 14th Street NW, Washington, DC

Friday, April 22, 2011

Crystal Stilts :: Shackles

They should be bigger than this, but then it's not the first act we've caught at the Black Cat's back stage in the past few months where we had the same thought. They should be on the mainstage: Mike Watt, Kurt Vile, Twin Shadow. Hell, with as much buzz as these guys get, and with the way they back it up, they should be selling out two nights wherever they want in town.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, tevs, what the fuck. Crystal Stilts are going to be shitting little psychedelic bricks all over the stage, and I'll be one of like 15 people to be there to smell them.