Perhaps one reason we haven’t heard a whole lot from the monolithic Lightning Bolt since 2005’s flawless Wonderful Rainbow is the myriad of undoubtedly time-consuming side projects. Black Pus is one of them, featuring Lightning Bolt’s Brian Chippendale. While Chippendale maintains the holy spastic drumming, interdental vox, and ADHD garage prog vibe that christens the church of Lightning Bolt, he seems to utilize Black Pus as a vehicle to branch out into other songwriting styles, including movements that are almost, zounds!, poppy. Have a look and listen to “Land of the Lost,” a highly hummable tune (the melody almost sounds like the chorus to INXS’ “The One Thing”… almost) with an excellent visual brain rape akin to Paper Rad:
Black Pus just released 0: Ultimate Beat Off on Armageddon. I have yet to hear all of Ultimate Beat Off, but I bet it rules, and Forest Gospel has a review better than anything I could’ve written.
Earlier this afternoon I posted a review and some tracks from sunny shoegazers The Legends, saying the album was perfect for these warmer months. But I failed to include the Sunn o))) fans in this conversation, many of whom probably find summer to be “lame,” and probably make up a healthy portion of this blog’s readership. Never fear, Chicago’s FSS label just dropped a new doosey by the metal-informed noise/power ambient Grief No Absolution.
Grief No Absolution is truth in advertising. This is suffocating, horrifying, paranoid music – the soundtrack you hear when you’ve been demoted a circle of hell or two for insolence. The group, who formed in 2008 in the orb of primordial ooze that rotates near the Earth’s core, makes Khanate look like more of a “pastel black.” GNA will be releasing two vinyl EPs next month, Eurostopodus Argus and Crypsis, which will also be available for purchase as a single package download. Both EPs play as a full single movement, so the MP3 below is simply an out-of-context taste of what you can expect. Enjoy the sample, then boogie on down to church.
Eurostopodus Argus and Crypsis are available August 10 courtesy of FSS. Celebrate good times.
For fans of: Sunn O))), Wolf Eyes, Earth, Prurient
If the preview of Sun Awar’s latest joint gave you a tingling in the solar plexus, then you’ve gotta hear what Forest Swords are bringing to the table (besides weed). From what one could ascertain from the few songs we’ve heard thus far, Forest Swordsdo not fake the funk and very much keep their shit extraterrestrial.
“Red Rocks Fogg” showcases heavy, mystic, syrupy dub pipped through fuzz pedals. “Down Steps” takes it one step further, introducing the trip as a sparse reverberated soundscape a la Ambient-era Aphex Twin, then organically builds the celestial grime into an ultra low-end groove so nasty that your face crunches up a bit and you expel a gasp of “daaaang, that’s nasty.” The title track from their forthcoming cassette-only debut Miarches comes correct with acid-damaged minor key pop sensibility, samples resembling some sort of outer space communique picked up by SETI, and actual vocals – giving the song a sort of space dub reinterpretation of early Indian Jewelry.
Forest Swords are sick. Be on the lookout for more from them. Miarches is available for preorder courtesy of Leftist Nautical Antiques.
For fans of: Pocahaunted, Growing, Religious Knives, Scratch Perry
I’d like to be candid with you all before beginning this review of last night’s Sir Richard Bishop performance, saying that what I’m providing you right now is a piss poor concert review. It’s entirely possible that I might spend the majority of this review discussing how goddamn hot it was instead of the actual music that was performed. But that was the reality of the situation – it was practically impossible to bring you all any quality photos and videos since well over a hundred people were packed into the basement of the Swan Dive, there was no stage, and it was about 110 degrees Fahrenheit in the room. Trying to make it to the front was like standing in the entrance to the mouth of hell (and some Oaxacan songs could provide the soundtrack for that). I mean, I do… I like you guys. But I don’t volunerably-standing-in-the-burning-depths-of-a-boiler-room like you. No offense, dude.
At this point, it’s also worth mentioning that I have to plug The Kin Ship gallery. Based on the type of event they were promoting their current exhibit at and the design of the flier, I can assume this is a pretty cool art gallery. However, I’m mainly plugging them because they were a life saver last night. That flier became a makeshift fan that I’ve never been more thankful for having. Thank you, Kin Ship.
Now, on top of my inability to properly cover this show, I missed the legendary, reclusive local freak folk collective Sapat’s opening set. So I can’t even give you an account of how awesome that probably was. We did, however, make it in time for the beginning of Oaxacan’s set. And holy smokes.
It’s very clear why Richie B invited Oaxacan on his tour. Not only were they a perfect example of an incredibly talented, compositionally tight, blisteringly intense noise band (almost in the vein of Lightning Bolt), Oaxacan exhibited a very strong traditional Middle Eastern influence. While they carried the instruments of a rock band (drums, bass, guitar, samplers), Oaxacan sounded like a crazed, futuristic, Persian prog collective. Amy Friebertshauser used her voice, manipulated through samplers, to sound like a cross between incendiary lute riffs and deranged yodeling, cutting through the layered percussion and guitar textures like poisonous tentacles. The 45-minute opening set, with encore, provided a great sondtrack to a Mad Maxian desert documentary… or perhaps the current unrest in Tehran. I was delightfully shocked and emotionally spent after Oaxacan’s set. New fav band alert.
(Oaxacan on MySpazz)
Here are two samples of the exorcism that took place. The second video prominently features the dome of one Matt Minter (ex-Hair Police). We run a professional ship here at The Decibel Tolls, replete with videos of the backs of people’s heads.
Like clockwork, after Oaxacan fizzled out with a soft crash tap, crazy ol’ Richard strolled through and began to set up. Oaxacan did double duty as his backing band, and it was basically like seeing an entirely different band perform. I was impressed… again.
The knighted one ripped right into selections off of The Freak of Araby, using electric guitar as his new divining rod of choice. The former Sun City Girl again, as with his acoustic show I saw opening for Animal Collective, showcased an unreal musical prowess and exploration across vast lands of the Ottoman Empire. As mentioned, it was too hot to even attempt to see the Freak of Araby Ensemble, so this was my view for most of the show:
So Lana and I found the “awesome zone,” the area of the bar in line-of-sight of the basement’s sole AC unit. We camped out there, drank La Fin Du Mond, and enjoyed the acoustics of Bishop’s live renderings. We really had no intention of leaving this spot. Even if we did make it to the front, there isn’t much to see with Richard Bishop. Without visuals or the like, Bishop’s show consists of a longhair noodling on guitar, probably in a sitting position. This, of course, would be the perfect ambiance for a campfire or intimate outdoor performance, but due to the sweltering conditions inside, it was hard to keep attentive. The music was excellent, but the setting was wrong, I believe. Swan Dive is certainly an awesome locale, but it was a small, narrow space with no stage and a lot of people crammed in the front – all of which happened on an evening in the middle of a very nasty heat wave here in Louisville.
My final thoughts on the show, as if I didn’t already drive this point home – despite Bishop’s mastery of guitar technique and international fusion, Oaxacan kinda stole the night. They were simply amazing.
The long awaited box set of early performances/demos of Animal Collective, spanning roughly 2000 to 2003, recently became available in limited quantities… and said quantities are all gone. Not sure if Catsup Plate is planning on a wider distribution, but Hansen was fortunate enough to grip a copy. Fans of Sung Tongs and before will be absolutely delighted with the sound quality and inclusion of unfamiliar tracks, especially if you were disappointed with Merriweather Post Pavilion (as many of this blog’s readers were, I believe).
That reminds me, if you loved pop-friendly Merriweather Post Pavilion, there’s a good chance you might hate Animal Crack Box. Animal Collective started as a noise and Holy Modal Rounders-style folk band that used to shred hard with C Spencer Yeh and his crew. And now they’re kickin’ it with Letterman! They grew up so fast… But yeah, I love the older stuff, so Animal Crack Box is Christmas come early for me.
Below is a small selection of some of my favorites from the box set with the corresponding liner notes:
“Hey Friend” – recorded live to MiniDisc winter early 2001 at 67 Atlantic Ave, Brooklyn by Avey/Panda
“Covered in Frogs” – recorded live to MiniDisc sometime and somewhere in 2003 (recording details are lost) by Avey/Panda
“Jimmy Raven” – recorded live to MiniDisc 18 September 2000 at the Cooler, NYC by Avey/Panda
Well sheeit, if I knew that so many people were coming over to see me and peep the Vampire Weekend demos, I would’ve cleaned up a little more around here. Ya know, some fancy animated GIFs, better karaoke performances, cOoL vIdEoS, vacuumed a little, etc.
A couple of thoughts on the prank/social experiment yesterday:
1) I knew Vampire Weekend was popular, but holy shit, I had several thousand visitors within a couple of hours. I have ambivalent feelings about this. On the one hand, the exposure of The Decibel Tolls to a new, wide audience was great. On the other, it’s disheartening that a lot of better bands and artists don’t receive those nice perks of the massive hype machine that the Vamps were able to produce. Sad on the inside. But whatever, that’s how the world works, right? I forget who said it, but I always enjoyed the quote “morality is the way the world should be and economics is the way the world actually is.”
2) The Vamp crowd is decidedly a younger crowd, yet seems more mature than many of the people I encounter through other stunts this blog has produced. The responses I received yesterday all showcased people with a pretty good sense of humor. Whereas the fake Billy Corgan Twitter yields a lot of flame mail from the Pumpkinheads, an older crowd, I received a lot of good responses in the comments and my inbox that made me say “touché.” Thanks for being good sports, ya’ll.
Now, some people were curious about what exactly the tracks really were. Here’s the revelation:
“Tube Socks and Trust Funds” – Oh… oh, you thought it was the Vamps at first, but then realized… fuck, it’s “Gumboots” from Paul Simon’s Graceland. FML.
“Cape Cod Shuffle” – This is Captain & Tenille’s “Love Will Keep Us Together” (a staple of the Keep Louisville Smooth DJ set). This was included because, I think, if Vampire Weekend increased their coolness by 400-500%, they would probably come pretty close to the good Captain and his shipmate Toni Tenille.
“Just a J Crew Holiday” – This is my friend Mark Evans with an old project of his called Lesbian Peanut Butter (I caught that reference, Mark). They wrote original music as well, but this track is their riverboat folk cover of KoRn’s “Blind.” When discussing KoRn, do you have to type in toggle case? Is that AP style? Anyway, thanks again, Mark. That song rules!
“Hello to You, Africa!!” – Nope, not Merzbow. It’s Kites, from his 2006 album Peace Trials, which is probably my favorite power electronics noise album. The composition of this song represents my feelings that the Vamps probably don’t really care that much about Africa. Since there was some interest in this record, I’ve included additional MP3s below for your consideration. If you dig it, you can grip that album over at Load.
“Country Club Blues” – this is ol’ Kenny Bloggins doing a one-take a capella karaoke of Collective Soul’s 1994 smash hit “Shine,” with a little spread chorus and reverb added for effect.
[Editor's Note: This is Norwood's first article for the Decibel Tolls. Welcome him, and let's avoid the normal flaming we have here on this fine music blog, nerds. Don't scare him off too soon, now.]
Last week, I was editing a chapter on garage rock for Piero Scaruffi’s revised rock catalog when I stumbled upon a band that begged me for my curiosity. One of the few reviews about this outhouse-rock group was written by Julian Cope (for one of his album of the month pieces). I skimmed through his review, finding the nihilistic mumbo-jumbo of rock gold more and more appetizing. The more I researched, the quicker I found out that my dear uncle Scott Derr was one of the contributing madmen. It’s a small world after all! Cope surely did a good job selling the band on paper, and now I had a blood connection. I thoroughly scanned the world wide web before finally unveiling the 24-karat cacophony that is Monoshock’s first, last and only LP, “Walk to the Fire.”
“Walk to the Fire” shows off the raw power of the Stooges, the improvisational debauchery of the Velvet Underground, and the schizophrenic swagger of Pere Ubu; all finely minced, thrown into a blender, and garnished with a bit of apocalyptic satisfaction. There’s just something about the amateurish indecency of “Walk to the Fire” that sounds strikingly original. This feeling of sordid wonder juxtaposed with frontman Grady Runyan’s aesthetic framework makes “Walk to the Fire” one of rock music’s most fascinating “Jekyll and Hyde” records. You could enjoy it because of its “no-fi” garage-punk sound, or because of its potent expeditions into the psychedelic avant-garde.
The record as a whole will blow your sails due south; whether your heading there or not. Made up of college buddies Grady Runyan (vocals, guitar, e-bow, violin), Scott Derr (vocals, bass, guitar, brass, blender), Rubin Fiberglass (drums, percussion, vocals) and Aluminum Queen (saxophone), Monoshock mixes sloppy proto-punk with sophisticated free-form experimentation. “Walk to the Fire” is simply another example of punk rock’s “Fuck it, I’m a teenager” ethos gone horribly right. Everything seems to go wrong on this record, and that’s the provocative beauty of Monoshock’s design. The chaotic mess of guitars, drums and orchestral instruments proves to be much more prophetic than ignorant. More singular than homogenous. And more honest than fraudulent. When listening, I often forget that running saxophones through oscillators, and aimlessly howlin’ away on brass isn’t the norm in rock music, but Monoshock does it with an unwavering conviction.
The opening track “Crypto-Zoological Disaster,” begins with a head bobbin’ Pere Ubu riff that steadily marches until it abruptly decomposes into a degenerative, DNA-like, orgy of half-conscious noise. After getting lost in the masochistic crescendo, Runyan and company come full-circle, bringing back the riff in a final tour de force.
“I Took You to it Baby,” Monoshock’s destructive ballad, features the group’s most conventionally catchy instrumentation. Fortunately for us, Runyan’s apathetic wailing combined with a belligerent, yet hummable, guitar melody makes you want to turn up the volume, pound the gas with your lead foot and flip the bird to the next copper you see on the open highway.
The almost primitivist “Astral Plane” sways back and forth like a drunk seaman, soon to be hanging over the ship’s railing in a sickening stupor. This uncanny, vaguely psychedelic sound appears all over “Walk to the Fire,” contributing to the record’s subtle hallucinogenic mystique. The track’s climax is marked by Derr’s disastrously fulfilling brass solo.
Monoshock’s “Walk to the Fire” will likely grab you by the neck, and wring you for every last penny. Sometimes being wrong feels oh so right.
