manic grind assaults from these arbiters of misfortune out of Cleveland. confrontational and degrading just the way you like it, Completely Disgusted goes all dirgey and shit. Wil Killingsworth recorded it so you know it’s good. fuck it no one cares anyways
another fucked up aberration of art side project from Grunt aka Mikko Aspa aka the Freak Animal himself. creep ambient paranoid electronics mostly sparse but most unsettling. harsh not in delivery but in discomfort, uncomfortable not just in sonic qualities but in thematic content most of all. the guiltiest of all pleasures; the most taboo of all temptations; the evillest of all human acts imaginable; possibly some clean(er) tracks to play but it’s all so, so dirty and definitely very offensive, and some parts potentially not suitable for airplay. play at the risk of absolute moral corruption.
black noise audio torture at its most tormenting: Finnish black metal ritualists Ride for Revenge fall immediately into a braindead death-march of unerring headache hypnosis; brain burning feedback swells, drums in relentless repetition. the second track a terrifying vision of viscous distortion. German occult electronics outfit RxAxPxE deliver harsh granular walls of blood boiling worship and praise and tribal swamp ambient evoking demons. a showcase of extremes, this split is not for the faint of heart.
Oakland based sound artist presents mind altering soundscrapes of agitated industrial friction and hissing factory feedback; bulbous pulsations of infected drones fragmented and spliced into rhythmic ollages of glitched static, field recordings, and ambient noise. sudden drops and transitions sure to confuse DJs and listeners alike: sounds or perhaps the grooves themselves damaged into purposeful scratches? hard to say with various locked ending tracks (B3) or others fading off into near silence (D3), the third disc composed entirely of locked grooves and intruders to really test your focus. the subtleties laid throughout challenge relentlessly, with creeping disturbances to tickle the back of your brain. the sounds here are sinister, and in the most psychically dangerous of ways,,,
who’d o’ thunk Beijing would become one of the hot spots of innovative rock music? but it’s become just that, with recent bands emulating the noise-pop/indie-rock sound from the 90s, sounding like bands like Sonic Youth, Pavement and others. these kids are from Hong Kong but fit nicely in with this scene. recorded on Beijing label Psychic Kong, The Yours’ sophomore album here is definitely meant to appeal to rambunctious youth audiences, with a much more intense and riff-heavy sound but maintaining a catchy song structures. they definitely lean heavier to the noise end than pop, but fear not, these songs shine melodic amidst the shimmering distortion and colossal dissonances. a lo-fi collage dedicated to youth culture and teenage angst.
home recordings of German artist/composer/founder of Cairo Free Jazz Ensemble playing Sun Ra’s sun harp/bandura he was given after hosting the Arkestra in Egypt and a swarmandal gifted him by the Dagar brothers during his Kabul years during the comeup on amanita mushrooms one solitary day back in Germany in the 90s. from jarring, incessant strumming, banging and mangling with a purge of absurd vocalizations to polyrhythmic dispersal and focused variations on individual tones and surfaces all in an outpouring of desert delusional harmonics settling into a trembling zen at the end. psychoactive meditations from one of history’s greatest trippers. swallow the caps and stems and start all over again.
split release from two of Oregon’s most deathly doom projects. Hell sets the mood with medieval folk intro on guitar, harp and viola; setting the stage for a dark and dismal night, stars obscured by black clouds drifting thru still waters to a solitary gothic tower; exploding off into DMT fueled cosmic doom trip. Mizmor then blasts off immediately into interstellar black metal harmonics breaking thru to higher consciousness, realms of bleak shattered into gut churning sludge; the collapsing beat dragged through dirt and riffs thrown about haphazardly in fits of wrong. despite the two projects being interrelated to the point of sameness the sounds they produce are drastically different though complementary: the visceral effects of their power evoking a cold, haunting terror that only the best can achieve.
a meeting of spirits in Jogjakarta, Java. Japanese vocal trips – Indonesian guitar mantras – American effects entropy. tribal dada psychedelia and celestial funk minimalism. connections to Factums, Seek Six Sick and Yo Yo. the supreme of surreal, the best of bizarre. may trigger flashbacks, use at your own risk.
self-declared experimental post-punk out of San Jose. teeth gritting guitar riffage and bellowing bass and drums accompany; snarling vocal delivery gives you that punk rock grimace with spacious song writing that still manages to move and change. these guys got skills and a sound all their own in a sea of same-sounding rock music (the 90s were pretty fuckin awesome though)
have you ever listened to everything around you so intently that the presence of sound itself became unbearable? whether in the chaotic milieu of an urban downtown or the isolated breaches of silence in faraway rural desolation the sounds around us have the capacity to overwhelm if you try to take it all in at once. be careful how intently you pay attention.
sitcom dementia theme show featuring noise hopscotch signal surfing and alien isolation techniques. free flying honk ‘n sconce gabber jabber hyper chloric acid tested flubber improv marching. 4-5 minutes per side at 45 rpm but is it 33?
urban dust street scene collage; soul jazz underbelly raving screech and skronk futuristic in a familiar way; drums pushing and pulling the piano glitch with turntables ever spinning; the beats come in movements with cinematic progression like a new age hip hop ballet; IDM for the interdimensional; needle dragging along the inner label side B carries on sparks simmering in the deconstruction; reconvening for the spirit solstice but jarring back to bass line; is that funk i hear crumbling? a drum solo locked in ether between terrestrial and not; heavy organs carry the weight of planets; gravitational free association dropping like comets; storm cloud distortion driftin lullabies meandering back to stressed passing pastures and green lawns unbeknownst to chaos; Athens based artist.
internationally commissioned work by Daniel Lopatin out of Brooklyn. A1 interprets Lutoslawski’s Preludes for Sacrum Profanum – an orchestral treatment of ethereal harmonies. A2, denser but still gentle, an accompaniment to Quadrorotor’s Saatchi & Saatchi. the B side (45rpm!) a creeping rework of the classical original song. Lopatin’s work is constantly evolving and draws on myriad influences, gaining deserved attention worldwide.
internationally commissioned work by Daniel Lopatin out of Brooklyn. the A side two pieces originally took place at Red Bull Music Academy in Tokyo, an homage to scrolling shooter video games from Japan: sensory overload of industrial noise-scrapes. the B side an opus accompaniment to the 1995 anime film Magnetic Rose – more an expanded exploration of textures. Lopatin constantly molds his output to meet his current inspirations with his work never repeating itself.
disturbed dad perturbations from british trio of avant-kafkas and domestic duo of dementia. free association degradation and spastic scratch and spit, squonk and skronk plastic wrapped writhing. cow tipping rituals and ravaged contortion of country western crapshoot paranoia.
fluid jazz not fiery but a steady smoldering of sax flurry harmonics and fleeting melody; double dose of double bass providing a compelling backdrop for Kretzmer to freely gesticulate, free not only to fly out of convention but to sit firmly fitted as well: quoting between sputters and wails. harmonic textures offered by complementary and extraordinary techniques on bass with drums rarely taking the center stage but constantly creative. fresh free sounds out of Israel from Out Now head honcho.
DEDICATED TO ALL THE LONERS. NOT A PROMOTION OF SUICIDE AS AN ANSWER. BUT A STATEMENT AGAINST THE SOCIETY THAT CREATES THE ENVIRONMENT OF CONSTANT DEPRESSION AND LIFE-DESTRUCTION. FOR THOSE WHO HAVE NEVER FOUND THEIR PLACE ADJUSTING TO SOCIETY.
free drum stuttering guitar plucks in the distant back alleys of abandoned space colonies – alien creatures grumbling encrypted signals of distant horror and creeping subtleties. ancient spirits forgotten amidst the ominous alarm crunch shrill in the ether. no semblance to reality whatsoever.
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