Four unsheathed slashers from this four piece out of the city of angels. Growling, smoking fretboards, note intensive bass-lines, hammering the snare, crushing the cymbals, necro-centric hardcore punkrock led by Austin Delgadillo (Deathly) inciting fury, contempt, and violence. Tracks are short with short pauses, stay alert and have some Christ On Parade cued up.
1982 soundtrack single from the Tamil film “Pillaiyaar” Call it Kollywood? I ain’t no expert but definitely a fan! Anyways this has four beautiful pop numbers.
A1 – Super bouncy tabla guides this track, flute flying like a crazy bird while Rajalakshmi Sulamangalam soars ever higher above that.
A2- Male and female voices coasting and cavorting, shenai (?) slithers in and tries to stir up some trouble, but the joy-love vibe is too pure. Prominent violins rise in a closing bridge. P. Susheela hits notes like a shining sun in the sky.
B1- Killer vocal trills to start, male and female trading off while stark guitar adds a little tension, that soon launches into galloping tabla with great wandering vocals.
B2- I should learn the name of this style, it feels related to the Qawwali kind of devotional singing, irrepressible beat and T.K. Kala’s voice circles around it, like sliding a magnet through your brain. A lot of charge and pull.
This little 33 rpm record is a gem and amazing, as is the internet where I could find the actual film (some sort of Ganapathi origin story verily). Check out https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzrZ8mE_wtk
songs are at A1-6:30 A2-56:30 B1-78:50 B2-37.40
Let this clear all obstacles from your path. Enjoy!
slow motion bees swarm
as electric shockwave birds chirp,
and rusted whispers ebb
cartoon sound effects
stretch over a toilet bowl,
and tin cans apologize
Live recordings from their ’98 tour of Japan. Quaint, noisy 7″ limited to 303 copies.
NYC’s Warthog are driving HXC with a fantasy aesthetic and few nods to war metal so I find warcore to be an apt moniker, one I am claiming to have coined despite it being used previously to describe a recent trend in the fashion world that I am only now discovering. Young, vital and I’m assuming to be an absolute gas at house parties. Excellent low brow virtuosity for your next campaign against a Lawful Evil Liche or for getting pumped for your Friday night razor fight.
Released in 2018 by Toxic State and in the U.K. by Static Shock Records.
Aggressive low fidelity hardcore punk with hooks from Crown Point and Hammond, Indiana ca. 2017.
Shrieking, down strokes, tinny, fast, four guys, one-two, angry, and good. Have a listen, then a look at the four part docu-series of their first tour and decide for your fucking self:
Blistering cacophonous rock with gnashing teeth and dissonant peels of echoing rage. Project by Joe Nelson and Shiva Addanki of New York City who would go on to form Kaleidoscope. Churning out nine releases from 2010 to 2016 most of which would be on single sided cassettes this being one of only two 7 inches released. Toxic State = surreal and oblique hardcore punk.
Furious driving hardcore punk from Sweden/Denmark (Malmö/Copenhagen). Reverb soaked fem vocs, slashing guitar solos, noodling note-intensive bass lines, thumping hammers. Screams, growls, howls and rage. Taking a page from mid 80’s HXC but with an interesting Scandinavian and technically proficient slant while retaining the raw and vital energy of the pissed-off, disenfranchised youth at the end of civilization.
Haunting hardcore, hurting nerd-corps, heaving nard cure. Little is to be gleaned from the web around NYC’s Nandas, however as they are associated with Toxic State the usual adjectives may be applied: Raw, garage, punk. Breathy female vocals front a raucous, blown out, note-intensive bass, grinding, buried overdriven guitar, riffs, one-two one-two, feedback, meandering, wistful, and disturbed. This is not your grandfather’s Hardcore… but your grandma might dig it. Is she into “catsss”?
Mdou Moctar, c’mon even his name rocks! Mdou (aka Mahamadou Souleymane) was introduced to KFJC by this same fantastic label on the Music From Saharan Cellphones Vol 2 collection, let that be an inspiration to anyone worrying about how the pandemic will impact music, sound will always survive, silicon chips swirling around the desert! Along those lines, apparently this single was to be a limited edition 2020 tour offering, but fortunately this record and songs are unstoppable. The Agadez sound often leaves listeners agog, side A of this does not disappoint, dizzying spin start by Mdou alone, the band then jumps on board – spirited singing doubled by rhythm guitarist Ahmoudou Madassane, drives Mdou up higher both in voice and on the guitar later in the song, possible dual lead but I suspect it’s Mdou overdubbed and double-fuzzed.
Side B follows that lead with an anthemic, surging number. No vocals
on this one, so a good chance to appreciate the rhythm section, drummer
Aboubacar Mazawadje strikes that snare launching each spiral;
then Mazawadje and Michael Coltun on bass tumble through to the next
round. But make no mistake, Mdou is the Prince here, hammer-on/hammer-off guitar trills reign in a bluesy way, with touches of red.
Pretty amazing that he built his first forbidden guitar, and these days it seems like Agadez is ground-zero for Fender.
Driving modern psych from Niger by way of Sahel Sounds.
Bubbling, energetic electronic happiness emanates from both these tracks, the first of which was inspired by a place in Japan badly affected by an earthquake after the music was written. Play it to honor the place, play it to raise your spirits, play it to free yourself from the cage you may be in.
Asmr For Automatons
Two moderately noisy tracks on this 45 by Joe Colley of Crawl Unit and John Wiese that worry, wither, and writhe. Machines crunch, tap, whir, crackle, and grind. Chirp, pulse, short, falter, and fade over near sub-sonic rumbles that though neither overtly harsh nor necessarily amiable may provide the listener with a subliminally calming experience.
These two sound sculptors have come together again to create a sonic curio for your perusal. Packaged neatly in a succinct and aesthetically pleasing jacket, this single from 2007 will flicker through your awareness, be forgotten, and settle in your subconscious to perhaps live again in dreams of hypnotized machinery.
Noise rock. A little mathy, but mostly belligerent. For those familiar with Noxagt, you know they do mathy, noisy stuff. The recording on this flexidisc is notable for its lofi production. Blown out, pounding, incessant cymbals, dazed guitar, throbbing bass undercurrents. Trebly, hot blast furnace sound. The tri-fold scheme of the flexi disc seemed to resist the weight of my tonearm, so I used a razor blade to sever the flexi from its folder. An act of deliberate, surgical mutilation of the original seems to carry the theme of the audio forward (and make the disc functional). All instrumental, five and a half minutes. Give it a spin.
In Paris, Luis Briceno recorded interviews and music that were broadcast in Chile 2013-2016 featuring musicians from before the 1973 coup d’etat that toppled Allende’s government. There is an “old is new” theme to this album (1) that these musicians of the past will be new to many Chileans and (2) that the old flexidisc format within this book will be new to many who play it.
The music is very enjoyable and the sound quality is surprisingly good. It features flutes, guitar, drum and vocals in Spanish. Just flip the page to the disc that you want, put the book on the turntable, and drop the needle! More here https://vimeo.com/269718583
Cool limited edition surf music – the musicians met in San Francisco – Will (The Rantouls, The Hysterians, The Shrouds, The Teutonics) is from the Bay Area, Dario (The Picoletones) is from Spain. Fun and energetic, kind of punk and lo-fi.
Agathocles – Belgian crustgrind institution active since 1987. Body odour, dumb politics, and a respectable level of sonic brutality. Think Extreme Noise Terror or Phobia. Bellowed and gargled lyrics cannot be made out. First track has some voices speaking a European language, maybe Flemish, possibly newscasters. This side was originally titled simply ‘…And The Loser Is…’ (not ‘…Still Is…’) so I don’t know if this is a bootleg or a reissue or what.
MPG – Pomona CA grind/fastcore founded in 2004. High-pitched androgynous vocals a la Antichrist Demoncore. More samples than the Agathocles side, including Magic Johnson talking about his AIDS on the first track. Lyrics are once again unintelligible.
Photo finish split on red seven inch vinyl, with Agathocles as the winner by a greasy hair. Originally released in 2015.
Warbly psyjazz sax-skronk and multifarious electro-fuckery from Spykes (John Olson) and Parachi (Mike Griffin).
Loops and feedback from unreliable equipment. Scraping strings and buzzy tones soaked in deep echos. Disordered and discombobulating.
Both sides end in locked grooveys.
I’m not sure why Brainbombs captures my adoration every single fucking time. Just pure, unfettered genius in my opinion. Like they exist just for me. A deranged, sonorous love letter to my shriveled prune-heart. Maybe it’s the cold, flat monotony of the drums or the detached pentatonic fret-tickling of the guitar? Not likely, those are both qualities I rarely tolerate much less bask in. Perhaps it is the incessant bleets of the saxophone squealing away to its own cacophonous free-jazz composition? Or could it be the nearly broken “Euro-English” iterated dispassionately like a poetry recital by an adolescent sociopath, or the sado-sexual lyrics that, it could be argued, glorify the most horrific traumas one might have the misfortune to bear witness (or be subjected) to. Subjects that can, for this miserable volunteer, cut a little to close to the bone. On the surface I would say that none of these sound much like selling points but then there is the repetition. A ceaseless barrage of hypnotically simple garage/art-rock played in series relentlessly. Like a word spoken until its meaning is lost while rocking back and forth in your cell, a screwdriver repeatedly perforating a lung, or a hammer striking the back of a skull. Repetition. Like the collapsing will of the hostage whose will be crushed by their captors interminable and nefarious indoctrination, their ego folding in upon itself endlessly until only an echo of the self remains. It repeats ad naseum. Like a deranged sonic Stockholm-syndrome.
If you’ll be my S.L.A., I’ll gladly be your Patty Hearst.
Reading up on this on Bandcamp, this is the 7” released in 1998. (It has subsequently been re-released as both a CD and a 10”.) It is considered a bridge between early abstract electronic explorations, like “Instrument”, and later guitar-based works, like “Endless Summer”. (Both of these 12”s are in the KFJC library, among others.) Indeed, the compositions are comprised of a blend of electronics and minimally processed guitar sounds. These two tracks had origins as covers, but you’ll be hard-pressed to hear anything remotely reminiscent of the Rolling Stones or Beach Boys in this material. Minimal, languid, and not even particularly long (3:31 and 4:05), these tracks demand the listener invest their full attention if they are to yield the intended experience.
Unholy Electronic Black-Noise
Shrill tortured screeching, rasping electronic noise, buried guitars trem-picked mercilessly, and conspicuously absent drums on all three seven inches. Having one hoof deeply buried in the Black Metal trench and the other hovering over the nexus between noise and drone you may find the hairs on your neck bristling with anxiety at the peals of harsh white noise or perhaps, as I was after repeated listens, you’ll be lulled into a kind of uneasy tranquility like a dire wolf sinking into one of the tar pits at La Brea. After thrashing and struggling against your eventual demise, your throat so coated in viscous black sludge that you can no longer gnash your wolf teeth or cry your wolf death-song. There is only your ending. Only surrender and defeat and a kind of solace in the certainty of your wretched wolf fate. Cerebral, conceptual, and cvlt, Oakland’s Sutexh.Hexen. has tapped into something and these fledgling efforts seem to set a precedent for the horrible majesty that awaits them. These tracks were originally released on three cassettes in 2010 and this re-release appear to be, if just, on the wrong side of bootleg status as they appear to have been authorized by a single defunct member of S.H. Excellent sounds in lack-luster packaging but the tapes are so rare and sought after this will sate the ardent blackened-harsh noise completists.
Hideously ugly, driving rock outta Queens that seems to revel in mental illness and the hopelessness of being young and damaged with little hope for the future. Noisy, fierce, and unrelenting these young men are thematically drawn to suicide, the morass of modern adolescence, self-harm, and psychiatric evaluation.
Lo-fi, feedback, sickening drum abuse, over-driven bass, samples and shredded vocal-chords. A soothing panacea for the deeply depraved inner child kept locked away in many a “well-adjusted” college-radio disc jockey.
12345 S. El Monte Road Los Altos Hills, California 94022
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