aka the noise band from Bletchley, UK trance punks? or maybe the call to action undoing the trance? that minimalist repetition of grit and discontent definitely induces reflection, as do the relentlessly nihilistic poems ranting militant contentment to extinction. this is the first album they did with GW Sok, former frontman of The Ex, and i definitely feel the political connection. the somewhat title track seems to give a fishbowl narration of our modern end times and with the meticulous carelessness of their musical delivery you can’t help but feel fine, cuz the world is fucked anyway. pity this busy monster, manunkind, not. Progress is a comfortable disease (ee cummings)
This 45 is a fucking battery of hideous, in-the-red, filthy, low-fidelity rock, little to no fucking roll and a bad fucking attitude. Germany’s Life Fucker are as mysterious as they are resonate to this poor volunteer’s wretched, black heart. Drums sound like trashcans, check. Guitars howling feedback like possessed banshees, check. Buried, mostly indecipherable vocals shrieking away at unseen tormentors, check. Slightly shit art with skulls and chains, check. Bonuses include a song about being surrounded by rats and a German band being released on a Japanese label in English that has d- beat/hardcore (non)sensibilities and no fucks clearly given. One potential drawback may be that the drummer is a little too talented, If I were a god, I would kick him in his left knee and stomp on one of his hands so they sounded just a bit more desperate and ugly. Everything else is fucking perfect. Play this record and fucking lose control!Querulously there are no discernible FCC’s, what the fuck?
Two contrasting noise situations on this 2019 split cassette from Nadia (Ashley Bennett of Portland, ME) and Apologist (Rose Actor-Engel of Philadelphia, who runs No Rent Records with partner Jason Crumer). On Side A, Nadia leads off with two tracks of concentrated rhythmic energy. Somewhere within “Predictions” (A1) lurks a dark, rustling beauty, but it’s impossible to grasp: a high-pitched tone sharpens into an icepick point, bores into the brain, and demands our total attention. Through “Absolute Zero” (A2), resonant waves furiously collapse into a single, massive point source. After the intensity of the A side, Apologist offers a measure of peace. “Carte Blanche” (B1) emits warm melodies, treated vocals – both solo and in chorus – and ringing bells, while “Concession” (B2) concludes with a quiet meditation of organ, chimes, and forest field recordings.
The A.D. in the band’s name derives from the fact that the band returned from a 14-year hiatus with the release of the album “After Death”. Now, with this release, the band is referring to themselves as Cavity A.D. KFJC has some comps and 7”s that comprise a portion of Cavity’s output from the 1990s. Internet research reveals this band was an important institution for the South Florida scene, collaborating with folks who would go on to other projects like Torche and Black Cobra. As Cavity AD, they are permitting themselves to diverge from their earlier sound and experiment with new instrumentation and textures.
A1: Long intro consisting of a Mad Max-style primitive drumbeat that gives way to fuzzy guitar riffing and semi-feral vocals that are yelled more than screamed or growled. A2 Reinforces the long drive across the desert vibe the first track flirted with. The primitive beat is established, and as the drive progresses, sparkling guitar washes over the heavier riff. They really want to explore this feeling—it’s a long passage across the desert. B1 Very industrial vibe driven by the percussion. B2 They save the doomiest for last. Unlike the previous tracks, the drum machine feels out of place here. That riff needs the accompaniment of some old-fashioned slow-motion drum-bashing, with big cymbal crashes decaying into the mix. Maybe that’s too mid-90s to be A.D…
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 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.
Naxatras/ Live Rituals at Gagarin 205
Naxatras is a psychedelic rock band from Greece. This is their first live album. Recorded at the release show for their album “III” in Athens. The band continues to expand stylistically towards progressive rock, jazz and acid-rock. Naxatras is John Delias on guitar, John Vagenas on bass and vocals and Kostas Harizanis on drums. The band says: “Naxatras comes from the word “Nakshatras” that refers to the various phases of the moon in Hindu astrology. It sounded cool and fitting with our music, maybe because of the connections that Hinduism has to psychedelia and spirituality, but we spell it differently because it looks better with an “X”!”.
Miguel Matta Echaurren, (Ramutcho Matta) sound artist from the early 80’s to now. Works on a variety of sound collaborations to explore different aspects of sound and noise. This CD plays with enunciation, (articulation, elocution, pronunciation, speech pattern, manner of speaking, intonation, inflection)
of French word art mixed with electronic-instrumental and noise (squeaky floorboards, buzzing, carnival sounds, etc)
Favorite Track: 05 Radis Courgettes Carottes. A love ode to produce.
01 Au Moment de S’endormir(slow eloquence in word art)
04 Un Couer Blanc (circus-like carnival sounds at end)
11 J’avais Oublie
Fun Word Art Enunciations
**05. Radis Courgettes carottes—A Must Play! A love ode to produce! Lots of rolling RRrrr’s. Love the slow loving pronunciation of produce with a gentle buzz cut sound noise slicing and reverberating in the background.
Ni Un Ni Deux
Ceci Et Celia
Au Fond Du Fond
La grande plein
Eric Penna is a guitarist and in this release a multi-tasking musician, composer and recording engineer. The album is instrumental and certainly can pass for surf music but is much more giving us glimpses of psych, spaghetti Western, and exotica. Nice touches of the Hammond B-3 and trumpet on some tracks. Interesting, different and well played.
(Trabants are East German automobiles.)
Cleveland-based noise artist Amanda R. Howland weaves an elaborate web on this 2018 cassette from Philadelphia’s No Rent Records. On Side A, “Spider, Milk” opens with a bang and then settles, slowly extending silken strands that capture recordings of fluttering melodies or muffled voices, a slow build to a final violent struggle. On Side B, “Batshit, Silence” drops us back into the action, as hurried footsteps stride into a piercing feedback storm. Distorted signals howl through subarachnoid spaces before lurching into – as promised – a sudden silence.
whngr 8/2/2019 A Library
Three-Word-Review: Underwater mastication with migraine.
Two side-longs, a side with two tracks, and one with four of nearly subliminal and sporadically unsettling minimalist sound-sculpture by the prolific noise musician and composer John Wiese (long-e, hard-s) of Bastard Noise, Sissy Spacek, Smegma, et al.
Shimmers and chirps, drones and hums, empty space, crunching, abstract abrasions, amplified fidgeting, whirring, whetting, and worried cymbals. While there is evidence that this album was highly scrutinized, processed, and edited by its creator it can, at times, sound like a pocket dial from a torpid machine shop. Perhaps this is a singular perspective but for me this album conjures images of being submerged within a partially frozen lake, floating beneath the ice, and ultimately succumbing to hypothermia, hypoxia, and death.
Valise is the solo project of Marilee Armstrong-Rial, a multimedia artist based in Providence and NYC. I’d heard good things about this cassette, sold out long ago on the website for Philadelphia’s excellent No Rent Records label, so when I spotted it on the shelf at a shop in New York I scooped it up. Within seconds of pressing play, I fell in love – it’s been awhile since I’ve heard a release with an opening act so arresting. An everyday scene – the sounds of a city crosswalk – dissolves into an anesthetic ambience; later, we reawaken to mechanical breathing, the distant singing of hymns and carols, and crystalline melodies. Side B features more rhythmic passages, with kinetic beats and heavy low-end pulses, paired with Armstrong-Rial’s warm vocals. Together it calls to mind a noisier, more abstract version of Valet‘s subdued psychedelia. I find myself returning to this tape again and again, completely under its strange spell.
A1, 9:41—To begin: acoustic guitar strings are struck and decay against gentle waves of vaguely ominous droney washes of sound. More well-formed guitar chords enter the scene and lay the ground work for the vocals, repeating “river is dry again”, among other things. Extremely subtle transition to A2—the tracks essentially run together. A2, 9:43 (time is approximate since it’s difficult to mark the beginning)—This track has more playful guitar fills and slightly more active vocal work. Some listeners will find the vocals a welcome addition to this rather sparse composition, but I’m not especially fond of it. Vocals can be polarizing depending on the listener. Here, they are forward enough in the mix as to be unavoidable—you’ll be into it, or maybe not so much. The vocal element with the guitar gives this Shumoto side a more folk feel than the psych-inflected Rambutan side. Shumoto is Jefferson Pitcher, a filmmaker as well as a veteran musician. He’s worked with a number of artists, including Fred Frith and Scott Amendola. The guitar work, coupled with the overlaid sounds, exhibits a satisfying amount of restraint and feeling. And in the end, the vocal element occupies only a small part of the run time.
B1, 4:05—From the onset, an electric sound much more psych-influenced than the Shumoto side. Rambutan is Chris Hardiman, and recently we’ve had his project Spiral Wave Nomads in heavy rotation. B2, 8:50—Electronic glitches, atmospheric sound samples played in reverse, echoing guitar gently flitting across the top. The intensity of the composition gradually builds over time. Guitar sounds like lonely wind chimes. B3, 6:55—More sparseness and low-level electronic sound patterns. Waves of delay-infused guitar build to a delicate oblivion.
In summary, this 12″ provides five meandering and nicely executed tracks of spaced-out, moody, atmospheric, and at times minimal sonic explorations.
Araujo is a Brazilian composer and musician whose third album feels like the soundtrack to a sometimes eerie, sometimes suspenseful, but always romantic film that could sweep you away. The final song on each side is climactic, fast-paced, and exciting. Araujo’s piano and soothing vocals (never words, but melodic and expressive nonetheless) flow in and out of each piece, either on their own or joined by vibraphone, strings, thrumming drums, guitar, or flugelhorn, among other orchestral instruments. The effect is stunning. I particularly enjoyed the denouement feeling of the first two songs of Side D that are followed by a third song that picks up the momentum and surprises you like the crescendo at the end of a fireworks display.
No-brakes Power Electronics from San Jose’s Dario Puga, who also runs the noise label The Pet Goat.
In some senses Blood of Chhinnamastika is a continuation of Dario’s previous work as Botched Facelift, but upon that foundation he has built a distinctive new edifice of damaged sound, as cartoonish as it is bleak. Dario is also a free jazz musician (check out his old band A Fashionable Disease for proof), and brings a touch of jazz-like complexity and spontaneity to his industrial noise work. On this 2018 tape, his first release on the delightful Fusty Cunt label, he assaults the listener head-on with constantly metamorphosing juggernauts of spastic and stuttering synth severity, tethered lightning bolts of feedback, diabolically sliced-up samples, and scornful outbursts of Black-Metal-influenced shrieking. Frequent and violent terraformations occur, the artist’s supply of psychotic tones seemingly inexhaustible.
Botched Facelift was a terrific project, but the B.O.C. “makeover” (to quote Lexi Glass) really came into its own on this release, picking up the Power Electronics genre where the experiments of people like Slogun, Con-Dom and Sutcliffe Jugend left it and carrying it forward into even stranger nightmares. His performance in the KFJC pit (5/28/2019, alongside Microwave Windows) really drove home just how much precision and effort goes into maintaining control of his sound. Afterwards he told me he considers noise the easiest genre to fuck up. Whether or not that is the case, B.O.C. definitely does NOT fuck it up here. A scorcher.
SOOT (stylised in all-caps) is the experimental project of Oakland, CA’s James Livingston, who has enjoyed a long working relationship with KFJC as proprietor of the eclectic Black Horizons label, on behalf of which he has brought numerous exotic bands into our live pit. SOOT is a fairly new act, seeming to have debuted on a 2017 split with Thoabath, and although he has played in various bands previously, this is also a new direction for James’s personal musical endeavors— although by no means outside the aesthetic turf of his label. Keywords for this 2018 debut album could be Death Industrial, Musique Concrète, Dark Ambient, or Sound Installation. Influences might include Brighter Death Now and Stratvm Terror, but not only these.
Power Electronics methodology but with a Dub-inspired low end preoccupation, generally eschewing harshness in favour of murk. Deep drones just above subsonic ranges, moaning cavern draughts, fidgety clanking of metal, and anguished vocals pitch-shifted down to inhuman levels, all creating an impression of some demonic creature shackled miles underground to bellow eternally for its revenge. Percussive but not rhythmic. Abstract but purposeful. Often quite minimal. Vocals on every track but A1, ranging in delivery from flat recitation to crazed scolding. “No more masks“ on the devastating finale, where he drops the heavy voice effects, then proves he doesn’t need them to make an impact, delivering a fiery and affecting sermon that smacks of genuine hurt.
As the title suggests, the album’s themes are dark and personal, but they are never presented overbearingly. Lyrics on several tracks are drawn from the writings of pessimistic philosopher Emil Cioran, and on A5 from tragic Austrian poet George Trakl. SOOT is not without a sense of humour, however — on t.7 (B2) he is joined by Echo Beds for a sonically perverse interpretation of a Ranking Dread song! Speaking of reggae, SOOT (in a double bill with Obsolete Units founder Rust Worship) played the KFJC pit on 4/20/2019 at exactly 4:20 PM.
This double 10″ release commemorates the 40th anniversary of The Haters, one of the earliest and loudest progenitors of noise in the United States. Formed by G.X. Jupitter-Larsen in 1979, The Haters is a performance art project exploring physical and sonic destruction in endless forms. On Forti, Jupitter-Larsen pulls previously unheard material from performances throughout the project’s history and reworks the sounds into new compositions.
Side A features a recording of a 1989 performance in Denver, where a calculator installed with amplifiers was repeatedly drawn over sandpaper, creating persistent pulses both vicious and vibrant. On Side B, from a 1999 San Francisco performance, we hear Jupitter-Larsen’s original instrument the Untitled Title Belt – a wrestling championship belt fitted with microphones, distortion pedals, and noise generators – belting out pure buzzsaw bliss. Side C draws from the 2009 work “Audiothecary,” where noise emanates from a balancing scale fitted with amplifiers. From this seemingly simple setup comes a massive sound: screams and strings, a full orchestra of horror. Side D comes from a 2019 performance featuring another original analog instrument, the Totimorphous Ubiety Guide, a contraption made of springs and rods played by two musicians; a divining rod leading through a dark mine to metallic drones. This excellent retrospective arrives in advance The Haters upcoming 40th anniversary show in Oakland next month.
Rogue Squares are noise artist Carlos Giffoni and Elaine Carey of the LA experimental group Telecaves. This 2018 cassette, the duo’s first release, contains six concentrated doses of drone crafted from modular synths and treated guitar. Lodged in the core of these tracks are ambient soundwaves with the contrast cranked way up. Soft contours sharpen into hard edges, then, into defined shapes, that serve as the patterned surface for synthworms for writhe, wriggle, and wreak destruction, reaching peak infestation on T5. Released on Paul Haney’s (Rust Worship) label Obsolete Units.
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.
Oct. 21, 2016 Label: Six Shooter Records Inc.
Tanya Tagaq is an Inuk (Inuit) throat singer who has become a bit of a pop star by taking the techniques commonly used in her genre of native American music and extending it to new genres.
Tagaq honed her throat singing chops as a young woman by participating in throat battles with other woman in the remote Arctic villages she grew up in. These involved 2 women standing nose to nose making ridiculous sounds trying to gross out or break each other up.
1. The fist song , (Ajaaja 2:55) is the only sorta traditional Native American song on the album. Here Tagaq has written a simple call and response between a male and female singers behind a simple Inuk drum beat rather than the complex instrumentals and voicing found in the rest of the album. If you are into indigenous music go for it. If you are looking to see how how throat techniques could be used in Experimental, Ambient, Noise, Metal, Hip Hop or Pop music dive into other tracks.
2. For example, the 2nd song (Retribution 7:57) is perfect for Lauri Anderson fans (Oh Superman) on speed. It starts with Tagaq screeching, quickly moving on to her a recital of her poem about money and God. Meanwhile the underbed of rhythmical background chants and buzzes get more and more frenetic till she sounds like the little possessed girl from the Exorcist. As with most tracks, this one features 2 or 3 other throat singers along with Tagaq.
3. (Nacreous 4:01) comes off as a noise piece that starts and ends with a male throat singer doing that thing where he sings both a high note and low note at the same time with the same set of vocal chords. Then it layers in multiple voices, chanting and screeching into an inter-weaved hypnotic trance.
4. Tagaq screeches like an Eagle at the beginning of (Aorta 3:37) over a heavy metal-worthy drum beat & deranged gnashed-teeth voicings. “Kill or Die”
5. (Centre 3:51) Features Shad’s hip hop and Tagaq’s breathy singing.
6. (Summoning 8:57) starts with Tagaq’s breathy singing over violin, with a whole Greek chorus of 50 voices for a background. The song gets louder and louder and more frenetic as it goes on. This one is lovely experimental music. It would feel right at home in a Lexi Glass show.
7. (Cold 6:53) is a favorite. Another Lauri Anderson-worthy poem-song. Here the poem is about the unique physics of ice and the effects of global warming. Strings saw in the background and a steady rock drumbeat and male voiced drones drive the song steadily forward.
8. (Sivulivinivut 1:49) Is one of of the pretty free-form improvisations Tagaq and her trio of voice, violin and drum like to perform on the road. Short sibilant singing and spare violin.
9 (Sulpher 3:00) Eeery ambient noise. Monks moan, Tagaq nashes and wails, violins saw.
10 (Rape Me 4:46) The one song on this album Tagaq did not write. This one is a Nirvana cover she can relate to given her deep activism trying to help women living in the Arctic deal with sexual assault. No words the FCC might object to, but it does repeat the words Rape me over and over again in Tagaq’s soft breathy singing voice
12345 S. El Monte Road Los Altos Hills, California 94022
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