Coming in with a cover that looks like something by a death metal band and beats that sound like a basement club staffed by werewolves, X Club‘s Now or NeverEP is a great EDM record that combines trance, house, and jungle.
“Concentrate” challenges you to do just that – focus on the beats and dance, dammit. You need to let go and cut loose now and then, and forget about all the crap happening in the world. The perfectly titled “Inna Trance” brings early rave tracks to mind and will get you bouncing.
“Sports That Require Petrol” not only has a fun title, but some of the coolest beats on the EP. It will make you want to stamp the pedal to the metal, or at least turn up the speed and incline on your treadmill. The EP ends with the “Journey Mix” of “Elevation” – a trippy track that drifts into euphoria by the end.
I’d like to catch these two Aussies at a festival or club. I’m sure they put on a great set, if this EP is any indication.
Keep your mind open.
[Elevate over to the subscription box while you’re here.]
Natten (“The Night”) is a beautiful album of ambience and improvisation from Denmark duo Bremer / McCoy. Written and recorded straight to tape, with no room for second takes, the album becomes meditations and explorations for the bassist (Bremer) and keyboardist (McCoy).
The title track, written by McCoy as he watched a Swedish sunset, opens the record with groovy organ that reminds one of riding in a taxi from the airport into a quiet city as the night emerges. “Mit Hjerte” and “Gratitude” have bright, shining piano from McCoy. “Hjertebarn” sounds like something Vince Guaraldi might’ve dreamed up one night in his studio.
“Nu og Altid” and “April” are dreamy, drifting tracks. “Aurora” and “Nova,” on the other hand, are trippy, cosmic chill-outs. “Måneskin” effortlessly drifts into “Natten (Part 2)” – a welcome return on our relaxing journey – before we end with the sexy and subtle “Lalibela.”
This whole album blends together for an intoxicating sound that lingers with you for a while after you hear it. It’s a delight.
It’s easy to write nowadays that albums released this year are reflective on the trying times of the previous year (that still persist into this year and probably 2022), but Blackwater Holylight‘s new album, Silence / Motion, captures the ache of those times like few others. It’s at times sorrowful, other times euphoric.
The album opens with dark, folk-like sounds of gray sky guitars and violins before it turns into a heavy, doomy growler on “Delusional.” Lead singer Allison “Sunny” Faris sings “I can’t describe this pain I wear. It suffocates and you left it here.” on “Who the Hell,” a gut-wrenching song about loss. The title track winds around you like a ghost that desperately wants you to understand why she can’t leave this plane just yet. Sarah McKenna‘s synths on it are like the sound of that ghost piercing the veil.
“Falling Faster” starts off sounding like a gothic ballad and then McKenna’s synths brighten it up to almost a synthwave track you’d hear on late night 1988 public access television. “MDIII” is mixes ethereal vocals with buzzing guitars from her and Mikayla Mayhew. I love the guitars on “Around You,” which are solid shoegaze riffs. The album ends with the psychedelic, heavy, and spooky “Every Corner.” Eliese Dorsay saves some of her best chops for the end, pounding out metal chops with the urgency of a fierce warrior.
It’s a haunting album. I mean, the cover image alone should tell you this. The sound of it gets under your skin and in the back of your head, creeping around for a long while.
Keep your mind open.
[Move on over to the subscription box while you’re here.]
Constructed from a lot of improvised jam sessions, Parquet Courts‘ new album, Sympathy for Life, continues to embrace the band’s love of dance music and club rock.
Starting out with the groovy, bad-ass “Walking at a Downtown Pace,” the band makes you want to dress up, throw on some sunglasses at night, and strut your stuff on the way, at, and back from the club. The bass line is killer, the guitars a bit frantic, and the drums downright wicked. The song, like all the others on the record, was written before the pandemic, but now takes on an altered meaning post-pandemic. The lyrics are brutal truths: “I’m making plans for the day all of this is through…Food that I’ll taste and all the drinks that I’ll consume, return the smile on an unmasked friend…” / “Walk at a downtown pace and treasure the crowds that once made me act so annoyed.” / “Planning the future as if time is yours to choose.”
“Black Widow Spider” is a rocker about intense grief and trying to move beyond it. Believe me, I get it. “Marathon of Anger” brings in more synthesizers and electronic beats to create a dub-like banger about all of us getting back to the work of supporting each other after being separated for so long. “Just Shadows” is a tale of becoming addicted to routine, and how that gives you the false impression that you’re happy and everything is go well.
The beats on “Plant Life” would fit right in on a Talking Heads record. “Application Apparatus” is a song about the benefits and creepiness of GPS mapping – told with post-punk electro dance beats and guitar. “Homo Sapien” cranks the distortion for a song about how we’ve evolved from ancestors who beat stones into tools to people who crave “the sensual touch of glass, so smooth on the fingertips, the erotic quality of not feeling meaningless.” The title track seems to have been recorded with the ghost of Curtis Mayfield in the studio – it’s that groovy.
“Zoom Out” encourages us to look at the bigger picture (“When you zoom out, tomorrow is now. When you zoom out, together is now.”) – and to dance. “Trullo” is a weird, funky, skronky tale about cabin fever. The closer, “Pulcinella,” is a tale about being hesitant to embrace love again, especially after a long time away from it (“…the mind wanders home like a cat does when it knows it’s time to feed again.”). Again, I can relate.
The album is a clever mix of excellent lyrics, funky beats, and the promise of more epic things to come. Two of the tracks, “Marathon of Anger” and “Plant Life” were edited down from forty-minute jam sessions. I hope they kept recordings of them, because I’d love to hear those. How about releasing them to start afresh in 2022, PQ?
Hailing from Bern, Switzerland, The Monsters are punk giants in their homeland who make unapologetic trash rock, as is evidenced on their newest album You’re Class, I’m Trash.
The album opens with the explosive “Gimme Germs,” and sets the tone for the whole record. You barely have time to breathe throughout it. “Smell My Tongue” belongs on a soundtrack for a John Waters film with its trashy lyrics and frantic pounding. “Carpool Lane” borders on sludge rock. “Dead” cranks up the fuzz on the guitars and vocals (Them yelling “Dead!”).
The guitars on “Stranger to Me” sound like angry hornets. “Blasphemy” is equally angry. “Yellow Snow Drink” is almost goth-country, and “Electro Bike Asshole” is back to the fiery punk (and might be the best punk song title of 2021). “Get Drunk on You” must slay live because it flattens your immediate surroundings coming out of your speakers as they subtly sing about oral sex with lyrics like, “I eat you, baby, and you eat me.” “I Love You” is a love song sung by a madman.
“Devil Baby” could fit into a 1960s Italian horror film (especially with the creepy opening piano chords) or an occult biker movie (with the wild guitars) with ease. “My Down Is Your Up” sounds like something Mr. Bungle wishes they’d written. The album ends with another, even spookier version of “Dead,” a live version of “Gimme Germs,” and the title track – which sounds like a runaway train in which the musical entertainment in the dining car is a zombie DJ playing scratched records.
Recorded in a week in a small studio in Benton Harbor, Michigan, Protomartyr‘s third album, The Agent Intellect, is almost bursting at the seams with powerful energy.
Opening cut “The Devil in His Youth” feels almost like an early New Order track with its urgent guitars from Greg Ahee. His riffs on “Cowards Starve” take on a slight shoegaze touch as Joe Casey sings about the dangers of social pressures (“If you think about them all of the time, you’re gonna find that your head’s been kicked in.”). I once read a YouTube comment that described Protomartyr as “Three guys playing post-punk riffs, and a guy with some cans of beer in his pocket walks onstage and just starts talking, and band keeps playing.” That’s not a bad little description of their live shows, and not a bad description of the sound of “I Forgive You.”
“Boyce or Boice” seems to be a tale of coming to grips with aging and past sins. Then again, “There’s no use bein’ sad about it. What’s the point of cryin’ about it?” Casey chants on “Pontiac 87,” perhaps the most post-punk track on the record (judging from Scott Davidson‘s bass riff alone). “Uncle Mother’s” guitar fuzz is quite good, and I like the way it’s complimented with a slight distortion of Casey’s vocals. “Dope Cloud” is hazy, yet a bit frantic (a style that Protomartyr can pull off seemingly without effort).
“The Hermit” catches you off-guard with its soft start before Alex Leonard unleashes his drums and the rest of the band almost scrambles to keep up with him. “Clandestine Time” sounds like an out of control clock with its weird beats, Leonard’s cymbal crashes, Davidson’s bass notes that sound like heavy bells, and Ahee’s guitar acting as the whirling gears within it. Casey’s voice is the alarm.
The trembling beats of “Why Does It Shake?” match the simmering panic in Casey’s lyrics about trying to hold onto sanity while the U.S. (in 2015) was on the verge of madness as it approached an election that would turn the country upside-down. Casey’s vocals are pulled back (in terms of volume, not depth) on “Ellen,” while his bandmates move forward in a track about waiting for a love that might not ever show up. The closer, “Feast of Stephen,” has, as far as I can tell, nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with big riffs and vocals that bounce off the walls behind you and flatten you twice.
It’s a record you can get lost in and probably find different nuances in the instruments and meaning in the vocals every time you hear it. Not many bands can do that. Then again, not every band is Protomartyr either.
Hailing from Halifax, Century Egg are a fun post-punk / pop-punk quartet whose new EP, Little Piece of Hair, is a fun romp.
You’ll want to answer, “Yes,” to opening track “Do You Want to Dance” as Robert Drisdelle‘s guitar swirls around you and Matty Grace‘s bass propels your dancing shoes. That bass, and Meg Yoshida‘s happily excited heartbeat drums, are a great combination on “I Will Make Up a Method” as Shane Keyu Song sings about figuring out a way to succeed despite everyone and everything trying to keep her down.
Their rocking cover of Kyary Pamyu Pamyu‘s “Ring a Bell” is delightful, and will instantly bump up your mood. The title track cranks up the fuzz and seems to be about never giving up your curiosity. “Riddle to Place” slows things down with a practical rock ballad as Song tells a potential lover to slow it down as well because she’s given up on making it work.
The EP ends with “Cornered,” with Song singing in Chinese as her bandmates bust out serious chops. Yoshida’s cymbals seem to roll and sizzle beyond the atmosphere, Grace’s bass seems to be doing a Tae Bo workout, and Drisdelle summons up some of his best post-punk riffs on the EP.
It’s solid stuff, and makes you want to hear a full album from them in the future – as any good EP should.
Keep your mind open.
[Do you want to subscribe? Go ahead. No one will stop you.]
[Thanks to Gabriel at Clandestine Label Services.]
Formed somewhat on a whim, Gustaf (Lydia Gammill – lead vocals, Tine Hill – bass, Vram Kherlopian – guitar, Melissa Lucciola – drums, Tarra Thiessen – percussion and vocals) were playing packed gigs across the country in record stores, apartments, basements, pubs, and even SXSW festival stages before they even cut their debut album – Audio Drag for Ego Slobs. The result is an album created by a band who’d cut their teeth on the road and came into the studio with a power pack of post-punk poppers.
“You say that I’m much to old to be low-fi,” Gammill sings on the opening track, “Mine.” The groove of it is undeniable, rooted in Hill’s bass lick and the tippity-tap of Lucciola’s hi-hat. The song seems to about reclaiming dignity and an attitude of “I really don’t give a rat’s ass.”
“Book” has Gammill demanding proof of erroneous claims of her life being false. It keeps the dance grooves rolling and into “Best Behavior.” “I wanted you to know that I was good today,” Gammill sings, possibly letting her lover know that she wasn’t up to anything naughty…Well, perhaps a bit. “Dream” is a song about weird love, with Thiessen repeating “We love you.” while Gammill claims, “You’re doing great.” and then both of them stating, “It was only a dream.”
Kherlopian’s guitar takes on a bit of a yacht rock feel, which I love, on “Liquid Frown” – a song that seems to be about being under so much relationship stress that it makes you nauseous. Hill’s bass is in full funk mode on “The Motions,” and the backing vocals are warped (like they are on many tracks) to reflect Gammill’s perplexed state of mind at the world in general. “Common sense seems so pedestrian,” Gammill sings on “Cruel” – one of the wittiest tracks on the album with the band flipping off romance.
On the flipside, “Dog” is about someone Gammill didn’t really find attractive or think much about until she saw the guy’s dog. “It took a little effort to see. Hey, who’s that pulling the leash?” “Package” ups the anger a bit before the slightly psychedelic “Happy” comes in to close the album with Gammill saying, “I hope you’re happy getting what you want…I’m out here singing alone.”
As the kids would say, don’t sleep on this album. It’s one of the best post-punk records of the year.
The four members of London’s post-punk rockers TV Priest (Nic Bueth – bass and keyboards, Charlie Drinkwater – vocals, Ed Kelland – drums, Alex Sprogis – guitar) started making music when they were young lads, but they put their musical aspirations aside to get “real jobs” and do various adulting things. Luckily for us, the four of them got back together, with a bunch of “real life” experience under their belts, to create and release their solid full-length album Uppers.
The album is solid from beginning to end, full of bangers, heavy riffs, and witty, scathing lyrics. Bueth’s opening bass on “The Big Curve” alone is enough to shake you out of your cubicle chair and make you want to smash that damn copier / fax / scanner that always smears your papers. Kelland’s drums on “Press Gang” are like an anxious heartbeat of a sprinter before the starting gun (which is the sound of Bueth’s bass and Sprogis’ guitar).
“Leg Room” has krautrock synths and Drinkwater singing above, under, and around, Bueth’s bass stabs – which hit like Michael Myers’ knife. “Hey, buddy, normalize this,” Drinkwater sings / chants on “Journal of a Plague Year” – a song about dealing with you-know-what and how it altered all of us, for good or bad (“And the new normal sets in…”).
After the brief, instrumental “History Week,” “Decoration” comes in with its clever lyrics about everyone seeking their fifteen minutes of fame (“I’m through to the next round. Yes, I’m through.”). “Well, all I can do is talk. My God, I’ve never had an original thought!” Drinkwater claims on “Slideshow” – a rocker that skewers the emptiness of online culture.
“How you feelin’?” Drinkwater keeps asking while Sprogis’ guitar drones and squeaks like a robotic animal of some sort and Bueth and Kelland’s rhythms match the anxiety everyone’s been feeling since 2019. “Powers of Ten” fades into what sounds like radio or communications satellite static – a fitting image of everyone looking for something in the ether during the pandemic.
“This Island” brings in brighter synths to dance alongside the bold guitars as Drinkwater sings about creating a new reality, albeit a possible guarded one, out of life-altering events. The album ends with “Saintless” – the longest track on the album – which swells and swirls like a whirlpool of guitars and cymbal crashes amid Drinkwater’s steady, yet slightly nervous vocals.
To sum it up, Uppers is one of the best post-punk records of 2021.
Keep your mind open.
[Decorate your e-mail inbox with music news and reviews by subscribing.]
Bubbling up from NYC’s underground music scene, Weak Signal‘s new album, Bianca, roars with dark post-punk energy mixed with early 1990s alt-rock riffs.
“I’m the enemy of the world. Nothing ever really dies,” they sing on the album’s opener, “I’m a Fire,” putting down loud guitar riffs alongside their lyrics. The chugging bass on “Voice Inside My Head” is infectious.
“I don’t wanna go to work. Me and my friends were out all night…” opens the heavy, sludgy “Drugs in My System” – a song about dealing with party aftermaths. “Barely a Trace” sounds like a somewhat dusty, slightly warped record you’d hear playing on a jukebox at the back of a diner in a David Lynch film. “Come Back” is a simple, yet haunting track about regret and loss accentuated by rising synths and mantra-like guitar riffs.
“Zones” has this same kind of mantra sound before the bolder, faster “Don’t Turn Around,” which wouldn’t be out of place on a record from A Place to Bury Strangers. “Borderzone” is probably the mellowest track on the album, drifting in and out like smoke. “Devotion” brings back sharp-edged riffs that come into the track, rattle you a bit, and then meld back into the shadows.
“I’ll go where I want to go, and I’ll love who I want to love,” Mike Bones sings on “I’ll Stay,” a beautiful track about finding freedom through self-realization. “Sorry” is a nice companion to it. It’s still mellow, but a bit upbeat, and it’s a nice warm-up before the loud, weird finish of “Too Strong.”
It’s cool record, and perfect for certain moods (gray days, late nights).
Keep your mind open.
[Trace a line over to the subscription box while you’re here.]
