Category: Reviews

Review: Brown Acid – The 12th Trip

RidingEasy Records is back with another round of obscure, rare stoner rock, metal, and psychedelia on Brown Acid: The Twelfth Trip. This one brings you ten tunes that stretch from Hawaii to Belgium in terms of their places of origin.

First up is the fuzz-filled “Mother Samwell” by Louisville, Kentucy’s The Water. It’s like T. Rex meets The Guess Who and 1969 southern rock. It fades out far too soon and makes you wish The Water had stuck around after 1972. Hamilton, Ontario’s Village S.T.O.P. brings us the trippy, melting, fuzzy freak-out “Vibrations.” The drums sound like they were recorded in another room with walls of chicken wire and mud, and I mean that in the best way possible.

The bass on White Lightning‘s (hailing from Minneapolis) “1930” is so fat you could stick it on a Parliament track. Shane drops the funky, yet heavy “Woman (Don’t You Go)” from the San Francisco Bay area in 1968…and nothing else. They broke up not long after releasing the track, which is a shame because it sounds like they could’ve been a pretty successful psych-funk band.

Dallas’ Ace Song Service unleashes a hefty Hammond B3 organ on “Persuasion,” and combines it with a sizzling guitar solo. Opus Est is the Belgian band on the record, and their heady song “Bed” is about sex and, apparently, and drugs and rock and roll (Go figure.). The aforementioned Hawaiian band is The Mopptops, who are described in the liner notes as “the Blues Magoos meets Iron Butterfly.” I don’t think I can sum it up better than that (or that wild guitar solo!).

Do you need more cowbell? Youngstown, Ohio’s Artist gives you plenty of it (and plenty of mega-riffs) on “Every Lady Does It.” “Comin’ Home” by Carthage, Missouri’s Stagefright is akin to a MC5 track with its wild drumming, fuzzy vocals, and heavy guitar and bass. The closing track is the wonderfully bizarre, ultra-rare “Don’t Talk About My Music” by Dickens – a band made up of members of and roadies for NRBQ who barely knew how to play the instruments they jam with and recorded in an impromptu session after Jim Nabors cancelled some studio time. The result is a trippy, fun jam of which only fifty or so known copies are in existence. It’s a great treat to end a wild anthology.

Keep your mind open.

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[Thanks to Dave at US / THEM Group.]

Review: Black Light Smoke – The Early Years

At times chaotic, other times ambient, and other times danceable, Black Light Smoke‘s The Early Years is a collection of stuff electro-producer Jordan Lieb wrote back in the last decade. It covers a lot of cool ground.

Opening track “Up Up and Away” has nothing to do with a beautiful balloon (as far as I can tell), but has plenty to do with warped synths and beats that sound like they’re coming from a drum machine that’s been doused in bourbon. “Springtime for Rioters” could fit into another “Escape from…” John Carpenter film score with it’s bad-ass synth-bass, sampled screams, and industrial beats.

The driving beats of “123456789” are outstanding, and I love the way Lieb layers them with fuzzed-out guitars. “Black Light Smoke” is a weird, wonky tune that bumps and percolates while maintaining a sense of the bizarre. “Burn” has actual vocals as Lieb sings about having nothing to do on a Sunday since everything’s closed and his lover’s left him.

“North Korea” sounds like a forgotten Soft Moon track with its sinister synths and killer cyborg bass. Lieb sings / croons again on “The Figure” as his electro-groove simmer underneath him and simple, haunting piano chords keep time. The closing track, “Celeste,” showcases My Bloody Valentine‘s influence on Lieb with its soft vocals and “wall of fuzz” sound.

I’m glad Lieb decided to release this collection of early material. It will make you want to seek out more of his work, as any good collection should.

Keep your mind open.

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[Thanks to Ryan at Clandestine Label Services.]

Review: Dry Cleaning – New Long Leg

British post-bunkers Dry Cleaning have a way of combining angular, jagged, rollicking chords, riffs, and drum fills with spoken word vocals that is difficult to describe and even more difficult for anyone to attempt to emulate. Front woman Florence Shaw is one of the wittiest and most enigmatic lyricists out there right now, and her bandmates (Nick Buxton – drums, Tom Dowse – guitar, and Lewis Maynard – bass) are wild craftsmen in their own right. Their first full-length album, New Long Leg, is a cool record that’s a little tighter than their previous EPs, made so by having plenty of time to tweak tracks and explore new sounds thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic cancelling their 2020 tour, but no less intriguing.

Maynard’s bass is something the Delta 5 would love on the opening track, “Scratchcard Lanyard,” while Shaw tells us, “It’s okay, I just need to be weird and hide for a bit and eat an old sandwich from my bag.” Haven’t we all felt like that at some point since March 2020? “Unsmart Lady” starts with a wild cacophony and then settles into a solid rock groove from Dowse that reminds me of good Foreigner tracks. Shaw also lets you know how to find a girlfriend: “If you like a girl, be nice. It’s not rocket science.”

My favorite lyric of Shaw’s on “Strong Feelings” is “That seems like a lot of garlic.” It comes out of nowhere among Buxton’s tight, yet slippery beats. “Leafy” seems to be about a break-up with Shaw singing about cleaning out a house (“What about all the uneaten sausages?”) while her bandmates seem to be playing a different song in another room. This is the kind of song Dry Cleaning does so well. Shaw seems to be doing her own thing while Buxton, Dowse, and Maynard are jamming on their own, but both elements somehow perfectly combine.

It will be a crime if Dry Cleaning doesn’t produce merchandise that reads “More espresso, less depresso.” – a great lyric from the jangly, yet smooth “Her Hippo.” The title track, with its stabbing guitar riffs, has Shaw musing over the idea of going on a cruise while she’s stuck at home due to every travel plan getting cancelled last year. “If you’re an Aries, then I’m an Aries,” Shaw says, perhaps flirtatiously, on “John Wick” – which has nothing to do with an Uber-assassin and more to do with old men griping about things that don’t matter. Dowse’s guitar on it is almost the sound of these men bitching about Antiques Roadshow and the trash truck running late.

Shaw’s vocals sound slightly electronic / robotic on “More Big Birds,” almost turning her into a computer voice. It’s a slight touch, but instantly intriguing. I’d love to know the story behind “ALC” because it starts with Shaw telling someone, “You can’t just come into my garden in your football kit and start asking questions about who lives here. Who’s asking?”

The closer, “Every Day Carry,” is a wild, psychedelic trip that has Dowse, Maynard, and Buxton playing a cool psych-jazz / post-punk blend in a dark club in the back of a former clock factory while Shaw sings / speaks about topics ranging from chocolate chips cookies and imminent domain construction to cab drivers and geese. There’s a great breakdown about halfway through when the band dissolves into a noise rock jam and then kicks back into gear with swirling sounds and Shaw’s voice and lyrics being the eye of their hurricane. It ends like a power outage.

New Long Leg is setting the bar high for other post-punk bands (or any other genre, really) to follow in 2021. Dry Cleaning’s forced vacation did wonders for their creative energy and focus, and for our ears.

Keep your mind open.

[Stretch your legs over to the subscription box while you’re here.]

[Thanks to Jacob at Pitch Perfect PR.]

Review: Open Hand – Weirdo

Ten years in the making, Open Hand‘s newest album, Weirdo, has plenty of appropriately weird stuff, psychedelic fuzz, vintage synths, and seriously cool chops. The album opens with someone saying, “I’ve got a message for you, and you’re not going to like it.” Okay, Open Hand. You have my attention.

“The People’s Temple” has guitarist / vocalists Justin Isham encouraging us to leave because he’s feeling much better. It’s an interesting suggestion after a decade, and even more so as Isham sings that he’s considering running away from something (Stardom? A relationship? People in general?). It’s difficult to take him too seriously, however, because the opening track bumps and jams with funky keys by Kyle Hammond and damn funky drumming by Gil Sharone.

Mike Longworth‘s rapid bass chords open the danceable “It Takes Me,” which reminds me of the dance-funk stylings of !!!. Isham and Ryan Castanga‘s guitars shimmer on the fuzz-heavy “Again?”, showing off the band’s deftness at switching from dance-funk to shoegaze and doing both genres well. They go back to dance-funk on “Like I Do,” and Hammond gets another chance to strut his stuff with formidable synth bleeps, bloops, and beats.

“Return” (with guest drums from Mike Levine and guest vocals from Lisa Loeb) is a neat, spacey track, and “In My Way” gets us firmly back into shoegaze territory, reminding one of Hum and Failure cuts. Sharone puts down some of his fiercest beats on the track. Seriously, some of his fills will knock you back in your chair. Isham, Longworth, and Castanga crank up the fuzz on “I Think So,” and it mixes well with Sharone’s rocket fuel drums and Hammond’s sunshine synths.

“Loved,” with guest co-vocals from Brittany Snow, has a bit of a prog-rock feel to it that changes things up a bit. Bill Gaal takes over on bass on “Chances,” and proceeds to get his money’s worth by thudding us with glorious fuzz and low end as the rest of Open Hand unleash a track that Josh Homme would envy. “Draw the Line” ends the album with some space rock and, I think, samples from the weird John Carpenter horror film, The Prince of Darkness.

I don’t know why Open Hand took a decade off from releasing new material, but I’m glad they’re back in 2021. Everyone needs good music nowadays, and stuff as good as Weirdo is more than welcome.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Kalbells – Max Heart

Max Heart, the new album by Kalbells, is lovely synth-pop created by four ladies who have a love of grooving and jamming. Led by Kalmia Traver, the band started as a solo project for her but she and her touring bandmates bonded so tight that they became a regular thing and started creating funky psych-synth tunes that seem effortless. The band (Angelica Bess, Zoe Becher, Sarah Pedinotti, and Traver) have often spoken about this Zen-like state of locking into each other’s energy and letting thins naturally occur. Much of Max Heart is centered around love – finding it, embracing it, losing it, and rediscovering it – and the Zen mantra of “Let go or be dragged.”

“Red Marker” begins with spacey lounge vocal stylings as Traver tells us to “kiss her inner bouncy ball.” and that she’s “in her element although the skies are getting darker.” “Flute Windows Open in the Rain” is a peppy tale about Traver finding happiness in self-isolation and moving forward after a break-up. The warped bass and sexy groove of “Purplepink” make it a standout on the album. It’s great for rainy late night drives, making out, or even dancing around in your kitchen while making backed macaroni.

The simple beats of “Poppy Tree” blend well with the space-age airport hangar keyboards throughout it. Besides having a fun title, “Hump the Beach,” also has sexy French vocals, bubbling synths, and even a weird horn section piece. “Pickles” is full of double entendres, especially when guest rapper Miss Eaves unloads some fun lyrics on it. The beats on “Bubbles” sound like a sped-up ping-pong game played underwater in a dream in which you’re also playing hide and seek with a lovely woman who might be a mermaid. It’ll make sense once you hear it, trust me.

The electro beats on “Big Lake” sizzle like water flicked into a hot skillet. “I woke up with a fish tank in my hips,” Traver sings on “Diagram of Me Sleeping.” It’s a witty, weird, and sensual lyric that puts into mind the joke of Groucho Marx watching a femme fatale walk away from him with her hips swaying, and then Groucho turning to the camera and saying, “That reminds me, I need to get my watch fixed.” The saxophone solo on the track is a nice touch, too. The title track closes the album with a joyful sway, keyboards that sound like giddy birds, a jazzy piano solo, and fat synth-bass.

It’s a fun record, and a much-needed uplifting album as we (here in the U.S., at least) emerge from winter and isolation to embrace the sun and, hopefully, the beginning of a return to human interaction.

Keep your mind open.

[Don’t forget to subscribe before you split.]

[Thanks to Cody at Clandestine PR.]

Review: Holy Monitor – Southern Lights

Hailing from Athens, Greece, Holy Monitor (Alex Bolpasis – bass, Dimitris Doumouliakas – drums, Stefanos Mitsis – guitar, Vangelis Mitsis – keyboards, and George Nikas – vocals and guitar) combines psych-rock, kraut rock, stoner rock, space rock, and even ambient music on their new album Southern Lights.

Opening track “River” has fuzzy guitars, psychedelic organ chords, and heavy drums telling a lovely tale of the night sky reflected in moving waters. “Naked in the Rain” has a great 1960s garage-psych groove to it as Holy Monitor calls for us to “shine on” through tough times.

“Blue Whale” is a tale of a mystical creature or woman (perhaps one and the same) that exists in the mind of Nikas. The title track lays on the reverb, both on the guitars and the vocals, creating a hypnotizing brew. “The Sky Is Falling Down” seems to be a reaction to a large portion of the world going for each other’s throats in the middle of a pandemic (“It sounds like madness, but I know you’re feeling lonely. It sounds like madness, but we’re falling in a state of slumber.”). The song starts chaotic, then drifts into a neat dream-space before it fades out…and then rockets forth again with some of Doumouliakas’ biggest cymbal crashes and Vangelis Mitsis’ heaviest synth-stabs.

“Hourglass” is a nice, synth-based, instrumental palate cleanser before the heavy psych of “Ocean Trail” (with Stefanos Mitsis and Nikas upping the fuzz on their guitars even more). The album ends with another water-themed track, “Under the Sea.” It’s a nice slice of cosmic rock that, like “The Sky Is Falling Down,” talks about the COVID-19 pandemic, but with hope instead of concern. “One summer night, a stranger approached me, like people did before they got sick. He touched my hand and told me his story. I always had a curiosity,” Nikas sings. We all dream of returning to times when we could at least have the chance to engage in a meaningful conversation with a stranger.

We all dream of drifting away and leaving COVID-19 behind us, and albums like Southern Lights make the waiting easier.

Keep your mind open.

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[Thanks to Stratos Psilos.]

Rewind Review: MF DOOM – MM…FOOD (2004)

More than just a collection of rap tunes about food, MF DOOM‘s MM…FOOD is a masterclass in hip hop, songwriting, beat mixing, and villainy.

The opening track alone, “Beef Rap,” uses samples to tell us the album will be comfort for our bodies and minds. It’s true. DOOM tells us it’s about the beats, not him, but his lyrics are so smooth and stunning that you can’t ignore him. You want to analyze everything he says because it’s coming out with references to cartoons, strippers, lesser MCs, kung fu, and, of course, food. The beat boxing on “Hoe Cakes” is outstanding, and DOOM tells tales of picking up chicks and then cutting out like D.B. Cooper.

Count Bass D. joins DOOM on “Potholderz,” which is pretty much about what you think it is as the duo name check O.J. Simpson and talk about being so high they forget they didn’t light the joint they’ve been trying to smoke. “One Beer” stumbles around with drunken beats but DOOM’s vocals are as deft as a circus acrobat’s. “Deep Fried Frenz” tackles sycophants, backstabbers, and gold-diggers while DOOM looks for true friends. “Jealousy the number one killer among black folk,” he warns.

“Poo-Putt Platter” is chock-full of weird cartoon samples rearranged into a weird mix that melts into the equally strange (and delightful) “Fillet-O-Rapper” and “Gumbo” – both of which have so many samples you can’t keep track of them all. One of the most clever uses is DOOM rearranging samples from cooking show hosts talking about wraps.

“Fig Leaf Bi-Carbonate” emerges from these three tracks like a massive ray gun rising out of a supervillain’s volcano hideout. The sample from a Fantastic Four cartoon telling the origin story of Dr. Doom is uncannily close to DOOM’s story, which, of course, is the reason he chose it. “Kon Karne” combines jazz beats with video game sounds and DOOM mentioning Sally Struthers and the Tower of Pisa in the same breath.

The groove on “Guinnesses” is downright slick, almost making you slide across your kitchen floor if you hear it while doing the dishes or, better yet, making dinner. Angelika and 4Ize add some killer lyrics (Angelika on the verses, 4Ize on the choruses) about how some relationships are like battles that often are best not chosen. “Kon Queso” has a cool bass lick running through it as synth stabs bounce behind DOOM’s nimble wordplay, which is available “to freaks and to pencil-necked geeks.”

Mr. Fantastic joins DOOM on “Rapp Snitch Knishes” – another song about fake friends (who in this case spread gossip or worse). “Vomitspit” cuts and loops a cool lounge track while DOOM reminisces about how he used to lose his game when a woman called him “Daddy” and how being a masked villain isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. “Kookies” might have the best bass line on the album, because it’s like a deadly sidekick to DOOM’s verbal gymnastics. You’ll lose track of how many references DOOM makes to cookies and uses them to refer to other things. It’s this kind of wordplay that made DOOM your favorite rapper’s favorite rapper.

MF DOOM left us far too soon, but at least he left masterpieces like this for us to obsess over for years to come. His master plan was fulfilled. He became a world ruler and then for mystic pursuits.

Keep your mind open.

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Rewind Review: King Geedorah – Take Me to Your Leader (2016)

Part of the legend and greatness of the late MF DOOM was that you never knew what he was going to do next. On the 2016 album Take Me to Your Leader, he took on another secret identity – King Geedorah, who himself was MF DOOM taken over by aliens bent on taking over the Earth. It’s a wild concept record filled with DOOM’s stunning rhymes and cool kaiju film samples helping tell / yell the story.

The first words on Take Me to Your Leader are “Follow the light, the light is your guide.” on “Fazer.” DOOM is fully possessed by the Planet X aliens and threatening to spit electricity (which is already does through his jaw-dropping rap skills) and to make “razors out of beer cans.” The loops and beats of “Fastlane” almost sound warped. The X-aliens brag about their control of DOOM and his friends on “Krazy World.”

“The Final Hour” takes a great sample from Hall & Oates‘ “I Can’t Go for That” and slows it down to the point where it’s almost unrecognizable. “Monster Zero” is another name for King Geedorah, and it’s also a great trip-hop tune with many great samples from Japanese monster films. “Next Levels” brings back hip hop rhymes atop an acid jazz beat.

“Geedorah has arrived, you guys can take five,” Geedorah / DOOM says on “No Snakes Alive.” DOOM’S pace moves back and forth from methodical to frenzied on the track. DOOM and Mr. Fantastic team up for a smooth track on “Anti-Matter.” Bonus points to you if you get the joke / reference in that partnership. The title track is a bit of a weird dream with plenty of samples of hysterical laughter and that Hall & Oates sample chopped up and restructured one more time.

“Lockjaw” goes back so fast that you barely have time to breathe, let alone catch all the tricky rhymes in it. “I Wonder,” with guest star Hassan Chop, has a cool, cinematic string section loop throughout it and takes on a philosophical tone as Chop wonders why he got dealt such a bad hand in life. The funky “One Smart Nigger” tackles how white culture loves to co-opt black culture and often not admit to doing it or, worse, claiming it was all their idea to start.

“Render unto Geedorah what is Geedorah’s,” DOOM says at the beginning of the last track, “The Fine Print.” That line takes on even more significance after hearing the track before it. The beats mix funky horns, video game sounds, beatboxing, and electro-drums to strut around like a three-headed dragon from outer space across the city of your choice.

The album ends with someone tells us the future of the planet is at stake, and DOOM is the one to deliver the message. He delivered many throughout his too-brief life. I haven’t mentioned a lot of the amazing wordplay on Take Me to Your Leader because, like any DOOM record, there’s so much that you don’t know where to start.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Sun Crow – Quest for Oblivion

Hailing from the often gloomy, rain-soaked lands of Seattle, Washington, Sun Crow (Keith Hastreiter – drums, Ben Nechanicky – guitars, Brian Steel – bass, and Charles Wilson – vocals) are another one of those bands I stumbled upon via YouTube’s algorithm when it guided me toward their new album Quest for Oblivion. For a while I kept misremembering their name as “Skull Crow” or “Crow Skull,” which I’m sure are names of other cosmic / stoner / doom metal bands somewhere. Sun Crow’s name, however, brings to mind images of a fiercely intelligent, perhaps malevolent creature silhouetted by the sun at dusk, noon, or dawn – and unsettling no matter the time of day.

You’d better be ready to deliver if you name your album Quest for Oblivion, and Sun Crow are more than prepared. The shortest track on the album is just under five minutes in length. Half are over ten minutes each, and all of them are epic, monolithic power drives. Good grief, the opening track, “Collapse,” is like the sound of the namesake giant insect breaking free from its icy tomb in The Deadly Mantis and then proceeded to wreck everything in its path. “Black It Out” has Wilson’s vocals bouncing off high fortress walls while Steel’s bass launching fireballs at invading armies.

“End Over End” seems to stumble around like a sleepy mastodon for a couple moments as it shakes the frost off its wool and prepares to enter into combat with a giant squid that’s preying upon smaller creatures on the edge of a dark lake. Trust me, you’ll understand when you hear it. “Fell Across the Sky” is a powerful tale of some sort of cosmic event, perhaps the one that wiped out the mammoths, and Nechanicky’s guitar has a cool fuzzed reverb throughout it that’s outstanding. Wilson’s screams on “Fear” are pure metal, and Sun Crow wisely blends them with the guitars and Hastreiter’s fire giant heartbeat drumming so neither element overwhelms another.

“Nothing Behind” has a rocking, stomp the pedal to the metal groove. It’s practically made for drag racing. “Hypersonic” starts with shredding cacophony and then melds into a solid, head-banging groove for over nine minutes with some of Wilson’s clearest lyrics about the eventual end of man and the emergence of some…other thing nipping at our heels from the shadows. The closer, “Titans,” is as heavy and powerful as its namesake, and drifts into a great low-key section to lull you into a sense of foreboding before it comes at you like the Kraken rising out of the sea.

This is heavy stuff, but that’s what you want from an album called Quest for Oblivion. You’d be disappointed if it didn’t sound like something you’d play in your starship as you landed on a primordial sphere in deep space.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Blanck Mass – In Ferneaux

I’m not sure calling Blanck Mass‘ new record, In Ferneaux, an “album” is correct. It’s only two tracks (“Phase I” and “Phase II”), which makes it seem like an A-side and B-side single, but each is about twenty minutes long. So, is it an EP? EP’s rarely cover as much ground as In Ferneaux, so that doesn’t seem right either. It’s more of a soundscape than an album, a strange journey instead of a musical experience.

In Ferneaux is a “soundscape journey.” Yeah, I think that works.

The record is a collection of live “in the field” recordings of ambient sounds, bits of conversation, city cacophony, psychedelic musings, and, of course, Blanck Mass / Benjamin Power‘s signature shimmering synths and beats that often surprise you no matter how far away you hear them coming.

“Phase I” alone blends all of these elements in just the first five minutes. It almost sounds like it could be a sci-fi movie theme or the theme to the next World Cup tournament, and then it becomes something like a robotic dream from Philip K. Dick’s mind. It drifts into drone, and at one point seems to have the sounds of a boat bumping against a dock and futuristic bacon made from grub worms sizzling in a skillet. Bird and / or whale song floats into the track, as do the sounds of busy streets, children talking, and possibly distant video game noises.

“Phase II” starts us off in the middle of some kind of dystopian future nightmare thought up by an android with a migraine headache, but then it dissolves into a recording of a conversation Powers had with a street preacher saying things like, “It’s hard to handle the bitch-ass misery…Be ye transformed by the renewal of your mind…” and other gems of knowledge about giving and receiving blessings. The man’s words are brought to the front and then are replaced with bright, ambient synths and white noise to cleanse your mental palate. Those sounds grow into a wild swarm of cybernetic wasps hovering treacherously close. Weird chants / screams and tribal drums emerge, throwing you into either a panic or an intrigued hush. The track, and the album, ends with more sounds of water, and Powers’ lament that a passing truck is ruining his recording.

Again, a record like this is hard to classify, but that’s part of the point. It doesn’t need classification. It simply is. All of us simply are, but most of us fail to realize this liberating truth. In Ferneaux has Powers coming out of the metaphorical fire of 2020 with a deeper appreciation of the simple things around him. We could all use some time in that purifying heat.

Keep your mind open.

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[Thanks to Patrick at Pitch Perfect PR.]