Skull Practitioners make post-punk that I can best describe with one word – immediacy. Their first EP in five years, Death Buy, is a wild record of squawking guitars, urgent drums, and wall-shaking bass.
Take the the title track, for instance. Jason Victor‘s guitars on it threaten to blow out your speakers almost as soon as he begins playing. He lets you finally breathe close to the four-minute mark, but Kenneth Levine‘s bass never lets you relax. “Grey No More” is a pedal-to-the-metal garage rocker with lyrics like “Last stop to nowhere, dreams are dead and gone, lost in the ether.” to remind you not to look back as you run down zombies in a desert wasteland with your spike-covered Mack truck.
“I was born into a head of confusion,” Victor sings at the beginning of “The Beacon” – a song about the baffling nature of identity in modern culture. Drummer Alex Baker puts down seriously hot chops throughout it, and Victor’s guitar roars like a jet engine. It’s over before you have time to lace up your running shoes and lock the door behind you.
Levine’s bass groove and Baker’s snappy beats are a great foundation for “Miami” – a ten minute-plus instrumental track that has Victor upping the reverb on his guitar. Victor experiments with different soundscapes while Levine and Baker never miss a beat and keep us and Victor from floating out of orbit. The breakdown and then the comeback around the six-minute mark is outstanding.
It’s a great EP, one of the best I’ve heard in 2019.
Marcos Garcia, the founder / vocalist / guitarist / multi-instrumentalist of Here Lies Man says his band is “…very conscious of how the rhythms service the riffs.” That principle is indeed the driving force the HLM’s new album – No Ground to Walk Upon.
The album opens with the fuzzy, funky “Clad in Silver,” which has Garcia singing spiritual lyrics over a groove that might induce a trance in you (so be careful if you’re operating heavy machinery while listening, especially to the last third of it). “Swinging from the Trees” has wicked hand percussion throughout it, taking lead even from the strong bass riffs and 1970’s action movie guitars.
“Long Legs (Look Away)” immediately makes you feel like a bad ass in one of those above-mentioned action movies. The groove is inescapable and will have you feeling invincible. The drum work on “Washing Bones” is just as good, with a harder rock feel than previous tracks.
The Santana influences on “Get Ahold of Yourself” cannot be denied. Listen to those congas and “no need to rush” guitar licks if you don’t believe me. “Iron Rattles” rattles and rolls with a spooky feel to it that curls up next to you in the dark. The album ends with “Man Falls Down,” the title of which reflects a common theme in HLM’s work – nature will always win. Man can strut around all he likes, but in the end, nature will have the final say. Man falls down, gets up, continues on, but nature always waits to reclaim us.
Every song on this album ends by drifting into instrumental experiments, and the last one sends us away wondering what’s to come next from Here Lies Man, and for us all. There is no ground to walk upon when we are floating in a dream or away from our corporeal bodies through meditation or, yes, death. Nature is nothing to fear, as are death, truth, and disillusionment. This album reminds us of that.
Keep your mind open.
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Beginning with thirty-six seconds of mindless chatter recorded in a place that sounds like every pub, airport, coffee shop, and busy street on Earth, Blanck Mass‘ newest album, Animated Violence Mild, is a scathing rebuke on consumerism, the dehumanizing nature of modern technology, and the culture / love of fear permeating a majority of society.
“Death Drop,” with its screamed, Ministry-like vocals, is an industrial nightmare and amusement park ride mashed together for over seven minutes of sonic assault. It’s no coincidence that some of the synths in it sound like video game samples, as the album’s title references video game rating systems. Many see the world, their career, or their love life as games to be won, unaware of the perilous chasm that such a path can drop you into with little hope of escape.
“House Vs. House” has an intriguing title. Does it refer to different styles of house music? House elements are certainly in the song, but perhaps the title refers to a theme of “Keeping up with the Joneses.” Benjamin Power (AKA Blanck Mass) has stated that a majority of the themes in the album revolve around mass consumerism – which he likens unto a snake “which now coils back upon us. It seduces us with our own bait as we betray the better instincts of our nature and the future of our own world.”
Drop that mic, Mr. Power.
The video game-like beats return on “Hush Money.” We burn through money in vain attempts to suppress (hush) our fears and truth we don’t want to, but need, to hear. “Love Is a Parasite” is a somewhat bleak way to look at what the world needs most, but I have a feeling Power is referring to how media, corporations, and mass consumerism tend to make us feel about love. Love is fleeting, they may say, love can be found more in things than others. Love will only make you weak, so its better to avoid it and take solace it what you can consume. Things do not break your heart, but they do keep you trapped in the past. The song is a solid electro cut that builds fuzzy beat atop fuzzy beat until it’s a beautiful cacophony.
“Creature / West Fuqua” is a lovely, harp-led oasis from the danger Power has created (and reminded us of) throughout the record so far. “No Dice” has a great call-and-response “Hey!” throughout it as Powers rejects the lure of consumerism and the temptation of falling into a deep, dark place due to personal loss. The last track is “Wings of Hate,” a bold track that bubbles and roars like a volcano. It almost demands you hear it live, as a recording can barely contain it.
“I believe that many of us have willfully allowed our survival instinct to become engulfed by the snake we birthed [consumerism]. Animated — brought to life by humankind. Violent — insurmountable and wild beyond our control. Mild — delicious,” says Powers in the liner notes sent to me by his label (Sacred Bones).
He’s right. We’ve allowed our love of things to become a delicious poison we gleefully drink instead of finding love in nature, ourselves, and others. Powers is telling all of us to wake up before it’s too late. We need to heed and hear his warning – Animated Violence Mild.
If you’ve ever considered writing a concept album about a mythological kingdom ruled by a giant whose rule was foretold by a sparrow, I’m sorry to inform you the Flaming Lips have already done it and I’m sure have done it better than any of us could’ve done.
Featuring narration by none other than Mick Jones, King’s Mouth: Music and Songs tells the tale of a queen who dies in childbirth and whose son, the aforementioned giant, will inherit the kingdom – as told in “The Sparrow.” “Giant Baby” is told from both the perspective of the future king’s subjects and the motherless child, who learns that “sometimes life is sad.” while the Flaming Lips play choppy electro beats and warping synths.
The instrumental (and lovely) “Mother Universe” drifts into “How Many Times” (the first single from the record), which is probably the best song about counting since something from Schoolhouse Rock. “Don’t you stop. You gotta keep on believin’,” Wayne Coyne sings as he encourages us to keep trying no matter how many times we fail.
Then, all of the stars in the universe converge on the giant baby and become “part of his giant head” on “Electric Fire.” Something like this is par for the course on a Flaming Lips record, as are the wild, sometimes dark synths. “All for the Life of the City” has the giant baby, now a giant king, preventing an avalanche from burying his subjects, even if it means his life. The bass heavy synths (and tuba?) simulate him lumbering toward the mountain. He’s eventually found in the spring with flowers growing from his toes.
They sneak a funky track in there with “Feedaloodum Beedle Dot,” in which we learn the king’s subjects have cut off his head and then carry it through the streets on the space-trippy “Funeral Parade.” The head is then “Dipped in Steel” so his former subjects will have a memorial to him and his final cry / laugh / shout before he died saving them.
“Even in death, the king seemed to be still alive,” Mick Jones says at the beginning of “Mouth of the King.” Some of the villagers aren’t sure how to move on without him, while others are taking his sacrifice and cosmic mindset as inspiration to live. “How Can a Head” do all this? Ask the Flaming Lips, or better yet, look within. “How can a head hold so many things?” Coyne asks. I once heard the Dalai Lama say the head, for being such a little space, holds many things (most of which are unnecessary for enlightenment and happiness).
The end of King’s Mouth: Music and Songs reveals we’ve been the king / queen they’ve been singing about all along. We have the entire universe within us. We’re made of stardust. It’s a miracle. Our treasure house is within.
Mind-blowing? Sure, but that’s the kind of stuff the Flaming Lips explore all the time, and so should we.
Keep your mind open.
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British four-piece post-punkers Dry Cleaning (Nick Buxton – drums, Tom Dowse – guitar, Lewis Maynard – bass, Florence Shaw – vocals) have crafted one of the most intriguing EP’s of the year – Sweet Princess. What makes it intriguing is not only the cool guitar hooks, snappy drums, weird groove bass, and spoken word vocals, but the fact that Dry Cleaning have only been together since 2017 and played their first live gig just last year – yet they sound like they’ve been rocking clubs for at least a decade. They arrive so self-assured that you can’t help but tip your hat to them.
Let’s start with “Goodnight,” a tale of weird events that took place during “the [sarcastically] loveliest two months” of Shaw’s life. Shaw tells someone to shut up because she’s “going through a tough time” and reminisces about her childhood backyard swing set, happier times, and her grandmother while Buxton, Dowse, and Maynard put down serious grooves.
The instrumentation on “New Job” reminds me of early X tracks as Shaw talk-sings about a date she thought was going well but it turns out the guy across the table was just killing time. “Magic of Meghan” is about Duchess Meghan Markle, her charm, and the power of media. Dowse and Maynard play non-stop post-punk riffs while Buxton’s beats are salutes to Stephen Morris.
“Traditional Fish” is a down-tuned mind trip. “Phone Scam” has the great, crunchy angles I love in post-punk music, and Shaw’s spoken vocals about a phone scammer yelling at her yet reciting from a script are great. She sounds more intrigued with the experience than unnerved by it. The closer is “Conversation,” an apt title as most of Shaw’s vocals and lyrics sound like conversations between her and the listener or, in this case, someone on the other end of a telephone – as if we’re only hearing half of her conversation with someone we’ll never see or meet. Dowse’s early B-52’s guitar licks are nice throughout it.
If Sweet Princess is this good, a full-length from Dry Cleaning should be even more fascinating. Let’s hope for that soon. In the meantime, this record is a great start for them.
Bayonne’s Bandcamp page describes each track on his new album, Drastic Measures, as being “orchestral in texture.” I’m not sure I can describe it better than that, because it’s evident from the opening notes.
The first song, “QA,” begins with string section-like synths and heartbeat rhythms as Roger Sellers (AKA Bayonne) sings like he’s coming out of a dream with the words still fresh in his mind. The title track is an instant toe-tapper that builds into a whole body-mover with Afrobeat-tinged percussion and joyful synths. “Same” is a lovely track that starts with soft piano and builds like a breeze beneath you that almost feels like it’s going to lift you off the ground.
“Gift” continues the orchestral / cinematic feel and by now one realizes how good a pianist Sellers is, and how well he melds piano chords with electronic beats. “Enders” is a slightly trippy instrumental, and “I Know” starts off with what sounds like creaky sounds from an old boat tied to a pier but then turns into a bright, bouncy love song. I couldn’t help but think of Christopher Cross while listening to “Kind” thanks to Sellers’ floating vocals and its smooth synths.
“Uncertainly Deranged” not only has an interesting title, but it also has interesting beats and a happily manic feel to it. “Abilia” reminds me of a horse galloping in a field on an early spring morning before the sun has thawed the frosted grass as Sellers sings to a lover he’s wronged in the past and is now, perhaps like that horse, running toward his ex in hopes her heart will thaw.
The album ends with “Bothering” – an interesting title for a closing track because Sellers certainly hasn’t been bothering us throughout the record. It’s a beautiful song (with more great piano work by Sellers) about hope and presence in a time or constant bother from outside forces. Sometimes drastic measures are needed to quiet the endless feed of white noise coming at us from all sides, but sometimes the simplest measures yield amazing results. Ending an album called Drastic Measures with a hopeful, simple song is both bold and subtle – as is this entire record.
Keep your mind open.
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Originally released in 2003, Clutch‘s Slow Hole to China was a collection of obscure singles, unreleased material, and cover tunes. They re-released it in 2009 as Slow Hole to China: Rare and Re-released and included three more previously unreleased tracks.
One of those tracks is the first one on this album – “King of Arizona.” It’s a solid blues rocker with harmonica by guest Eric Oblander and vocalist Neil Fallon making allusions to either an Arizona gold mine, a cemetery in Arizona, James Reavis (a con man who was nearly given ownership of most of Arizona and a good chunk of New Mexico), or, quite likely, all three.
The title track has some of Dan Maines’ heaviest bass lines. “Nickel Dime” almost has a fiery gospel feel to it. “Sea of Destruction” hits as hard, if not harder, than a lot of current metal tracks thanks to Jean-Paul Gaster‘s furious drumming and Tim Sult’s fuzzed-to-the-max guitar. Blues swagger comes in heavy on “Oregon,” “Easy Breeze,” “Hale Bopp Blues” (which is sung from the perspective of dinosaurs fearing the arrival of the Hale Bopp comet and the end of their lives on Earth), and “Four Lords.”
“Rising Son” scorches and has one of my favorite lyrics on the album – “Gravity is such a drag, and we will not obey.” I can’t help but wonder if “Guild of Muted Assassins” was inspired by one of Fallon’s old Dungeons and Dragons campaigns, because that title needs to be the name of a D&D game module. “Willie Nelson” is about Fallon’s home being raided by jackbooted figures searching for drugs, secrets, or both. It might be the former when you consider the chorus is, “I don’t know if I’m coming or going, if it’s them or me. But the one thing’s for certain, Willie Nelson only smokes killer weed.”
“Equinox” is an instrumental that has wild Santana-like percussion. “Hoodoo Operator” is a floor-stomper with Maines’ bass taking on angry bee-like quality. “Day of the Jackalope” has Fallon’s vocals distorted as if through a fault megaphone, making him sound like a madman yelling on a street corner. “Ship of Gold (West Virginia)” is an alternate version of the song of the same name that would end up on Clutch’s Elephant Riders album. It’s a bit darker and heavier than that one, and has more extended jams as well.
This is a solid collection and can stand alone as its own album instead of a collection of singles and miscellaneous tracks. It’s worth seeking out if you’re a fan of Clutch, or even if you’re not.
Keep your mind open.
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If you’re starting a band and wondering how many songs you would need on your album to take the listener on a mind-altering journey of fuzzed guitars, reverb-drenched bass, and asteroid belt heavy drums, Australia’s Comacozer have answered the question for you: Three. You would need three songs.
Granted, they are going to last anywhere from eleven to twenty minutes each, and you will have to rock them as heavily as Comacozer do, so good luck.
The opening title track to Comacozer‘s solid new album, Mydriasis (the medical term for dilation of the pupil), opens your third eye as it drops you down a rabbit hole of face melting psych rock with little bits of doom metal sprinkled on top for good measure. The guitar work on the track by Rick Burke is particularly jaw-dropping, sliding effortlessly back and forth between psychedelic jams and battle axe-heavy riffs.
“Tryptamine” starts with what sounds like a monologue by Rod Serling, which is appropriate considering the mind-warping nature of the track’s synths by James Heyligers. These synths sneak around the entire track while Andrew Panagopoulos keeps the band (and us) from drifting out of this reality by maintaining a solid, gravity-induced beat.
I love how Richard Elliott’s opening bass line on “Kykenon Journey” is almost a sinister funk-disco lick. It promises groovy things to come, and the track certainly delivers. Kykenon, for those of you unaware, is a water and barley beverage that was popular among the lower class in ancient Greece. It was often mixed with other spices and compounds that gave it a psychoactive kick, much like Panagopolous’ beats and Burke’s riffs. The song (which takes up the entire second side of the EP, by the way) is a fine rocker for the first five minutes and then switches to an even finer psychedelic trip. It’s the kind of stuff that will make you convinced the goop in your lava lamp is dancing to it. Seriously, don’t stare at your lava lamp for too long while listening to this. It might check you out of reality without you realizing it.
It’s a solid EP of mind-warping psychedelia from Down Under. I hope these guys can do a tour of the U.S. soon. It would be great to hear these epic instrumentals live.
Electro artist Monomotion (AKA Erol Egintalay) drew his inspiration for his new album, Fujisan, from a warm Japanese spring. It’s focus on serenity, beauty, and positivity. Listening to this album is like going to a Zen garden / day spa that happens to have a night club in it.
The opener, “North Cascades,” briefly slows down everything around you before some hip-shaking beats bubble up to the surface to get you feeling good. “Mango” is full of those peppy beats and soothing synths that float into “Seed” – a track great for meditation or waiting in line at the airport (which can be the same thing if you do it right).
“Ecocline Patterns” needs to be on the soundtrack for the upcoming Dune movie reboot. It has dance beats that mix with strange metal sounds and synthwave computer sounds. The title track moves along like an autumn leaf on a warm Japanese spring while an unseasonably warm sun shines through the remaining leaves on the trees. “Borders” reminds me of Art of Noise cuts with its female vocal sounds and synth-string arrangements. The closing track, “Luck of the Mountains,” is a bouncy mix of happy electronic beats and hummingbird synths.
Fujisan is a warm record. It’s not something you’ll use to tear up a dance floor, but it’s something you’ll want for late night chill parties and makeout sessions in the club, or in your car, or at home, or anywhere else, really.
Multi-instrumentalist Ash Walker describes his newest album, Aquamarine, as “…like a deep sea voyage into the subconscious.” I’m not sure I can put it any better than that. It’s a lovely record of trip hop, dub, jazz, funk, and lounge electro that will surely be among my top records of 2019.
The opening electric dub drums of “Under the Sun” instantly cast you onto a shiny sea aboard a catamaran supplied with good drinks, lovely people, and even better music. The jazz drums and flute of “Time” (which, like the track before it, features soulful vocals by Laville) make you forget time, much like you would on that catamaran sailing across a clear sea. “Come with Us” is a great dub track with a smooth trumpet solo.
“Brave New World” brings in acid jazz flair. “Finishing Touch” keeps the acid jazz drum beats, but sprinkles trip hop on top of them and Laville’s guest vocals smooth them out. The title track tick-tocks in a soothing, hypnotizing manner. The flow of “Sanity” reminds me of a rowboat bumping against a dock as slow waves come into shore. The beats get snappy on “I Need Money,” and Walker’s inclusion of electric piano adds a sweet touch.
As one might expect, “Fat King Smoke,” is one of the funkiest tracks on the record. I love the slippery beats, the Theremin-like synths (which could really be a Theremin for all I know), and the weird electro bass line. “Ain’t Got You” (with more guest vocals by Laville, who appears four times on the record) is dancefloor-ready. “The Dagon’s Cashmere Jumper” might be my favorite song title of the year. I hope you get the reference and realize that, yes, a Dagon might need a cashmere jumper now and then while strolling around on land.
Aquamarine is otherworldly, and a pleasant journey that I’m sure sounds and feels different every time you hear it. Dive in, the water’s fine – great, in fact.
Keep your mind open.
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