Reviews – Page 70 – 7th Level Music

Review: Acid King – Busse Woods (2019 reissue)

I grew up in a small town. We lived across the street from the more expensive lake houses and next to a woods that was part of a pine tree farm. I spent many hours in that woods, crafting stories, searching for treasure, fighting imaginary battles, and listening for monsters. Every kid has a place like this, and for the members of stoner metal legends Acid King (Brian Hill – bass, Joey Osbourne – drums, Lori S. – vocals and guitar) it was Busse Woods.

Their 1999 album has received a full reissue from RidingEasy Records to celebrate Busse Woods‘ twentieth anniversary. The album has become almost a mystical tome in the last two decades with its tales of nature’s power over man, creepy things in the shadows of old trees, and good ole fashioned heavy riffs.

The opener, “Electric Machine,” has such heavy bass thumps that you’d think a giant was tap dancing next to you. “Silent Circle” starts with a guitar riff that’s like a burning trail of gasoline heading straight for an ammunition warehouse. It only gets louder and heavier from there. “Tell all the people I’m on my way. There is no tomorrow for me…Silent circle breaks the chain,” Lori S. sings. It’s a song about death, at least on its surface, but it might also be a song about resurrection – whether that resurrection is beneficial or harmful to her (or mankind, perhaps) is up to the interpretation of the listener.

The title of “Drive Fast, Take Chances” is certainly a reflection on the band’s wild times in Busse Woods not far from their Illinois hometown, smoking weed, listening to metal, and ditching school and the cops. The riffs and drums on it are as heavy as the fallen trees in their favorite stomping grounds. An unexpected treat is Acid King’s cover of “39 Lashes” from Jesus Christ Superstar. The onslaught of the drums is only outweighed by the battle axe-heavy guitar chords and thunderous bass.

“Carve the Five” starts off with a languid bass line from Brian Hill that lures you into what almost feels like a safe place, but Joey Osbourne’s drum fill at the start of the track is akin to a rattlesnake’s rattle (if that rattlesnake were a giant 8HD variety) warning you to tread carefully. The title track finishes the album with a long instrumental that boils and bubbles like the contents of cauldron.

It’s great that Busse Woods (pronounced “buss-ee,” by the way) is getting a nice reissue for its twentieth anniversary because this album should be even more known than it already is. It’s a bit of a secret classic. Those who know about it revere it. Those who have only heard of it are intrigued by it. Those who don’t know of it are changed after discovering it.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Ezra Furman – Twelve Nudes

Upon hearing Ezra Furman’s new album, Twelve Nudes, for the first time in its entirety, my first thought was, “That’s a scorcher.”

Furman himself has claimed this is his band’s “punk record” made in a time of furious anger at the current political landscape. It’s also an embrace / exploration of his sexuality. The album cover features someone peeling back their face / façade to reveal a mental image of a bevy of somewhat androgynous, nude figures having a languid moment on a rocky landscape. Furman’s mind, it seems, can be a rough place, but he’s learning to be at peace with it and to find his inner beauty.

The opening track, “Calm Down AKA I Should Not Be Alone,” has Furman barely able to contain his rage at what’s happening in the world around him (“I should not be alone, the way things are going.”). The bass line carries the whole tune while Furman shouts not just to the back of the recording studio, but also to the parking lot behind the building. “Evening Prayer AKA Justice” is a rallying call for his fellow oddballs and outcasts (“I wasted my twenties in submission. I thought I was outside the system. I was rollin’ over for wealthy power, as if they really cared about me. The kids are just getting started. They’ve only just learned how to howl, and most of them have thrown in the towel before they have turned twenty-three.”). Furman’s vocals throughout it are somehow fiercer than the previous track. Furman has mentioned how he sometimes had a sore throat after recording the tracks on this record, and I believe him.

“Nobody cares if you’re dying until you’re dead,” he sings on “Transition from Nowhere,” which reminds me of Dan Bejar songs in its sound and Furman’s vocal style. “Rated R Crusaders” is practically an early Devo cut with its rapid post-punk lyrics and wild, weird guitar riffs. “Trauma” is a hard-hitting, Lou Reed-like rocker (Furman has spoken of Reed’s songwriting influencing his.) about rich white dudes literally getting away with rape and murder.

“Thermometer” has Furman proclaiming his love for rock and roll and how it changed him forever. The 1950’s-flavored “I Want to Be Your Girlfriend” has Furman singing a love song to someone who isn’t interested in him (“Honey, I know I don’t have the body you want in a girlfriend. What I’m working with is not ideal, but maybe, baby, it’s not about what you thought that you wanted, it’s about what I can make you feel.”). It’s a pretty oasis in a middle of a sea of rage, which we’re right back at sea on with the loud, fuzzy, shredding “Blown” (which sounds like a lost Nirvana demo) and “My Teeth Hurt.”

“I’m alone in America,” Furman sings in “In America,” a song that both lambasts the country’s hatred and racism, but also praises what it can be if we’d put our differences aside and focus on our commonality. The album ends with sage advice on what to do when The Man is bringing you down – “What Can You Do but Rock ‘n’ Roll.” It’s a banger to send the album, and us, out on a high note.

Which is what Furman has been encouraging us to do all along – take the high road, even when that road leads to a rocky desert in your mind. You will find the high notes there. You will find beauty and love there.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Beehive – Depressed + Distressed

Hailing from northern California, Beehive is one of the most appropriately named bands I’ve heard so far this year. Bassist Bud Amentia and vocalist / guitarist Jake Sprecher (and a drum machine, which they apparently don’t turn off between songs during their live sets) make music that buzzes with energy and danger. Listening to their debut EP Depressed + Distressed is like standing near a beehive. You’re on the edge of danger all the time.

The instrumental into of “Tick Tock” delivers this message right away. It’s just over a minute of menace with poppy drum machine beats that belie something heavy about to land in your lap. That heavy thing is the song “Get Off My Back,” which has Sprecher’s guitars howling like a chainsaw in a thunderstorm and Amentia’s bass coming at you like an unrelenting rain.

“You’re So Fascinating” is a funny track about the fake images we create in hopes that people will like us. Sprecher’s vocal delivery brings Glenn Danzig to mind, but with more post-punk attitude instead of goth rage. The funniest track on the EP is “90’s Trash,” in which Sprecher talks about buying a CD of the songs that form the “graveyard of his youth” that make him both nostalgic and depressed. He and Amentia play a riff that sounds exactly like every 1990’s rock song you’ve heard as Sprecher name checks the Smoking Popes, Spacehog, Soundgarden, third wave ska, Save Ferris, Flaming Lips, and (the one that most makes Sprecher ill) Ugly Kid Joe.

“When Can I See You Again?” is a punk rager expressing the panic, rush, and angst all of us have felt in a new relationship. “Don’t Try” is almost a rallying cry to do just the opposite. Beehive are pissed about everyone telling them (and all of us, if you watch enough news) not to bother, so they’re responding with a sonic boot stomp to the chest. The EP closes with “Wasting Our Time.” Beehive have no time for people who drain their energy with drama (“You’re wasting my time, I’m wasting my time with you.”). Amentia’s bass on this track is particularly heavy and is a great mix with Sprecher’s Jon Spencer-like riffs.

The EP’s title sums up not only Beehive’s feelings about Millennial life, but also the lives of practically everyone else. Everyone’s depressed or distressed about something – usually things that don’t matter (as evidenced in the last track of the EP). If Beehive have to sting us to wake us up from our doldrums, they will. You can’t escape a swarm, and you won’t be able to escape this record once you hear it.

Keep your mind open.

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Live: King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard, ORB, and Stonefield – Aragon Ballroom – Chicago, IL – August 24, 2019

I’d read that the King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard / ORB / Stonefield show at Chicago’s Aragon Ballroom was on the verge of selling out. I’m pretty sure it did, judging by the line to get into the venue.

The line was so long that the Aragon had to put an employee (guy in white shirt behind car) in a parking lot two blocks away to manage it.

People were laughing in disbelief when they reached this corner and saw the line went on for another block and a half.

The top photo there is from the back of the line, which was over two blocks from the Aragon’s front door. The second photo shows the line along the Red Line El track wall on the west side of the Aragon. I’ve never seen a line this long to get into the Aragon. As one guy put it as he walked past me to get to the end of the line, “Take that all of you who say ‘Who?’ whenever I mention this band!”

The line was so long that, unfortunately, I missed Stonefield’s set. They were so loud, however, that you could hear them outside the venue when a Red Line train wasn’t passing by. I might get to see Stonefield at this year’s Levitation Austin festival, so it could still work out okay for me.

ORB, who have added a guitarist since I last saw them, put on a solid set of stoner-psych that included a lot of fuzz, metal riffs, and avalanche drumming.

I knew King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard’s set was going to be nuts when people were already chanting, clapping, and cheering during the soundcheck. Plus, KGATLW’s new album, Infest the Rat’s Nest, is a thrash metal record, and I was sure songs from it were going to cause a frenzied mosh pit.

Sure enough, they opened with “Self Immolate” and “Mars for the Rich” off the new record and the crowd immediately compressed by about thirty percent as two pits broke out – one on each side of the stage. I figured they wouldn’t play too much off the new record, as thrash metal is hard to play and they had an entire show to do that would probably cover everything from psychedelic hippie music to blues.

They proved me right by following the metal with the swing of “Plastic Boogie” off the first album they released this year, Fishing for Fishies, which is a blues record. Three cuts off Polygondwanaland followed – “Inner Cell,” “Loyalty,” and “Horology.”

“We’re gonna play an old one,” lead singer Stu Mackenzie said. “How old?” said the guy behind me. “Old for them is like an album from last year.” True, considering KGATLW put out five albums in 2018. The “oldies” turned out to be “I’m in Your Mind” and “I’m Not in Your Mind” from 2014’s I’m in Your Mind Fuzz. “The Balrog” from Murder of the Universe got everyone jumping again, and I was in the pit by the time they got to “Evil Death Roll” from Nonagon Infinity. The whole crowd was jumping during “Rattlesnake,” which lead to other cuts from Flying Microtonal Banana including “Sleep Drifter” and “Billabong Valley.”

Nonagon Infinity opens the door for infinite lizards.

They swung back into a boogie set with more cuts off Fishing for Fishies and even threw in their synth-single “Cyboogie” before ending the night with a wall of death-inducing “Planet B” and “Hell” from Infest the Rat’s Nest. They began the night with metal and ended the night with metal, leaving everyone sweaty and giddy.

“Thanks for coming. Thanks for getting crazy. You guys are fucking crazy. It’s great,” Mackenzie said at one point. It was a crazy crowd, probably the craziest I’ve been in since I saw Thee Oh Sees in Austin last year. The mosh pit was friendly, too. Twice the pit I was in stopped so people could turn on cell phone lights to look for, find, and hold up dropped stuff like someone’s glasses and a wallet. A woman walked by me wearing a shirt that read, “They only walls be build are walls of death.” on the back.

That’s metal, all right, as was this show.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Skull Practitioners – Death Buy

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.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Here Lies Man – No Ground to Walk Upon

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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Review: Blanck Mass – Animated Violence Mild

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.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: The Flaming Lips – King’s Mouth: Music and Songs

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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Review: Dry Cleaning – Sweet Princess

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.

Keep your mind open.

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Review: Bayonne – Drastic Measures

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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