Release of the Day: Billy Bao - Lagos Sessions

Conceptually staggering, Lagos Sessions, the newest opus from San Francisco provocateurs Billy Bao, is as massive as it is nuanced. Recorded in Lagos, Nigeria, home to the band’s vocalist and namesake, alongside a diverse cast of musicians, improvisers, and artists, Lagos Sessions presents the band at its most expansive and personal. Both digitally and physically, the new album is two LPs split into four sides, each lasting about fifteen minutes. At once monolithic and fractured, the four pieces capture the schizophrenic nature of being a displaced person trying to find something – anything – stable and comforting that, even if not a literal home, can at least have a home’s trappings.

Lagos Sessions is hard to even call an album. Oh, it’s certainly a record – two, in fact! But the term “album” makes it seem like a collection of songs, rather than a piece of auditory art. Where “album” is an appropriate signifier, and visual analog, for plenty of records, it doesn’t do justice to Lagos Sessions, which has more similarities in common with a megalithic painting than a series of laminated inserts in a binder.

It’s an exhilarating listen, sonically and thematically. Littered with field recordings, improvised jazz, noise, punk, and soul, Lagos Sessions is an exercise in amalgamation and collage. The frequent changes in tone, tempo, and texture are disorienting, at least at first, but eventually make themselves at home. For instance, side B begins with what most closely resembles a noise rock song before descending into a prolonged monologue on what it means to be Nigerian in 2015/2016. Abrasive sound makes way for education. Easy listening, this ain’t. Rewarding, necessary listening, this is.

Here's an example of the recording sessions. I couldn't find any of the music online other than this:

Release of the Day: Breathing Problem - Bed of Sex, Pit of Tar

No intimacy is like another. One person’s demonstration of love is another’s pain. One person’s scream is another’s orgasm. “Love,” a nebulous, complicated proposition, as much a contract as an emotion, lacks a common denominator: there’s no key to making partnerships work. Definitions and examples go out the window. Because of this, love and intimacy are insular, unique, and above all private. Broken privacy is unnerving and often grotesque. There’s nothing quite as cringe-inducing as a public display of affection, and yet, though there’s a repulsive gag response to such an exhibit, isn’t there some sickening urge to partake?

Bed of Sex, Pit of Tar, the latest opus from Rusty Kelley and Emelia McKay's relentlessly curious, unabashedly fearless project Breathing Problem, is a meditation on intimacy and the great internal conflict between sex and violence. Though Breathing Problem has taken several forms, on this latest and most consistent iteration, it places Kelley and partner Emelia McKay’s relationship front and center, taking the ins and outs, the peaks and valleys, and the pleasures and pains of giving part of yourself to someone else, and makes the minutiae monstrous.

Where earlier Breathing Problem releases were power electronics-based, Bed of Sex, Pit of Tar appropriates darkwave, field recordings, and John Carpenter-esque synthscapes to more effectively render the material beautiful, while maintaining an uneasy, moody undercurrent. Emelia’s haunting vocal contributions are a welcome addition too, as they compliment the rich electronic textures of the album. It’s more realized, and frankly more listenable, than any earlier Breathing Problem release - it forgoes striking the listener down in repetitive waves of violence for a seductive bait and switch tactic. The product of a transparent, moving partnership, Bed of Sex, Pit of Tar is an actively rounded affair, diverse in sound and theme, the result of a duo ready and willing to explore both the ugly and beautiful qualities of its own duality.

Bed of Sex, Pit of Tar is out on Torn Light Records

Release of the Day: Mommy - s/t EP

As with their demo, on their debut Toxic State Records EP, Mommy takes on institutionalization and alienation from the perspective of being numb, unwanted, and self-loathing. The band's unorthodox vocals, bass, and drums setup is backdropped by intense swirls of noise, which make the brooding music all the more claustrophobic and disquieting. "Gross thighs, gross legs/walking the edge of towers/anyone that's nice enough/to want to touch me/usually thinks twice before/spending the night," Mike Caiazzo maniacally huffs in his half-gurgle, half-scream on the record's first track. It's an uncomfortable, masochistic listen and Caiazzo wields his voice like a whip, flagellating himself and anyone foolish enough to breach his personal space.

The EP also comes with a zine-like insert featuring song lyrics, notes from California hospital system "Contra Costa Health Services," and adorable childhood photos, rendered totally perverse by the surrounding content. But Mommy hasn't created a shock-inducing record so much as an unflinching one; something in the lyrics, photos, and delivery lead me to think this is an intensely personal and honest record. It's not a cheap thrill, but an exorcism, and, for my money, the best hardcore record of 2015.

Release of the Day: Round Eye - Round Eye

 Shanghai’s Round Eye is a true freak’s dream - half punk, half noise, half jazz, and half bad math. As much from the school of Albert Ayler as the Boredoms, the Flesh Eaters, or the Residents, Round Eye is chock full of audacity and ability. On their self-titled LP, the band proves its ability to go from interesting to compulsively important in the span of a couple minutes, and let’s be honest – these cats are fucking great on their instruments. While Round Eye clearly pulls from an improvisational tapestry, their album is hypercomposed, moving along as though some mutant opera with clearly-defined suites and moods that rear their ugly, or occasionally staggeringly beautiful, heads to the listener. A lesser band would be out of its league, but Round Eye dual wields a strange restraint alongside its bombastic energy and volume.

On track two, “Street Light A,” the band begins with the free jazz instrumental with which the listener may seem somewhat familiar from track one, but when the vocals hit, it’s a free-for-all. This is where Round Eye lets the listener in on the program for the evening, so to speak. From this point on, the defined chaos meanders from punk bangers like “City Livin” to instrumental landscapes like “HeSheRoshima,” all the while maintaining a consistent hold on its unique voice and backdrop.

This is boundless music, perhaps wearing influences, but certainly casting off any and all shackles. Stream it below!

Release of the Day: Foul Tip/Lil Tits 7" Split

Maximum Pelt did a number on this one. The search for sonic comparison between Lil Tits and Foul Tip is tricky: the only clear parallel is instrumentation, as both bands have bass and drums, which is to say that these bands pull different spools on the punk technicolor dreamcoat. But who listens to a record, especially a split for that matter, to hear the same song two to four times? No one cool.

First off, both bands are monsters. Lil Tits, who on these tracks feature Hanna Hazard, Madalyn Garcia, and Pixie Rose is on some serious witchage, a little bit Suspiria and a little bit Hocus Pocus. They tear through two songs on the b-side after a menacing intro, which locks into a noisy bass groove. Lil Tits ain't about the calm before the storm - fuck the calm before the storm. Now there's two storms, possibly three, and the pallid horseman of the apocalypse follows. These songs are shouted over menacing guitar lines, throbbing bass, and dynamic drums. Equal parts hardcore and stoner me
tal. Shit rips.

Foul Tip, drum and bass punk funk band starring Ed Bornstein and Adam Luksetich, are tight and fast. Like the best pop songs, "Madness" draws power from the interplay with tension and release. But Foul Tip does restraint so well that when the bass-driven explosion occurs and the band shouts "Cut this out/Can't go Back/I don't care/I caught the madness," it's a goddamn revelation. Wish the band had put two songs on this split too, but that's a good problem to have.

Release of the Day: Hums & Haws - Hums & Haws

The songs on Hums & Haws self-titled cassette were recorded in Matt Kordonowy's basement in 2011. As adventures in autoexpression, these songs vary in theme and delivery, like human experience. Where "Honey-Day Parade" could conceivably have found a home in the Flying Nun catalog, a lurching tune like "Gossamer," though certainly pop-influenced, doesn't evoke the same lithe pleasantry.


This isn't a mistake: Hums & Haws isn't a simple listen. The collection finds roots in lucid, existential dread. On the last track, "Backstory," Matt enlightens the listener, hipping us to our strange, puppet-like, corporeal make up: "We are all delicate fleshlings, small intricate systems of heat/I will try to create you string, wood, and a piece of meat." It's a disturbing thought, especially when you start to think about just how rope-like our central nervous system is. But Matt's out for bigger game than flesh and bones: on the first track he tackles Philosophy of Mind, "you're staring at the back of your head/looking down from above at your mind below/and I ask myself where did I go?" Where's the mind and which one of us has this thing anyway? If you're perceiving the mind, are you embodying the mind or are you experience mind-perception?

These are big questions, and thanks to Matt's poetic touch and delicate auditory understanding, can be digested piece meal. Comprehend phonetics, then comprehend symantics, then comprehend dialectic,  then comprehend comprehension. Rinse. Wash.
Repeat. So easy, even a child could do it, right?

Release of the Day: L.O.T.I.O.N. - Digital Control and Man's Obsolescence

There are more reasons to be paranoid than not in This Year of Our Lord 2015. New York's cyborg punk band L.O.T.I.O.N., no stranger to paranoia, questions authority from digital, organic, and systemic realms. Where does this authority come from? What damage it can do? How likely is it that I will take the brunt of misuse? On July 17, 2014, Eric Garner was the recipient of an illegal restraining tactic on the suspicion of selling "illegal cigarettes" and swatting away an encroaching government-sponsored arm. Due to victim's health, the illegal maneuver, and the extended period of time over which the maneuver was delivered, Eric Garner died. This isn't an isolated event, either; rather, it's one incident in the contemporary string of police brutality.

So when L.O.T.I.O.N. is talking about the "Militarized Urban Zone" on the first track from their excellent debut LP Digital Control and Man's Obsolescence, it isn't simply a dig at eerily imperialistic practices of the United States Military. This is status quo on American soil. Even a beacon of civilization and commerce like New York City is held hostage by those obligated to serve and protect. L.O.T.I.O.N.'s lyrical themes concerning control, violence, and censure aren't the stuff of sci-fi, though they certainly have a historical home there. The band is cognizant of this, but to hammer home the importance and ubiquity of their ideas, they use the present tense during lyrics. On "Torture Report," the sickening lyrical mantra "They Do This To People" repeats with the cyclicality of truth. They may have done this to people in the past and will continue to do it in the future, but it's applicable to now. And that's a terrifying thing.

Release of the Day: Hogg - Bury the Dog Deeper

Samuel R. Delany, coincidentally my favorite author, has books of a great variety: science-fiction, non-fiction, theory, erotica, etc. Within the last six months, I had the pleasure of reading one of his most confounding, transgressive books, Hogg, for the first time  All you need to know is this: Hogg is the name of the central character in the book, the embodiment of everything perverse in human society - his paying job is to rape and break people, which he'd do without the promise of financial compensation.

This is a sufficient backdrop to Hogg - I think it's where they got the name because it certainly makes sense. The Chicago postpunk two-piece made of Emma Sims and Hanna Elliott released their first album Bury the Dog Deeper, a cassette on Andy Ortmann's Nihilist label, earlier this month. It makes me feel so terrible and goddamn I love it so much. At a live show, the duo changes formation and instruments - guitar, drums, drum machine, bass, and vocal duties - between songs. This is done effortlessly and efficiently.

There's an element of hypnotism to both performance and song, as Hogg builds its foundation on deep, dark bass and drum grooves. This is sinister music. This is unsafe music. Additionally, Hanna and Emma get a ton of mileage out of their instruments and their voices. Sometimes guitar sounds like guitar and sometimes like a factory line. Similarly, sometimes their vocals are siren-like, but at other times they recall The Keres, the Greek female spirits of violent death. The eight songs on Bury the Dog Depper are reminders that we have yet to squeeze every ounce of postpunk out of its drying husk and I personally can't wait to see what vice-gripping method the band comes up with next.

Release of the Day: Quittinirpaaq - Dead September

Quittinirpaq, the Austin-based psychedelic industrial project led by Matthew Turner, revels in a reeling, claustrophobic crunch. A drum machine provides the steady ground while feedbacking guitars and a sinister bass make up the filling. Vocals, as if croaked from a dying priest, come and go, occasionally lingering to swirl atop the psychedelic miasma. The only thing that someone resembles your mom or dad’s psych rock, though, and what Quittinirpaaq provides, are the deep grooves a la Kraftwerk’s first two albums, albeit through a dark filter.

Dead September appears to be Quittinirpaaq’s third LP, and the experience shows. The record appears fully structured, because it's so dirge-riddled and rhythmic, but the flurries of noise and other accoutrements give away the spirit of improvisation and experimentation. This is what keeps the record engaging: it is never a completely comfortable listen. Don't mistake your bobbing head with understanding - this is dangerous, chaotic movement. Just before the snake strikes, it rattles its tail as a dog greets its master.

Dead Septemer is out on Rural Isolation Records 

Release of the Day: Shredded Nerve - Retention

Justin Lakes has been in projects like Friends with Corpses (with Joel Walter of Inbreeder) and the newly-formed Surgical Improv Ensemble (with JR Nelson of Saran Man and Chris Hansell of Ligature). He also has a history of solo projects, of which Shredded Nerve is the most contemporary. In addition to the Retention 7" on Torn Light Records, Shredded Nerve has released a handful of cassettes and digital files.

Retention features two pieces of collaged noise and musique concrète. The A-side "Mind Begins to Crumble as Dots are Connected (alternate)" begins with the sound of a yawning mosquito, which repeats and takes on the role of a rhythmic signifier before a nightmare clang, reminiscent of sounds Freddy Krueger's boiler room, jars the listener from an already discomforting atmosphere. Then things get chaotic. Harsh blasts of wall noise barrage with only tidbits of the original ambience cutting through static overdrive.

Side B, the title track, is equally unnerving. Rhythm in this piece takes on a monstrous quality, where screeching pulses eject a steady, chopped gurgling and sputtering from its central place. It calls to mind Donna Haraway's haunting essay "A Cyborg Manifesto," an absolutely essential critique on technology and how it affects daily life in the modern era, in that the piece begins with a sound that might be human. It is then distorted and manipulated into uncanny cacophony, which I can't help but think echoes man breaking from his old form, becoming one with the New Flesh.

Release of the Day: Mardou - Rimbaud/Bounty Hunter 7"

"Spring brought the laughter of the idiot," incants Mardou on the a-side to their phenomenal recent single "Rimbaud/Bounty Hunter" by the excellent Torn Light label. Strangely, with such bleak lyrics, "Rimbaud" manages to ingratiate itself into the hard-to-reach nooks of the cranium. That's a testament to the band's melodic prowess. Where lesser postpunk bands get caught up in standoffish diatribe, Mardou manages to make such sentiments communal. That's partly because the band tackles fairly universal themes, albeit with a loner mentality. This may seem like a contradiction, but it's not: in Mardou's world, we're all alone together.

"Bounty Hunter" might even be more catchy, with background vocal barks, a snaking, sparse guitar part, and its misanthropic mantra "Please leave me/I don't want to make a scene." As with "Rimbaud," a lot of "Bounty Hunter"'s power comes from that Jesus-Christ-I've-Had-The-Same-Thoughts feeling, which is unnerving, but enticing. Actually, that's kind of what makes the whole band work: there's this underlying dread against the constant, raging threat of awful people, but also a deep-seated appreciation for, well, pop songs.

The band itself hails from Cincinnati, OH and boasts Dylan McCartney on guitar and lead vocals, Aaron Watkins on guitar as well, Eric Dietrich on bass, and Legenjerry on drums. They have a full-length coming out in the future as well, which is sure to be equally provocative and enjoyable. For the time being, though, you really fucking need this 7".

Release of the Day: Appetite - Appetite

There's a misunderstanding that electronica relies on consonance and formula while noise is pure chaos. Auditory art, like everything else, isn't birthed from a void: it isn't generated, but synthesized. Influences are gathered and then harvested, even if we're clueless to it. You can't know what you don't know, after all. In electronica and noise there has always been a give and take - a techno artist may interrupt his or her flow with a sample, a full-on rest in sound, or even a sonic blast, and a noise artist may indulge in rhythm and melody.

Appetite lives in this middle ground. The Brooklyn duo featuring Ciarra Black and Jane Chardiet pulls from industrial music and power electronics as much as electronica. Their debut EP on the consistently great Ascetic House NYC branch boasts dense electronic backrops laying a foundation for Chardiet's evocative, haunting vocals. The tape begins with the siren-song "Anxiety" a straightforward, sexy dance track. But then track "Bordeaux Gallow" comes and disturbs the fuck out of you with its startling, lurching beat and violently disorienting vocals - Chardiet screams and gags after lengthy pleas and moans.

The two-fold, unexpected nature makes the tape. It takes the listener for a trip through the joy of drug-littered, dimly-lit nightclubs, but also makes sure not to pass over the fear, the clenched jaw, and the painful I-swear-my-body-has-nothing-left-to-vomit nausea from the comedown.
 

Release of the Day: Marc Merza - Selective Memory 7"

It's easy to confuse something innocuous with something relaxing or meditative. In music, there's an underlying assumption that if a piece works well as a backdrop then it is formless and vapid. In reality, the piece may simply wear many hats, so to speak. Take a trip to your local new age occult shop and you'll most likely see someone in loose-fitting robes that doesn't accept payment but does accept mandatory donations. In the background almost one hundred percent of the time is cringe-worthy smoooooooth jazz or theremin. For many people that smoke-and-mirrors-spirituality is representative of new age, drone, and ambient music all in one, but the truth is much heavier. Drone is profound as it is elusive. Drone is introspective as it is liberating. Drone is alchemy. Drone is exorcism.

Marc Merza wrote the two songs that comprise his Selective Memory 7" "during a very difficult time in [his] life." Where the first gathers power through melancholy tension, the second plucks a succession of single notes, at once a wind-up music box and a cradling mother. Together, the two become the give-and-take of constraint and respite. They're also illusory and perhaps a little conniving: as pleasant as the record is, there's turbulence beneath the surface. Marc, though more than proficient at driving home a single idea, dots his pieces with unrest, making each sequential listen a little more rewarding.

This is the purification process, the tempering of the spirit, the honing of the mind. This is a return to when things were better, though that seems so impossibly long ago.

Release of the Day: Spaces of Disappearance - Passionate Electronics EP

Chicago's Spaces of Disappearance began with songwriter/programmer Elaine Davis and bassist Zach Smith in 2013, but has since grown. Over the course of a debut EP, two singles, and several remixes, the band has become more confident and perhaps more curious. Though Elaine's tight synthscapes and vocals remain front and center, it now boasts Drew Balicki on drums. Their new EP Passionate Electronics takes the band to more danceable realms, seen through a glass, darkly: for music with such deep grooves, Elaine's lyrics are encumbered with discomfort, which is where the music transcends simple enjoyment to become deeply evocative.

The four songs on Passionate Electronics cover some serious ground. "Dick Cheney in the Light" is at once absurd and real. Then again, reality is pretty absurd. It's the song that lays the groundwork for the release, revealing the blemishes of our strange country and making them applicable to the people and events that surround us. For my money, "Valmont et Merteuil" is the best song on this record. "Can't have me, no matter what you do" chants Elaine over utterly compelling rhythms and a dynamite synthline.

Anyway, I've taken enough of your time. It's a great release. "Valmont et Merteuil" is now a permanent fixture on my running playlist, which is where all elite songs end up, duh. Buy it. Or at least give it a listen and see them live if you get a chance.

Release of the Day: CCR Headcleaner - Cokesmoker

Remember that scene in the original Charlie & The Chocolate Factory? The one in the tunnel? Where shadows of the past and the yet-to-be come lurching out from their spindly quasi-existence to take vengeful tolls on consciousness youthful and old alike? That's what Side A, the title track, of psychedelic-noise-rockers CCR Headcleaner's new 12" EP Cokesmoker (Pollen Season/Stale Heat) sounds like. Well, that's not entirely fair - there's stability in the form of a fundamental, patient bassline, but what rides the crest of the rhythmic wave is as much explosive as it is exploratory - what form can a composition take when barraged with a meandering, curious guitar and an open mind?


This is what CCR Headcleaner values. They're not complacent: things need to move and change in order to prove worth. The component parts need to pay their rent, so to speak. It's what makes the release compelling, this roving adventurousness - as much as a listener may expect a Brian Jonestown Massacre song from the introductory lyrics and groove, he or she isn't going to get it. While CCR Headcleaner absolutely could make a 3-minute psych pop song, they're more interested in taking the listener on a journey, which is what Cokesmoker does and where it succeeds.

The band is going on a full US tour this month!

April 23 San Francisco, CA - The Knockout

April 24 Los Angeles, CA - El Rey Theater

April 25 Phoenix, AZ - The Icehouse

April 26 El Paso, TX - Monarch

April 27 Austin, TX - Beerland

April 28 Houston, TX - Mango's

April 30 New Orleans, LA - Saturn Bar

May 1 Oxford, MS - Cats Purring Dude Ranch

May 2 Memphis, TN - Buccaneer Lounge

May 3 Nashville, TN - East Room

May 4 Atlanta, GA - TBA

May 6 Athens, GA - Caledonia Lounge

May 7 Asheville, NC - Mothlight

May 8 Chapel Hill, NC - The Cave

May 9 Richmond, VA - TBA

May 10 Washington D.C. - TBA

May 11 Baltimore, MD - The Bank

May 13 Boston, MA - TBA

May 14 Portland, ME - TBA

May 15 Providence, RI - TBA

May 16 Brooklyn, NY - Palisades 

May 17 Philadelphia, PA - Kung Fu Necktie

May 18 Pittsburgh, PA - Gooskis

May 19 Cleveland, OH - Euclid Tavern

May 20 Detroit, MI - Painted Lady

May 21 Columbus, OH - Bourbon Street

May 22 Indianapolis, IN - Debbie's Palace of Noise and Laundry 

May 23 Chicago, IL - Permanent Records

May 24 Chicago, IL - Texas Ballroom

May 25 Milwaukee, WI - Quarters Rock and Roll Palace

May 26 Minneapolis, MN - Warehouse

May 27 Iowa City, IA - Trumpet Blossom Cafe

May 28 St. Louis, MO - Foam

May 29 Kansas City, MO - Mini Bar

May 30 Lawrence, KS - Replay Lounge

May 31 Denver, CO - TBA

June 2 Reno, NV - Holland Project

Here's a live version of the title track.

Release of the Day: Into The Thicket - Dark Night of the Soul

Ritual is a bit of a loaded term. Alone, it doesn't mean much other than "a repeatable instance" but it can take on much greater spiritual, metaphysical tones or become low, conniving, and greedy.To begin, let's think about the Casino. A professional gambler may go through the ritual of blowing on dice, wearing glasses to the poker table, ordering the same drink with each hand, all done in serving the god of chance. A baseball enthusiast might wear a "lucky hat" to a game to invoke the god of sport. A priest in a Catholic church goes through ritual upon ritual in schooling in order to eventually perfect the rituals of sacrament and performance in worship of the Christian God.

But ritual is also not a snap. It is the preparation for the harbinger and its eventual fruition. To bring us closer to the idea of Into The Thicket, in Chaos Magick, the magician starves him or herself, prepares his or her magickal weapon, takes hallucinogenic drugs, deprives him or herself of sleep, and prepares the olfactory, visual, and auditory aids to summon a spirit or demon. Through disorientation and provocation, a monster tears through the veil. I can't say that I've seen Into the Thicket engage in one of their recording rituals, but judging from their music, and the few pictures and videos I've seen, I imagine that I'm not too far off in thinking they may have some knowledge of the aforementioned practices.

Into the Thicket makes ritual industrial music using the bones of animals, electronics, and more. But there is a vision too that certainly has a lot to do with their locale. The group comes from (and lives in) the Florida swamp, encumbered by its miasma and distaste for "civilization." This isn't to say that the music is unwieldy, but rather that CT Corrigan and Ryan Debile are familiar with the idea of nature's dominance and know how to engage it and appeal to it. Rather than be afraid of the sublime, Into the Thicket takes the role of the shaman, channeling it, which is ultimately where the release gets its power.

Release of the Day: Zenith Effluveum - Almost Made It In The USA

Here's another private press gem I picked up from Permanent. This one is a lo-fi psychedelic gem from a band out of Rochester, NY in the late 70s. The band was a trio: Carl Mack, Michael Ferrera, and Kim Fabis. Before this record saw the light of day, the band had performed at CBGB in '77. Almost Made It In The USA eventually came out in 1978. Composed of three long songs, and one reeeeeally long side-length song, which is the real killer on the record, AMIITUSA is an example of the mental diaspora of German psych sounds into the collective unconsciousness in the US.

By the late 70s there were a couple movements that were resonating: prog and punk and CBGB was a massive hub for the punk, no-wave, and art rock movements with bands like the Talking Heads, Mars, The Ramones, and Suicide being mainstays. Those are some my all-time favorite bands, but Zenith Effluveum was on another wavelength. I'm no expert, but I often think that psychedelia and punk are kind of doing the same thing - breaking free from something - but they expect different end results. The samsara from Psych rock is an expanded consciousness. The nirvana of punk rock is a collapsed system. And because the respective idea "liberation" is defined as such opposites by genre tycoons, it makes a juxtaposition where there really isn't one. Let me put it this way. Krautrock was a punk movement in ethos - those cats were sick of the schlager music going around Germany, stilted renderings of the Beatles by way of Oktoberfest and lederhosen. Just think of Klaus Schulze's expression from seeing that? Dude was not about to put on lederhosen and do a bullshit karaoke version of a pop song.

Anyway, it seems to me that Zenith Effluveum was kind of doing the same thing - liberation from the expected type of music coming out of New York at the time. Krautrock worship simply didn't sell and it's a damn shame because this record is really great and if it had been a marketable music style, we may have had more come out of this band. Yes, there's a 7" that the band put out that is less "out there" than the LP (and there are rumors of recordings from a reunited band that have never made their way out of the netherrealm where hidden LPs, EPs, and singles sustain themselves), but there really could have been more. Who can say if it would be good, though? Well, a boy can dream. And as I lay me down to sleep, I pray the lord more records will seep [out of hiding].

Release of the Day: The John Street Rockets - Rock and Roll the Hard Way

I'm a total sucker for private press records, for better or for worse. I'm also a sucker for bad records - I can enjoy a weirdo lounge record as much as a psychedelic masterpiece for completely different reasons. It's a great way to listen to music because I can get something out of exposure to even the worst of music. So I picked up a copy of this John Street Rockers record at Permanent yesterday knowing that I typically like private press stuff and even if it were bad I would get something out of it (and to be completely transparent, I know that I can generally flip it on Discogs if it doesn't jive with me and not lose any money).

But this record totally rules! In 1979, these five cats going under the name The John Street Rockets created a focused blues rock record called Rock and Roll the Hard Way. Now what I know about the band is limited to what's on the back of the record, which says that the five members of the band are Bud Moore, D.T., Terry St. Louis, Dave McKee, and Laura Chorba. The record is comprised of six somewhat long songs that sometimes make their way into instrumental jams, though for the majority of time, they maintain their cohesive song structure. And there are some genuinely catchy tunes here as well for the classic rock fiend.

There's not a ton of information on this band, but I know that Permanent in L.A. and Chicago have copies for $50, which is a heavy price, but I actually think it's totally worth it. I highly recommend picking it up because once these are gone you may never see one again! That's the beauty of the private press, folks! Act now or forever hold your peace.

 

Release of the Day: Fang - Landshark!

"And I'll just sit and grin/The money will roll right in." So goes the chorus of Fang's best known song "The Money Will Roll Right In," the first song on Fang's second release from 1983, a 45 rpm 12" called Landshark. The song itself has been covered many times, but most notably when Nirvana covered it at their famous set at Reading in 1992. The other thing that Fang is known for is an incident of some significance from 1989: Sammy McBride, the lead singer, strangled his girlfriend to death and was served six years in prison. On his release in 1995, McBride renamed himself Sammytown like some phoenix of nomenclature. But that's more trivia than essential information.

Fang emerged from Berkeley, California in the early 1980s as a punk/hardcore band, though apparently with some protogrunge leanings if we check the hindsight mirror. There's actually a great comp from the era and locale that was put out by Alternative Tentacles with help from Maximum Rock n' Roll called Not So Quiet On The Western Front if you want to dig a little deeper.

It's a totally sinister record. Sammytown's lyrics are filthy, bringing out the junk and dope from behind the walls and forcing it into view. Like a toddler who learned to use the bathroom and needs to show you the results. There's violence, drugs, and all-around bad vibes, but it's a document of a damaged mind if nothing else. I mean the guy's vocals from the first song just sound like he's been slamming dope in his veins all dang day before he recorded. It ain't pretty, but it ain't a lie either, and the quality of the songwriting is really high, pun somewhat intended.

It just got reissued and is totally affordable and is absolutely EEEEESSENTIAL for your collection!
   

Release of the Day: King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard - I'm In Your Mind Fuzz

Let's talk about the criticisms I've seen on this album and there are two main ones. One is that the band sometimes sounds like krautrock pastiche and the other one is that there are too many people in the band. Here's the thing. Have you ever seen Tremors with Kevin Bacon? Yeah, the movie rocks. The slogan is "There's nothing new under the sun, but under the ground..." turns out the slogan is talking about these detached carnivorous uncircumcised penises and not music at all, so why bring it up?

Well, there's a big problem in music writing nowadays and it's about the need to push boundaries. There's totally an irony about a music writer saying that shit too because the chances are that the music writer is doing his or her writing in a totally pastiched way - establish ethos with some personal experience, or a quick biography (yeah, sure I know what I'm talking about, so what the fuck are YOU talking about? I'm not defensive at all!) followed by glancing descriptions, some tough dichotomy between parts (maybe something with the music industry), some more generalizations, and then a sweeping look at genre and possibly a play on the album title or the overarching style of music. Hey, music writers! WE'RE NOT PUSHING BOUNDARIES EITHER SO QUIT CALLING THE KETTLE BLACK!

Sorry, had to get that out of my system.

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard's Im in Your Mind Fuzz is a group of songs that relate to each other in theme and motorik madness, which isn't to say that all the songs are motorik, but my favorite ones sure are. The first twelve minutes or so is a suite of songs related to the all-permeating mind fuzz. Who is in which mind fuzz? Who knows, sportsfans. But man, it's a ripper heading straight into the maelstrom that is the rad time express.

The record is out on Castle Face and is a blast and a half of psychedelic garage mayhem and certainly has quickly become one of my most-listened-to records of 2014.