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: Jim Ghedi - Home Is Where I Exist, Now To Live and Die

Home Is Where I Exist,Now to Live and Die, the debut LP from Jim Ghedi, English finger-picking extraordinaire, begins with the sounds of interaction: interaction in commerce, interaction between people, and interaction between musician and instrument. That may seem confusing, but to the discerning listener, immediately taken in by field recording and sonic tinkles of percussive guitar, it makes sense. In the scope of Ghedi’s work, it also makes sense, as his music tackles both external and internal interaction.

Let’s talk about repetition, specifically in terms of its erosive and nullifying ability. This is both a pro and a con. In language, it can be a disarming autodidactic parlor trick to repeat one word until its meaning is lost in place of total phonetic stimulus – while we may be alarmed by this, the corrosion of meaning, it is also liberating. In Zen Buddhism, this effacing effect is used to reach heightened states of profundity, a spiritual ground zero where the mind goes blank, and things are, perhaps for the first time, utterly quiet. All forms of repetition, when done correctly, can achieve this effect.

On Home Is Where I Exist, Now to Live and Die, Jim Ghedi’s fingers pluck strings thousands of times – and each time, at a microscopic level, skin particles flake off, which is to say that each pluck is a sacrifice, a literal exaltation and imparting of self.

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: Crown Larks - Blood Dancer

Crown Larks, Chicago four-piece freak outfit par excellence, manages to weave together the skronkiest free jazz, the deepest krautrock grooves, the most expansive psychedelia, and an ethically sound DIY backbone to create a work of startling beauty and intrigue on Blood Dancer, their debut LP. While a less-maniacally-driven-to-tour band would most likely sound sloppier crafting such a diverse sound, Crown Larks manage to impart wonder in their compositions. As such, the surprises are near constant, which, once again, could easily allow for slip ups, but the band is as tight in its performance as it is ambitious.

The songs that fill Blood Dancer are big - I mean really big - but it's also an album that should be viewed through a Gestalt lens: the whole is actually bigger than the sum of its parts. That said, there's a clear moment when everything reaches this sublime watermark. On the closer "Overgrown," about two-thirds of the way through the meandering pilgrimage, a massive noise section interjects itself, all of the song's parts gyrate in an imploring miasma, and the vocals take on a desperate note, like David Bowie shouting "Give Me Your Hands!" at the peak of "Rock n' Roll Suicide." This is the most powerful point in the record, a reflection on what has gone before, and showcases every strength in the band's exciting repertoire. It's magical and elusive - a moment most bands never get to write or experience, but one that Crown Larks fucking nail and we're all artistically richer for it.

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".

Interview with Screature

Four Columns is Screature's second LP working with Chris Woodhouse, long time Thee Oh Sees producer, and the band wears its confidence on its sleeves. Mirroring the itinerary of the first record, Four Columns boasts eleven short blasts of psychedelic postpunk, guaranteed to scare the neighbor's kid and make you feel okay about it. Frankly, it's fucking great.

On Four Columns, Screature takes the listener further into their realm of haunted urgency. Though they have always been intense, the band's sophomore full-length proves their ability to dual wield strength and restraint without ever losing venom and zeal. From larger than life (and death) vocals to darting, effervescent guitar sections, a sinister but meditative rhythm, and shadowy, blooming organ, the finely tuned four-piece scratches that horror-driven postpunk itch you always had.

Screature hails from Sacramento and consists of Liz Mahoney (vocals), Sarah Scherer (organ), Miranda Vera (drums), and Chris Orr (guitar), who have been playing together since 2008, though they performed for the first time in 2011 with Death Grips, and self-released their first LP, recently repressed on Ss Records, in 2013, which made it onto Chelsea Wolfe's best of 2013 list.

The band is set to tour the Northwest in August and are looking to tour the East Coast some time soon.

Jordan Reyes: Since 2011, y'all have been playing shows with heavy hitters like Chelsea Wolfe, Milk Music, Death Grips, and White Lung. Do you think that playing live has given you new perspectives on the creative auditory process? How does a live set influence what or how you guys will decide to record?

Screature: Absolutely. Our initial intent is to capture our live sound in the studio for aesthetic as well as practical reasons. Hearing and feeling the songs in an alien environment changes our perspective of them. It sharpens the knife. It's only the strong songs we want to survive. Performing live before recording is a must for Liz, in order for her to connect and grow with the songs.

JR: Your debut LP Screature came out in 2013. Do you think you guys have changed at all in your approach to what you will write or record?

S: The longer we're at it the better we are at our various roles. Our process is pretty comical at times, but it seems to work for us. We still throw a bunch of shit at the wall and see what sticks, so in that respect it hasn't changed a bit. If anything, we have a better understanding of our process and it feels less rigid.

JR: You all just released your sophomore LP "Four Columns." I know that this one was produced by Chris Woodhouse, like your first record. From what I've heard, you recorded and mixed the first LP in four days. On the second LP, did the process feel even more efficient? Were there any hiccups during recording or mixing?

Four Columns

S: Each time we record the process evolves. We have to be efficient because we're on a budget! Fortunately we had a fifth day on Four Columns. It gave Liz an entire day to lay down her vocals. We were able to double the vocals, guitar and organ. Who knows, maybe next time we'll have six days and some back up vocals will show up on the album. Highly unlikely but we're open to anything and everything. We have a lot of fun working with Chris, it's always smooth sailing. The worst part was recording over the old record - wiping that tape felt so wrong!

JR: That hand on the cover for Four Columns is haunting but a little absurd. I can't help but think of the Addams family! Where did you guys get the idea for the cover? Do you guys do much visual art outside of Screature?

S: Hahaha! It is a little absurd, isn't it? Well, we are a little absurd. We wanted a cover that spoke to the first album and embodied the concept of four columns. Even though Thing was not our inspiration for the album cover, we certainly like the reference. Hands are an easy thing to trip out on. Our goal was to create something that's open to interpretation. We're all visual artists outside of Screature with individual styles and mediums, but we work collectively in the band.

JR: You also decided to release the second LP as a co-release with your own imprint and SS records. I have a lot of respect for that degree of ownership, though I'm sure it's taxing in terms of time and energy. Why did you guys decide to do that?

S: It felt like the right thing to do. After self-releasing the first one we were happy to have the help and excited that Ss cared. Ss is also repressing 300 copies of the s/t LP. We have a lot of respect for Ss, plus they're down the street! I guess we're just control freaks, but in the end who really wants to give up control of their art?

JR: I read this feature with y'all on the Sacramento News & Review where Liz mentioned the equal love/hate of life. It was striking and observant. I think people are often all too comfortable with making blanket statements of things being "good" or "bad," but don't see the gradients that no doubt compose reality. Do you think that this desire to perceive shades of grey rather than black or white is important to your music as Screature?
S: As individuals we are all operating in those spaces so we would assume it has an influence on our output.  It's the shades of grey that are more elusive and intriguing to us.

Liz: I can only see gradients if I am making a strong effort to see both sides of something. I'm not a fan of bogus regulations, but I like rules and guidelines. Or I feel uplifted by the wisdom and love that comes from trauma and sorrow. All of this is very important to my writing of the lyrics, but it's all a bunch of bullshit that has nothing to do with how I write the lyrics.

JR: I think oftentimes people associate darkness with hopelessness, but I also think that creating music at all is an act of hope or at least a type of rebellion against an unfeeling universe. Naturally your music embodies darkness, but is there hope in it as well? Do you think music making has elements of hope in it?
S: Yes, you HOPE people like it! It can be an uplifting and positive experience even if it resides in the shadows. We don't see darkness and hope as mutually exclusive. Sometimes you need to feel around in the dark to find the light switch.

JR: I know you guys have a bunch of shows coming up (including one with Lydia Lunch on July 29th? Can we just talk about how cool that is!) in your neck of the woods. Are there any plans for you all to tour in the future?
S: Definitely. We'll do a Northwest tour in August and hopefully another east coast stint. Ideally we'd love to tour in Europe. In the meantime we'll just keep ripping a strip here and there.

JR: I was an English major so I have to ask, since I'm always on the lookout. Do you guys read much? Any books you'd recommend that you've read recently?
Sarah: Rodney Dangerfield's autobiography was surprisingly good. I enjoyed Kim Gordon and Viv Albertine's memoirs. I'm currently reading "When the Drummers Were Women" and I'm pretty excited about it.

Screature s/t

Liz: I read a ton of horse books as a child, a ton of Henry Miller as a teenager and a ton of Kurt Vonnegut as a young mother.

Miranda: I recently enjoyed "A Natural History of the Senses".

Christopher: "Four Novels of the 1960's" by Phillip K Dick seems relevant.
 
JR: Do you guys have a favorite classic monster movie? Why?

S: We're all pretty partial to Frankenstein. Aren't humans just some alien's monster.

JR: What all is in the future for Screature?

S: Let's consult the crystal ball...loading and unloading.

JR: Anything else you'd like to say?

           

S: Just thanks!

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: Broken Prayer - Misanthopocentric aka Droid's Blood

Broken Prayer isn't satisfied with humanity. On the opening track "Kid," from their blistering synth-dripping, hard-hitting record Misanthropocentric aka Droid's Blood (stream in the link) on Sorry State Records, Scott Plant, the vocalist, laments "It wasn't supposed to be born this way/it wasn't supposed to be born this way/so ugly/so dumb." What's so disfigured? What's so broken? A lot of things. And a lot of things that are way-the-fuck-out-of-line. Scott took a moment before playing "White Children" when I saw Broken Prayer in August of last year. The Ferguson shooting was still fresh and as a St. Louis native, Scott took a moment to talk about what it and the subsequent unrest meant for him. But Scott also touched upon the idea that we're so used to seeing people of color as the victims of police violence. What happens when the radius of violence trickles into other neighborhoods? What do you do when the perimeter of your circle of (what was actually fragile) idealism is breached?

Mark Plant, Scott's brother and lead guitarist of Broken Prayer, and I actually talked for over an hour at the Mousetrap, a DIY spot in Chicago, about what had been going on in Ferguson. He knew a lot more than me about what had happened and what this meant for St. Louis and furthermore what this meant for people like us who weren't in authoritarian roles. And it scares the shit out of me. And I'm a dude who passes for White without a second glance. I can only imagine what sort of fear a Black American or any person of color feels on a daily basis. Another way to think of Scott's lyric "How could God let this happen to White children" is "How could God let white children end up becoming the monster cops we see on TV strangling minorities and shooting kids?"

That's what's so ugly and so dumb. This cyclic violence. The creation of self-conscious authority ready to attack "the other." The idea that only some should feel safe. And beyond all that, this fucking stay-at-home-and-watch-people-get-hurt apathy.

This record stays with you, especially in light of recent (and recurring) events. It's catchy enough for the lyrics to get lodged in your head, and thought-provoking enough to make you want to do something about it.

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.