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DESIDERII MARGINIS – Seven Sorrows
Long-time favorites on the industrial/ambient front Desiderii Marginis return here with another acidic masterpiece,
Seven Sorrows. The album begins on an almost genteel note, as acoustic strumming and the echoes of forgotten voices
usher in “Constant Like the Northern Star.” “Why Are You Fearful?” contains an element of Boyd Rice
in its majesty of spoken word, as does “The Bitter Potion” and other tracks containing vocals. (In fact, the almost
soundbyte-style vocals call early Pitch Shifter to mind in a favorable way.) “My Diamond in the Rough” is an inspired
instrumental tribute while “Lifeline” is another set of theme music ideal for soundtracks of many types. In a
similar vein much of “I Tell the Ancient Tale” sounds like a slice of Henry. And the closing instrumental
“Untitled” seals it up on an epic and eternal note. Moody, atmospheric, enjoyable.
* * *
Cold Meat Industry – www.coldmeat.se – Villa Eko, 595 42 Mjolby, Sweden
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DESIDERII MARGINIS – That Which Is Tragic and Timeless
Drones, gongs and insectile clicks usher the listener into the realm of That Which is Tragic and Timeless with an air of expectant ritual that is “Worlds
Apart,” the soundscape swelling with the addition of acoustic guitar and other strings that calls to mind Manapsara’s
soundtrack for Queer. A guttural abbey ambiance is conveyed at the beginning of
the following “Still Life,” which also picks up with the strumming of a guitar to provide an alluring atmosphere
of foreign exhilaration. The strange and subtly enthralling journey continues across tracks such “Where I End and You
Begin,” “Freedom’s Captive” and the stirring finality of “The Love You Find in Hell,”
with various instruments and effects enhancing the voyage’s starlit subterranean quality. A true mindscape, the nearly
hour-long program of That Which is Tragic and Timeless travels from the aboriginal
to the futuristic, covering all of the vast territory in between. A perfect guide for physical or astral roaming.
* * *
Cold
Meat Industry – www.coldmeat.se – Villa Eko, 595 42 Mjolby, Sweden
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Gruff old-school metal with some grim thrash potential to it. Cold, heavy, menacing and at times majestic, this collection
of material going back to 1990 grooves in places like a toned-down heavy Swedish metal offering. There’s clear-cut ghoulish
glee to tracks like the title song and pure sickness throughout thanks to the guttural vocals, and although thrown off at
times by some softer, slower instrumentation (“I Wanna Be No Hero”) and synth noodling (“Powermad”)
there’s still enough dark undercurrent here to make it appealingly replayable. “Death! Skul!”
*
* *
$7.00 from DethSkul – P.O. Box 360, Devils Elbow, MO 65457 or from PayPal link at www.CountZee.com
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Drumwork running between the martial and the tribal along with shivering echoes all contribute to the distorted vocals
on Erotikon to create a malleable world of mystery in which deviance and violence are not unknown. “At the
Court of Saba” is a subtle and hypnotic ethnic melody, as is “Permobile Erotomatik,” whereas “I Jast
Fokos An Maiself” and “Rapist Park Junktion” are considerably more insidious. The title track is a strong,
driving composition, punching its way into the closing number “M/S Elusive Pain,” itself a titular ritual emphasizing
the subject matter with the ringing of gongs and vocal vibrations. Interesting work, and quite good in places.
* * *
Cold Meat Industry – www.coldmeat.se – Villa Eko, 595 42 Mjolby, Sweden
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I fuckin’ love it when a disc by a band I’ve never heard of crosses my player
and plumb surprises the shit out of me. Not that I’ve ‘heard it all,’ far from it, but after X amount of
generic pop-punk, emo, nu-metal, and blithering death metal releases, something new & different, and more importantly,
good, is always appreciated. The Dexateens start off with a hoot and a stompin’ drumbeat that leads you to believe you’re
in for some boot-scuffin’ honky tonk action, and while there is a country metal flavor flowing throughout the album
it’s definitely more pleasantly relaxed than outright cow pokin'. Very likeable and replayable stuff, with one of those
friendly & familiar sounds that I just cannot quite place or adequately compare (although Mule and an all-male Lost Goat
do come favorably to mind).
* * *
Estrus Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA, 98227
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THE DEXATEENS - Red Dust Rising
Southern-licked slow grooves with laid back singalongs, Red Dust Rising is something of a modern hillbilly masterpiece. Tracks such as “Pine Belt Blues” and
“Coal Mine Lung” say it all, and the lamentation of the title track and the sadly sweet “Devoted to Lonesome”
help bring it all home. Even poppier numbers like “Anna Lee” are more retro than alt.modern, carrying with them
the fine bop and jangle quality of the Fifties. Plaintive, soulful, well worth hearing again.
* * *
Estrus Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA, 98227
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THE DICK PANTHERS – Eternal Biological Conflict
Talk about synchronicity; I listened to Eternal
Biological Conflict right after listening to The Knights of the New Crusade, and Dick Panthers’ “Church”
provides the perfect segue between the two. EBC continues the Panthers’ own
crusade of spoken-word lounge ridicule, taking nothing, not even their own music, too seriously. “(I’m Beatin’
My) Tom-Tom (Outside Your Wigwam),” the hatefully and hilarious “Cowboy Hat,” the gleefully insulting “Yer
Mom,” the borderline disco instrumental “WBK,” “(Remote Control Dildo) Dan” (“What a dick”),
the incredibly annoying “Home Alone” and more are all here for your listening bemusement. Lots of potty humor
here too, which is a plus for we puerile types. Give it, and your head, a spin.
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THE DICK PANTHERS – Norwegian Wood
Norwegian Wood opens on a note of mixed blessings with “Hallelujah! It’s
Raining Garbage” (“I’m gonna do a chicken dance on your lawn”); “Chirigina Jeans” almost
sounds like a Native American rendition of Detox’s chicky-chow song; “Little Baby Jesus” belongs to a rock
opera; “Milk Cow” would be funny to see played live for a kindergarten class; and “Give Me Your Hand”
is just fucked. Other tracks don’t fare so well; “The Lemon Song” certainly is, but as part of the total
package you can afford to pass the plastic cup. The vocalist’s deep lounge singer croon, accompanied by tightly varied
instrumentation, provides a skewed look at the world, bearing equal parts inappropriate humor and wry observation –
sort of like the Dead Kennedys if they didn’t take themselves so seriously. There’s also a weird religious bent
flowing through Norwegian Wood that, not unlike The Knights of the New Crusade,
is difficult to get a handle on; are these cats making fun of the Lord, or are they really warped enough to try and incorporate
‘His’ message into modern pop music? Either way it’s bemusing as hell. Comes with sexually psychedelic fold-out
poster and “Free Porno Film Inside!!!” Can’t beat that shit now, can you?
* * *
The Dick Panthers
– P.O. Box 1261, Brookline, MA 02446
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THE DICK PANTHERS – Women's Lib
It’s a pretty raw night at the shitkicker lounge located
next to the half-rate strip club tonight (where at either joint you might encounter a “Pretty Prostitute”: “I’m
a hot dog vendor for you… Everything in my pocket / Has your name on it”). And it’s ‘Women’s Lib Night’ as The Dick Panthers strut and stumble through a set of songs that are as curious
as they are inventive. There are some different “Strokes” here indeed, amply demonstrated by the neighboring “Mex
Lad,” and watch your ass as “Sha Na Na” goes to the sock hop all hopped up on a mixture of substances found
under the sink and in your single parent’s medicine cabinet. Richard Panthers continues to explore a variety of vocal
and musical approaches here (on the aforementioned “Pretty Prostitute” he actually sounds like David Bowie in
some places), a mix that, if you were to experience it all live, would have you alternately tipping your glass to, and throwing
it at, him. (“Free Poster Inside!!!”)
* * *
Dick Panthers – P.O. Box 1261, Brookline, MA 02446
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DIMMU BORGIR – Death Cult Armageddon
An unusually rich black metal album, Death Cult
Armageddon is made truly cinematic not only by the complex, lengthy songs and numerous soundbytes scattered throughout,
but also by the symphonic flares, operatic chorals, and stirring instrumental passages that help to create a morbidly gratifying
and many-layered listening experience. As you can tell from the title and satanic post-apocalyptic imagery adorning the covers
and booklet pages, it’s all about the ruination of mankind and the triumph of the dark lord and those who serve him;
and in spite of some rare stereotypical black metal breakdowns (wind-up monkey drumming, metal zombie guitar noodling), this
is some very fine shit. How Dimmu Borgir convinced the Philharmonic Orchestra Prague (no shit!) to participate in something
called Death Cult Armageddon is beyond me, but their contribution gives a depth
and expansiveness to the project that is far superior to many European black metal releases. Some songs give the impression
of a resurrected Laibach (“Blood Hunger Doctrine”), while others recall the orchestral attributes of early Foetus
(“Eradication Instincts Defined”), but it’s the undiluted black metal screams and string violence of tracks
like “Cataclysm Children” that will make your hackles rise with their pure ungodly bloodlust. And coming back
to the cinematic aspect of the album, it all inspires a most unwholesome but thoroughly enjoyable display of mental imagery.
Despite the band’s spiky Norwegian black metal pants and their melodramatic posturing this is a very accomplished and
arresting album, providing a mood fuck that will leave you in exhausted satisfaction at the conclusion of its hour-plus running
time.
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THE DIPLOMATS OF SOLID SOUND – Destination...Get
Down!
This is every bit as funkin’ groovy as the band name and title would
suggest. Almost exclusively instrumental, these twelve tunes have a bluesy mod swing to them that brings Barfly favorably to mind (especially the organ-grinding “Wicked P”). And dig that “Mohair Momma!”
Fans of Booker T. & the M.G.s will be slipping this musical biscuit into the mix during their next shindig for sure.
* * *
Estrus
Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA 98227
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DISPIRIA – Psionic Deception
Slow, subtle instrumental soundtracks tinged with an industrial ritual drone and scattered with faint samples that echo
through its ether in ways which could be interpreted as sinister or bewildering, or both. But somehow it all comes together
as more atmospheric and hypnotically alluring than anything else; like the running of a bath that’s not just for bathing…
Check out the awesome psychedelic video for “Oscilloscopic Dimensions” at http://vimeo.com/dispiria to see what it all means. Very cool.
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DREW WEAVER AND THE ALVARADOS – Good Ain't For Good
The long-lived Drew
Weaver returns with los Alvarados (S.F.) for a lengthy 17-song set of patent leather country-surf-western tunes, Good Ain’t For Good. Recorded across six different studios ranging from Oakland to Paris to Maine, the album
title works its way into the mournfully dulcet tones of the opening “Downbound Train,” a song keenly followed
by the moan of “Midnight Wind.” “Sittin’ Pretty” says it all, “Lovers Graveyard”
is appropriately haunting, and as the liner notes already mention the “big pop” sound and Spanish guitar of the
luxurious “Trouble Is the Wind” I need say no more on that score. The instrumental “Vaquero” fondly
calls the Rawhide theme to mind, nicely countered by the strumming rattle of the
retro “Casbah” cover. There’s a faithful rendition of “Cry, Cry, Cry,” and how can you not like
“Trick or Treat”? The disjointed “Crawfish” may be one of the album’s weaker moments, but these
are fortuitously rare on a disc that you’ll most likely find yourself playing over again. Kudos on the layout as well,
as not only are the photos great but the whole thing just, well, makes me thirsty. But then again, what doesn’t these
days? Skip around, find a groove, and settle down.
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Now that’s a lotta D.R.I. – 37 songs plus six tracks of SF Cable interview
footage. And the infamous crossover thrashcore kings deliver throughout, venting spleen against cops, religion, war, society,
school, and “Reaganomics” in songs from the original Dealing With It
album, “rough mixes” from the same, compilation tracks from Cottage Cheese
From the Lips of Death, “The Unknown Demo,” and a couple of unused numbers from the Violent Pacification days. The heavy Killdozer depression of “Nursing Home Blues,” the dysfunctional
crank of “Mad Man,” “Couch Slouch,” “Slit My Wrist,” “Bail Out,” “Snap,”
and many more blend anger with observant humor to demonstrate once again, in songs so strung-out and close to the edge that
you figure every one might be their last, just how vital these Dirty Rotten Imbeciles really were. And how can you not appreciate
a band that can reference Poe in one song (“I’d Rather be Sleeping”) and trips to the “Soup Kitchen”
in another? As the track listing says, “Play at a Dirty Rotten Volume.”
* * * *
Beer City Records - www.beercity.com - P.O. Box 26035,
Milwaukee, WI, 53226-0035
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ERODE AND DISAPPEAR – Scythian Lamb
An LP that comes with a CD containing the full album plus bonus tracks (for we heathens
who no longer own turntables), Scythian Lamb opens with something of a spacey tone, with funky drawn out bass
warbles leading into the primitive jam of “Taking It Diagonal.” And much of the rest of the album follows suit.
“Ever Telling Eyes” has perhaps the strongest chorus, that is until the psyche-attack of the untitled seventh
and eighth (bonus) tracks kick in with their frenetic layers. Echoes of ages past reverberate through elemental psyche-punk
that definitely finds its own groove, although the whole is somewhat less vigorous and inventive than brother band Northern
Liberties. A group that you would not be displeased to see playing a park stage on a sunny afternoon amidst a lineup of similarly
varied acts. LP comes wrapped in beautifully silkscreened full-color cover art.
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FALL OF THE LEAFE – Volvere
A big Metallica sound reverberates throughout Volvere, accompanied by vocals along the lines of Tool or Pearl Jam (except on the more aggressive untitled bonus
tracks). The result is an emphatically bombastic rendering loaded with subtle emotional nuances crafted into satisfyingly
catchy arrangements. Awesome stuff that well lives up to the claim of owning a cult following.
*
* *
Firebox
Records – www.firebox.fi – Teollisuustie 19, 60100 Seinajoki, Finland
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THE FAMILY CURSE – White Medicine
Raw strings scraped further by the distorted whine of high-pitched
female vocals, White Medicine is a breathless dysfunctional mess. And I don’t
mean that in a bad way. Although compared to bands such as Butthole Surfers, Pain Teens and The Jesus Lizard, for the most
part The Family Curse lacks the organized psychotic structure of those outfits, opting instead in many places to simply pour
forth a vomitous maelstrom of sound that threatens to break down at any moment. Not that there’s anything wrong with
that: “Back in the Water” crawls from the shore to disintegrate into a throbbing, quavering hymn of de-evolution,
replete with the requisite chiming and moaning, “Big Black Mark” sounds a bit like Cyndi Lauper spending some
quality time on acid with Rapeman, “Like Lightning” is distinctively feral in a black metal way, and “Sewing
Box” has a dangerously seductive allure. Throughout, numerous samples and tape loops are brought into play, bringing
equal parts damage and illumination. At times this does evoke a stuttering quality which is a bit too techno for the dangerous
bad trip drug culture sound the band seems to be striving for, but White Medicine
remains dark and disturbed without a doubt. And if you’re of the same bent you’ll want to give this a spin. Jagged.
Definitely jagged.
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Psyche-edged garage rock that, despite all of the stereotypes of the genre,
is some groovy fuckin’ shit, man. “The Most Unlucky Sound” stands out as a top rocker, while “Hydrogen
Nitrogen and Bullshit” is a vibrantly low-edged freakout. Like a lo-fi Monster Magnet, Federation X manages to pack
a whole wide world of stoner rock into one shiny little disc. Fuck yeah.
* * *
Estrus
Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA 98227
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I hate to come on with the stereotypical reviewer’s “sounds like X fronting
Y” kind of action, but the opening drug casualty burst of Flamethrower’s “Super Bee” really does sound
like Lemmy backed by REO Speedealer. And since neither one of those is a bad thing I think you can bear with me for a moment
here. “Super Bee” churns on into, appropriately, “Coked Up,” and follows that speedball duo with uplifters
“Drowning and Empty” and “Drop Out.” “Mad” is appropriately aggravated hardcore that matches
the almost Die Kruezen frenzy of the agitated “Nervous Breakdown,” and “Fanatico Suicido,” “I
Want It All,” “Revenge,” and “27” all beautifully lay out the honesty and urgency of human frustration
worked out with a vengeance and made good for the soul through pure bloodletting rock ‘n roll. And it all ends with
the sonic bitch-slapping of “Find a Way” and “Getting Signed.” Almost too good at points, this whole
edgy 16-song platter defines bold, ballsy, supercharged, punkcore garage rock & roll, and definitely not in the teenage
wood-paneled Station Wagon carport sense. The aural equivalent of a mad-dog scowl and the beating that follows, this is guaranteed
to leave pinpointed eyes wide and staring with nodding approval in the glare of Flamethrower’s performance. So, what
have you done with YOUR life lately?
* * * *
Dead Teenager Records – www.deadteenager.net – P.O. Box 470153,
San Francisco, CA, 94147-0153
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FLOORIAN – What the Buzzing
Slow heavy drones that roll on over and
above the misty nether regions of your skull. Some of these trance rock tracks are a little more embracing than others, as
the opener “Or So They Say” is considerably more lively than the drift of “Aether Spill,” “Overruled”
calls in some seductively distant female vocals, “Waiting For It” brings a Middle Eastern approach to a Pink Floyd-inspired
instrumental, the coffin-tapping “Auravine” has a slightly sinister undertow, and the sound vibrations continue
through the likes of “Heavium,” “Alt.11,” and the closer “Somic.” Fans of the Brian Jonestown
Massacre, Low Flying Owls and the like will dig it the most – given a little something to settle them down.
* * *
Bomp
Records/The Committee to Keep Music Evil – www.bomp.com – P.O. Box 7112, Burbank, CA, 91510
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FOREST OF SHADOWS – Departure
With compositions running between 5 and almost 17 minutes in length, these slow mournful
dirges begin with the updated Christian Death sound of “Sleeping Death” as a single vocalist accompanied by only
a keyboard plays into the building of a much larger and hungrier black orchestral sound complete with choral effects. Other
tracks such as “November Rain” have a lush almost gothic pop metal sensibility to their harmonies, making Departure an all-around pleaser to those with a yen for the gothic side of life.
* * *
Firedoom
Music – www.firedoom.fi – Teollisuustie 19, 60100 Seinajoki, Finland
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SHAWN LAWSON FREEMAN – Non-etre
I initially hated this. Right out of the gate. It sounded like an even more sorrowful yet more self-absorbed Alex Chilton
rip-off. But the sweet duet of “Loop Me In” does just that, while tracks like “Angry Love” are so
plaintive that they're impossible to ignore. And without seeing the track list I at first thought “Persephone”
was going to be a cover of “Bela Lugosi's Dead” with its initial low gothic vibe, but instead it swells into one
of the album's most righteous and original numbers. While some songs are basic, almost spoken-word poetic offerings, pieces
like “Hold On Light” are full, beautiful and memorable. There's something ringing at a deeper level here, with
astute lyrics accompanied by simple and often acoustic instrumentation, and there are more than a few keen lines and observations
to be found within Non-etre.
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GAS HUFFER – Lemonade for Vampires
I seem to remember Gas Huffer being a little more aggro than this; Lemonade… is primarily good-humored punk-pop along the lines of the new Vandals. Despite that dismissive
comparison however, the album is chock-full of catchy little numbers like “Another Wafer Please” and “Canadian
Vistas.” It’s not all just goofy shit either; “All Natural” is a disjointedly cautionary jam against
certain substances, while the mournful “Taco and a Bottle” is much more country in nature (albeit of a definitively
West Virginian slant); “Midnight at the Apollo 13,” with its organ and handclaps, is a retro theme song from out
of nowhere; and Gas Huffer even gets a little psyche in with the groovy “Termite Thermometer.” It all comes to
an end, literally, with the eco-disaster “Ruined.” Mix it all together and you’ve got…Lemonade for Vampires.
* * *
Estrus
Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA 98227
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THE GOLDEN BOYS – Scorpion Stomp #2
Disharmonious distorto-country performed by a trio of blind-drunk tone-deaf
housepainters just stumbling out of a car wreck. But before writing this off as Golden Shower Boys and calling it a day, tunes
like the rough & raucously carefree “Cold Hard Times” improved the outlook a bit, and even the crackhead B-52
stylings of the closing “She Likes to Party” are enough of a novelty not to dismiss this one entirely. If I play
this again I’ll be sure to have a jug of mescal near to hand.
* *
Hook
or Crook Records – www.hookorcrook.com – 4219 Tanglewood Trail, Spring Branch, TX
78070
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GOTHICA – The Cliff of Suicide
You might think you know exactly what to expect with an album titled The Cliff of Suicide from a band named Gothica, but instead of an overwrought gothic parody of self pity here
the listener is treated to an elegant, sweetly melancholic journey into the twilight of the soul. Portions of The Cliff . . . are even quite light and airy in nature, providing for a soundtrack that is anything but dismal.
The breathy, half-dead voice of Roberto Del Vecchio is perfectly offset by the piercingly sorrowful vocals of Alessandra Santovito
in these primarily electronic compositions (accented by woodwinds, violins, and drums), all yielding a remarkably rich and
layered listening experience. Tribal drumming picks up “Deep Lakes of the Soul” and the stirring “Harmattan,”
while moments of “Under the Dock Leaves” recall the River’s Edge
soundtrack, and the entire album travels from the spiritual to the medieval without ever coming off as pretentious or posturing.
Atmospheric and moody in only the best of ways. (Enhanced CD includes a video clip for an alternate version of the title track,
shot in Italy.)
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GUARANTEED KATCH – In a Sumptuous Brown Gravy
Surreal art-rock that seems to fancy itself an heir to the Captain Beefheart
legacy. It seems at first that a haughty faux-aristocratic air fills the album’s noisy conglomerate of songs, a mélange
of pomp and nonsense that yields titles such as “Bleu Puff” and “Nasey Lives on Planet Nasey” and
torturous compositions like “Something to Hide.” Points are awarded however for gratuitous monkeyism (including
the line “Bite my monkey”) and the song “Binky Fever,” which I’m taking as an inspired homage
to Shakes the Clown. “Laws of Elasticity” is pretty good, “Butcher
Boy” does appear to channel El Duce, and “Brown Town” is ridiculous enough
to appeal to my jaded puerility, so in the end this may be a more intriguing and worthwhile album than initially believed.
Check it out; get bemused.
* * *
Reality
Impaired Recordings – www.gkatch.com – P.O. Box 1285, Joplin, MO, 64802
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HAMMERLOCK – Forgotten Range
A new 19-song slab from rugged Bay Area misfits Hammerlock. Forgotten Range begins with the locomotive “Conquest
Train,” which is nicely matched by the anachronistic title track, and goes country western for “Ain’t One
to Judge” and the glass-tipping “The Wings of Alcohol.” “One Big Mess” is surprisingly good
as the lowest of low-budget love songs, “You Can’t Stop War” has an appropriately fierce ANTiSEEN roar to
it, “Lay Me Down in the Dirt” possesses a quality retro sound that begs to be committed to 8-track, and the acoustic
“Spotlights” is a definite standout. The legendary Simon Stokes even shows up here, contributing lyrics to “Living
on Retreads” and the instant classic “No Man’s Land.” And how can you not love a song called “I
Love Robbing Banks”? The album closes with the sweet and mournful “Forgotten Range 2.” All told it’s
a grand mix of traditional sounding lap steel hard luck songs and the brash rock & roll the band is known for, albeit
in a more world-weary key. Not being much of a barroom brawler myself I always approach the loudly outspoken Hammerlock with
some amount of skepticism, but goddamn if they don’t win me over every single time with the quality of their songs.
Forgotten Range is no exception; older, wiser, better.
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HAMMERLOCK – True Grit: The First Five Years
From the dust of the past comes True Grit: The First Five Years, Hammerlock’s first two out-of-print albums
packed onto one 29-song CD. And god damn if this Bay Area redneck combo wasn’t as good or better on their very first
recording as they are now. True Grit kicks off strong with “Hate Radio,”
pulls a “Cold Coors” that sounds as if it came straight from the hallowed halls of Alcoholics Unanimous, covers
“Battle of New Orleans” and “Pride of Franklin County” (among others), and just a few of the many
other shining moments of True Grit are the outlaw country classic “I Shot
My Baby,” the female-driven “Take Me Down the Road,” the (anti-)ballad of “California,” the
blazing “Mexican Sun,” “Black Foot Stomp,” the anthemic “Tear ‘Em Down”; shit, might
as well just print off the entire song list. It’s rare to find so many epic songs on one album, so even if you’re
not a true fan of real country punk you’d do well to pick this up while it’s available.
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THE HATEPINKS – Plastic Bag Ambitions
I can’t say for sure, but this sounds like a bunch of snotty French punks on drugs
– and it’s fucking great. A little angry, a little effeminate and loaded with feedback and vocal harmonization,
you get a shitload of attitude and energy from Plastic Bag Ambitions. “Kissing
Cops with My Ass” in particular is top-notch, and you can’t argue with “We are the Fucks.” If you
like the Splash 4 you’re gonna love this – all that’s missing is a hot little baguette (and I don’t
mean a roll). “Motherfuquer!”
* * * *
TKO
Records – www.tkorecords.com – 8941 Atlanta Ave. #505, Huntington Beach, CA 92646
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HELLBLOCK 6 – Burnin' Doom
Gouging out thick & beastly no-shit death metal, Hellblock 6 combines solidly hard
and classical heavy metal musicianship with the vocal frenzy of the freshly skinned alive; when the ripping female vocalist
shrieks in for a murderous duet on the opening “Cleanse the Sin With Fire,” you know you’re in the shit.
Following this you’re completely at the mercy of the hardcore desperation of “Nothin’ to Do” and the
beautifully vicious hooks of “Burnin’ Doom,” the thundering punk metal of “Limepit” and “Fuck
Off,” the death-surf instrumental “Stingray” (watch those surf punks cry!), outright classics like “Drink
to Think,” and the fat and sludgy “War Between the Worlds.” It all finally comes to an end with the apocalyptic
cacophony of “Wasteland.” (Or does it? “You hit me right in the fuckin’ boobies!”) An instant
favorite, Burnin’ Doom is just all too fuckin’ bitchin’, man,
and gives the strong impression that if you were to see Hellblock 6 live you’d be fucking glad the singer was behind
the drum set and not roving around the audience, geeking terrified pencil-necks during his performance.
* * * * *
$5.00 from Worldeater Records – www.WorldeaterRecords.com – c/o G. Stienour, 4506 Locust, Philadelphia, PA, 19139-4515
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HELLBLOCK 6 – Nuclear Age
Just as they brought forth Burnin’ Doom
with their previous album, here Hellblock 6 righteously ushers in the Nuclear Age
with a brand new set of dark and tortured doom/death metal. The suicidal grind of “Turned Insane” is cranked up
to a frenzied pitch with the superior scumcore classic “Go Die,” “Damien” pays due and ferocious homage,
“Coma” is appropriately heavy, and the cold metal winds of title track drags out the end of the world (followed
by the brief renaissance of “Blue Sunshine”). Throughout the duration Hellblock 6 carefully counterbalances their
furor by deftly inserting a number of brilliant instrumental segments into their assault, such as the fine Sabbath-stylings
of “Sunday” and the intro to “Lies of the Eyes.” (They even throw in some wickedly appropriate samples.)
Crusty, angry, and ready to bleed, simply put this is just fucking great. ‘Nuff said.
* * * * *
$5.00 from Worldeater Records – www.WorldeaterRecords.com – c/o G. Stienour, 4506 Locust, Philadelphia, PA, 19139-4515
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Hot Buttered Anal is still plenty pissed, and in fact sound angrier than ever before here on Lies. Opening
with the heavy metal anthem “We’re Not Retarded,” which in places has an Angry Samoans lilt to it, the album
crashes through mean-spirited tracks such as “Just Try It,” “Choke the Bitch” and more. “Duct
Tape and Sausages” changes tone, giving an acoustic folk sound to an evil night, whereas “Allegro-Sib-Bone”
is a goofy inside joke and “The Good Ol’ Days” is just plain fucked up. There are even bonus ‘radio
friendly’ versions of four songs. Despite all of this Lies is not quite as varied and humorous, and not quite
as much fun, as the previous Please Kill Me; between the noggin crunchers and the acoustic anti-ballads some of this
even has a bit of a nu-metal sound to it, and I don’t know whether that’s intentional or not. Anyway, appropriately
enough as I was listening to Lies I had Cops on with the sound off, and as they were busting some old white
trash hash-head they found his room full of high-powered rifles and women’s clothing…
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HOT BUTTERED ANAL – Please Kill Me
Yet another example of how far behind I got on the reviews: Hot Buttered Anal sent me two albums before I even got
round to the first one. Shame I waited though, because this is some pure pissed-off punk metal. Opening with the self-described
furor of “Alive and Angry,” Please Kill Me moves into the fucked-up jitterbug of “Daddy’s
Banana Boat,” the hilarious “Flaming Robots” (“Gay cowboy robots need love too”) and HBA’s
version of “TV Party,” “Magnum.” There’s fun with necrophilia on “Screwdriver Love,”
the unexpected animal rights anthem, “Freedom for the Lobsters,” and “Suck My Balls” needs no further
explanation. Much more multifaceted than one might expect from a band called Hot Buttered Anal, this is a well-rounded album:
evil as hell and funny as shit, it’s a tight performance tied together with professional recording and mastering. Well
done on every level, ya sick fucks ya! Fans of the mighty Bitchslicer should definitely dig it. (Great kiddie-horror artwork
on the fold-out liner notes as well.)
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HUMANASAUR – Bedlam Easy Listening
Primitive gut rock that’ll rattle
your stones, Bedlam Easy Listening begins with the agonizing wrench of “All
the Things That Don’t Work” and bleeds straight into the equally pained “Self Doubt.” “Raised
by Wolves” is a feral echo of a piece that can only be called beautiful, and “Trees and Air and Stars!!!”
is just one of the great and random moments of the thing. Sounding composed for the most part of only bass, percussion and
screams, the songs raise a powerful racket, albeit a multi-faceted one. The lyrics barely scratch the surface of the dope
angst the band is presenting, yet at points (“Tear for the Dead,” “Creepulant”) hit it right in the
nose. Some songs ramble and disintegrate in the noise rock tradition, but even these can contain some beat-up rhythms that,
despite their bruising, can be quite gentle and soothing. Before, of course, they’re picked up and slapped around again.
Think of the spoken-word part of “Institutionalized,” spread out over 70 minutes and given a new sludgecore soundtrack.
Like the motto for Latino Bugger Veil Records says, “VERY LOUD IT PLAY.”
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THE ILLNESS – A Monument to Our Gilded Age
The great ape and pentagram on the cover implies high hopes here at Paniscus HQ… but the promo blurb on the back
heralding “jazz-influenced instrumentation,” well, not so much. Despite some potent moments there are an awful
lot of mellow breakdowns infecting A Monument to Our Gilded Age, which makes for
something of an uneven soundtrack. Not quite as damnably majestic as song titles such as “Misanthropy” (the potent
thrash of which is defused by the all-too-emo vocals) and “Defenestration” (little more than an unnecessary spoken
word rant) might suggest, but, in places, still possessed of some of the gravity and melody of Tool. Well, almost.
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IN SLAUGHTER NATIVES – Resurrection
Resurrection opens like a slice
of the Hellraiser soundtrack, with chiming, backward baby screams and a muffled
heartbeat as whispering voices are encircled by a droning sound. This swirls into the tribal pounding of “You Are the
Dead” and proceeds throughout tracks such as “Ashes of Angels,” filling the album with a grandly apocalyptic
tone given demonic life through deep ritual sound effects. Haunting, majestic and cinematic, this is magnificent work, not
entirely unlike some of Coil’s better material.
*
* * *
Cold
Meat Industry – info@coldmeat.se – Villa Eko, 595 42 Mjolby, Sweden
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THE INSOMNIACS – Switched On!
The “Daydream Believer” guitar line from the opener “Alice
White” initially made it a little hard to take these “Mod-Pop mavericks” seriously, and I seriously doubted
whether throughout the next twelve tracks The Insomniacs would be able to reach the splendor of other modern mod acts like
Mando Diao. But the sitar-slide and slightly sinister hum of “Leave” won me over, “Upandaway” is downright
catchy, and while songs like “Rapporte LA” are weaker pop performances, throughout the album the organ and fuzzy
warbles of the strings generate a retro haze that’s easy to get behind. Particularly the subdued psychedelic apocalypse
of “Maryanne Lightly”…
* * *
Estrus
Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA, 98227
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INSTITUT – Live Like Traitors, Die Like Traitors
The harsh-sounding title of Institut’s latest well befits the material it contains,
a program apparently aimed at something of a vicious resurrection, desecration, and reburial of the Sixties. And with an antagonistic
program of industrial noise the performers proceed to do just that, calling in bombastic sonic assaults that reap across primitive
electrified reverberations of rhythm, any voices caught within their field being stretched and torn in order to elicit the
most agonized calls available. The result is something of a base, callous effect akin to an unceasing parade of unstable hostility,
directed by distorted and deranged orders and swarming mercilessly over all inferior broadcasts. Like an aural dictatorship
presiding over its range with the utmost brutality before the inevitable devastating corruption and collapse. And of course
as sadistic as it all is, the seduction of power is evident within these nine tracks and at times becomes quite compelling.
A grand 2084-style soundtrack, this; in the words of suicidal civil servant Bud Dwyer, “This will hurt somebody.”
Serves those goddamn hippies right . . .
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The first word that comes to mind upon opening up Devil Music is, ironically, bland. That, and disappointing. This is very mellow muzak, laid back and melancholic
despite vituperative song titles such as “Congratulations, You Suck.” The theme of loss gets pretty tiresome here,
especially without a stronger musical base (the backing vocals practically sigh ‘boo-hoo’ throughout much of the
album), and although some portions of the disc are kind of pretty, like the man said, the words get in the way. And points
off as well for a thanks list in which one band member thanks only, “The Universe…for ‘providing.’”
Wow, man. I’d call J Minus fuckin’ hippies at this point, but they pay way too much attention to their appearance
and I don’t think they do nearly enough drugs to merit that moniker. Too bad, dope probably would have improved their
music. Nice hats, though.
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KITTENS FOR CHRISTIAN – Privilege of Your Company
A good weird groove here, almost a Nick-Cave-leads-The-March-Violets kind of thing; the
strong psych guitar, distant, almost programmed percussion, backlighted bass, basement monster-maker effects, and elegantly
gloomy psychiatric inmate vocals give Privilege of Your Company a lively gothic
sound that vibrates between the out of control and the decadantly sedate. Some beautiful downers here, like “Had a Plan”
(with its chorus, “Looking so good, feeling so bad”), “Run to the Middle,” and the gently threatening
“Gun Country”. There is some showy filler as well (“Why”), but it all ends with the darkly dreamy
instrumental “King,” closing a predominantly fine album on a positive note.
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THE KNIGHTS OF THE NEW CRUSADE – A Challenge
to the Cowards of Christendom
Here’s something that doesn’t come across the desk here at Paniscus
HQ very often: a Christian rock album. From Alternative Tentacles. (Insert surprised Simpsons face here: “WHA-A?”)
From the Jack Chick-style packaging down to the lyrics and patter, Challenge…
comes off as an unabashed squarehead revival (“Man, that was a dill-dill-dilly.”), the concept being the debate
as to whether these cats are serious bible-thumpers or masters of irony. The music does paint a portrait worthy of John Waters,
one of grinning kids and girls wearing librarian spectacles & Betty Page haircuts bopping out in gleeful mockery to the
message of the Knights. Which is seriously comical; you can picture bands like the Melvins smoking pounds of weed and laughing
their heads off as this platter spins. Musically the Knights pull off a fair garage act, one that you’d definitely be
compelled to stay and watch if you walked into some club and caught them unawares. “Why Do You Want to Go to Hell?”
in particular is a soundtrack-worthy slice of the New Crusade, and the speaking-in-tongues closer “Knight Beat: Speaking
in the Holy Spirit” is nothing if not unique. But as far as long-playing value goes, well, there are only so many times
you can get a really good kick out of putting this on for friends and telling them, “You are not going to fucking believe
this…” Oh, and by the way, if you see your mom this weekend, you be sure and tell her, “SATAN SATAN SATAN!”
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THE KNOCKOUT PILLS - 1 + 1 = Ate
This twelve-track prescription wastes no time in dumping out a dose of edgy
punk-pop that’s bouncy shit for sure, but not in any expected way. Pulling Sixties SoCal up by the shirt collar and
giving it a whirl, The Knockout Pills throw it around for a few decades and end up banging hell out of the shit Top-40 conventions
Green Day and Good Charlotte have made all-too-common. Songs like “Summertown Rundown” are beautifully bratty,
while “Target H,” “Recognition Scene,” the shaky allure of “Do the Skin Crawl,” “Not
for Nothing,” and “I’m Lost” (hey, is that a little touch of the Splash 4 there?) resound with a pure
punk rock joy that’s impossible to deny. Ah fuck it; yeah, they’re all good. And nice fucking cover art too, man.
Succeeding on as many levels as they do, The Knockout Pills really are the kind of band shitty Seattle bands with stupid
names wish they could be; and, for that reason alone, I like this band so much more.
* * * *
Estrus
Records – www.estrus.com – P.O. Box 2125, Bellingham, WA, 98227
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Whoop-it-up urban hillbilly garage punk here, with the mighty “King Kong”
leading the pack as a wild fucker that fully deserves its own dance. Some of these tunes are a little more laid back than
others (“What I Came Here For”), but some, such as “God Says,” are real barn burners and still more
are as sweet as “Honey.” A fine blend here, what with to stomp and shout and KONK it all out. Now go “King
Kong!”
* * *
Bomp
Records – www.bomp.com – P.O. Box 7112, Burbank, CA, 91510
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