Album Review: SARN - i'm am in dark places

Sometimes, the memories of growing up in the Midwest come flooding back in a vibrant rush, and it’s difficult to perceive why any singular point of reflection still possesses such a hold on my mind. Now, if you’re not familiar with how things work in the center aisle of this country’s landmass, you might mistakenly assume that the most pivotal of my reflections would be the memory of riding a goat to school or something. But alas, it’s nothing so charming as that... no, instead, I’m plagued by memories of how many copies of Herb Alpert’s Whipped Cream & Other Delights I would be confronted with... like, literally everywhere. Plagued— plagued is the proper word for it, because there was just a rash of these things floating around at one point: sticking out from the shelves of records at friends’ parents’ houses, begging to be rehomed at thrift stores and flea markets, and resting in frames in the back bar of local watering holes. Funnily enough, it’s not like anyone could ever tell you anything about the record, despite how numerous it was. I don’t think anyone ever actually listened to the damned thing. Honestly, I think people just liked the lady on the cover... or maybe they just had a sweet tooth... or a very specific fetish... anyway, the weird trick it played on my psychology is that I’ve developed a cordial fascination with records that feature random pretty women on their covers, and that’s more or less how I ended up checking out SARN’s i'm am in dark places. As with Mr. Alpert’s record, the woman on the cover of this LP is a mysterious siren who leaves more questions asked than answered and has almost nothing to do with the music (both women are also wearing white, but that’s about where their similarities end). i'm am in dark places is a weird pop record—specifically, a VERY weird pop record—defined by passive-aggressive countermelodies, post-rock emulations, soothingly demented drum loops, and a preoccupation with pearlescent textures over rough, grounded grooves. It’s a little bit John Dwyer-esque, a little Magnetic Fields, a little Cindy Lee, and kind of a lot of Giant Claw, but much more pared back and focused than anything else I could compare it to. Most of these tracks are content with a core melody that’s developed between SARN’s sparse vocals and a guitar line, which are then braised by some form of electronic interference while simultaneously bickering with an intersecting rhythm that makes them appear to find their momentum out of sheer spite and clumsy ambition. Listening to the record feels a little like SARN is messing with you—seeing if you can predict where their songs could be headed, despite their simplicity and concessions to pop convention (however tortured), only to deny you any anticipated resolution and substitute an extraordinary, if improbable, catharsis in its place. I get that SARN is doing what these songs need, serving their own interests instead of rushing to grant the wishes of the listener, and I appreciate the commitment and circuitous way this music ends up reaching our ears—almost your hearing these songs is a kind of knock-on or concomitant coincidence of their existence rather than their intended purpose. I'm very appreciative of the fact that the mystery of these songs stays intact through the naturally ensuing obscurantism of their conception, and attempting to unwind the tight ball of thorny brush that binds the heart of each song on i'm am in dark places is one of the thrilling reasons it’s been on repeat for me since its release in July of this year. I’ve listened to it in full more times since its release than I have Whipped Cream & Other Delights in the previous three decades... make of that what you will.

The long arc of history bends towards justice death (Deathbomb Arc).

Album Review: Feral Ohms - S/T

Feral Ohms is a gritty, unhousebroken rock ‘n/'r roll presage from Oakland, CA, and side hustle of Comets on Fire’s vocalist/ guitarist Ethan Miller. Their sound is like an unhinged MC5 with a grizzly speckling of psychedelia and noise rock poking its coat like a scaly case of mange. They were in good company when their self-titled album dropped in 2016, as it was an era when wild-eyed mutants like OBN III, Zig Zags, and The Shrine roamed the piss and pilsner-lacquered dens of the American underground like packs of distempered hyenas. The group's self-titled debut studio LP is their only full-length album—if you don’t count live albums (which I don’t). Many of the tracks on this album had previously been released through a series of 7” singles that subsequently slithered free of the suctioned grip of Alternative Tentacles or were featured on their aforementioned live LP, lobbed from the tower of John Dwyer's Castle Face Records. Even with most of these tracks being rehomed for this LP, it’s far from sounding like a second-hand snoozer. Even with most of these tracks being rehomed for the purpose of this LP, it's far from sounding like a second-hand snoozer. “Living Junkyard” is a real kick in the teeth with its muscular anthemic riffs that push the ante of Ethan's mongrel howl straight over the moon. “Super Ape” with its crushing chords, celestial bridges, and earthquakin' bass grooves has all the bone-compacting strength and devastating force of a car-crusher or an industrial-sized blender designed to turn whole steers into beef-purée... and probably puts about as much demand on the local power grid as either as well. Then there are “Sweetbreads” with its Zeppelin aping, arena-sized riffs, and album closer “The Glow” which is a jammy, Soundgarden cribbing, blues freak-out that's about as subtle as a tsunami generated by off-shore atomic testing. It's an ideal record to drop the needle on if you're looking to wind yourself up into a blind frenzy- as applicable and timely today as it was back in 2016. 

Silver Current, rich in talent (ie music not minae).

Album Review: Nanoray - Manzai

I've never been one for game shows. They're mostly the type of entertainment that you watch passively (unless you're a real freak and think you can answer the questions / complete the challenges better than the contestants—in which case, what are you still doing on the couch! Go fulfill your destiny!)... and I tend not to watch if I don't plan to give it 100% of my conscious attention (I understand that I am in the extreme minority in this respect—sorry for calling you all freaks, only to immediately out myself as one as well—ごめんなさい). Still, I'm familiar enough with the concepts of most game shows to be able to peer into and appreciate the vision behind Nanoray's LP Manzai, a breakbeat record grounded in the premise of two up-and-coming comedians (named, for reference, Applemotan and Bananamada) who are conscripted into participating in a surrealist game show, presumably to compete for a grand prize... like a fabulous career in comedy, a high-rise pent-house, a million dollars... and the greatest fortune of them all... their lives. The track sequencing is aptly ordered to facilitate this narrative, and the beats (sonically and story-wise) perfectly convey a sense of rising and falling action, conveying the drama of the characters' circumstances through high-intensity synth warps and washes, zig-zagging and serpentine rhythmic changes that transform the tracks in a shedding metamorphosis along consistent thematic motifs, golden-toned beat interludes that hint at revelations and new information acquired by the characters as they unravel the logic of the adversities they're faced with, puckish sputtering vocal swatchs that humorously and invigoratingly texture topline rhythms, and tense cymbal break-ordered downbeat cacophonies that undergird low and desperate points of conflict in the plot. "Signon" begins with a burst of applause that transitions into an undulating seismic wave of grooves that narrows into a frantic, swirly dash to the finish, providing a preview of the arc of the tone of the album on the whole. The next track, "Samp1," with its overheated synth melodies and sharp, cracked, glassy beats and craggy builds, hints at a rough acquisition phase as the comedians learn the rules to the deadly game they've been enlisted to play. The punchy "Build Shit!" with its squishy mash of beats and sequences suggests that Applemotan and Bananamada have been dropped into some rendition of a live-action Rhythm Heaven Fever, while "Diver" subsists within a gravitationally defined column of plummeting arrangements, punctuated by samples that sound like they've been plundered from various instruments aboard a submarine. Each successive track adds new dimensions, and thus new challenges to be surmounted, such as the springy joust of "UO!," and the depth-charged and humbly delirious blasts of "hh." It's all so vivid and tantalizing to the imagination, eliciting visions of the story's protagonists hopping through non-Euclidean geometry and physics-defying spaces towards a finish line, dodging hazards like enormous balls of spikes, confetti jets that breathe rainbow-hued napalm, and cannons that spit live cobras and scorpions—kind of like a deadly, psychedelic adaptation of Takeshi's Castle or Unbeatable Banzuke... only with a much higher penalty for elimination. I can also imagine there being comedic elements to the challenges as well, like the players having to make situationally appropriate puns to unlock secure doors in a maze, lobbing sick burns at their opponents to activate flame jets on the other player's side of the map to impede their progress, or... I don't know, dodging tomatoes and cream pies packed with C4? There are really infinite possibilities presented by the scenario Nanoray has crafted on this record, and I could literally spend the rest of the day digging through and describing all the strange challenges that it's inspired in my head. The penultimate track "Kama6" proceeds with a deliberate, sure-footed, and earned confidence through treacherous twists and turns that communicates the extent to which the protagonists have mastered the rules of the game and are now able to pass through challenges with ease and grace—presumably while some shadowy mastermind shrieks in a control room backstage, frantically flipping switches and smashing buttons while berating subordinates in a futile bid to prevent our heroes' total triumph against the odds. Afterward, the easy keel, sparkling textures, and relaxed rhythms of the final track "Signoff" can be interpreted as a victory lap, accompanied by a montage of Applemotan and Bananamada signing autographs, accepting bushels of roses, and wading through a swarm of fans and paparazzi as they plod toward a stretch limo in the distance, all the while villains and adversaries lick their wounds and vow revenge. It's the perfect note to end this kind of record on, as well as a great wind-up for a sequel. Now my only question is, when are we going to get Manzai II? 

Album Review: Black Salvation - Uncertainty is Bliss

Dark, heavy, seedy psychedelic rock out of Leipzig Germany. Uncertainty is Bliss is the Relapse Records debut of Black Salvation, the controlled substance-enhanced side project of Uno Bruniusson, lead singer of modern death-rock band Grave Pleasures. It’s hedonistically hypnotic and brimming with magical maleficence, reminiscent of labelmates Ecstatic Vision, but with less guitar wankery. Bruinusson embraces an economical approach to his song-craft, gifting these tracks a tense logic of restraint and secrecy that enhances their shrouded and darkly transcendent appeal. Check out the bluesy bulging chords and tread-jumping groves of “Floating Torpids," the subterranean mysticism, tunneling groves, and mercurial mood shifts of “Breathing Hands," and the haunted, sludgy, suspended and distended 9-minute jam “A Direction is Futile" for a taste of that desolate yearning that beckons to you from beyond the sheath of this mortal veil.

On Relapse... because I am apparently once again covering records from big metal labels... It's like I'm back in 2021 or something.  

Album Review: Jah9 - Note To Self

Jah9 is a Jamaican singer, blessed to be known by friends and family as Janine Elizabeth Cunningham. Her style has been described- by herself, mind you- as “jazz on dub,” combining vocal performances inspired by Nina Simone and Billie Holiday, over Augustus Pablo infused dub rhythms and elements of dancehall- an honest self-assessment if there ever was one. It sometimes pays to be a little skeptical of the ways that artists describe themselves, but as I said, she speaks the truth! Spot the lie and I'll put a pin in my eye.* Essentially, Jah9 has the soul of a classic jazz crooner, thriving in living color on God's green Earth while carrying out the mandates of King Jammy to the letter.** Note To Self, is her fourth studio album and follow-up to her 2017 collaboration with Mad Professor, appropriately named Mad Professor Meets Jah9 in the Midst of the Storm. The themes of NTS album are apporiate to the artists style- confidence, power, and Jah9’s connection with the universe... this last one I can apprcate a lot as the universe can often feel like a foreign place, even to to those of us who are native to the Milky Way, and so it's nice to have someone who feels at home here to show us around and make sure we don't get lost or fall down a well/blackhole/whathaveyou. “Note To Self (Okay)” is a pretty good place to start with this LP, as it has a silky R’nB vibe with a cool, cleansing ripple of reverb flowing through its essence and out its pours. Tracks like “Field Trip” are slightly more complex, and while it's driven by a bold and funky rhythm, its true heart can be found somewhere halfway up a cosmic elm tree, as a harbor between roots and stars. For a more traditional taste of dub, all you have to do is get your arms around the loving slinky squeeze of “Feel Good (The Pinch),” while modern soul parishioners will find their prayers answered by the scorching path of passion and possibility pioneered on “Could It Be” as it lays down some funky soul rhymes with a delicious dub coating. Note To Self: drop the needle and let it ride.

Get your pass to the VP Area (VP Records).

* Speaking purely metaphorically here. Don't expect any follow-through on this one. 

** When it move yuh soul, of course! ... when the music hits, you feel no pain… but, you affi move!

Album Review: Never Dull - Secret Stash Collection I & II

 

It's one thing to put on a great performance, but to see the absolute potential of that performance is something else entirely- it takes a certain level of vision- a gift of precognition and the commitment to grasp it with both hands... or spin it like a top! Never Dull has one such perceptive yield of musical grace about him. Working from live samples, he's able to manifest crisp yet beautifully ambient forms of house and nu disco that find the latent beauty in even the most wayward specimens of sonic particulate, resulting in each scraped scuttling of audio feeling/sounding fresh and unblemished, like a pentimento that becomes more defined with each brush stroke that glides over it. Released in 2020, Collection I is the pressing together of three EPs of the same name, along with a filament of scattered singles and rarities, all of which generally denote Never Dull's crucial attention to the interlacing aspects of groove and melody, composing densely tempered and reverby house that soothes the nerves like a warm kiss on a cool summer night. Collection II rolls together his singles and releases since the previous compilation, and demonstrates his increasing tendency towards tightly structured sequences that exude a sense of loose spontaneity, guided by waiving electric-eel shaped patterns of keys and talkative retro-electro accents that ooze with lysergic flavor, drafted along with enticing vocal melodies that cooly pluck you from your seat and into the train of their tenacious strut. I prefer to listen to both these compilations in sequence and together, as that's how I get the most out of them, as it's the most fun for me and provides the best sense of trajectory that he's pursued as an artist, from his early years on to the present, and this also is why I'm reviewing them together. All told, it's about two hours worth of music, so if you need to break it off, jump around, or just listen to a couple of singles in situ, that's up to you- but I have a feeling that once you slip into the flow of these collections you'll find it's easier to see it through then cut yourself loose from their groovy grip. 

Album Review: CarCrashPoolParty - CarCrashPoolParty EP

CarCrashPoolParty... crashing a pool party with your car... it honestly sounds like the most John Hughes name a band can have... without being a direct reference to any of his works, that is. Like, imagine this, a protagonist drives a car (likely borrowed from a friend's Dad without his permission or knowledge) over a three rows of hedges and into the pool at a country club to break up a party hosted by some hoity rich kid who is bogarting the attention of a gorgeous love interest- a display of churlish heroism and reckless disregard for life, limb, and property that some how saves the day and wins back the girl... I can see it vividly, painted before my eyes in bright '80s Hughes-y hues... of course, the band CarCrashPoolParty, actually has nothing to do with any of this (looking through their discography, I'm not even seeing the shadow of a Sixteen Candles reference... so accusations of affiliation are somewhat unwarranted)- although they're not the type of group I'd except to shy away from brash romantic gestures- in fact their self-titled EP more or less swoons in that direction as a matter of distinction. It's not like allowing yourself to be strung along by your own heart like a sucker tied to a balloon string is an unusual approach for a group playing any sort of emo music, and while they can grace the listener with some downy and wistfully pensive passages, these are measured against a stony sort of angst evident in the brooding guitar work and the intermittent growls of the vocals, both of which speak to an unsated hunger the group is possessed by which has yet to be sated, and which they are discontented by the passage of time towards its resolve. Listening to the careening, teary, gilt, and patter of the confessory "Grieve," and the grippingly ostentatious, spiritual suturing and post-hardcore disaster reporting of "Hovercraft",  you get the sense that whatever sustaining fulfillment or epiphany that can be obtained from love and loss, the group is destined to chase it down rather than allow the universe to swivel on its axis while they wait in place, encountering relevant plot point by inertia alone. This boldness is evident not only in the lyrics but in the extensively ambidextrous construction of these tracks as well, combining elements of shoegaze, emo, parlor jazz, and hardcore into a single coherent narrative thrust. There is another side to the band too, one that seems to exist in a distinct and separate plane of the multiverse, where they are a post-psychedelic anomaly that exists somewhere in the fluxing nexus between Glassjaw and Incubus, but in the iteration of the world in which their self-titled EP is set, CarCrashPoolParty are the protagonists of a gripping melodrama that can only end with them either succeeding despite their foolhardiness, or drowning in a valiant vehicular gesture of smitten courage. Whatever the outcome, this EP gets two thumbs WAY UP from me.