SAINT VITUS - First Album Demo

I gotta give a tip o' thee lid to the legions of nuevo-doom outfits out there. It's gotta be tough making a living outta playing within the heavily scene-enforced signifiers of a marginalized genre (though it seems to've garnered some trendiness as of late). Even in my advanced state of jadedness there's something noble about it I must admit, even if I find listening to said bands about as interesting as watching the dungballs crust upon the ass of a donkey (coughReverendBizarrecough). Oh well, at least those bands have some connection to actual heavy rock, unlike say, SHIT O))), who ARE crusted dungballs.

'Sides, I've got my Pentagram, Candlemass, Pagan Altar and second to only thee Mighty Sabs in thee doom sweepstakes, Saint Vitus albums. This demo is actually a much better listen than the first LP-- it has much crunchier production, so those titanic Dave Chandler power chords crush into yer chest like a sledgehammer, and Scott Reagers' impeccably melodramatic invocations might as well be in yer living room. Ripped at a glorious 320 kbps to maximize yer pleasure.

Tracks:

1. Saint Vitus
2. The Sadist
3. White Magic/Black Magic
4. The Psychopath
5. White Stallions
6. Zombie Hunger
7. Burial at Sea

In comments.

Bela Lugosi's Still Dead BUT...

THE GAULT - Even as All Before Us

San Francisco's John Gossard is one of the most baffling human icebergs plying his trade in the underground metal scene today. He's been involved with some excellent and much-lauded bands like Black Goat, Weakling (with Josh of the Fucking Champs) and currently doom behemoths Asunder, and yet you can count his songs on yer fingers and toes. It seems that in his world, everything needs to be grand, sweeping and EPIC. Not only that, but until Asunder released "Works Will Come Undone" last year, he seemed to have a phobia about appearing on a second release by any outfit with the same moniker. For those in the dark, his stellar guitar work encompasses the thunderous heaviosity of early Swans, the poetic mystique of Burzum and the "anything goes" inventiveness of Neurosis.

The Gault were formed in 1999 by Gossard and another ex-member of Weakling, drummer Sarah Weiner. They recruited bassist/vocalist Lorraine Rath (later of Amber Asylum) and enigmatic lead vocalist Ed "Dead" Kunakemakorn and became, in Gossard's words, "San Francisco's most hated band." Which ain't too hard to believe as the Gault were quite a stylistic U-turn from the ferocious, arty black metal Weakling peddled: they were a pure, no vampire bullshit allowed, goth rock band. Although Kunakemakorn's voice sounds almost unbearably like Peter Murphy (with a dash of Ian Curtis), with their free-form excursions into acid-fried yet corpse clammy experimentation, the long-forgotten outfit that comes most to mind is Arizona's Mighty Sphincter-- in fact, if ya were a fan of theirs, this LP will make yer undies nice 'n' creamy.

My Pick to Click is the 12-minute album centerpiece, "Country Road, Six Miles In." Gossard lays down a shimmering bed of heavily flanged/phased chords before taking off into an nigh psychedelic, apocalyptic netherworld of disjointed riffing-- kinda like free jazz if it'd been invented post-Joy Division-- laying the foundation for a perverse duet between Rath and Kunakemakorn. Rath's voice enters first, sounding timid, almost brittle, but gains power with every phrase until reaching into an operatic stratosphere not unlike the Cocteau Twins' Liz Fraser... positively gorgeous. Gorgeous that is until Ed Dead joins the fray with his cadaver croon. I'm telling ya kids, this dude sounds like one of the most tormented human beings to ever haunt this doomed mudball. Don't take my word for though, check it out...

In comments.


DEATH SS - In Death of Steve Sylvester [1988]

All youse hysterically lefty types can stop wringing yer manicured little paws right now-- the "SS" stands for Steve Sylvester, the band's vocalist, and hey, KISS approximated the Waffen-Schutzstaffel logo too... so fucking chill. Anyway, with that outta the way (why I continue to care I have no idea), here's the lowdown on Death SS: they were formed in 1977 in Pesaro, Italy by doom/psych guitar wizard Paul Chain and the aforementioned Mr. Sylvester, both of whom shared a love for B-horror flicks and Alice Cooper. They recorded a slew of great singles & EP's with a crude, garage-metal sound and took to stages with each member dressed up as different monsters (Vampire, Mummy, Werewolf etc.), until Chain got religion, causing 'em to disband in 1984 (actually, he already had religion, but it was that of a Satanic Sect; word is he'd conducted a few black masses and that kinda shit).

Steve Sylvester resurrected the band in 1988 with all new members: Christian Wise (guitar), Kurt Templar (guitar), Erik Landley (bass) and Boris Hunter (drums). It is this lineup that recorded this LP, their first official full-length. All of the tracks-- with the exception of the Alice Cooper cover, "I Love the Dead," natch-- are re-recordings of material on those fabled early works. Powered by Sylvester's insectival invocations ("unique" doesn't even begin to describe his voice), Death SS Mk.II added some (very) slight sophistication to their sound, incorporating malevolent keyboard texturing, razor-sharp thrashy guitar riffing and an obsession with dank, claustrophobic atmosphere. They still exist today albeit as a Gothic Club-Boy band with Sylvester as the only constant-- playing to legions of fuckwits wearing musty capes with their canine teeth filed into fangs and one of Anne Rice's Harlequin Romances disguised as a bloodsucker epics cradled tight to their breasts.

In comments.

YAY! Bonus Album!! (or over-ambitiousness, I dunno)


ZESS - Et In Arcadia Ego [2004]

In my neverending quest to stay within Uncle Frank Zappa's theorem of Conceptual Continuity, I present to thee yet another Italian combo-- in this case, one utterly and completely influenced by the one I just finished beating my gums about. This outfit is shrouded in mystery, but what I do know about 'em is that they split in 1988, recorded the material contained here between 1987-88, and that their membership was Mercy (Vocals), Lord Ruthven (Guitar), Dr. Polidori (Guitar), Dr. Freudstein (Bass) and F. Rosenkrantz (Drums & Synth). They were obviously heavily enamored with Paul Chain-era Death SS, right down to the ultra-kooky vox and B-movie obsessions. But why oh why would ya need a clone band of Death SS, you ask? Well... there ain't many of 'em for starters, which makes this platter an oddity already, but what really matters is that they manage to outdo the Old Masters at times. Great gargantuan riffs St. Vitus' Dave Chandler would be proud of, as well as reckless, wah'd guitar solos every bong-huffing stoner or self-righteous doomer will instantly fall in love with. Whatever, I expect about 15 of y'all TOTAL to take the plunge with what I've presented here, so until next time...

Dig the comments, doofus.

The Lights, the Sound, the Rhythm, the Noise

FLIPPER - Blow'n Chunks (1983)

Didja see "American Hardcore" yet? Didja catch the part when that weaselly little asswipe Moby claimed to've been an erstwhile member of Flipper? Did it make ya wish ya could reach through the TV screen so's to lay a solid coupla left hooks into that noggin of his; that plucked pate often mistaken for a shriveled ballsack? If not, you don't have enough fire in yer belly... go on, Hate is Healthy, those fiery shots of adrenaline keep the cholesterol down. Ya don't wanna let that black poison sit there, liable to leak into yer helpless gizzard-- that's the kinda thing that causes cancer (NOTE: I'm not a doctor, but I've had intimate relations with a nurse before... as good a qualification as any, methinks). Somehow, I have my doubts that a gutless corporate pig of his ilk, so swift in his cowardice to appease The Powers That Be that he nearly snaps his ankles, woulda had the gonads to hang with the big boys of scuzzy inepto-scree. I mean, that wimp actually changed the name of Mission of Burma's "That's When I Reach for my Revolver" to "That's When I Realize It's Over" so his worthless cover version would get airplay! Now, y'all might think I've devoted too much space to bashing the little dickhead, but as a certain modern day prophet, Mr. Bill Hicks, once rightly opined re: the Mobys of the World: "They are DEMONS... set loose upon the Earth... to LOWER THE STANDARDS!"

Casting all disdain for Suckers of Satan aside, this priceless document of Flipper's November 1983 CBGB gig is the band in their element. Ted Falconi's churning guitar melds with the dual bass attack of Bruce Lose and Will Shatter to create a hypnotic wall of sludge you can almost see. (It may sound blasphemous-- like I give a fuck-- but the closest thing I've heard that compares is Crazy Horse, with or without Neil, but particularly on the "Arc" set, which was an assembled collection of their most transcendentally noisy moments). The version of "Shed No Tears" here is definitive-- it rumbles along at about 5 mph like a 200-Lb. slug, making early Melvins sound like speed metal. "Ha Ha Ha" is so completely tuneless that it becomes something exquisite-- a goulash of buzzing amplifiers, Steve DePace's ever-wandering timekeeping (which becomes a living organism unto itself) and Bruce ad-libbing bizarre declarations like: "Sounds like Pete Townshend, right? Bah, whatever his name is... he's in Pink Floyd anyway." It's an intuitive form of cacophony that proves everybody CAN'T do it. Seriously, have ya ever heard any band that sounds even remotely like Flipper? Didn't think so.

In comments unless ya love Moby.


MERZBOW - Frog (2001)

With about 3,592 to choose from, I'm kinda um... sure "Frog" is my favorite Merzbow album. As is always the case, it's packed with them there spleen-bursting high-end frequencies we've all come to know and love, but Thee Merz chisels some interesting nuances into his noise sculptures this time around. Y'see, this opus ain't called "Frog" for the hell of it-- all five pieces are based around the sounds emitted by said creatures. And I'm not talkin' about stuff like "J'ai demandé à un Canadien ce que je devrais à emporter comme souvenir de mon voyage là. Il a recommandé une barre de savon classée par famille," smartass. Nay, I'm referring to the little green beasties that make that oh-so-charming "ribbit, ribbit" noise. It's a similar approach to Aube's single source "designs" (his term, not mine). Of course Aube's albums don't gouge into yer eardrums but...

Most importantly, it is a powerful sonic weapon if you happen to suffer from the recent and diabolical plague of "metrosexual" neighbors-- as I do. They blast their eighth or ninth-tier hip hop (coincidence, no?) at unbearable volumes on a regular basis, yet I never let it get to me for I have thee Tonic. Slap this monster on and roll around the living room with tears of laughter in yer eyes as the hapless twits wander around outside with bewildered looks on their faces--- trying desperately to find the source of the killer amphibian threatening to swallow 'em whole. Ah... sometimes Life is Good.

In comments.

Broken Legs, Broken Face, Blood Everywhere

NECRONOMICON (Ger) - Tips zum Selbtsmord (1972)

The next time some needle-dicked knowitall tries to lay that "there was nuthin' as heavy as Sabbath in the early 70's, dude" trip on ya, sit their sorry ass down for a spin of this beast (Hopefully you have the original edition, limited to 500 copies, with the six-panel gatefold that forms a huge cross and the insert that features a pile of mangled corpses). If ya don't smell 'em first, these "people" are easy enough to spot: they tend to wear denim jackets with the sleeves crudely hacked off-- at least a size too small-- covered with patches of mediocre bands, nicotine stains up to their elbows (yup, I smoke too, but I also bathe) and facial hair that resembles a diseased Chia Pet. I wish I was being a smartarse or merely exhibiting my not so latent misanthropy, but take it as a Public Service Announcement. Trust me: I know these things.

Speaking of misanthropy, ya gotta know that a band that takes the name of HP Lovecraft's (or the "Mad Arab," Abdul Alhazred depending on your level of naivety) infamous fictional manuscript, and calls their first (and only) LP "Tips to Commit Suicide," ain't exactly "People Persons". That impression is reinforced by the subject matter of their lyrics which deal almost exclusively with man's impending demise. In fact, much of it seems like giddy anticipation for Armageddon; a fully-formed philosophy of "Love Earth, Hate Humanity" (which would become the stock-in-trade of SoCal sludgesters, Dystopia, for an obvious example, twenty years later). The music conjured to orchestrate their grim tales of ecological disaster and the inhumanity of humans is built around barbaric acid-prog, with mammoth power chords and dense percussion. Detours are made into Pagan Ritualistic motifs that seem designed to awaken lost memories of ancient times in the collective unconscious. With nigh operatic, funereal femme backing vox, Aphrodite's Child is a comparison that springs to mind, but this shit is far more diabolical, intangibly sinister and emotionally suffocating.

Postius Scrotius: Although they are almost always lumped in with the innumerable hordes of so-called "Krautrock" bands, I feel Necronomicon stand alone as a genre unto themselves. I have yet to hear music as outrageously original as "Selbtsmord" by any of the beyond boring swill that most often sounds, to these ears at least, like a buncha hippies desperately trying to emulate turgid wank like Yes or ELP without the chops. A certain outfit that has a name that sounds an awful lot like a deodorant comes to mind. Oh well, not everybody could be Can, Faust, Neu!, Amon Düül II... or Necronomicon.

In comments.


VARIOUS - Can't Stop It!: Australian Post Punk (1978-82)

"Post-punk" is one of those bourgeois rockcrit terms that makes my stomach turn. What it basically implies is that the music is influenced by punk, but has been neutered by their kind; not the hapless proles that came up with the shit in the first place. So lesee, if Gang of Four say, are "post-punk," does that make Bobby Vinton "post-rockabilly"? Or, for a more modern take, the Afghan Whigs "post-hairbands"? Really. Fucking. Stupid. Term. Be that as it may, whatcha got here is a collection of Aussies injecting some art-wank tendencies into their punk.

I must admit that a lotta this stuff fails to get me even a tenth hard. Far too often I'm reminded of the Talking Heads crossed with the Undertones-- which is a mixture they'll be playing to me in Hell if such a place exists. But then, as almost all hope has disintegrated, synth-punk monsters the Primitive Calculators (watch for a full-length feature/LP in the near future if I haven't gone self-destructo on you ungrateful bastards by then) who take Suicide's blueprint, throw it down the toilet and create something as ferocious as it is high-falutin'... that's more like it, about three-quarters erect now... then, the Slugfuckers. Their contribution, suitably entitled "Cacophony," is a miasma of treated analog keyboard skronk that rivals early Half Japanese in lovable unlistenability. Now I'm standing at attention!

Track List:

1 The Moodists - Gone Dead
2 Voigt/465 - Voices a Drama
3 The Take - Summer
4 Essendon Airport - How Low Can You Go?
5 The Apartments - Help
6 Ash Wednesday - Love By Numbers
7 Primitive Calculators - Pumping Ugly Muscle
8 The Makers of the Dead Travel Fast - The Dumb Waiters
9 Ron Rude - Piano Piano
10 Xero - The Girls
11 The Limp - Pony Club
12 The Fabulous Marquises - Honeymoons
13 The Slugfuckers - Cacophony
14 Equal Local - Lamp That
15 Tame O'Mearas - Sweat and Babble
16 The Particles - Apricot's Dream
17 People with Chairs Up Their Noses - Song of the Sea
18 Wild West - We Can Do
19 The Pits - Words
20 →↑→ - One Note Song

In comments.


BURMESE - A Mere Shadow & Reminiscence of Humanity (2001)


San Francisco's Burmese had a serious dilemma: do we wanna play like Whitehouse or Man Is the Bastard? After what I'm sure was a long, frustrating bout of pondering this stylistic quagmire, they came up with Thee Perfect Solution-- by playing both simultaneously. If yer a fan of serious scree, a glance at the song titles will letcha know this can't miss: the title of this post is one of 'em, as well as "Bukkake Ongaku" and "Stripped Clean"-- and I can assure y'all that they're every bit as pulverizing and obnoxious as would be expected. The "Two Mikes and a John" utilize a two bass/drums lineup-- no guitars to inject unneeded subtleties like melody-- that's for pussies. The vocals range from Cookie Monster grunts to a positively uncanny approximation of William Bennett's high-pitched caterwauling. One of the most extreme bands still  terrorizing people who buy their style and outlook from Hot Topic today.

In comments-- and try leaving one if it won't bruise yer precious widdle fingertips.

Pantheon II

I think something we often lose sight of as fans, and ESPECIALLY as music bloggers is the fact that a pretty sizable majority of Thee Greatest R&R Ever Made wasn't created by long-forgotten artists with two songs to their credit. Nor is it measured by "only five copies ever pressed but three were smashed by the bass player's girlfriend" rarity. Nope. It's all about passionate performances and excellent songwriting. Music that is LIVED to: be it when you discovered you could do more'n pee with certain organs, or when you needed a tonic to sooth the lingering sores left in the aftermath of such discoveries (literally and figuratively). I admit I'm as guilty as anyone of such elitist bullshit, so here's an attempt to not only remedy that situation--if only a small step towards doing so--as well another heapin' helpin' of some unabashed honesty...


THIN LIZZY - Bad Reputation (1977)

The very first Lizzy LP I ever owned. I'm almost positive that at the time I had no knowledge of the fact they were the outfit responsible for mega-hit "The Boys are Back in Town" -- I was about eleven years old at the time, only beginning my lifetime music obsession. This was part of a pile o' stuff an elder relative passed on to me, knowing I had a taste for arena-sized hooks and power chords (as I've pointed out elsewhere, my first vinyl purchase was Cheap Trick's "Live at Budokan"). And what can I say? From the sinuous keyboard lines that open one of Phil Lynott's many excellent anti-war hymns, "Soldier of Fortune" to the autobiographical tale (I'm guessing) of young lust set to a smoky, lounge-pop groove that is "Dancing in the Moonlight," Lizzy album #8 has it all. Everything that is, except the sweet guitar tones of Brian "Robbo" Robertson. Although he's credited, the patented Lizzy twin axe harmonies are handled exclusively (through the modern marvel of overdubbing) by his partner-in-shred, Scott Gorham. Shit, how wasted would ya hafta be to get the boot from this band??! Well... guessing from Robbo's future behavior in Motörhead, like wearing a pink tutu onstage and refusing to play "Ace of Spades," I'd say veerrry.

But fuck all that. What's important is that this album still sounds as great as it did more years ago than I care to remember, although one thing I gotta mention, simply cuz it's stuck in my craw as of late: the rumor mill has been reporting that one of the mucho bland dorks from CSI (Gary Dourdon, who was recently arrested with a veritable pharmacy in his car) is slated to play Phil in an upcoming biopic based on the book his Ma wrote, "My Boy." Hollywood: please fuck off. Your record of properly portraying the lives of rockers fills me with the same kinda confidence I have in Tom Cruise's views on modern medicine and religion. On a brighter note, here's Phil's Memorial statue in Dublin-- finally, someone who actually deserves to be immortalized!



Look in comments.


AC/DC - Bon Scott Rarities (Bootleg)

Whew! 'Twas a chore deciding which slab to represent my undying love for Ackyl Dackyl. "Powerage" is the first one that actually shook me all night long, but I'm sure any self-respecting fan already has it-- probably in multiple formats. Dammit though, I hadda scribe something about thee Masters of Antipodean Thunder so I decided to split the difference by yankin' out this bootleg of demos, alternate takes and b-sides. In truth, the title is a bit of a misnomer as a sizable chunk o' the cuts featured here will be old hat to Aussies and collector geeks. Shit, for all I know some of 'em have been added to recent reissues-- I wouldn't know; all my AC/DC stuff has always been, and shalt forever be, on sweet, cracklin' vinyl.

Now don't get me wrong, ol' Helium Lungs Brian Johnson deserves a lotta credit for stepping into a difficult situation and comin' up boxcars with "Back in Black"-- this only a fool could deny. Yet he never exuded the reptilian confidence of his precursor. What the hell is it about Bon Scott that holds so many of us in thrall for all these years? The guy was a midget with a nasal, borderline irritating voice but we can't let thee legend die. And don't give me the "cuz he's dead" line-- I was a fan while he was alive, so I know different. Nope, I think it's something I touched on at the beginning of this screed: it's music you can live to, and sounds lived in. There's never a doubt in yer mind that Bon Scott experienced firsthand every goddamn filthy misadventure he spat out; that alone provides more'n a few vicarious thrills. I certainly recall a whole lot more shock than surprise upon hearing of his untimely demise. His death seemed all but a foregone conclusion. Regardless, this fine collection of odds & sods should delight all and sundry-- particularly those who haven't heard 'em all yet.

Track list:

1. Dirty Eyes
2. Touch Too Much (Alt. Take)
3. If You Want Blood (Demo)
4. Back Seat Confidential
5. Get It Hot (Alt. Take)
6. School Days
7. Crabsody in Blue
8. RIP (Rock in Peace)
9. Love Song
10. Little Lover (Alt. Take)
11. Stick Around
12. Cold Hearted Man
13. Can I Sit Next to You, Girl? (Original version)
14. Rockin' in the Parlour
15. Down on the Borderline

Oh, and Hey Sydney! Where's Bon's statue?

In comments.

Reality Has Got to Die!

HAIRY CHAPTER - Can't Get Through (1971)

Y'know, I was listening to Raven's "Back to Ohio Blues" (search the blog; I'm sick of pinging back to myself) on shuffle the other day, and when this slab of Kraut depravity followed, I could barely tell 'em apart. The same kinda leaden, honky blues ya'd usually expect from dope-addled Yanks is here in abundance. And the lyrics? Kee-rist! We be talkin' bout some borderline lysergic psychosis, chillen! There's a certain brand of brain-damaged zeal that can't be ignored, at least not around this cyber-dump-- and Hairy Chapter exemplified it for a blissful few moments in 1971.

Originally bearing the unwieldy moniker Concentric Movement (as whom they recorded the über-obscure "Electric Music for Dancing" LP), Harry Titlbach (guitar), Harry Unte (guitar, vocals), Werner Faus (drums) and Rudolf Oldenburg (bass) had been kicking around since the mid-60's in one form or another in and around their home base of Bonn, Germany. They'd released "Eyes" in 1969, a relatively polite garage-punk offering for the minuscule Opp label, which, despite being mediocre at best, got 'em signed to Polygram and the services of legendary producer, Dieter Dirks (Scorpions, Accept, Cosmic Jokers etc.). We'll never know if it was his stellar knob-twistin' or some intangible force of cosmic sleazery that was making the air crackle around 'em-- but somehow the tentative steps towards debauched geetar slop and horny surrealism accelerated in the already fevered minds (and genitalia) of Hairy Chapter faster'n a mainlined MDMA/Viagra cocktail. Whatever that fleeting muse may've been, it must enter our orbit about as often as Hailey's Comet-- I've heard very few exercises in troglodyte thud quite like "Can't Get Through."

Harry Titlbach is an unheralded fretboard-molester I would rank somewhere in between Edgar Breau (Simply Saucer if ya don't know) and Randy Holden... yes, he's that fucking good. I have this picture of him in my mind's eye-- created solely on the merits of his six-string savagery, mind-- I've never actually seen a picture of 'im much bigger'n a postage stamp, that looks a bit like this:

Of course, y'all will hafta use yer imagination as I have no fucking time/desire to Photoshop an axe into his mitts. And not cuz I figger he dug wasting time copping Rock God poses; simply that he'd need to play with his face far away from the sparks generated by his barbaric flailing or risk scorchin' his damn head bald! Every hot lick sounds like it was squeezed out with sheer desperation; like he could hear the clock tickin' on his mortality. Doesn't matter if it's the Paul Kossoff-in-a-blender blues squeals of the title cut or the charmingly un-groove-vay stab at funkifying on the languid "There's a Kind of Nothing," there's an omnipresent urgency that'll make yer palms sweat if ya allow yourself to succumb to Thee Titlbach Squawk.

Geezus! Nearly 500 words and I haven't even gotten to the other Harry-- that being Mr. Unte, who was so horned up whilst penning the lyrics, he musta entered an agonizing psychological purgatory packed with fresh flesh that taunted/haunted him day and night. How else do you explain the transcendental groin thunder of album centerpiece "It Must Be An Officer's Daughter"??! This is where he drools to his paramour, "I wanna ball you all night long/I wanna hold your luscious breasts... and feel your 27 fingers explode inside my body!!" Holy shit, Harry! What kinda chicks were ya "balling"??! Believe me, you may laugh the first time ya hear such ruminations, but when you check it out a few more times, you'll realize that this motherfucker was serious-- verbiage like that doesn't tend to be used on top (snicker) of a lumbering Sabbariffic arrangement very often.

More Wisdom from Harry Unte, that in a perfect world, would be all over bumper stickers:

- The title of this post.
- "My education will never let me be free."
- "My parents tried to make a white person out of me."

Collect 'em all in the comments.

Short Sharp Shocks Revisited

PAINTBOX (Jpn) - Singing Shouting Crying (1999)

{First off, I must confess I haven't been in the mood to write at all lately-- so I'm gonna give y'all a Reader's Digest version this time around.}

Expertly executed Motörthrash/Burning Spirits-style hardcore featuring the late, great Chelsea on guitar--whom you should remember from thee most excellent Death Side. Paintbox are much in the same vein, with blistering tempos fused with the same kinda soaring, melodic lead fretwork you'd expect on a Thin Lizzy or Iron Maiden album.

In comments.


VARIOUS - Killed By Hardcore Vols. 1-3

Essential (bootleg) international hardcore comps from the same folks who brought ya the "Killed By Death" series, Redrum Records; before the series got deregulated and every beer-bellied, clueless old punker started yankin' out limp powerpop crap I wouldn't wipe my ass with. I think the track lists tell the story far more eloquently than I ever could-- if not, y'all best get Googlin' to edumacate yer damn selves.

NOTE: Pass for all three = sln2008

Volume 1 track list:

1. Public Opinion (Urban Waste, USA, 1982, from only 7")
2. Koruse (Gasmask, Japan, 1985)
3. Utopia (Terveet Kadet, Finland, 1982, from 3.7" [Aareton Joulu EP])
4. Moral (Sound Of Disaster, Sweden, 1985)
5. Going On (Nog Watt, Holland, 1984, from Fear EP)
6. Broken Promises (No Pigs, Holland)
7. Taking Away Your Rights (NOTA, USA, 1984, from Moscow EP)
8. Deo Fora (Colera, Brazil, 1985, from Deo Fora EP [Belgium release])
9. Riot (Actives, UK, 1983, from Riot EP)
10. Clutch The Flag (Capital Scum, Belgium, 1985, from Clutch The Flag EP)
11. Fuck It (The Left, USA, 1983, from "Hell ... It's The World 12")
12. Dead Generation (Ultraviolent, UK, 1982, from Crime From Revenge EP)
13. In This Town (Fix, USA, 1980, from 1.7") [actually a different version from Cold Days LP]
14. Born Prejudice (America's Hardcore, USA, from Welcome To Slimy Valley compilation LP)
15. Punks United (Fallout, Italy, 1982, from s/t EP)
16. 1984 (Genetic Control, Canada, 1984, from First Impressions EP)
17. America's Power (Youth Patrol, 1981, from Process Of Elimination compilation EP)
18. Ajatuksen Loppu (Lama, Finland, 1983, from 4.7")
19. Home, Religion, Native Country (Kansan Uutiset, Finland, 1983, from Beautiful Dreams LP)
20. Shell Helpt (Indirekt, Holland, 1985, from s/t LP)
21. Black Sheep (Nihilistics, USA, 1983, from s/t LP)
22. Going Back (Execute, Japan, 1985, from Blunt Sleazy 7")
23. No Illusions (State, USA, 1983, from No Illusions EP)

Get it here.

Volume 2 track list:

1. Fame (Zmiv, Holland, 1982, from only 7" [Banzai! Here's Zmiv Beware EP])
2. Dying In Maze (Headcleaners, Sweden, 1981, from 1.7" [Disinfection EP])
3. Mai (Indigesti, Italy, 1982, from split EP with Wretched)
4. Misguided Missile Mouth (E-13, USA, 1984, from only 7" [No Mercy For Swine EP])
5. Dead Section (Ikka Shinjyuu, Japan, 1985, from flexi)
6. Land Of The Brave (Mecht Mensch, USA, 1983, from only 7" [Acceptance EP])
7. Mad At The World (YDI, USA, 1983, from A Place In The Sun EP)
8. Elintilaa (Riistetyt, Finland, 1982, from 1.7" [Laki Ja Jarjestys EP])
9. No Explanations (Suburban Mutilation, USA, 1983, from The Opera Isn't Over LP)
10. Miseria e Fome (Inocentes, Brasil, 1983, from Miseria e Fome EP)
11. Det Er Bare Logn (Betong Hysteria, Norway, 1981, from only 7" [Spontan Abort EP])
12. Think Of England (Instant Agony, UK, 1982, from 1.7" [Think of England EP])
13. Starve To Death (Vorkriegsphase, Germany, 1983, from only 7" [Scheisskrieg EP])
14. Religios Terror (Fader War, Norway, 1981, from Ingenting For Norge compilation LP)
15. Man's Ruin (Target Of Demand, USA, 1981, from Man's Ruin LP)
16. I'm In Love With Nancy Reagan (TMA, USA, 1983, from Hardcore Takes Over compilation LP)
17. Your Mother Sucks Cocks In Hell (Agent Orange, Holland, 1983, from 1.7")
18. Religion (E.A.T.E.R., Sweden, 1983, from Doomsday Troops EP)
19. No More No (Kuro, Japan, 1984, from 1 of 2 flexi's that came with "Fire" 7")
20. Pressform (Extrem, Austria, 1983, from split LP with Mickeyman)
21. Acid Casualty (Koro, USA, 1983, from only 7" [s/t EP])
22. Vagra (Disarm, Sweden, 1985, from 2.7" [Disarm EP])
23. No End In Sight (Abused, USA, 1983, from Loud & Clear EP)
24. Guai A Voi! (Cani, Italy, 1984, from only 7" [Guai A Voi! EP])
25. Man-Rape Blues/Mucho Macho (Chronic Sick, USA, 1982, from Cutest Band In Hardcore 12")

Get it here.

Volume 3 track list:

1. Definitions (Vile, USA, 1983, from Vile Solution LP)
2. Tutti Pazzi (Negazione, Italy, 1983, from split tape with Declino (later issued as a 12"))
3. Farvel Moder Jord (Bannlyst, Norway, 1985, from only 7")
4. Fuck Everything (No Thanks, USA, from only 7")
5. Jitoku (Rebel, Japan, 1983, from only 7"?)
6. In My Room (Deep Wound, USA, 1983, from only 7")
7. Your (Final Conflict, USA, 1983, from only 7')
8. Painajainen (Appendix, Finland, 1983, from only 7")
9. Kuken ar mitt redskap (far pissa i din ficks) (Homy Hogs, Sweden, 1984, from 12" EP)
10. Paha, Kuolema (Rutto, Finland, 1984, from 2.7" [Ilmastoitu Painajainen EP])
11. Ayatollah (Sotlimpa, Sweden, 1984, from 12" EP)
12. Dying In The Street (Mornington Crescent, Holland, 1983, from only 7" [Greetings From Amsterdam EP])
13. Muito Obrigado (Olho Seco, Brazil, 1983, from 1.7" [Botas, Fuzis, Capacetes EP])
14. Drag Addict (Gauze, 1982, from City Rockers compilation LP)
15. Blodig Stad (Absurd, Sweden, 1983, from only 7")
16. Bang Bang Bang (Patriots, USA, 1983, from only 7")
17. Grand Old Flag (Pig Children, USA, 1985, from Blood For The State 12")
18. Attack (Rappresaglia, Italy, 1982, from Skins e Punks = TNT compilation EP)
19. Systematikk (Svart Framtid, Norway, 1984, from only 7")
20. Han-Sen (Gas, Japan, 1983, from "No More Hiroshima" flexi)
21. Crossroads (Electric Deads, Denmark, 1983, from 3.7" [Mind Bomb EP])
22. In School (Die Kreuzen, USA, 1982, from only 7" [Cows & Beer EP])
23. Ihmisen Aani (Pyhakoulu, Finland, 1984, from split EP with Abortti 13)
24. I'm Lazy (Child Abuse, USA, 1983, from only 7")
25. Disobey (Systematic Death, Japan, 1984, from 7" flexi)
26. Hoax (Malinheads, Germany, 1983, from only 7")
27. Loud and Fast (The Worst, USA, 1983, from Expect The Worst 12")

Get it here.

To Muthas on Mother's Day

HELLCHILD - Tribute Medley (1999)

Japan's Hellchild were thee epitome of "punk-metal" in the best sense of the term. That is, they combined the feral intensity of the former with the chunky, sophisticated riffing of the latter. You will not be subjected to anything remotely resembling that infernal screamo bullshit-- no floppy bangs, no warmed-over At the Gates riffs and most importantly, no "sensitive guy" born-without-a-dick lyrics. Although in this case the words are moot as this Big 10-inch Record is a collection of covers in homage to thee cocaine decade-- the 1980's.

As the title of this opus would imply, the tracks are strung together as a medley, all done up nicely in thee Hellchild style of inimitably biting geetar-maulin', tonsil-shreddin' grunts and a crushing rhythm section that'll slap yer worthless ass around with less mercy than a Hell's Angel on Seconal and cheap red wine. A big part of the fun is figgerin' out the sources. First cut "Speed Metal Hell," ... L'see I hear Whiplash, Exodus and Metallica-- but I ain't gonna spoil yer fun... check it out for your own damn selves. Ditto track 2, "Rock & Roll Motherfuckers": The Crüe's "Kickstart My Heart" and U2's "New Year's Day" make up the majority of this 11-minute trawl through songs ya wish ya'd forgotten, but there's other themes/riffs to be picked out by the astute among you. The final slab is a blistering reading of Thee Mighty G.I.S.M.'s "Shoot to Kill"... 'nuff said, methinks.

In comments-- then head over to Sector 2814 for their "Circulating Contradiction" LP.

Kick to Kill

TEST DEPT. - Beating the Retreat (1984)


Being a New World Man of thee Kanück Mütt persuasion, I have little to no grasp of the British class system. As far as I can figger-- at least where it is applied to underground musicians-- is that one should be "working class," not speak with a "posh accent" and for thee Love of Lucifer: no fooking way can you have attended a school where the tuition exceeds a few hundred pounds. Also I've duly noted that British folks sho' like to yammer on about it-- especially Oi! bands and Ray Davies.

A lovely British um... "bird" once explained to me that Test Dept. were a hyper-liberal bunch whose songs tackled much of what I failed to understand above, even going so far as to collaborate with a Miner's Union Choir in support of their strike of 1984-- (at least I think that was the gist of it... she had a really heavy accent) and here I thought their lyrics were nothing more than monosyllabic utterances of cathartic rage. I mean, what was I supposed to think? These New Cross, London blokes used discarded hunks of scrap metal from local factories to create a pulverizing form of musique concrete that has since become the soggy, pre-packaged rebellion known as industrial music. Luckily, they sound nothing like the tripe the kids think is all "heavy" n' shit like Marilyn and Two-Inch Male (bet those guys went to Ivy League schools). Nope. Here's where the sheep get separated from the goats, matey. Ya got drill bits spinnin' into yer skull and tribal beats that sound like they were pounded out on the lids of barrels of toxic waste.

In comments.


CORONER - Death Cult Demo (1986)

{First off, inspiration for this entry goes to the lovely & talented Mogo for his recent post of this here band's "No More Color" LP}

Switzerland has given us quality, if not quantity-- ya got chocolate, watches, cheese, Hellhammer/Celtic Frost, Fear of God, Messiah, Samael before they went all techno-wimp, Jack & the Rippers, Negativ, Sperma, Glueams, garage-punk heroes the Sevens and a handful of hardcore bands I'm not in the mood to type right now. Oh... and these guys. Hailing from Zürich, Coroner would become renowned as virtuosos of thee highest order for thee bewildering complexity of LP's like "Mental Vortex" and the aforementioned "No More Color." In 1986 however, they were still primitive thrashers not unlike countrymen Hellhammer whose Tom G. Warrior provides the vocals for this here demo. The sound quality is crisp, and has that most excellent farty bass sound lovers of metal demo tapes have grown to love (or at least I have). Best of all, of the six tracks featured here, only "Spiral Dream" was ever given the full studio treatment (on their debut album).

Track list:

1. Spectators of Sin
2. Spiral Dream
3. Aerial Combat
4. The Invincible
5. Arrogance in Uniform*
6. Hate, Fire, Blood*

* = bonus tracks featuring Ron "Royce" Broder on vox.

In the comments.

Chromosome Damage Thee IIIrd

CHROME - 3rd from the Sun (1982)

Since I've already scribed plenty of pointless gibberish about Helios Creed, Damon Edge & Co. here and here, might as well get straight to the seven-horned beast that is "3rd from the Sun." From a personal standpoint, I consider it their magnum opus-- most likely this stems from the fact that I'm a distorto-guitar loony, and this monster is a Helios Creed album to the nth degree. It is also about as "commercial" as Chrome ever got, with stripped-down arrangements that although not completely excised of their sci-fi obsessions, aim mainly at creating big ol' fat gloom-laden rock.

Recorded live in the studio, most tracks are built around singular riffs that are bent into surreal forms with Creed's arsenal of effects, though never quite into the burnt-out oblivion of earlier albums. Damon Edge's blissed out Moog excursions are toned down, though still integral to the overall band dynamic, which by now included the Stenchs: John (drums) and Hillary (bass, who also provides some ethereal backing vox). Of particular note is the album's centerpiece, the eight-minute "Armageddon," which takes you where Hawkwind feared to tread: a multi-layered workout of treated guitar squall, "found sound" electronic detritus and a seemingly infinite chant of the song's title. A definitive hunk o' Chromology.

In comments.


RAMLEH - Blowhole (1991)


Croydon, UK's Ramleh began life in 1982 as a power electronics outfit á la Whitehouse; their vokillist Phillip Best would in fact become a member in the mid-90's for "Cruise," "Mummy & Daddy" and "Bird Seed." Along with guitarist Gary Mundy, they pulled the kinda stunts that are now all too familiar to fans of the form-- including releasing a cassette ("21/5/62/82") to commemorate the execution of Nazi war criminal, Adolf Eichmann (they have since disavowed their flirtations with extreme right wing ideology). Their label, Broken Flag Records, became an early home for Matthew Bower's avant guitar project Skullflower-- which Mundy began contributing to-- laying the foundation for the direction Ramleh would pursue in their nineties incarnation.

If you can imagine what Killing Joke's "Fall of Because" would sound like had it been infused with the headswirling lysergic dirge-sludge of Skullflower's "IIIrd Gatekeeper," you have a tenuous, though not entirely inaccurate picture of the murk presented on "Blowhole." Best's vocals are buried deep in the mix, sounding like desperate screams from the bottom of a well while Mundy provides colossal layers of super-fuzzed glop that shift in levels of intensity and distortion. This heady combo is punctuated by tribal beats courtesy of what sounds like synthetic thud, though one can never be sure with the clinical production applied here. As far as I know, this was an LP-only release that has yet to see the light of day on the oh-so-popular digital format, so get yer fave volatile cocktail nearby and suck it up...

In thee comments.

Pretty Ugly

CROMAGNON - Orgasm

Yeah sure, everybody prattles on about these so-called "fucked up" records alla time to the point where the term loses its edge entirely. Is it REALLY fucked up, or does it merely offend the sensibilities of the same twits who have built little Ikea record collections based on MTV or "hipness"? Shit, some people think Ween or John Zorn is/was way out there, whereas I find them to be disposable pap that stole its soul from early Zappa (former) or Carl Stalling's work on Warner Bros. cartoons (latter). Which brings me to an album that truly IS fucked up: Cromagnon's ORGASM. Before I go too deep into scribing here, for history's sake I'll point out that this sucka appeared in 1968 on ESP-disk, mavericks among mavericks in the musick biz. They brought us Sun Ra's HELLIOCENTRIC WORLDS, the first two Fugs platters, Albert Ayler's SPIRITUAL UNITY, and of course, the entire catalog of proto-punk heroes, the Godz.

Now, when you stick needle into groove that is opener, "Caledonia," you'll immediately think you're listening to Einstürzende Neubauten gone black metal... then you'll realize you're WRONG and that there were no reference points such as that available in 1968. Geezus! Is that an army of bagpipes making that infernal racket??! Wow! The next track, "Ritual Feat of the Libido," is simply "Caledonia" slowed down to 1/3 speed; it makes yer hands kinda clammy... music shouldn't scare ya right? Especially not the kind made by two guys who useta write bubblegum hits that woulda make Herman's Hermits blush??! Ooops! Shouldn't listen to those voices in your head: not only is it possible, that's exactly what's happenin'. And who are these mantra-chanting freaks cryptically referred to as their "Connecticut Tribe"? OK, you can't see me, but I'm shrugging my shoulders nervously...

Dare thou look in thee comments? Dare thou leave one?


BASTARD NOISE - Sound Engine

Coexisting alongside mothership act, power-violence pioneers Man Is the Bastard since 1991, Bastard Noise became the main focus of Eric "Throatrake" Wood with MItB's dissolution in 1997. The project originally was a collective of various members with Wood as the only constant-- but over time was pared down to thee Dynamic Duo of Wood and John Wiese (who has recently been replaced with Agoraphobic Nosebleed's Jay Randall), known for his work with Sissy Spacek (not the actress) and Heavy Seals (among countless other one-off ventures and collaborations). "Sound Engine" is a collection of works recorded between 2001-02.

Thee Noise's brand of aural rape is a perfect gateway to full-on degeneracy for those interested in dipping their pinky toe into the scree cesspool. That's not to say they won't/don't appeal to tinnitus-afflicted veterans; simply that their use of dynamics and complex layering techniques make 'em a little more palatable to the virgin ear than, say, the merciless onslaught of Government Alpha or early Merzbow. Opener "A Pedestal to Support the Invaders" is a collaboration with Jesus Philben aka Chris Dodge, founder of Slap-a-Ham Records, and ex-guitarist for Spazz and No Use for a Name. It could almost be considered an ambient piece if not for the unnerving blasts of feedback that cut in and out between warm, low-end tones. Still, nothin' that the average fan of "Sister Ray" shouldn't find relatively digestible. The same cannot be said about "Killing Stick-Men" which, despite beginning with some subtle drones, quickly devolves into inhuman shrieks that will test your endurance for high frequencies-- again though, no big whoop, 'tis but three and a half minutes long.

To these ears, thee pièce de résistance is "Human Denial," a collaboration by mail with Japanoise Terrorist, Guilty Connector, aka Kohei Nakagawa. The only track to feature Ol' Throatrake's patented grunts, the piece is fulla twists and turns without descending into chaos. Expect the unexpected here-- subtle ringing tones that could ALMOST be described as beautiful give way to ever-building gobs of distortion with expertly executed panning bringing different light/dark elements in 'n' out of the foreground. If this cut doesn't bring you over to the dark side, you're either a big ol' puss or a hopeless case, I'm afraid. Or worst of all, somehow convinced you're "well-adjusted"... hahahaha!

In comments for those made of sterner stuff.