tr00 Blackened Basement Psych

BENIGHTED LEAMS - Astral Tenebrion (1997)

There's a reason why musty old clichés become musty old clichés-- there's a kernel of truth in 'em. Take for example, this one: "One man's loss is another man's gain." And how does that apply to thee Platter du Jour thou ask? Well... Alex Kurtagic aka Benighted Leams (although someone named Wulfhild apparently sits in occasionally on bass) sat down in his bedroom, garage or basement with thee full intention of kicking up some good 'ol fashioned blasphemy to make Beelzebub proud. Problem was, he had absolutely no idea whatsoever how to program a drum machine-- thus, there's nothing remotely resembling a digestible beat throughout this entire album. The wildly askew synth-thud, perhaps the most blatantly mechanical-sounding "percussion" I've ever heard committed to tape, kinda provides a bit o' random punctuation here 'n' there... on different songs for a different record unfortunately, though.

He also musta lost his Satanic Bible cuz the lyrics seem to have been written with the help of some half-understood astronomy texts. So, instead of the typical "I'm Gonna Recrucify Jesus" or "Skullfucking in Lucifer's Name" stuff black metal connoisseurs have come to know & love, ya get far more ungainly titles like "Hermetically Leering as Frigid Blores Obumber" and "Succeeding Departure From the Chryse Planitia." Hardly the kinda subject matter Gorgoroth would approve of. Mebbe because of his self-confessed upbringing of "dismal squalor and desolation" in South London, he was looking to the spaceways to metaphysically escape from his earthly prison (yes, I'm completely fulla shit, I know-- I stole that from George Clinton). Whatever the case, his fretwork is more than competent; much more. The multi-tracked riffage is filled with aspirations of Wagnerian grandeur; sounding at times like Hawkwind taking a stab at "Ride of the Valkyries."

Awright, awright. What I'm trying to say is that despite his failure to make an opus that has anything in common with black metal (or metal of any kind for that matter), we get ourselves a fine slice of outsider psychedelia that rivals Skip Spence's "Oar" or the Red Krayola's "Parable" in that fine little corner of the aural Twilight Zone. Sorry Mr. Kurtagic: your loss is our gain (well, mine at least, anyway).

Beam yourself to the comments.

I Always Maim to Please

SLAUGHTER (CAN) - Strappado (1986)

One-Two... FUCK YOU!!!

Oh yessss... this HAD to happen. How could I not present to y'all in all its unrestrained, bloody-knuckled fury thee proto-death metal monster that is "Strappado"??! 22 years on and I still feel the adrenaline charging through my innards, making me a slave to thee thrashing madness contained on this magnum opus. It's next to impossible not to be filled with rapidly dimming visions of myself and merry band of no-goodniks stomping around the rural wasteland we inhabited, fulla cheap booze, screeching every word of every ditty contained here; ghetto blaster on the most sober bastard's shoulder (usually the guy who could grow a full beard at fifteen who bought the shit in the first place) as we wandered around looking for somewhere, anywhere to escape from thee frigid Kanück winter.

What can I say? This is a maelstrom of fat, buzzing guitar, gargled vox and relentless skins-pummel that was/is nothing less than the smoldering embers that created the death metal inferno that would ignite a few years later. All these Toronto boys did was distill their riffing to its most barbaric essence, unleashing a sound that was more extreme than anything else at the time, proving once again that simplicity is thee key to all great R&R. There were obviously a lotta Scandinavians listening closely-- that oh-so-sweet guitar tone associated with the likes of Entombed, Grave and Dismember is already in full bloom on "Strappado"-- but not one damn one of them Swedes ever wrote anything as anti-headbang-proof as "Tales of the Macabre" or "Death Dealer." Fuck it, I see no need to beat my gums together any further-- get yer worthless ass...

Into the comments.

Oh yeah-- if ya were stoopid enough to miss their equally godly "Surrender or Die" demo it's here, dumbass.

Dirt May Be Your Santa Claus

MELVINS - Tora Tora Tora (4 x 7-inch bootleg, 1995)

Not a whole lotta need to scribe a damn thing about these gents. Yer either thee type that'd eagerly consume a tape of King Buzzo, Dale Crover and their bassist of the week wrestling with thee beer shits (Coming Soon! With Mike Patton as 'guest' flatulence) or you'd have a smirk on yer mug for a week if their tour bus fell off the face of a 200 ft. cliff (hopefully with Mr. Patton on board). Depending on the day, I fall into both camps. However, if you fall into the former, here's a decent, if not spectacular-sounding boot from their "Stoner Witch" Tour. If I had a scanner that wasn't a complete piece of trash I woulda included deluxe pix of thee exquisite packaging-- a hardcover book fastened together with actual bolts which opens up to reveal sleeves for each 7-incher... but the truth is, I don't. So who cares?

Tracks:

revolve / skweetis / with teeth / night goat / specimen / concert warning / kisw interview / hooch / queen / johnny reno / gunfighter / oven / goose freight train / goggles / sweet willy roll bar / radio interview / road bull

In comments.


UPSIDEDOWN CROSS - S/T (1991)

I've oft-heard this band described as "Flipper's Retarded Younger Brother," and certainly even after the most cursory exposure to the mongoloid whose had his Tonka Truck stolen yelp of Larry Lifeless, the comparison has some merit... but there's something far more depraved at work here. Not that it comes as any surprise when you consider this combo's pedigree: three-quarters of Boston, Massachusetts debauched purveyors of slothful noise-punk, Kilslug (the aforementioned Lifeless, bassist Cheez and guitarist Rico Petroleum). Sitting in on skins was, from thee "Holy Fuck! I can't believe I enjoy an album with HIM on it" file, J. Mascis.

This is disgusting, filthy, down-tuned decadence. Since we brainless humans like to deal in primitive concepts like "good" and "evil," I'll bite and call it perhaps the most "evil" recording I've ever heard. There ain't a corpse-painted creep with 666 odes to Lord Gobbledygook to his credit that can touch thee confrontational slime that'll ooze from yer speakers when the disease known as Upsidedown Cross launch into one of their Hymns of Heinousness. Imagine a lobotomized Tony Iommi with a seriously unhealthy fetish for his wah pedal and yer still coming up short in getting a handle on the kinda fuzz-scuzz on display here. Couple that with Larry Lifeless' testimonials like "Jesus was dumb," and "a phony" which I admit sounds pretty stoopid typed out here, but spat from his noxious piehole takes on a (much) higher level of blasphemy.

Fuck it-- here's a crudely disturbing video for "Mass in Blood." Don't say you weren't warned.

In comments.

Sister of Satan Praise Thee Lord

DIAMANDA GALÁS - Malediction and Prayer [1998]


Obviously the natural heir to Patty Waters' throne as Thee Seductress of Shriek, Diamanda Galás has made some of the most powerfully disturbing albums of the last two decades. I count her among my favorite artists of all-time, yet I must confess something: I very rarely play her music. And that's not a feeble attempt at being a wiseass-- I quite simply very seldom have the emotional commitment that should be mustered to wallow in her oppressive and demanding oeuvre. Her Gospels of Gloom are swaddled in a despair so thick, at times it feels as though you're been asphyxiated by the Cold Hand of Death itself. Hers is not an art form for the passive listener-- her works are best listened to in the clear thinking hours right before dawn, preferably alone with zero distractions.

"Malediction and Prayer" was recorded in various locales during Ms. Galás' November 1996 to June 1997 World Tour. Comprised of covers ranging from B.B. King ("The Thrill is Gone") to Phil Ochs ("Iron Lady") to Billie Holliday ("I'm Gonna Live the Life"), it is a barebones affair featuring only Galás' four-octave voice and her minimalist, classically-trained piano tinklin'-- and believe me, that's more than enough. Her golden throat is an instrument unto itself, capable of capturing immeasurable depths of melancholy as easily as dizzying heights of righteous anger. Particularly striking is her take on the Shel Silverstein-penned "25 Minutes to Go," a minor hit for Johnny Cash. Galás expunges the light-hearted black humor of the original, a novelty song about an outlaw awaiting his execution, leaving its skeletal remains as the funeral dirge its creator is unlikely to have ever imagined. She imbues the piece with such utter hopelessness that as each minute is counted down, the tension becomes nearly unbearable; by the time she's reached the inevitable conclusion, the breath of the hangman might as well be hideously caressing the back of yer neck. Needless to say, it's doubtful you'll be blasting this at the beach this summer.

In comments.

Brown Metal Hoedown!

LUGUBRUM - De Totem (1999)

That's right: Brown Metal, and Lovendegem, Belgium's Lugubrum are its only exponents. Their songs revolve around their twin obsessions of beer and carrots, not hackneyed far right politics or Anti-Xianity. They wear straw hats and smoke corncob pipes... got yer attention yet? How about if I told ya that their music, although deeply rooted in the lo-fi grimnity of second-wave Norwegian black metal, features an occasional banjo?** How about if I revealed a few of their perverse song titles such as "Udder of Death," "Beard of Disease" and "Midgets of Evil"? Now forget all that shit I just typed, cuz thee blurry, buzzsaw guitar riffs and positively maniacal vox lift this several tiers above yer garden variety novelty act.

"De Totem" is an album that requires incessant listening for it to reveal its full scope. It may sound ridiculous, but I'd (almost) put it in the same category as "Trout Mask Replica"-- so fulla polyrhythmic insanity that yer initial reaction may feel like attempting to navigate a labyrinth with corncob pipes in yer eyes (smoking a pipe of yer own may help; and I'm talking about the one yer big brother smoked, not yer dad). There's a section of heavily-treated guitar in "Beard of Disease" that I swore was a lap steel the first dozen or so times this filth desecrated my earholes, and yes, it does sound like vocalist Barditus is being anally raped by Godzilla, but when you take the time to learn the verbiage of his depraved poetry, thou shalt recognize his genius. Check out the lyrics to "Inner Magma," for example:

Sulphurous visions
in yellow vapour
Contorted crater
Scalding indigestion

Violent eruption
Fertile deluge
Cleansing from the core
The smell of rebirth!

They don't hardly write 'em like that anymore.

** = Sadly, since moving to thee urban sprawl of Ghent, they've abandoned 'Boersk Blek Metle' (Farmer Black Metal).

In comments.

MERCYFUL FATE - The Lost Tapes 1978-84

Ok everyone: put on yer black leather studded beanie caps with thee glistening chrome propeller. For we are not concerned with thee (at times) questionable fidelity of this here bootleg. No, our aim is to slip into our frequent roles as nerdy musicologists. We must dissect every nuance and subtlety of a contraband recording such as this one... and we must be precise. So, first up we have "Hard Rocker," which one could say hearkens back to Hank & Michael's daze as the Brats (which you absolutely, positively MUST check out if'n ya haven't already) with its punky, garage-metal riff and unbridled sloppy energy. Now is it just me or does King Diamond's voice sound at least an octave lower'n usual? Could it be that *gasp* his testicles actually did drop at some point??! Perhaps all this time he's merely tied an elastic band around 'em... or even had the soprano snip? Ah, so many questions, so few answers. For example: is that the "Highway Star" riff liberally borrowed on "Love Criminals"? Why no! How could this be so when the song evolves into an embryonic version of "Into the Coven"? "Some Day" seems to have some of the neo-classical pretensions we 'Fate fans have come to know and love... waitaminnit... I know that quasi-baroque melody line! Why, if it ain't "Desecration of Souls" as a mere infant! Move over, King Tut-- this is a discovery that easily dwarfs a moldy old carcass like you. "Death Kiss," as even the most casual fan-- if there is such a thing-- knows, was the original sketch for DON'T BREAK THE OATH's "A Dangerous Meeting." Here, you can check it out in varying stages of completion, although I recommend playing the second featured version first as it is far more primitive than the first one (these bootleggers seldom seem to have a sense of flow, do they?).

Until next time, I'm removing my beanie. I'll leave further excavations and insights up to y'all... or not.

Track list & specs:

1 Hard Rocker
2 Combat Zone
3 Love Criminals
from THE MERCYFUL FATE DEMOS, 1982
4 Evil Lord
from THE BLACK ROSE Sessions, 1978
5 Some Day
6 Death Kiss
from THE MERCYFUL FATE DEMOS, 1981
7 Persecution
8 I'm Alright
9 Death Kiss
from THE 'DANGER ZONE' Sessions, 1982
10 Shadow Night (Devil's Daughter)
recorded Live in Copenhagen, Denmark, August 15, 1982
11 Walking Back To Hell
12 On a Night of Full Moon
recorded Live in Copenhagen, Denmark, July 23, 1982

In comments.

Do the Icepick

GEROGERIGEGEGE - Recollections of Primary Masturbation

Welcome to the world of Juntaro Yamanouchi, the gay, cross-dressing noisemonger behind Shinjuku, Tokyo's Gerogerigegege. The Gero first raised its ugly mug in 1985 with the "Studio & Live" LP, and have ever since released a huge catalog of noise, ambient and uncategorizable works-- many of which are high on the record collector scum want-list, and go for ludicrous amounts of money. Then again, how many bands consider masturbation an instrument (courtesy of Gero 56 aka Tetsuya Endoh)? Maybe they're justified with their obsession in this case (?).

My fave has always been "Tokyo Anal Dynamite" (included here in full), which contains 75 (!) tracks, all of which are short blasts of noise (under a minute) prefaced with Juntaro's nod to the Ramones by screaming "1-2-3-4!!" between each "song." You'll be laughing yer ass off by about the 20th time he does it. Er... I do anyway.

This Collection Contains:
- Kitanomaru Hyakkei 7" EP
- Senzuri Champion LP
- Senzuri Monkey Metal Action 7" EP
- More Shit 7" EP
- Tokyo Anal Dynamite CD
= 338 Songs!!

In comments.


PRIMITIVE CALCULATORS - S/T (1979)

Make no mistake, the racket of the Primitive Calculators coulda spawned from only one place: the soulless, dreary confines of Sweet Home Suburbia. A place where, if you were a bored teenager in the mid-70's, solace could only be found in conspicuous consumption, heavily thumbed issues of Creem and the well-worn grooves of Velvet Underground, Godz and MC5 LP's. That outpost of gloom for the Primitive Calculators was Springvale, outside of Melbourne, Oz. With nothing more than the desire to Get The Fuck Out, they armed themselves with a Moserite Guitar, Wasp & Roland SH2 synthesizers (ie: primitive) and a Roland CR-78 drum machine.

I already gave y'all a taste of this combo a few posts down on the "Can't Stop It!" compilation (see "Broken Legs, Broken Face"), and this LP was their only official output during their brief existence (1978-82). If you dig Chrome (judging by the success of my "Chromosome Damage" triumvirate, I'd guess a lotta ya do, he says, checking his stats), Suicide or the Screamers, this is definitely up yer analog electro-skronk alley. Atonal and (still) futuristic, squawking one-note guitar riffs battle with the beeping and whirring din of dissonant keyboards and hyper-fast android thud. This is a far more challenging, not to mention rewarding listen than anything outta NYC's much ballyhooed No Wave scene-- and much less precious or irony-caked. And hey, any band that dedicates their longplayer to the Godz' Jim McCarty gets a special notation in my Cool Book.

In comments.