This album come to me at a most ironic time as I was shivering in beanie's and other cold weather gear. There will be people going, “It snows in Australia?!” and my response will be no. It was just five degrees (Celsius) and I was freezing...
Moving on to the album...
The Heat is The Bell's second release (their first being back in 2007 with Make Some Quiet) and the Sweden based trio have been getting some attention for this one it seems.
The Heat held its appeal for me because it sounds like the 80's music I was brought up listening to- electronic and a little trippy on occasion.
It all kicks off with “Dope Makes You”, smooth riffs, electronic sounds and cool vocals. “Dope makes you just likes like other men”
“Holiday” is more heavy on the electronics with the vocals also being shrouded with synthetics. It is also relies on the beat more.
“I Can't Change” is one of my favourites as it opens right away with really smooth, and rhythmic sounds, before going into more electronic vocals for the chorus.
“I can't change, I can't the world”
“The Sound” isn't as heavy as “Holiday” on the synthetics but the chorus opens up and becomes really big electronic rock. The electronic sounds are back in quantity for “Tell Us You're Sorry.”
Opening with smooth sounds “Throw Me A Bone” is another stand out on the album, cool rhythms, raw vocals, catchy lyrics, it is all there.
“I knew it was over, When you were gone. You gained independence, But you don’t know what from.”
“Today” takes you back to the heavy electronics of “Holiday.”
“Today, I don't want to wait another day”
“What Ever Did You Say?” is the single of the album. It is clean and has catchy lyrics.
“Around and around With my head in the clouds I was just about to tell you a lie What ever did you say?”
Grouped with neat riffs, perfectly balanced synthetics and a good rhythm it is a great song. Well chosen for the single.
“You Fell Behind” goes back onto the heavily electronic. Although it keeps up with the lyrics you would expect.
“You fell behind, So many times”
Despite being named “23 Seconds” it actually goes for a lot longer than that. It is also much, much cleaner than the other songs. The riffs are more audible now and the vocals are sweet but icy. It is a nice end to a great album.
“The page is turning, The bridge is burning, And ashes keep holding on.”
The Heat is a really great album. The Bell hit all of the right notes and buttons to create something that sounds 80's and electronic. Best savoured in cold weather.
Well, the first time that I met you, I took your cd for a spin I couldn’t stop it, 'cause that would be a sin You had an indie rock sense, Your harmonies blessed, Laptop and two mics yet recorded smooth as glass And the sounds that you express Are among the best I had to write a blast.
Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild Oh Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild Just about to lose my mind
Well the second time that I met you, you were a group of six All your talk with strings, keyboards and sticks “Nearer The Earth” wails Anthems and tales, “The Father,” “Tijuana,” “Driving Song.” “The Owl,” “Away We Go” “Lonesome Tiger,” “Joker’s Wild,” “Don’t Take Me Home” Recorded at home Reseda, Valley San Fernando
Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild Oh Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild Just about to lose my mind
I found out since I met you, the whole cd is free A download well worth it indeed A talented band Whose time is at hand Loose, jangly and downright bluesy Unsigned and self-promoted I’m real choosy But, now I’m devoted
Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild Oh Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild Just about to lose my mind
Honey, honey, honey, Honeychild Don't you know you drive me wild
You know we loved this album. Doesn't matter if we got the CD or the digital download. If it's coming out on vinyl, we're buying.
Limited edition of 100 on clear blue 180 gram wax.
This a pre-order. Estimated to be in stock by late April/early May.
The highly anticipated new album from the mighty Roadsaw!
Unbelievable guitar tones on this one, folks; every song just dripping with fuzzy love. Who can make an album that's heavy as fuck, while simultaneously delivering hooks that will have you singing along before you've even made it through your first spin? ROADSAW, that's who!!!
In today at the Ripple office, some news for all Sabbath fans.
Responding to ongoing rumors surrounding a possible Black Sabbath reunion, Geezer Butler has issued the following statement:
"I would like to make it clear, because of mounting speculation and rumours, that there will be definitely no reunion of all four original members of Black Sabbath, whether to record an album or to tour."
Butler's most recent musical outing was with Heaven & Hell, a four piece featuring Black Sabbath band mate Tony Iommi as well as one time Black Sabbath members Ronnie James Dio and Vinny Appice. The band released Neon Nights: 30 Years of Heaven & Hell in November of 2010.
There's an expression in creative writing circles: "Book characters should talk more like actual people, and actual people should talk more like book characters."
What I like about this idea is the exchange of expectation-- taking one idea (people in books tend to talk like poets, much more memorably that real people do) and trading it for another, opposite idea (people in real life should try to talk more memorably than actually occurs).
I apply a similar rule to listening to (and by extension, judging) music: I like all forms of music, but usually listen only to metal or jazz.
And I don't know if you're familiar with stereotypical metal versus jazz fans; they're usually polar opposites. Metal is often anti-intellectual ("Does it rock or not?!"), and jazz tends to be the reverse, overthinking everything ("I found his use of progressive thirds intriguing") and not generally concerned with whether Paul Motian's new album rocks (or swings, as they say).
I try to exchange expectations between criticism of these two genres. I try to get the "feel," the guts, of jazz (ignoring music theory unless it's relevant to the Rawk factor), and then analyze metal.
Jazz has plenty of people who'll analyze the shit out of a chord progression, but very few who'll try and rock out with it. Metal, on the other hand, has scads of leather-clad Visigoths who don't give a second thought to the most basic music theory tenets (for example, did you know that the main riff from "Raining Blood" is a diminished scale in E flat?), but will sure as hell tell you if the new Havok album "fucked my face off," as the terminology goes. The two approaches are due for an exchange.
And maybe you don't give a wildebeest's butthole about theory, and just wanna know if something rocks or not. If so, you should skip down a bit, because I'm about to go up my own butt on this motherfucker.
First, preamble: I listen to different genres of metal for different reasons. Thrash is for aggression and driving fast, black metal is for rage and catharsis, doom/sludge/stoner is for feelings of might, and drone music like Earth (or Sunn O))) or Alcest), while having stoner applications, is for darkness-- for a trance-like, sleepy state of relaxation.
Yup, relaxation. You can listen to Earth loud as shit (like Sunn O))) in concert), but it's still calming. Like standing on a heavy-breathing giant that you know has your back.
I call this doze metal. Dream metal. Lunesta metal.
And this music has a ton in common with jazz, specifically the type of jazz you probably think of if you don't listen to much jazz-- e.g., John Coltrane or Miles Davis. (Though notlike Cynic, Atheist, or later-period Death, which are more like jazz fusion, à la Weather Report). Coltrane and Davis, in addition, are both renowned (in part) for their modal jazz.
Short version: modal jazz sits on one or two chords for awhile. It tends to be slow and take its time. It gives a soloist time to spread out and relax into it, rather than having to sprint between chord changes (like guitar soloists in thrash metal would have do to, for example).
Earth, and their new Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light 1 (released 2/22) are modal metal.
Earth has time.
Earth has fuuuuuuuckloads of time.
They are not. in. a. hurry. to. get. anywhere. Sometimes, they don't actually "go" anywhere at all.
If you have the time, you will love this album.
If you're in a hurry, you will hate this album.
Earth's last record, The Bees Made Honey in the Lion's Skull (even their titles take time), was laconic to the point of petrification, and, with its undistorted heavy string guitars, often could've passed for background music in a Sergio Leone western.
The first four tracks off of Angels... follow a similar blueprint, though having evolved that sound without fundamentally changing it: a cello pervades the music, sometimes in the background, sometimes fore, and makes the sounds more gentle and more bittersweet than previously.
This is reminiscence metal.
The cello particularly, and the overall instrumentation in general, gives "Old Black," "Father Midnight," "Descent to the Zenith" and "Hell's Winter" a mournful whimper; the dominant, sometimes only chord in the songs lend themselves to single-tone singalongs, aka mantras and chants; Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light 1 is an hour-long farewell, like ice in the sun falling from a roof.
The instrumentation is eclectic and impressive: cello, electric and acoustic basses and Dylan Carlson's twangy clean-channel telecaster. Promotional materials mention that Earth put "a greater emphasis on improvisational songwriting tactics," which help explain the sparse arrangements. It might also explain why the last piece, the 20-minute title track, is the most absorbing and clearest evolution in Earth's sound.
There are rarely drums in it, and the piece is rubato (without definite time) for much of its length. (Try and tap your foot to it.) It changes and morphs and slides in and out of time and then key; it's the musical equivalent of the goo in a lava lamp. Earth seem to love sevenths-- "tense" notes, that beg to be resolved and make it uncomfortable when they aren't. Like a very quietly argumentative man, who suddenly and periodically comes to some kind of angering conclusion (like the jarring string rakes at 10:50).
Frankly, just the fact that they used some degree of improvisation (like jazz) is reeeeeeeally cool.
Overall, Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light 1 is miraculously "blank." Very little happens, but (if you're patient with it) you won't want to stop listening. Soloing over it, it would be nearly impossible to find a wrong note or even a wrong sound; all are welcome.
The buzz isn't building . . . it's becoming a siren! With the reformation of '80's post punk rockers, Jet Black Berries and the release of their new album Post Modern Ghosts, word is out! With their first single "God with a Gun" racking up serious airtime world-wide, and their latest, "They Walk Among You," being claimed by zombie enthusiasts wherever they may dwell, the Jet Black Berries are officially back from the dead.
And what an appropriate metaphor. First rising to national acclaim with their song included on the cult-favorite Return of the Living Dead soundtrack, the Berries hadn't been heard from since the late '80's. But fate has intervened.
Hear the whole story, talk with the band, hear cuts off the new album, all on Ripple Radio.
Just hit here, and join in the fun. 8pm Pacific time. Join the zombies.
Heavy. Nice and heavy, with some real balls. That's the way we like our rock and that's what Diablo Royale bring on in spades. Here's Mike, the drummer, filling us in on what makes Diablo Royale tick.
When I was a kid, growing up in a house with Cat Stevens, Neil Diamond, and Simon and Garfunkel, the first time I ever heard Kiss's "Detroit Rock City," it was a moment of musical epiphany. It was just so vicious, aggressive and mean. It changed the way I listened to music. I've had a few minor epiphany's since then, when you come across a band that just brings something new and revolutionary to your ears.
What have been your musical epiphany moments?
There are so many of these, really. And they still happen now. Most recently was seeing Alice In Chains in NYC in the Spring. They are a phenomenal band and put on a live show to be envied. As far as the first one, for me, personally, I'd have to say seeing Lars Ulrich behind his white Tama kit. That's when I knew I wanted to play the drums.
Talk to us about the song-writing process for you. What comes first, the idea? A riff? The lyrics? How does it all fall into place?
We are a riff oriented band and the songs really do start that way. They then go through a lot of revisions as a the lyrics and melody are done to make sure that it flows.
Who has influenced you the most?
As band that is really hard to say, so I won't just pick one. We are influenced by a lot of bands, AC/DC to Megadeth to Avenged Sevenfold. Not all of them are so noticeable in the music, but it's there.
For me, personally, I'd say Vinnie Paul from Pantera. He's a monster drummer that lets you know that he's there but never gets in the way of the music. As a matter of fact, he always seems to write the perfect drum part to fit the song.
Where do you look for continuing inspiration? New ideas, new motivation?
It's really not that hard, it's everywhere. Other bands that we play with, new albums that come out and going out to live shows. Just constantly being around music does the trick.
Genre's are so misleading and such a way to pigeonhole bands. Without resorting to labels, how would you describe your music?
A punch in the face without the pain.
What is you musical intention? What are you trying to express or get your audience to feel?
Energy, lots and lots of it. We want people on their feet and moving when we play. That's what we look for when we listen to music and watch bands and we make sure our audience experiences that.
Come on, share with us a couple of your great, Spinal Tap, rock and roll moments?
Well, the worst (or best depending on your point of view) was when the tire blew out on the highway after a gig. We pulled into the nearest gas station, went to sleep and when we woke up, the mechanic wasn't showing up. So we drove another mile to the next place with the wheel making a sound that just screamed expensive and got it fixed.
What makes a great song?
Attitude, sincerity and passion that comes through from the performance of every player.
Tell us about the first song you ever wrote?
It was "Casanova" in this band. True to form, it was the riff first. Actually, it had to be, we didn't have a singer yet. Eric had the main riff and then he and Gman sat down and arranged it into a song. Adrian wrote the lyrics as soon as he joined with Eric's help. It's about the women that are teases.
What piece of your music are particularly proud of?
Personally, Greedy Dogs. I love the lyrical message, the performance and the attitude. I love playing that song live.
Who today, writes great songs? Who just kicks your ass? Why?
Right now I'm really into Avenged Sevenfold. I know it's not the first band you'd think we'd mention, but I love what they are doing. It's in your face and they aren't afraid to do their own thing. There is no pop formula there.
Vinyl, CD, or digital? What's your format of choice?
Vinyl sounds so unique and rich so it's great. But obviously most new music doesn't come out that way. So digital. You can't beat the portability and you don't have to worry about scratches.
Whiskey or beer? And defend your choice
Whiskey. Frankly, I don't like beer. And I've tried to find one I liked. Really tried. Mainstream stuff, import, microbrews, I've even traveled to England and tried to get into warm beer. No dice, it all tastes like what I'd imagine piss tastes like, except in England where it's piss they didn't bother to put on ice. Jack Daniels on the other hand never fails to deliver.
We, at the Ripple Effect, are constantly looking for new music. What's your home town, and when we get there, what's the best record store to lose ourselves in?
We're in New York city. Sadly, there really aren't any record stores left big enough to turn around in, let alone get lost. It would have been Virgin on Union Square. Any final comments or thoughts you'd like to share with our readers, the waveriders?
How do you describe an icon? To be perfectly honest I don’t think anything I can say about this individual truly gives him justice. He’s an amazing, brilliant, creative, diligent, excellent, and fantastic genius. I am talking about the 30 Century Man himself, Scott Walker.
For those not familiar with Scott Walker don’t feel embarrassed at all if you don’t consider yourself a music fan. However, if you’re a music aficionado you should know who Scott Walker is and the impact he has left on music. To be perfectly honest I had no clue who he was until three years ago when I saw a documentary called Scott Walker: 30 Century Man. If you haven’t seen the film already go out and see it immediately!
Scott Walker is a remarkable renaissance man that has been practically unnoticed in the United States as a solo artist. Walker was in the pop band The Walker Brothers from 1964 to 1967, until the band broke up because of artistic differences and pop stardom. During that time, the band produced “Make It Easy on Yourself” and “The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore,” both #1 UK Singles and Top 20 hits in the United States. The band was particularly popular in Europe and the UK during this time.
The Walker Brother’s last album, Images, was a foreshadowing for Walker’ solo albums and gave fans a small glimpse of the direction he wanted his effective, emotional vocal range to go towards. Walker has influenced musical artists like Marc Almond, David Sylvian, David Bowie, Radiohead, Sting, Gavin Friday and The Divine Comedy to name a few. When I discovered David Bowie and Sting were huge fans I knew right then and there I needed to listen to Scott Walker.
Scott Walker released Scott six months after Images was released. Scott was successful in the UK, but practically unnoticed in the US. The album is a unique mixture of covers and original songs that established Walker as a serious, solemn and sophisticated musician. The soulful “boy band” image was long gone.
The album begins with one of my favorite cover songs ever, “Mathilde,” one of three English-translated covers of Belgian musician and songwriter Jacques Brel’s songs. Immediately listeners are hit with loud trumpets and Walker’s sweet, somber voice. More opening tracks should be as attention grabbing as this, but sadly very few actually are.
"Montague Terrace (In Blue)" is the second track and one Walker’s original songs. Although I am not a huge fan of this song, it does seamlessly blend in with everything else. That’s what so remarkable about this album. Even though it’s an album mostly composed of covers, nothing seems out of place and as a matter of fact is pitch perfect.
The songs “Angelica” and “When Joanna Loved Me” are two phenomenal covers. Even though the majority of the songs are covers, Brel’s "My Death" and "Amsterdam" are arguably two of the best found on the album. Walker’s other original songs are "Such a Small Love" and "Always Coming Back to You." It’s such a wide variety, yet balance work of current contemporary covers, English translated songs and original songs that you lose yourself in the music.
Scott Walker was and still remains a pioneer in the music industry. He still continues making music today, but it’s always under the radar. Walker once famously said, “"I've become the Orson Welles of the record industry. People want to take me to lunch, but nobody wants to finance the picture... it's a tough way to work."
If you enjoy Scott Walker, John Cale and Tim Buckley are two other experimental and avant-garde artists that are worth checking out as well.
“And so Lord Penfold, I simply must tell you…” “Apologies my lady, but there is someone I absolutely have to speak to this very minute.” “But you promised that you would listen to my story.” “And so I shall my dear, so I shall. But for now I must beg your forgiveness, for we must part ways though it rends my heart to be away from you for a mere moment.” “Alright Lord Penfold. If you must go I understa…”
The last bit of dialogue was lost to me as I had already begun my hasty retreat from the young lady whom up until quite recently had been particularly engaging. Unfortunately, she had transitioned into what I commonly refer to as a ‘clingy’ state. Not that I blame her at all. I know how tremendously attractive I am to women and how quickly they become enamored with me. At least I did not have to resort to a lie to extricate myself from this latest conversation. I really did need to speak with King Charles about my recent run of bad luck at the tables and track. Surely he would understand that my luck could only get better, and my mounting debt would shortly be reduced if not eliminated. But before I could walk over to King Charles I spotted someone else I wished to speak with even more at the bar. Standing with a drink in his hand and wearing an obscene getup was the Earl of Rochester.
“Lord Rochester, what on earth happened to your clothes?” “Ah, Lord Penfold. Good to see you. This is the latest fashion. Do you like it?” “Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of it. You appear to have cut off all of the hair from your wig except for a single line down the middle which you have spiked with some sort of gel. And your normally fine clothing has been torn in several areas and is only held together with numerous safety pins. Has some devil possessed you sir?” “No, no Penfold. A new band called The Rakehells has come under my patronage. They inspired this change in my appearance. Come, they’re playing in the auditorium down the hall. You must hear them play!” “Fine, but I’m bringing a bottle to keep us company.”
To put it simply, this is punk rock how I often want punk rock to sound. Pay homage to the greats that came before you, but go about your business with an undeniable swagger and style you can claim as your own. The Rakehells never let up from the first note of their debut album, Please Yourself or the Devil in the Flesh, all the way through to the moment you hear the laser eye of your CD player readjusting itself after reaching the end of the disc. Let’s put this bad boy under the microscope to better learn its ways.
As stated before The Rakehells play what I would refer to as punk rock. I realize that that is quite the blanket statement considering the extraordinarily varied acts which all describe themselves with the same moniker. Perhaps it will be simpler to describe the band’s sound by explaining what they are not. Although I would definitely describe the guitar tones as muscular, the band is certainly not a hardcore group. Yes the vocals are all sung, not screamed or yelled, but the band fails to show any sign of the sappiness found in a lot of commercial pop punk. While the song tempos do fluctuate, they typically reside in the realm of fast and never fall into slow territory a la a lot of post punk. Okay, I’m tired of this exercise. In the end I ask myself who needs labels when the music is great? Answer: nobody.
“Ready, Fire, Aim” begins the album and acts a foretelling of things to come. Remember I spoke earlier about the band having a swagger about them. Well rest assured it’s on full display from the word go, and it oozes out of your speakers in an untamable flow. The band reeks of confidence in the music they are producing, and it is infectious. Personal highlights for me are “Souls for Sale”, “Mode of the Moment”, and “Meat on a Stick”. I find that I draw more enjoyment from these songs thanks solely to their rip-snorting, monolithic guitar riffs and insanely propulsive energy. But limiting yourself to just these three songs would be worse than criminal in light of the rest of the album. If you’re a fan of The Clash then you will fall head over heels for songs like “Charles Marlay”, “Sexton Blake”, and “Capital”. I’m not suggesting that these are duplicates of Clash songs, just that sonically many obvious parallels can be drawn between the two bands while listening. Also if like me you are a fan of X, then you definitely need to hear the song “Lost Weekend”. On this song especially the listener can hear the clear influence of John Doe’s singing style and tone on the lead singer from The Rakehells. Besides that, the musical dissonance throughout much of that song is endlessly intriguing!
Fellow Waveriders, if you are looking for something new and interesting in the world of punk or just rock n’ roll in general you need look no further than The Rakehells. I’ve been listening to this album for a little while now and I personally vouch for its authentic entertainment value. The fact that this is the very first release from this band is somewhat frightening. I don’t want to think about what will happen to my listening habits down the line if this band refines its formula and releases more killer albums. Apology letters will have to be sent to my other favorite acts since The Rakehells will occupy all of my listening time. Scary!
“So Lord Penfold, what do you think of the band?” “Lord Rochester, I’m stunned! They’re fantastic!” “I’m glad you feel that way Penfold. If you had not liked them, I might not have told you that the young lady you were wooing earlier appears to be looking for you. She seems rather smitten with you, you villain.” “Ah hah, that is most unfortunate. For now I must leave this fine ball, and all because of my animal magnetism. I tell you John, I’m cursed.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard a band from Portugal before checking out the new one from Black Bombaim. If there’s more shit like this going on there I may have a new vacation destination. These guys give Tia Carrera a run for their money in the mega-tripped out Jimidelic jam department. Equal parts Band Of Gypsys and Experience, Black Bombaim have an outstanding rhythmic groove that prevents the session from getting stale.
There are only 2 songs on the LP – “Side A” and “Side B,” both about 20 minutes long and recorded totally live. “Side A” starts off with some hellish feedback before settling into an almost Cactus-like boogie then morphs into a “Dirt” Stooges groove. “Side B” is faster and crazier. They must have re-upped during a break and decided to really let loose.
For a 3-piece they have a very full sound. “Acid Guitar Dropper” Ricardo’s tortured Strat howls and shrieks in the best way possible. “Bass Driver” Tojo and “Drum Smasher” Senra protect the beat but are fluid enough to maintain an ever expanding hydroponic groove. Chances are these guys have smoked a lot of dope and listened to Fela more than once.
There are only 300 copies of this LP, so track one down pronto. You can listen to the whole thing on their myspace page, but it’s totally lame listening to this kind of music through a computer. Shell out some bucks and do it up the right way.
So much good music, so little time. Let’s jump right into it then, shall we?
My Sleeping Karma – Tri
And there it was . . . Mt. Everest standing right before me.
It was 2006 that Mrs Racer and I took off, flew around the world and spent 3 weeks trekking across Tibet to Mt. Everest. Standing at basecamp, at 20,000 feet, the glory of Everest’s summit before me, the majesty of Rombuk Monastery behind me . . . it was a moment of pure magic.
I didn’t bring any music with me on that trip, but if I had, it would’ve been this new, mesmerizing album by Germany’s My Sleeping Karma. A while back, I wrote about my love affair with their second album, and I’m happy to say, that Tri is every bit as trance-inducing, hypnotic, powerful, and dynamic as Satya was. My Sleeping Karma don’t create soundscapes, they create sound universes. Alternate dimensions of Krautrock beats, undulating, snaking guitars, swirling, miasmas of melody. Each of these 9 instrumental tracks is capable of transporting me somewhere in place and time. Some alternate reality, some imaginative dimension. No one else has ever sounded like My Sleeping Karma, no else ever could. This is psychedelic, space rock at it’s finest.
“Brahma” is playing right now, and in my mind’s eye I see Rombuk monastery, the monk’s walking the grounds, the mountain before me. I feel the emptiness of being on the ceiling of the earth, the spiritual abandon of being this much closer to God. My Sleeping Karma can take me there. Just wait until you see where they can take you.
One of a long list of discs that’s been sitting way too long on my desk waiting for review. Boris Smile, a collective of young musicians fronted by singer/songwriter/multi-instrumentalist Wesley Chung, bring a definite emo angle and modern twist to indy rock. Chung’s disaffected vocals are strangely magnetic, drawing me into this release with his earnest passion and heart-felt searching for truth.
Using the Rocket as a theme, Boris Smile traverses a spectrum of moods from the introspective to the robust., perhaps never more moving than “Apollo” which seems to imagine an Apollo astronaut saying goodbye to his wife and children before launching off on a mission. Delicate and touching, filled out with gentle strings and angelic harmony vocals, this song could just as easily translate to our current day soldiers leaving home for the unknowns of war. Like a modern retelling of “Space Odessey” Apollo strikes the heart of real emotion.
But Rockets isn’t a one-song pony. “Aurora” captivates with its loosely strung acoustic guitar and dreamy melody, while “Are We Alone,” sets the tone with the airiness of its spartan arrangement. This is a sincere album of lo-fi, acoustic emo. If you’re a fan of Pedro the Lion or Broken Social Scene, you should look deeply into Boris’s smile.
I have to admit, it took me a little while to get into this twisted dab of dense folk drone, but once I got it, really got, I couldn’t get the damn thing outta my head.
Eastern Conference Champions are a trio who’ve already been kicking walls and knocking down doors, contributing songs to The Twilight Saga and appearing on “Last Call with Carson Daily.” But don’t let those accomplishments put you off. What we got here is hardly the commercial drabble you might associate with a film like Twilight. ECC play a deceptively folky, alt-country drone rock that sounds unlike any I’ve ever heard. Where a song like “Common Sense,” nearly flattens with it’s effects-heavy guitar riffing, Teutonic beat, and fuzzed bass, “Bloody Bells,” is just as deceptive with it’s twangy vocal and tinkering percussion. “Sideways Walking,” finds a new beauty in its spartan melody while “On Off,” crashes against the shore with another layer of muted guitar.
I guess the most reasonable place to look for inspiration here is Neil Young, because only he could effectively change up moods so quickly and effectively, rocking or folking out, while always sounding so distinctly like himself. ECC do that as well, and they do it damn well.
Talk about a band with a sound all their own. Floater take the muted heaviness of grunge, toss that into their witches brew pot, add in the musicianship of prog, some flourishes of psychedelic rock, spice it up with some pretty random time shifts, tribal percussion, and a singer who’s voice is achingly familiar (like a distant Michael Been of The Call). Stir that whole concoction up, bring that massive wooden spoon up to your lips, and the potion that results is surprisingly tasty. For those of you who like your rock a little unpredictable yet still familiar, progressive in scope but accessible in execution, heavy yet melodic, you just might find your own musical elixir here.
“Concrete” after it’s ambient, neo-Floyd intro bursts out as anthemic and full of bravado as much of the early Call material. Even the chorus “Now I can only say/that I’m alive/I’m alive/I’m alive” sounds like something that would’ve burst off the lips of the recently departed Mr. Been. And trust me, that’s a good thing. The Call were always one of my favorite bands. So take their passion and drive, meld that with some seriously prog-minded chops, toss in enough powerchords to light up a small nation and we’ve got a winner here.
“Cannonball,” follows suit, as does the rest of the album. This is big, big music played with intent and sincerity. Call it alt-prog, post-alt-grunge. Whatever. Call it good, and you’d be correct.
Life is too short for intros. I like how the first song “There Is Nothing” just comes crashing in. Full band with vocals and totally pissed off sounding. Perfect when you need to annoy the neighbors RIGHT NOW! Black Sleep Of Kali is a loud 4 piece from Denver that play in a vein similar to Torche or Baroness but with a bit more aggro. The riffs are intense but very catchy and there are some vocal parts for everyone to scream along to.
For a band that’s only been around for about 2 years these guys are very tight. The songs are mainly mid tempo-ish but contain plenty of left hand turns to keep your interest. Killer drum fills abound and the guitar/bass tones are massive. Lyrically they keep it pretty lean and mean. With sonnets like “we will all be forgotten in the end” (from “The Great Destroyer”) you don’t need to say much more than that. Faster ones like “The Crow and The Snake” really pummel the senses and would sound great blasting in the car as you drive off a cliff. Once they dig up your body they can play “Eulogy” at your funeral.
If you like it loud, negative and heavy then Our Slow Decay is right up your alley. And with a cool sleeve from everyone’s favorite tall Australian artist Seldon Hunt you can’t go wrong.
After signing on with Ripple Music in the waning weeks of 2009, the Bay Area’s Modern Day Moonshine found themselves in the scenic, serene, and solitary environs of Tres Llamas Studios, a converted ranch overlooking the Towalame River in Northern California. With no one to disturb except for the indigenous wildlife and the three llamas that roam the studio grounds, the band spent late days and even later nights laying down the basic tracks to the dozen or so songs that would eventually make up Refuge, the bands third full-length album.
Scheduled to hit the streets on November 23rd, 2010, Refuge is an album of soulful blues-based rock that features grand elements of jazz, funk, and roots-Americana. This musical diversity has made Modern Day Moonshine practically impossible to accurately categorize, and will undoubtedly leave listeners emotionally charged and excited to explore the multiple layers of the recorded sounds.
Armed with a catalog of well over a hundred songs and the experience of performing more than five hundred shows (including a two and a half years as the house band for the House of Blues in San Diego), Modern Day Moonshine are prepared for a lengthy stint on the road where no two shows will ever sound the same.
Refuge is available for pre-order at the Ripple Music Store or for digital download at Digstation/ModernDayMoonshine
Curse my foolishness! One moment I am perfectly safe loitering at midday in a public square. The next moment, I once again let my weak resolve regarding a beautiful member of the opposite sex lead me to rash action. A thoroughly enchanting temptress caught my eye and beckoned me to follow her into an alleyway. Any common sense abandoned me in a rush of elation, and I quickly jogged toward the periphery of the square. The object of my chase disappeared around the corner of the building forming the right hand side of the alley. Unfortunately when I myself hurriedly rounded the corner, instead of being face to face with the aforementioned lady I blindly ran into (or through as the case may be) a shimmering black energy field the size of a large door.
Now I find myself in a strange twilight lit cityscape that somewhat resembles the modern times of which I’m familiar, but with several important differences. For one I look up to the sky to behold two different moons, one that is full and another showing only a waning crescent. I drop my gaze to rooftop level and perceive illuminating lamps that are neither electrical, with no wiring or bulb in evidence, nor gas powered, as there is not a standard flame providing light. I can only surmise that the white light emanating from inside the glass enclosures must be alchemical in nature. As my gaze falls still further I finally observe the people surrounding me.
The astounding assortment that greets my eyes would have easily stunned me to silence if I had been in the middle of speaking. Fortunately I was able to keep my mouth from hanging open. While there were humans of entirely normal proportions there were also tall pointy eared Elves, squat formidably built Dwarves, as well as diminutive hairy Halflings. To my further amazement there was even what appeared to be a small animatronic tree selling wares at a kiosk to passersby! If I had not been a fan of fantasy fiction I believe I would be overwhelmed to the point of incomprehension. As it was, I barely had enough sense to recognize the small mob of young humanoid beings rushing towards me with blazing torches held high.
“The Orcs are coming! The Orcs are coming! Come on stranger, join us.” “Are we in danger?” I hesitantly asked the ringleader. “Yeah we’re in danger. We’re in serious danger of not being right in front of A Band of Orcs when they appear!” “Hold on. You actually want to be on the front lines when fighting erupts with some orcs?” I tried not to sound incredulous, but I’m sure I failed miserably. “Fighting? What are you talking about? A Band of Orcs is a band, and they’re playing at the amphitheater in the middle of town.” “So they’re not actually Orcs?” “Of course they’re Orcs! Jeez, where have you been stranger? Look, do you like heavy metal music?” “I love heavy metal!” That was one of the only things I was sure of at this point. “Good, then take this torch and follow me.” He handed me his torch and turned to address the others in the mob. “Let’s go everybody!”
Together we ran several blocks to the amphitheater, extinguished our torches at the entrance, and made our way collectively to the front of the venue just as the band was taking the stage. A Band of Orcs, not surprisingly, plays death metal. It seems obvious that Orcs would play a brand of music as off-putting and humorless as their race’s visage. What is somewhat surprising however is that these five Orcs appear to have shunned their historical predilections towards immediate bloody gratification in favor of practicing their craft. Therefore no matter what kind of axe these Orcs use, their chops are guaranteed to slay their targets.
Make no mistake dear reader. The music unleashed by this band is aimed squarely at making the listener either submit or be trampled underfoot by the onrushing horde. This is meat and potatoes death metal made by infantrymen for the pleasure of other front line blood letters. Granted you won’t find any real progressive elements within these six songs, but that is more than all right. I’ve learned that Orcs don’t put on airs well, and if they try whoever is unfortunate enough to be with them inevitably gets hurt…badly.
The band’s EP, entitled Warchiefs of the Apocalypse, was played straight through in it’s entirety during the concert. "I, Gogog" started things off with a bang bumping the energy level from one to a hundred in short order. The next two songs, "Warchiefs of the Apocalypse" and "Bring Out Your Dead", continue the onslaught of rapid fire riffs, manic double bass drumming, and demented guttural growls. Things change up a little bit with the cover of Celtic Frost’s "Procreation (of the Wicked)," a song with a slower tempo anchored around a monstrous guitar part. "Disassembly Line", an instrumental, follows next and toys with the listener by evolving from an ultra fast start to a short, slow melodic passage one minute and forty five seconds in before jumping once again through a warp gate for the remainder of the song. The finale to the EP is the epic "Into the Maelstrom", the strongest track on offer, and a fitting finale to the live performance.
After the concert had triumphantly concluded, my newfound friends and I were slapping each other on the back and across the shoulders with heartfelt joy over the whole experience. While this was going on I glanced at the side of the stage and lo and behold, the very same temptress that brought me to this land was again staring at me. She signaled that I should come hither, and in my pseudo-intoxicated state brought on by the great music I walked over without hesitation. When I drew near not a word was exchanged. She leaned towards me and kissed me on the cheek.
I opened my eyes and found myself back in the public square where this whole escapade began. Seemingly no time had elapsed. The people with distinctive characteristics I could remember observing earlier were exactly where I last remembered seeing them. Surely I did not hallucinate everything?!? No…I looked down at my feet and saw a CD lying on the ground. Picking the jewel case up revealed it to be A Band of Orcs Warchiefs of the Apocalypse EP and I could see my reflection in the mirror like surface. There was lipstick on my cheek.
“I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass. “ - Maya Angelou
What were you doing when you were fifteen years old? When I was fifteen I was listening to lectures about the birds and bees in Coach Seixas’ Sex Education class, playing Little League baseball and preparing to take my driving test for a learner’s permit. Hailey Morgan, on the other hand, was recording her first professional debut album You & Me.
When I first heard the CD I figured this was an incredibly good twenty-something pop rocker. Then I saw the promotional materials. This is one driven lady with an incredible voice ready to kick butt. Her voice is powerful and racked with emotion. I was floored when I realized she was 15. Before I read about her I thought that she had probably paid her dues in whiskey joints and two bit dance halls honing her craft through hard knocks and extensive backwater touring. However, the truth is young Miss Morgan has been signing and performing since she was three. You or your kids (if you have any) have probably heard her even if you have never heard of her. She has appeared in TV commercials for Cap’n Crunch cereal and Lysol cleaning products and in many independent short films.
Her debut album is a combination of driving rock and modern mellifluous piano ballads. She chose her producers well - Larry Anschell, who has produced Sum 41, Nickelback, Sarah McLachlan and Allison Crowe, and Rob Begg, who has produced Ron Irving and White Wolf, and played bass for The Knack, Tom Petty and Berlin. Incredibly, Miss Morgan has written all of the songs herself and they are good - damn good. Think Sarah McLachlan meets Kelly Clarkson with an edginess neither McLachlan nor Clarkson can match. Hailey’s parents are both professional musicians and I suppose this helps explain her amazing talents at such a young age.
Here is a a quick overview of what you will hear on the CD. I suggest, however, that this is an artist that you must experience for yourself. So go to her website at http://www.haileymorganonline.com/ and take a listen. The entire album is streamed there for free.
The first track, “Let Go,” will have you up and pounding your feet to a driving pop rock melody doubled with amazingly accurate harmony. Track two, “Walkin’ Down This Road,” is a slow, mournful piano ballad that allows Morgan to put her vocal range on display. The third track, the album’s namesake, “You & Me,” is a pop rock tune that builds into a rock anthem. The next song, “I Guess I Was Wrong,” is a soulful, melancholy piano ballad that contains a powerful angry break and a self-loathing ending. “How Does It Feel” is another rock ballad. It has a harder edge with more angst than “I Guess I Was Wrong,” but, contains much of same texture and rhythm. Track six, “Trapped Inside Your Love,” is a wonderful rocker that creates a complete tapestry of musical textures from electronica to thumping boogie. “Broken Heart” is a piano ballad that made me think of a cross between a harder-edged Karla Bonoff and Melissa Etheridge. The song “We Were Meant For Each Other” is a well written mournful pop tune that will wrap around you and bring you back to the days of your first love - it is a beautiful “coming of age” love song. Track nine, “Move On,” is another piano ballad. This one provides an interesting insight into this young teenage girl. It seems to be about her feelings as she comes of age. The final song is “Pour On Me” a pop rock anthem accompanied by a bit of slightly distorted guitar and orchestral strings and also reflects the changes Miss Morgan is experiencing as she grows into a woman.
If this is what she can do with a debut I can’t wait to hear what she writes and sings as she gets older. This is a young artist to watch. Hell, most girls her age are playing with nail polish and writing texts to their BFF about the “OMG cute boy in their English class.” Not Miss Morgan. She is 15 going on 26. - Old School
With the release of their new studio album Refuge (Ripple Music) just weeks away, blues/soul/rock trio Modern Day Moonshine announce the launch of their free fan interactive "MDM Bootleggers” Club
Spread across the bands' newly redesigned website and social media, the project allows "MDM Bootleggers" to access a new song every Tuesday. With a catalogue of songs reaching well into the hundreds, the streaming mp3's will range from demos and live performances to previously unreleased studio tracks, and will feature exclusive photos and updates from the band. Fans will be polled each month to choose their favorite tracks, with the winners being compiled into a special edition “Bootlegger Album” that will be available as a download only.
Offered free to all MDM fans, the only “cost” to join is their word of mouth. Operated much like the charity candy display at a gas station cash register, MDM is using the honor system of holding fans accountable to helping spread the word. In return for their efforts, MDM Bootleggers will have access to all new material as well as contests, giveaways and free tickets to upcoming shows.
Commented drummer David Burrows "These tunes need to be heard, and we want the fans to determine a unique album. This is the quickest way to get them out. We're really looking forward to hooking up our fans for helping spread the Modern Day Moonshine name." Modern Day Moonshine's Refuge will see a November 23rd release through Ripple Music.
Warren Zevon held the banner high until his death. From 1978’s “Excitable Boy” through his 2003 swan song “Keep Me In Your Heart” Zevon epitomized the country folk rock synthesis with reflective, humorous, political and historical lyrics and a touch of vocals reminiscent of the some of the best and most successful folk rock balladeers or all time - Jackson Browne, the Eagles, Neil Young, the Jayhawks and Linda Ronstadt.
When Zevon died the banner slowly fell to the ground. By 2004 not even Browne, the Eagles, Young, the Jayhawks or Ronstadt were producing new country folk rock music. Browne was Running On Empty re-recording his past successes. The Eagles were releasing a Greatest Hits album and vowing never to play live again unless Hell froze over. Young was performing his rock opera Greendale. The Jayhawks had disbanded and Ronstadt was singing traditional jazz with the Nelson Riddle Orchestra.
No one picked up the banner for almost four years. Some came to look at it. A few kicked at it and several even tried to wave it a few times. But, it wasn’t until a group from the Pacific Northwest decided to clean it off and mend it that the country folk electric rock genre truly returned. The band, Massy Ferguson, played with it on their first album Cold Equations. But they proudly hold Zevon’s banner high with the release of their second album Hard Water and the legions of fans should be ready to follow.
Massy Ferguson, named after a tractor company, is comprised of Ethan Anderson, vocals/bass, Adam Monda, guitar/vocals, Tony Mann, keyboards and Dave Goedde, drums. Anderson’s voice has a wonderful folk rock lilt - a cross between the clarity of tone of Zevon and the snarl of John Hiatt. Monda’s background vocals are spot on and his guitar work is melodic and inspired. Mann knows when the keyboards should shine in, and when they should accent, the music. Goedde’s drums are rock steady.
Hard Water was completed in tragedy. Two days after the band heard the first mix for the album Mann’s 14-year-old son lost his life to a sudden and deadly form of meningitis. The pain and devastation felt by the band carries through in the production values and adds a tragic, emotional and hopeful feel to the final edits.
The album features rockers, ballads, observations and cautionary tales. Just like in Zevon’s best work, the band’s lyrics contain large scale visual dreams - Cold War imagery ("Sparks and Shrapnel"), true stories of a misguided Northwest militia ("Freedom County") tragic love songs ("Idle Threats and Cigarettes") and tales of regret (“Good Enough”.) This is a thinking man’s country folk rock, exactly the type lost in 2004. Massy Ferguson brings it back, adds to it, and makes it even better. Where The Jayhawks left off Massy Ferguson begins.
Put this Seattle-based band on your “Must Watch” list. Massy Ferguson plows fertile ground and produces a stellar harvest with Hard Water. To paraphrase the late Warren Zevon, this is a band to “keep in your heart.”
Perhaps Myles Goodwyn, the lead singer of April Wine, said it best; “I like to rock!”
Once upon a time, rock was king. Good old fashioned, hard and heavy rock. There was nothing to match the excitement that exploded in every testosterone-crazed, teen-aged boy’s adrenals when Nugent unleashed “Cat Scratch Fever,” or the universal man-nod of approval that followed AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell.” I remember the fever that broke out when Back in Black was released. The anticipation, the moment, the climax, the basking glow of the aftermath. Breathless. Sweaty. You know where I’m going with this.
But over the years, good old fashioned rock got vilified. If you liked it you were called a Neanderthal, a caveman, a lunkhead. Rock was the genre for hairy men who lived in their parent’s basements, smelled like fermenting gym socks, couldn’t imagine a woman without the staples of the centerfold piercing her belly, and cultivated one or two brain cells at most.
Then when bands like Arcade Fire broke through, rock got pushed father and farther down into the dirty underwear drawer. Those who “knew” --critics who tried to set the stage for the rest of us-- only liked indy rock. It was refined, cultivated. It was sensitive.
Forget that! You may or may not like Arcade Fire, but one thing they aren’t is rock. This sissy-fication of rock reached pinnacle levels of fey sensitivity with the success of bands like Keane and Coldplay. Damn it. I’m a man. Got testosterone. I scratch my crotch and drink milk right outta the carton. I want it loud and I want it ballsy, dirty, slimy, in my face and nasty. I want my rock dangerous and ready for a prison break. I want my rock to rawk!
Fortunately, there are still some dirty mofos out there who get it. This column is for them.
Astrovan – You Said it Man
One note is all it takes. One note! Dig that guitar, hear the fuzz, the grit. Feel the thunder of the drum quaking in the background. Layer on some thick as molasses bass dripping in honey sweat, drop in a front-man with swagger, a cocky in your face ‘tude, with a foul mouth and a throat full of spit, and we got the makings of a great rock album . . er . . . EP.
Coming from Seattle, these guys suckled at the teet of Soundgarden, sprouted appendages in the womb of Alice in Chains. They were sired by the riff-Lords of Guns n’ Roses, and AC/DC and Aerosmith. And what emerged was fully-formed, ugly and nasty, pissed off and vowing not to take it no more. It’s all there, in song two, “Twelve Guage Promise.” I’m tired of talking to you/now it’s time for action. You want danger in your rock? How's a loaded shotgun in your face hit you?
The retro-packaging of the Peachy folder lets anyone know that these guys got '70's riff-rock rampaging in their veins. They blaze across the six-song EP, like a five-headed, hot-rod gang of parolees, pummeling out throttle-rock at high-octane levels. Suck on the exhaust, grab your brass knuckles and join in the fun.
Revival rock indeed! This gritty platter of ballsy, blues-ified, riff-rock comes at you like a blood-spittled gator crawling out of some time-warped southern swamp, where guitars still reign supreme, men drive 18-foot tall trucks with bigger gun racks, and Jack Daniels drips from mother’s breasts instead of milk.
This isn’t revisionist rock, it’s a fucking reclamation! It’s a six-string declaration that rock in the classic southern vein is back-- the land claimed in the name of Queen Hustler Magazine and moonshine. Bongs at the ready. But not only does this shit rock, it grooves. Really grooves, in that rolling way that only the best of Southern Rock ever could. Just listen to “Son of the Mountain,” and you’ll get it. That groove is thicker than the layer of mud caked on the tires at a tractor pull.
Like Pig Iron, these mutts are the real deal. Sure there’s a touch of Skynard, but it’s more full-on rock than that. Think Point Blank when they were good, 38 Special when they mattered, Blackfoot when they existed. Take that whole vibe, douse it in axle grease, drop it off in some biker bar brandishing the Confederate Flag, $1 beers, and a protective fence around the stage and we’re all set.
I don’t know what these guys look like, but my imagination says that they’re big hairy brutes who could put the fear of God into anybody who crosses their path. Just the way rock is supposed to be.
Fuck Axl Rose! Take a band that mattered and turn it into a living joke? In front of the whole world? Not on Diablo Royale’s watch!
Churning out a brutal beast of venomous rock and roll, Greedy Dogs is the clamor of testosterone-laden street curs no longer content to sit back and watch the music they love die. Guitars at the ready, grasped as surely as if they were M16 machine guns, aimed squarely at the solar plexus, Diablo Royale swath themselves in bathtub-meth, hard rock savagery.
“Resistance,” with it’s “six feet underground” refrain and mad-as-hell riffery is as certain to imprison your ear as the first time you ever heard “Paradise City.” Then, without letting up for one moment “Greedy Dogs,” unloads with the mother-of-all massive hard rock riffs, guaranteed to whip the punters into a frenzy. Drugs, riots, groupies. Diablo Royale are a return to those heady days when rock really mattered and no hotel room was safe. Hear that television crashing through the 18th floor window? Yeah, that's them.
Eden Burning got one singular message for the American public. They got penises and they ain’t afraid to use em. Lock up your daughters, chain up your wives, this is the return of cock rock with nary a condom in sight. Banged Up N’ Dirty? This is get down, humped-from-behind, filthy and obnoxious rawk. This is a Russ Myers B-rated, G-cup film brought to life, soaked in beer, whiskey, body fluids and left bare-naked on the floor, exhausted, spent, and begging for more.
“If You Want Me,” sums up these one-eyed monsters’ world view. “The girl was a freak, liked to do the crazy mambo,” spit out amidst the crushing powerchords and vibrator-paced drums and bass. Power? Hell yes! As the Pope would say, these guys pound it out as viciously as a trained monkey using my ball sack as a boxing speed bag.
“Glitter Girl,” spits out glammed up and sexy, but no less porn-tastic. These guys are like the rust on a strippers brass pole, festering from years of contact with body fluids. Toss in a guitar lick that’s just about as sexy as said stripper and we got a tune that should keep dollar bills flowing in girlie clubs year round.
I don’t know who they sound like. Kiss? Nugent? Does it really matter? It’s sleazy, cocaine-addled, junk rock cranked up to mind-melting, bug-eyed ferocity. Isn't that what rock’s all about?
