tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9877092091061864872024-02-19T04:29:12.473-08:00snake figures fanit happens -
i hear it actually happens a lotpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.comBlogger58125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-81650750441439229722009-01-18T23:13:00.000-08:002009-01-18T23:19:54.830-08:00<span style="font-weight: bold;">Phantom Limb & Bison - s/t<br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tinymixtapes.com/IMG/arton4732.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 150px;" src="http://tinymixtapes.com/IMG/arton4732.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?t4imdnjjqmj">Download</a><br /><br />great, simple drone music. "waiting for my man" is ten lilting minutes of looping keyboard bliss and "bright yellow rays" works with big slabs of feedback and guitar. not much else to say; download it if this description sounds good and you'll like it. if this sounds bad you probably won't like it.paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-58424120397553775262009-01-18T23:03:00.000-08:002009-01-18T23:12:42.392-08:00maher shalal hash baz<span style="font-weight: bold;">Maher Shalal Hash Baz - Blues Du Jour</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3060/2720743852_8558b38f30.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 236px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3060/2720743852_8558b38f30.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?dyromntegmy">Download</a><br /><br />Maher Shalal Hash Baz is primarily the project of one tori kudo, a japanese ex-revolutionary who has since become a born-again jehovah's witness and released a string of really great, rather strange folk albums. good for breakfasts and wedding receptions.paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-48782188271930486672009-01-13T19:24:00.000-08:002009-01-13T19:41:53.845-08:00ghedalia tazartes<span style="font-weight:bold;">Ghédalia Tazartès - Diasporas</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hollowearth.org/woebot_images/tazartes.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.hollowearth.org/woebot_images/tazartes.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?emyqtjje5zz">Download</a><br />tazartès' first record, released way back in 1970. bizarre and captivating, the only consistent features are the shredded, looped, primitivist vocal backflips of this really cool looking cat. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sands-zine.com/img_articoli/tazartesinter__n.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 276px; height: 275px;" src="http://www.sands-zine.com/img_articoli/tazartesinter__n.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br />his entire discography is terrific but this one is like treasurepaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-41771658079650156162008-12-20T02:39:00.001-08:002008-12-20T02:40:43.228-08:00sorryugh sorry about being inactive for so long. anyone interested in more posts? i've been working my way through high school for a while and haven't had the energy to do much posting especially since i want to start actually writing my own descriptions and stuffpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-88081365168980150832008-03-27T23:53:00.000-07:002009-01-13T19:44:22.196-08:00tim hecker<span style="font-weight:bold;">Tim Hecker - Harmony In Ultraviolet</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://media.brainwashed.com/common/images/covers/krank102.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://media.brainwashed.com/common/images/covers/krank102.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?gwjcodm1m9j">download</a><br />"For his sixth album Tim Hecker sticks to more organic, muted colours. It's a sign of creative maturity and marks a welcome move away from the Fennesz-style layered glitchscapes that have dominated his back-catalogue. It's hard to tell exactly how these drone tapestries are woven together, the granular laptop trickery of old is virtually undetectable and the source instruments detuned and dissolved to the point of blissful obscurity. Opening with the elegiac strains of 'Rainbow Blood', Hecker eases the listener into his melancholy new sound-world before launching into the curiously titled, 'Stags, Aircraft, Kings and Secretaries' with a flickering percussive urgency. Somewhere within the digital fog you can just about discern the occasional glisten of guitar strings. Next up is 'Chimeras', a real standout on the album, its slow motion synth arpeggios providing a rare glimpse of overt melodicism, a property which, though ever-present on this album, tends to be restrained - even buried. That said, filtered and faded as they may be, Hecker's compositions always manage to reveal an emotive core beneath the static. You can understand why Kranky snapped up Tim Hecker: Harmony In Ultraviolet sits comfortably next to material by the likes of Keith Fullerton Whitman, Stars Of The Lid and Loscil, while retaining Hecker's unmistakeable trademarks, that minor key grandeur atop relentless waves of crumbling sonic detritus. This is music every bit as preoccupied with the beauty of decay as William Basinski's finest material."<br /><br />sounds like: drowning in gelatinpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-23006829674117002782008-03-27T23:43:00.000-07:002008-03-28T16:32:33.596-07:00maurizio abate<span style="font-weight:bold;">Maurizio Abate - Mystic Strings</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img338.imageshack.us/img338/5079/frontjx7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://img338.imageshack.us/img338/5079/frontjx7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?dmf1wrn3bjn">download</a><br />"Hand-made silkscreened edition of 100 copies from Abate who plays acoustic raga guitar and drones in the higher-mind style of Jack Rose and Robbie Basho. Some great aggressive, overtone-thick work here, with Abate generating whole mouthfuls of barbed microtonal teeth that sink deep into the background drones and pin em to the sky."<br /><br />sounds like: one of the adventures of a sailor who travels the worldpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-90047881588020720052008-03-27T19:40:00.000-07:002008-03-27T19:48:35.086-07:00jackie-o motherfucker<span style="font-weight:bold;">Jackie-O Motherfucker - Fig. 5</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.emusic.com/img/album/110/234/11023439_155_155.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.emusic.com/img/album/110/234/11023439_155_155.jpeg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?xdgnbezfbdm">download</a><br />"In America, we have monuments instead of mythology: bright obelisks and classical statuary erected as perpetually new in the place of the perpetually old. This is, after all, the New World; we dedicate these talismans against ruin across the landscape almost as if to keep history itself at bay, to keep time from catching up with us. Underfoot are bones and detritus, though, the debris of the little nameless events that are excluded from American history. It's all a rather shallow grave when you think about it.<br />Jackie-O Motherfucker's unprecedented Fig. 5, the group's first CD release, presents a dim and unsettling archaeology of American music. Released in the wake of the American century, it's the first unapologetically brilliant piece of experimental music I've heard this year. Somehow constructed bereft of any postmodern irony, Fig. 5 transforms a commanding grasp on the celebrated tributaries of American music-- jazz, Appalachian folk, soul, African-American spirituals, West coast surf-rock, Protestant hymns, Louisville post-rock, bluegrass, electronic noise-- into an autochthonous gospel. Jackie-O Motherfucker-- two multi-instrumentalists, Tom Greenwood and Jef Brown and the cadre of eclectic talents with whom they surround themselves-- abandoned the remix loop jazz-fusion of their first two albums (available only as LPs) and literally emerged from the basement and the soil with a masterpiece.<br />The gust-blown digital hum of the first track, "Analogue Skillet," underpins plucked and scraping strings, like a bow on the nervous system itself. It's buzzing neon yielding to something like a screen-door creaking on its rusted hinges behind wind chimes in "Native Einstein," a kind of front porch minimalism. There's a faint chorus of young girls counting down in the recesses, playing Double Dutch in the road. The strings sound like saws; the lone sax whines like an animal. The scene is replaced by the solemn repetition of guitar twang; "Your Cells are in Motion" is the working man's Mogwai: a funereal procession of rising guitar and faint vocals coalescing steadily into shantytown post-rock, tarnished but true. Labradford will spend the entirety of their career trying to create this song and never get it right.<br />The choral "Go Down, Old Hannah," performed here by the Amalgamated Everlasting Union Chorus Local #824, is a prison camp work song dating back to the turn of the century-- a plea for sunset to end the workday. "Amazing Grace," the slave trader John Newton's ubiquitous 1779 hymn to God, is barely recognizable as Appalachian free jazz: steely banjos and twittering horns that sound like bagpipes are equal parts mountain folk and Pharoah Sanders.<br />The lilting "Beautiful September" provides an interlude of catchy No Depression dream-rock. But the album's centerpiece is clearly the tribal 24-minute "Michigan Avenue Social Club," a track that sounds at times like dismembered Gershwin, and at other times like Cul de Sac with horns. Fig 5. fades out on the brief, chirping "Madame Curie," dissolving into the earth from which the whole work arose.<br />For all its disparate strands, Fig. 5 is surprisingly cohesive, constructing some ratcheted new sound with junk and memory rather than laundering old sounds with the irony and veiled contempt of other pastiche exercises. The disc itself is packaged in an oddly fascinating die-cut cardboard folio, complete with snippets of Alan Lomax's celebrated American ethnomusicology. Fig. 5 is slow and plodding like time itself. This work, again, simply has no precedents. Or rather, its precedents lie in the dusty anonymities of American musical history, instead of the proud and touted monuments of our cultural past. Listen to it once if you can. It is our secret national anthem."<br /><br />sounds like: road trips, porchespaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-77843973036340331202008-03-27T19:24:00.000-07:002008-04-04T13:44:57.554-07:00the taj mahal travellers<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Taj Mahal Travellers - August 1974</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.emd.pl/wiki_data/images/thumb/a/ac/300px-Taj_mahal_travellers-august_1974.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.emd.pl/wiki_data/images/thumb/a/ac/300px-Taj_mahal_travellers-august_1974.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?cmmngadwmzj">download part 1</a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?ejg1r2ds2nm">download part 2</a><br />"The four sides of August 1974, each about 20-minute long (the length that fit on an LP side), present the Travellers at their most sophisticated. The first jam is a concert of cosmic hisses that ebb and flow, distortions that scour the abysses of the psyche, sinister wailing and rattling that create a metaphysical suspense. At first, it straddles the line between Pink Floyd's Astronomy Domine and Klaus Schulze's Irrlicht, but then it becomes more and more abstract, recalling Sun Ra's extraterrestrial jazz-rock. Percussions are used sparingly. Violin, harmonica, bass, tuba, trumpet, synthesizer, mandolin duet in a subliminal and obscure manner. There is no melody, there is no logic. Just "voices", both subhuman and supernatural, that resonate with a universal inner voice. The second jam is a cacophonous gathering of timbres and gamelan-like tinkling, over which Tibetan chanting and droning intone a demented psalm. Halfway into the piece, the band seems to lose interest in playing, so the rest of the track is a rarified wind of tenuous sounds. The third track continues this silent journey into the unknown, with odd percussive patterns and random dissonance. As the chaos increases and exuberant voices join in, the bacchanal turns into a surreal pow-wow dance. The last jam continues the program of eerie noises and unlikely counterpoint in an atmosphere that is both dreamy and austere. We are transported to a floating zen garden, traveling on a flying saucer. A wavering harp-like melody invites to meditation, and, for a while, the spiritual mood prevails. Then the percussions break the spell, introducing the usual element of indeterminacy and heresy, and the trip ends, one more time, in the resonating depths of distant galaxies."<br /><br />sounds like: floatingpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-24960390169032162032008-03-22T12:44:00.000-07:002009-01-13T19:44:04.918-08:00william basinski<span style="font-weight:bold;">William Basinski - The Disintegration Loops</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hauntedink.com/dloop.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.hauntedink.com/dloop.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.othermusic.com">buy it here</a><br />"It's impossible: no one could create a script this contrived. Yet, apparently, it happened. William Basinski's four-disk epic, The Disintegration Loops, was created out of tape loops Basinski made back in the early 1980s. These loops held some personal significance to Basinski, a significance he only touches on in the liner notes and we can only guess at. Originally, he just wanted to transfer the loops from analog reel-to-reel tape to digital hard disk. However, once he started the transfer, he discovered something: the tapes were old and they were disintegrating as they played and as he recorded. As he notes in the liner notes, "The music was dying." But he kept recording, documenting the death of these loops.<br />These recordings were made in August and September of 2001. Now, this is where the story gets impossible. William Basinski lives in Brooklyn, less than a nautical mile from the World Trade Centers. On September 11, 2001, as he was completing The Disintegration Loops, he watched these towers disintegrate. He and his friends went on the roof of his building and played the Loops over and over, all day long, watching the slow death of one New York and the slow rise of another, all the while listening to the death of one music and the creation of another. As I said, it's impossible. The music, however, is beautiful, subtle, sad, frightening, confusing, and ultimately uplifting. What's he created here is a living document: a field recording of orchestrated decay. It sounds like nothing else I've heard, yet, at its core, it's the simplest and most familiar music I can imagine.<br />The four disks comprise six unique works. There is some overlap on the different disks; in fact, the first work (which Basinski calls "D|P 1") begins on disk one and ends on disk four. Some of the works are very long ("D|P 1" is over 90 minutes), while some are relatively short ("D|P 4" is only 20 minutes). However, each of the six works employs a different, repeating loop that slowly deteriorates into oblivion. The loops are very simple: a lush string or synth melody backed by atmospheric arpeggio countermelodies. The melodies are, as Basinski notes, pastoral: lush, simple works intended as idealized representations of nature and beauty. In theory, then, this is ambient music: music designed to set a mood, evoke a feeling (like a cinematic score), but one that is not designed for deep listening. That, I'm sure, was Basinski's initial design when he first created these loops in 1982.<br />But time has slowly killed these loops and the pastoral (and ambient) ideals they once represented. What we hear on The Disintegration Loops are not poetic images of nature or beauty but nature and beauty as they truly exist in this world: always fleeting, slowly dying. What makes these works so memorable is not the fact that the loops are slowly disintegrating but the fact that we get to hear their deaths. In a very real way, we experience the muddled, ugly, brutal realities of life. What's more, these muddled, ugly, brutal realities of life are, in their own way, incredibly beautiful, perhaps more beautiful than the original, pristine loops ever could have been.<br />As with any natural occurrence, these individual loops all die very individual deaths. "D|P 3," for example, begins as a bright, bold, orchestral melody that, over the course of 42 minutes, is slowly reduced to a sputtering, churning blob of its former self. The melody disintegrates slowly, until, by the end, only portions are audible; the rest is silence and noise. By contrast, the longest piece, "D|P 1," because it is split into three distinct parts ("1.1" on disk one; "1.2" and "1.3" on disk four), actually dies three separate deaths. Each one begins as soft, warm halos of sound, which then slowly mutates into muddled fragments. And then there's "D|P 4," the smallest work. It begins as a full-fledged melody but slowly devolves into chaos: silences slowly spreading across huge gaps in the loop, while the muddled melody struggles on, barely perceptible, until it, too, is silenced into oblivion.<br />This is not ambient music; this is not one melody played over and over to fill the background space of a Japanese restaurant. This is natural music: music created from the elemental forces of life and as a testament to those forces. This is the sound of entropy, the sound of life as it decays and dies before our ears. And like all living things, these sounds struggle and claw for life with their last, dying breaths. Their deaths are a memorial to Basinski's past. That he dedicates these works to the victims of the 9/11 terrorist attacks is fitting. I can think of no better tribute, no better response to a tragedy of that magnitude than a work as beautiful and as fragile as this one."<br /><br />sounds like: time passingpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-6795243347782937332008-03-22T12:18:00.000-07:002008-03-22T12:44:06.456-07:00emeralds<span style="font-weight:bold;">Emeralds - Servant</span><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?d9yl3duhzbe">download</a><br /><br />sounds like: looking through crystalspaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-37041571124433194892008-03-22T12:11:00.000-07:002008-03-22T12:17:45.807-07:00no fucker<span style="font-weight:bold;">No Fucker - No Flesh Shall Be Spared</span><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?0ym1gyb0ryp">download</a><br />wolf eyes covered "noise not music" but it's not on this demo.<br /><br />sounds like: uh being really angry i guesspaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-5173134369983448432008-03-22T12:08:00.000-07:002008-03-22T12:11:11.055-07:00seaworthy<span style="font-weight:bold;">Seaworthy - Map In Hand</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.boomkat.com/media/stock_images/12K1040_Cover.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.boomkat.com/media/stock_images/12K1040_Cover.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?1wh1cmxckay">download</a><br />""Map In Hand" must be the least overtly electronic release in the 12k catalogue. Australian three-piece Seaworthy conjure their languorous post-rock from a combination of guitar drone, field recordings and the slightest of electronic treatments. The resultant album is an impressive departure for 12k: ordinarily if a guitar shows up on one of the label's releases it either gets mangled beyond all recognition by Christopher Willits' jittery Oval-isms or appears as a component of a Minimo or Fourcolor austere, heavily processed soundworlds. On "Map in hand" you get a sense of the analogue dirt that comes with electric guitar sounds in the real world. You can hear the speckling of amp hiss and the interruption of jacks being plugged and unplugged on this record, and it's all the better for it. 'Map In Hand pt. 7' even comes close to the ghostly reverberations you'd find on a Loren Connors album, with its untreated, unbroken minor key soloing. Excellent."<br /><br />sounds like: long walks, ponds, algaepaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-1703874310049132862008-03-22T11:53:00.000-07:002008-03-22T12:07:36.826-07:00lotus eaters<span style="font-weight:bold;">Lotus Eaters - 4 Demonstrations</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.spirit-of-metal.com/les%20goupes/L/Lotus%20Eaters/pics/logo.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.spirit-of-metal.com/les%20goupes/L/Lotus%20Eaters/pics/logo.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?5wj6gykdkgy">download</a><br />very limited cd-r<br /><br />sounds like: islands, cliffspaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-23349136885928726282008-03-19T00:42:00.000-07:002008-03-19T00:58:02.383-07:00the tallest man on earth<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Tallest Man On Earth - Shallow Graves</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://obscuresound.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/tallman.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://obscuresound.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/03/tallman.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?x9cyjfi4j3p">download</a><br />i have been playing this over and over. it is pretty.<br /><br />sounds like: thinking a lot, watching people leavepaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-82121035981578470312008-03-17T23:46:00.000-07:002008-03-27T23:58:26.955-07:00hijokaidan<span style="font-weight:bold;">Hijokaidan - Tapes</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img90.imageshack.us/img90/1769/r7955451159602708bn9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.kt.rim.or.jp/~jojo_h/ar/img/a69.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?mnyqzde5j1o">download</a><br />"Volume Six in the "Hijokaidan Rarity Series" is another treat for all of you into UTTER DEVASTATING NOISE. As practiced in Japan, which makes it even better. Hijokaidan, despite fierce competition from Merzbow, Masonna, and quite a few others, are still the reigning Kings Of Noise in the Land Of The Rising Sun. With a cover and title paying homage to their krautrock heroes Faust, Hijokaidan's Tapes is a crucial entry in their discography, a record originally released in 1986 as sort of a career retrospective to date, comprising tracks from various eras and lineups, all only previously available on cassette. It starts off way back in 1979 with Hijokaidan's first ever recording, the studio-destroying (so they, rather believably, claim!) electric guitar and vocal skree of "Angel Dust" as performed by the founding duo of Jojo Hiroshige and Naoki Zushi. 1980's "Circles" adds more members and instrumentation (including drums and saxophone) and certainly doesn't let up from the noisy standard set by "Angel Dust". Then there's a 1985 track by the Incapacitants (members of Hijokaidan, equally noisy on their own), followed by two lengthy cuts from '85 and '86 inspired by horror film/fiction ("The Beyond" and "Salem's Lot", the latter an especially effective/destructive 18+ minute drones n' screams attack). And then Tapes finishes up with a cover tune, their beautifully blown-out take on the classic '70s space rocker "Silver Machine" by another band of Hijokaidan heroes, Hawkwind. Good stuff. Plus, the front cover features very personal notes on each track, and a history of the band '79-'86, neatly typed up in English. How can any Hijokaidan/noise fan do without this??"<br /><br />sounds like: fucked up old moviespaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-45015475629559354942008-03-17T23:39:00.000-07:002008-03-17T23:46:19.376-07:00dj 光光光<span style="font-weight:bold;">DJ 光光光 - Planetary Natural Love Gas Webbin' 199999</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.artistdirect.com/Images/Sources/AMGCOVERS/music/cover200/drf000/f010/f010248zdi2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.artistdirect.com/Images/Sources/AMGCOVERS/music/cover200/drf000/f010/f010248zdi2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?m10z2imjs4w">download</a><br />"Who would have guessed that Boredoms would become a franchise? They stray so far off the beaten path, it's hard to imagine a need for side projects. Nonetheless, there are many, some of which are actually quite good. DJ Pica Pica Pica, which is the brainchild of Boredoms' brainchild Eye Yamakanta, is one of them, and Planetary Natural Love Gas Webbin' 199999 is the name he chose for his first album. And, as might be anticipated from an artist called DJ Pica Pica Pica, there is a certain dancehall flavor to it. But it's not really dance, techno, house, or even drum'n'bass, per se. And it's hard to imagine anyone actually dancing to it. There's a regular drum beat keeping things steady, but that's not what makes the album so fascinating. It's the no-holds-barred, adventurous, and impressively to-the-beat sound combinations Eye has layered over it. "3" seems to feature the sounds of jet airplane in the background. "13" rocks with what sounds like a rolling, processed didjeridu, intermittent jungle breakbeats, and any number of interesting noise arrangements you couldn't hope to describe. As always, anything goes, and, when it does, it usually goes well. This is more accessible than most Boredoms albums, but definitely wild enough for the die-hard fans."<br />i had to edit this review to say "boredoms" instead of "the boredoms". psh<br /><br />sounds like: rollercoasters, happinesspaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-52834055456888959482008-03-17T23:33:00.000-07:002008-03-19T23:41:57.522-07:00the gerogerigegege<span style="font-weight:bold;">The Gerogerigegege - Tokyo Anal Dynamite</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.rateyourmusic.com/album_images/4269.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.ypgd.org/npics/2007/tokyoanaldynamite.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?jvyba8jthuw">download</a><br />"Easily the most infamous and well known release from the gerogerigegege, this one really just can't be beat, no pun intended. a little bit more than half an hour long, this album ought to come with its own built-in safety belt. if the album cover (a line of naked punk looking cartoons all simultaneously vomiting and shitting in unison) doesn't prepare you for the album, then hopefully this review will. it is basically a live recording from 1987 that is indexed into 75 (!) separate tracks. absolutely no track is more than 1 minute long. juntaro is listed as playing NOISE BASS and another person is listed as playing both drums and vocals. the liner notes are fairly confusing even though there is not much written to begin with aside from who is playing and when it was recorded. this cd is generally considered to be one of the most important and highly significant releases of the entire Japanese noise scene. even though there were about 3000 copies pressed worldwide, it seems to be one of the more difficult gero releases to get a hold of. Every song follows the same formula: "___(insert Japanese curse word, phrase, etc.)__" then a count off into short spastic bursts of pure punk-driven dissonance. Every song title is generally screamed in japanese with the occasional American cover song thrown in. although this has always been pointed out in other reviews of this same album, hearing Juntaro (or whoever) scream, "boys-a don't-a cry!" (the cure) or "I can't-a getta no satis-a-FAK-tion!" (rolling stones) actually IS completely worth whatever amount of money one is willing to spend on obtaining this obscure gem. At one point, Juntaro screams his own name and counts off only to end the song after 20 seconds to scream his name again BACKWARDS. it is completely hysterical. Near the end of the cd, there are more drawn out feedback drones and less screaming, due to obvious reasons that one could assume. The production is very gruff, although one can make out the drums quite well and the feedback and/or bass add an another layer of sound. There is not much left to say other than the fact that this is THE quintessential gerogerigegege release."<br /><br />sounds like: tokyo, anuses, dynamitepaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-75806349867306946542008-03-13T00:56:00.000-07:002009-01-13T19:44:57.690-08:00daphne oram<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.boomkat.com/media/stock_images/PD21_Cover.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.boomkat.com/media/stock_images/PD21_Cover.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?iorweemcaie">download part one</a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?cgj2kjenm3h">download part two</a><br />this is so rad. you have to look at the album cover while listening to it btw<br />"Daphne Oram might not be a name as familiar as, say Delia Derbyshire or Raymond Scott, but she is one of the unsung heroes of the early electronics movement, and even more interestingly was the founder of the BBC Radiophonic Workshop! Are you impressed yet? Well you should be, Daphne joined the BBC at a mere 17 years of age back in 1942 (turning down a place at the Royal Academy of Music) and from there on she badgered the company endlessly to start investing in electronic music. She was convinced of the potential of this new sound and was totally obsessed with pioneering it, to the point where she would camp out at the BBC studios for nights on end splicing tapes and working with various modified machines to create her abstract soundscapes. Eventually the BBC bent under her pressure and in studio 13 created the soon-to-be-legendary Radiophonic Workshop, with Daphne Oram as the director. Sadly this involvement was to be short lived as Daphne decided she was unhappy to be writing music simply to be heard in the background of some science fiction television show or another, and left the company to start her own studio and pioneer her own musical instrument. Named the Oramics system, this incredible device allowed her to 'draw' sound, and had the synthesizer's oscillators, pitch, volume, vibrato and more controlled by hand drawn slides. It was an incredibly original way to think about sound creation, and her work was totally pioneering in the genre - allowing her to make sounds and compositions totally unlike anything heard before. Daphne continued to experiment with music using the Oramics system and then an Apple II computer until she had a stroke in 1994, and was up until that time totally dedicated to experimental electronic music. Her work is here presented across two discs and shows many of her early compositions for film and television and also some later work (post 1966) which made use of the Oramics system. Having only managed to hear a very small amount of Daphne's work before (notably the track 'Four Aspects' on Sub Rosa's influential 'An Anthology of Noise and Electronic Music #2') it is an absolute revelation hearing this collection. Each track shows just how important she was on the development of music we know and love so dearly - Delia Derbyshire for instance was a devoted follower of hers, and is quoted as saying she was "one of the most important people in the history of electronic music". This sentiment is clearly evident as we are taken through a journey of devastatingly complex electronic and concrete music, music that would give any number of the more well-known composers a run for their money. Possibly one of the finest collections of early electronic music we've ever had through our doors, this is a stunning presentation of a truly remarkable woman's work - I think we've found our holy grail. Unmissable."<br /><br />sounds like: interplanetary journeyspaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-6071382453303298752008-03-13T00:50:00.000-07:002008-03-13T01:00:32.492-07:00yellow swans<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1077/1440403309_30e7270fcc.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1077/1440403309_30e7270fcc.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?8xvcdiwz4md">download</a><br />"In an effort to describe the visual work of Shirazeh Houshiary, it was suggested that it had a "presence," like light, which required experience in order to be comprehended. This also holds true for Yellow Swans’ newest release, At All Ends. With this, their second album for Load Records, Gabriel Salomon and Pete Swanson present a work exquisite in the weight of its melodic presence and brutal in its devastating beauty. It is a work that seeks to assert itself beyond the limitations set upon it by its recorded form.<br />"At All Ends" begins the album with a series of passages, looping and dissolving in absolute reflexive response beneath their own counterclockwise fallout. These motifs move at the pace of hallucinatory trailings, in constant progression toward their final end, succumbing to an aggressive flare of guitar strum and feedback. This final sequence brings to full view the primary foundation from which their work is birthed: noise. And while sonic explorations that fall within this practice are often considered lacking in expressive qualities, this couldn’t be further from what’s on play here. Building upon this infrastructure of noise, Yellow Swans have fused elements of shoegaze, wherein the melodic basis of the record finds root. This component elevates the proceedings beyond what could have potentially been a fixed exercise in dissonant scree and feedback.<br />"Mass Mirage," a blur of somber guitar harmonics submerged in audio grain and rubble mixed with Pete’s obliterated vocals, is a prime example of this influence. It’s not difficult to hear the influence of Slowdive, My Bloody Valentine, or Loveliescrushing fixed within their open-mouthed, skyward-eyed noise, nor is it a task to hear the influence of the archetypes — dream pop and space rock — of shoegazers in the cathartic extremes. "Our Oases" is similarly invested in this celestial gazing, with expansive, divinity-invested ambience buried beneath seething guitar figures and vocal phantasma. And while shorter by half, the transcendent effect is undeniably achieved. Deconstructed in comparison, but no less entrenched in metaphysical otherness, "Stretch the Sands" is a panorama of scorched undulation laid bare before your eyes. The album reaches a final transcending moment through the slow, unfolding melody of the somber guitar on album closer "Endlessly Making An End Of Things," which radiates outward from a shadow in majestic climb; spiritual absolutism perhaps, but profoundly affecting.<br />With At All Ends, it’s clear Salomon and Swanson are progressively moving toward an openly pronounced use of melody, which will assuredly continue to alienate them from noise die-hards. Conversely, their decisive use of noise will alienate listeners easily frustrated by the squalls of feedback and electronics. It would be a shame, however, for any listener, regardless of their biases, to be lost on this record. Indeed, their melding of ideas induces an "unknown knowing," coaxing the listener into an absolute state of self akin to the work of Francisco Lopez and John Duncan. The element of "noise" is transcended, becoming an unobtrusive extension of the achieved infinite state. Records capable of provoking such psychotropic transitions come along very infrequently; do not miss out on this one."<br /><br />sounds like: an empty desertpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-26276103504442759682008-03-13T00:39:00.000-07:002008-03-13T00:45:36.959-07:00john wiese<span style="font-weight:bold;">John Wiese - Soft Punk</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://home.earthlink.net/~johnwiese/TMU184cov.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://home.earthlink.net/~johnwiese/TMU184cov.gif" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?5yjdl4evxs2">download</a><br />"John Wiese is no stranger to the manipulation of others' music; he's mangled his own sounds and those of others on past releases, but Soft Punk contains his most obvious reworking of found sounds to date. The disc's liner notes credit Denny Mclain, Grand Ulena, Sissy Spacek (Wiese's band, not the actress), and Die Monitor Bats as providing source material for a few of the disc's tracks, but more overt sampling is evident on a few other tracks, and, alongside the digital pyrotechnics that Wiese usually employs, it offers bit of organic counterpoint to the proceedings.The use of samples isn't a necessary addition to Wiese's arsenal (in fact, "Recorded Hologram," heavy on such use, is one of the disc's weaker tracks), but Wiese largely avoids hackneyed use of the plundered material, and the trajectory of the disc isn't put noticeably of course. Soft Punk is another "debut" by a musician whose catalog is already bursting at the seams. There's an issue of semantics at hand, but, whether or not it seems ludicrous to call an album released at this point in John Wiese's career a debut, one can safely just call this album another quality release from Mr. Wiese, the cream of Los Angeles' noisemaking crop.<br />Wiese likely doesn't use tools unavailable to his contemporaries in noisemaking, but listening to a track like "Spectral Hand" might make it seem that way. When at its best, Wiese's sensitivity to timbre and his logic in sandwiching sounds are top notch; there's a cleanliness and clarity in even the most decimated masses of half-digested static and the swirling tones that surround them. Wiese works in sound that, at times, is practically three-dimensional, and through stereo panning and architecture of sound, he's capable of impressively immersive sonic environments, especially considering the hectic pace that much of his work has a tendency to take. Soft Punk is the sort of album to proves that noise isn't purely the realm of the talentless hack with an ear for discord, and though it's indiscernible in any truly tangible way, there's certainly a method to Wiese's madness, and an art to his crafting and arranging of sound.<br />Selecting a favorite Wiese album is somewhat akin to choosing the best looking blade of grass in a yard; there are way too many to choose from, and keeping them distinct in one's mind often proves to be a challenge. Soft Punk, however, seems a fitting entry to the upper echelon of Wiese's oeuvre, and a worthy wearer of the title of his full-length debut, no matter how contentious such use of the term, in this case, might be."<br /><br />sounds like: grinding teethpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-9287831692367864252008-03-13T00:28:00.000-07:002008-03-13T00:38:42.839-07:00i am on a fucking roll tonight<a href="http://s233.photobucket.com/albums/ee101/21GP/?action=view¤t=sinbad2gy4.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i233.photobucket.com/albums/ee101/21GP/sinbad2gy4.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>paulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-44769510347470966032008-03-13T00:19:00.000-07:002008-03-13T21:36:26.256-07:00bunalim<span style="font-weight:bold;">Bunalim - s/t</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dustygroove.com/images/products/b/bunalim~~~~_bunalim~~_101b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.dustygroove.com/images/products/b/bunalim~~~~_bunalim~~_101b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?9bnwxb0zzjj">download</a><br />"First-ever CD reissue of some of the most amazing Turkish music ever recorded: wild, raw and with fuzz guitar all over. Bunalim (which means "depression" or "frustration" in Turkish), founded in 1969, was one of the most well-known underground groups on the Turkish music scene of the early '70s. Although their discography is limited to only a few singles, Bunalim is regarded as a seminal band in Turkish music history, who paved the way for its members to find fame later on in their careers (playing with Erkin Koray, Mogollar, Ter, Edip Akbayram). Bunalim released 6 singles which are incredibly rare, and never completed a whole album. They were produced and managed by legendary Turkish rock musician and instigator of the Anatolian rock movement Cem Karaca, one of the most important rock singers in Turkey during the 1970s. This release is a blend of their work from 1970-1972, and features everything from American-influenced garage to early punk experiments to fuzzed-out psychedelic heavy Eastern drone, including a cover of Iron Butterfly's "Get Out Of My Life, Woman" ("Yeter Artik Kadin") sung in Turkish. They say about the band: "God, they were crazy! Running all nude down the Istiklal Street, psychedelic light shows, crazy paintings all over the stage wall and screaming of LSD! LSD! in their live shows." As good as the best recordings from Erkin Koray, Bunalim are, even for most Turkish collectors, a well-kept secret. The LP version reissued by Shadoks sold out within a blink of the eye."<br /><br />sounds like: the stooges except uh turkishpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-29123780383003923922008-03-12T23:57:00.000-07:002008-03-13T00:07:20.606-07:00raccoo-oo-oon<span style="font-weight:bold;">Raccoo-oo-oon - The Cave Of Spirits Forever</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hairentertainment.com/files/images/caveofspiritsCD.img_assist_custom.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.hairentertainment.com/files/images/caveofspiritsCD.img_assist_custom.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?i1gmzx9mzzj">download</a><br />"Time-Lag Records :: Raccoo-oo-oon blend wooded spiritual progressions with guitar experimentation, sometimes reminiscent of Animal Collective or Acid Mothers Temple. Often psychedelic, it also feels like something scraped up along the American landscapes on a recreational drug-use category of drugged-out roadtrip. The songs lurk strangely in post-Godspeed You! Black Emperor territory with simple guitar lines being built upon with varying degrees of epicness and strangeness as well as tribal throw-back sing-songing. This recording was originally pressed as a CDR in early 2005, now repressed here on a regular CD. I'm anxious to hear the newer offerings by this group of cave spirits. They are on their way to possibilities."<br /><br />sounds like: mob mentality, moving bodies of water, things that live in moving bodies of waterpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-75791928600277725042008-03-12T23:49:00.000-07:002008-03-12T23:55:22.596-07:00prurient<span style="font-weight:bold;">Prurient - And Still, Wanting</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.boomkat.com/images/107147/333.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://static.boomkat.com/images/107147/333.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?1dqwisl1d1e">download</a><br />"A follow-up to Dominick Fernow's Pleasure Ground tract, And Still Wanting maps out a fresh set of paths into the abyss, with an initial, limited edition CD run accompanied by a 5" slab of vinyl featuring 'Prologue' and 'Epilogue' pieces as bookends to the album proper. The voice tends to be at the epicentre of Fernow's infernal compositions, and on this album you're even supplied with a lyric sheet, so you can screech along at home. 'Memory Repeating' uses a straight forward spoken vocal as its lynchpin, while layer upon layer of horrendous distortion collapses in on you. There are plenty of noise records that cake on the fuzz and feedback, but just as there ain't no party like an S Club party, there really ain't no racket like a Prurient racket. Fernow always manages to go that little bit further into the filth-pit of extremes than just about anyone else. It's that particular kind of extremity to his work that makes it all that little bit more terrifying than the industry standard. Even by No Fun standards this is not for the squeamish. And Still, Wanting is hardly pushing things forward but the dark poetry recital aspect gives the noise onslaught an added depth, particularly in the deep, cavernous musings of 'Strict Ideas' which sounds like someone incinerating a William Basinski Disintegration Loop whilst reading out some unintelligibly overdriven statement in the midst of it all."<br /><br />sounds like: speaker problems, beetles, solitary confinementpaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-987709209106186487.post-6151238193233424722008-03-12T23:22:00.000-07:002008-03-12T23:44:19.074-07:00religious knives<span style="font-weight:bold;">Religious Knives - It's After Dark</span><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.boomkat.com/media/stock_images/rknives-brooklyn.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://www.boomkat.com/media/stock_images/rknives-brooklyn.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.mediafire.com/?q9zbddiucmc">download</a><br />hey btw these folks are coming to seattle on the 15th, go see them<br />"It was always going to be tough following up a record like "Remains." For me the Religious Knives trio of Double Leopards' Maya Miller and Mike Bernstein and Mouthus stick-man Nate Nelson were at the top of their game with that disc, bringing to mind the finest elements of early Popol Vuh and blending that with a roominess, a sense of outsider bliss which was impossible for me not to fall in love with. It was the sound I'd always wanted from Double Leopards welded seamlessly with the kind of percussion that wouldn't be out of place on a Sublime Frequencies collection, and in that the Knives had become almost their own sub-genre. Strangely then for their second long player the band have tripped almost headlong into a world of heroin-soaked fuzz-rock - a sound not too many hops, skips and jumps from a Morrisson-less Doors or even The Stooges.<br />Those of us who managed to lay our grubby mitts on the stunning "In Brooklyn After Dark" 12" last year will already have an inkling at the sound they're approaching, and indeed that track pops up as the extended introduction to "It's After Dark." Grimy, fractured and primal, this is music that sounds as if it's been recorded in a basement as a near psychotic Abel Ferrara frustratedly attempts to daub oil on canvas in the room above. There are plenty of links here to the trendy and recently re-emerged no-wave scene Sonic Youth so proudly represent, but somehow the trio manage to sidestep this faddishness. It was a track that surprised me at the time simply for the fact that it was so different from their previous work, but a track that has elevated with each play, and one which sounds infinitely better when you crank the amps up to eleven. From this extended introduction however the Knives' sound creeps and crawls mutatedly around the psychedelic rock genre with dashes at smudgy, drugged out half-tempo balladeering, fat organ-led grooves and even nods toward the rock-pop flourishes of the equally genre-bending Magik Markers. It doesn't always work either; occasionally the single-mindedness we became so accustomed to on tracks such as "Bind Them" is fractured to give way to a rare fragility. The fog breaks for a moment<br />and our suspension of disbelief is broken, the band become mortal for a second - vocals cracking and silence becoming dead air. This is however exactly what makes "It's After Dark" a totally different beast from it's predecessor, a brave record which almost resets the band in my mind at least giving them a set of rock 'n roll credentials they possibly never had before.<br />"It's After Dark" is precisely that, music to sit awkwardly in-between you and that nerdy girl in the over-washed X-Ray Spex tee shirt as you sip on a cheap bourbon and give out wry, uncaring smiles, music to accompany you as you wander alone back from the show wondering silently whether she even gave a fuck. It is music for mixtapes and heartbreaks and exactly the kind of noise the tiresome blogosphere needs to replace their ill-founded adoration of the Animal Collective or Grizzly Bear. Don't believe me? Flick over to "It's Hot" and play it three times. you can almost imagine Iggy Pop himself crawling around the corner, limbs flayed as he dribbles a chemical-rich saliva over your new rug. Give the ten-minute epic "Noontime" some airing and you'll be sinking hopelessly into the whirling synthesizers and chanted vocals with scant regard for the consequences, and it's around this time you realize that there's simply nobody else like Religious Knives. Fuck the genres; New Weird America? Noise? Psychedelia? This is good, old fashioned American rock music, and sure, the band might not have got it entirely right - but that's what makes them so damn good and what forces you to remember why you fell in love with music in the first place. Just remember this ain't an album for the attention deficit generation, you need to listen more than once - trust me, in about six months this will have gone from 9/10 to 10/10."<br /><br />sounds like: rainy spring weather where the air is heavypaulhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05886235235606568538noreply@blogger.com0