Earlier I mentioned an upcoming Box Records release, Girl Sweat's Bad Happenings. Well here are a few others that came out at the tail end of 2015/beginning of this year that also deserve attention.
Temporary Infinity is the third album from Newcastle psych-heads Haikai No Ku and it is as if not more unrelenting than their previous offerings. A cataclysmic wall of distorted dirge rolls in from the north, a steadfast maelstrom of monolithic monotony, with the squalls of guitar drawl licking at its heels, driven forth with plodding certainty by primal drumming - it's a gripping gruel of an album, and I absolutely love it. Sleep wishes they could hold down the fort in an apocalypse of their own creation like these guys can.
London noisy devils Casual Sect make one hell of a racket on The Hidden Persuaders. A calamitous catharsis, an implosive idiom, a perilous purge - Casual Sect wrap up their balls of broken punk noise with excursions into sound recordings and ruminations on David Icke and the Hadron Collider. The longest song here is called 'I Hate Jazz'. deliberately toying with what might be seen as an intellectual free jazz playthrough before devolving/evolving into a brutal thrash - as most of these spiked tracks are. Bow down at this destructive altar.
Not to be confused with the bewitching noise act also trailing around Europe, Unavailing is the album from the Bismuth who offer blood sacrifices to Sunn O))) doomsday soothsayers. The duo are infatuated with incremental sludge, as unrelenting as it is inevitable. Without a guitar - Bismuth are all about making bass and drums as tectonically destructive as their multi-membered, multi-stringed contemporaries. Yet they can achieve the same level of devastation without the sonic assaults too - see the quiet comedown of 'Of The Weak Willed' which holds off from the black mass for 14 of its 16 minute running time. It perfectly showcases their innate sense of patience alongside the penchant for obliteration - the world will come down, that is a given; but Bismuth will bide their time.
Showing posts with label Box Records. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Box Records. Show all posts
Wednesday, 30 March 2016
Glued To Bad Girl Sweat
Tonight I have the next Sonic Masala: London showcase, featuring batshit noiseniks Shitwife and livewire units Nitkowski. It is also featuring a London appearance from Girl Sweat, a one-man psych dirge. He is releasing his next album, Bad Happenings, on excellent label Box Records (Blown Out, Richard Dawson, a few others you will hear about shortly...), and if 'Human Glue' is anything to go by, it is going to be massive. Imagine linking a lapsteel guitar through a wood chipper and cement mixer, then strapping it to a post-apocalyptic scarecrow preacher from a dead motor city howling at the moon. That's 'Human Glue'. That's Girl Sweat. That's Bad Happenings. Pre-order here, and come to The Victoria tonight to see the man purge in the flesh.
Wednesday, 12 August 2015
Blown Out Boxes
There is something diabolical brewing up North. It seems that every time I hear a release is coming out of or near Newcastle here in England, you can expect it to be seriously warped. Like black pitch, A Field In England warped. Where everything is in monochrome, is melting out of the frame, slowed down and sped up in all the wrong/right places. At the epicentre of such alchemical bastardisations is Box Records. Their compilation from earlier this year, Vol. 1, included bludgeoning drawn out brutality (Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, Khunnt), schizophrenic noise (Foot Hair, Luminous Bodies, Beauty Pageant) and SM faves such as the psych daemons Gnod, warped bedroom warrior Waskerley Way and the inimitable anti-folk soothsayer Richard Dawson.
One of my favourite tracks to come off the compilation though was from Blown Out, whose album Jet Black Hallucinations (also out on Box Records) is a three-course degustation of drawn-out, drawled, dank and dark psychedelic r'n'r. Gorge yourself on the kinetic ferocity of the title track, which you think would sate your hunger. But no - when those seventeen minutes are up, along comes 'Transgalactic World Eater', a full-bore funereal dirge into the bowels of the outer reaches of space, the clarity of its brutality measured through sustained speed and propulsion. But then you come to the final act, the "brief" nine-minute 'Ultrawave Communications', a track that seems to take it down a notch yet is just as unrelenting as what has come before. Feed off the hypnotic teat and rejoice - THIS is what psych rock is all about.
Buy Jet Black Hallucinations here - STAT.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)






