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Author Topic: PLAYLIST with COMMENTS/REVIEWS  (Read 4349146 times)
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« Reply #7935 on: May 27, 2020, 06:24:02 PM »

Meat Beat Manifesto - Armed Audio Warfare CD - Run Recordings 2003 - I got this CD when I was 16, scouring my local Tower Records for anything "industrial".  I knew MBM from older sister's recommendation and The Matrix soundtrack, and the Chemical Brothers' Brother's Gonna Work It Out Mix. This blew me away when I heard it, partially because it's all over the map! You've got white guy rapping, turntablism, screeching feedback, brutal drum machines, breakbeats, sometimes all in the same track. It's fucking nuts and it does a level of genre hoping that I could only expect from the bravest artists today! I can't compare to other MBM because I've never heard another MBM release, but the mid section of this comp from I Got the Fear to (Strap Down) Give Your Body Its Freedom crushes. It's a bit dated but it goes hard as hell. 16 years later and this one still puts a big fucking smile on my face... and brings back some crazy memories. Maybe I should finally check out some other MBM records?

Thirdorgan / Diesel Guitar ‎– Futuredestroyer / Tahiti 7" - Fever Pitch Music 1995 - It's all about the Diesel Guitar side but before I gush hard let's talk Thirdorgan. Thirdorgan's track is hash but not unpleasantly so active harsh noise with lots of wandering stereo panning. No extreme shriek or crunch, just midrange abuse. Good but not mind-blowing. Having only heard Thirdorgan here and on comps I'd love to hear one of his good full-lengths which seems impossible without spending some serious money. annoying. Diesel Guitar though, oh man. I was expecting something softer and more drone-y, but this is tense and building. Or maybe narrowing? Almost like listening to an engine in a cone shaped turbine, being pushed towards the smallest point.. Not harsh sonically, but the feeling is unpleasant. And it has this very ephemeral quality that makes listening and describing like trying to explain the way a dream made you feel, long after waking or deja vu. I listened to this 7" 10 times in the last week and I still can't conjure the sounds in my head. So I'll have to listen and listen again hoping to capture the experience in my mind but failing to do so. What I mean to say is this 7" achieves the ultimate goal, it forces you to play it again and again and again.
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« Reply #7936 on: May 29, 2020, 05:44:04 PM »

不失者 ‎– 不失者 1st 2xCD - PSF 1997 - 6 years after listening to Fushitsusha for the first time, specifically track 1.3 すきにやればいい, I finally own this album. I've written several times about how I ordered this album and received The Time is Nigh instead, which through me for a loop. Since then I've been slowly buying up the '90s 不失者 albums, most of which fall closer to The Time is Nigh than this album. I've been laboring under the impression that aside from  すきにやればいい, Fushitsusha primarily offered variations of soul rending inferno. And I mean that literally, the sound of Fushitsusha is one of your or their "souls" being taken/cast/torn from the body and cast elsewhere. If I can say it without sounding completely asinine, it's metaphysical or at the very least existential music. It demands attentive listening with no other distractions.
But then there's 不失者 1st. Finally hearing the whole thing for the first time last night, I am utterly blown away by how grounded and human it all sounds. It feels much closer to true blues than black-pillar-of-light-hell-inferno. It's so easy to listen to I could imagine playing it for friends! It's absolutely amazing but it's pleasant too. Who could have thought? I guess I'm the last one in on this, so everyone else thought. And to my slight surprise track 1.3 すきにやればいい is the best of the bunch. Legitamtely sad music, but not in the mopey faux-emotional way, but true reflective sorrow as an 11 minute blues piece. I challenge you to listen and feel nothing.

I suppose it's hard to talk about Fushitusha or Keiji Haino in a way that does make you sound like a dandy fop, maybe because in my mind they epitomize "Art" in such an obvious way. But to be fair I think myself or Force Neurotic or Bloated Slutbag can wax poetic just as easily about "scum" noise easily.

Government Alpha ‎– Structural Contradiction 3xcassette - Black Horizons 2019 - the really classy design of this release is immediately noteworthy. a tall 3xcassette box, the insert gives you 7 collages in that GA style on big panels. the insert is a little big on mine so the pages are slightly warped, but thats a minor thing. Slime green tapes with only hexagon symbols to indicate which is what. music wise, and I'm no GA expert by a long shot, is lots of squiggly harshness. the first tape is probably my favorite because it feels a bit heavier and little bit sharper with dynamics. I think its Side D that just felt lazy for a bit, but picked up again. the live sets on the 3rd tape fit in well with the studio stuff and aren't overly long. it's a nice detour from the types of harsh sounds I normally listen to, as they're less shriek-y and more playful and squiggly for lack of a better word. a less hateful approach to harsh perhaps?
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« Reply #7937 on: May 29, 2020, 07:16:07 PM »

不失者 ‎– 不失者 1st 2xCD - PSF 1997 - 6 years after listening to Fushitsusha for the first time, specifically track 1.3 すきにやればいい, I finally own this album. I've written several times about how I ordered this album and received The Time is Nigh instead, which through me for a loop. Since then I've been slowly buying up the '90s 不失者 albums, most of which fall closer to The Time is Nigh than this album. I've been laboring under the impression that aside from  すきにやればいい, Fushitsusha primarily offered variations of soul rending inferno. And I mean that literally, the sound of Fushitsusha is one of your or their "souls" being taken/cast/torn from the body and cast elsewhere. If I can say it without sounding completely asinine, it's metaphysical or at the very least existential music. It demands attentive listening with no other distractions.
But then there's 不失者 1st. Finally hearing the whole thing for the first time last night, I am utterly blown away by how grounded and human it all sounds. It feels much closer to true blues than black-pillar-of-light-hell-inferno. It's so easy to listen to I could imagine playing it for friends! It's absolutely amazing but it's pleasant too. Who could have thought? I guess I'm the last one in on this, so everyone else thought. And to my slight surprise track 1.3 すきにやればいい is the best of the bunch. Legitamtely sad music, but not in the mopey faux-emotional way, but true reflective sorrow as an 11 minute blues piece. I challenge you to listen and feel nothing.

I suppose it's hard to talk about Fushitusha or Keiji Haino in a way that does make you sound like a dandy fop, maybe because in my mind they epitomize "Art" in such an obvious way. But to be fair I think myself or Force Neurotic or Bloated Slutbag can wax poetic just as easily about "scum" noise easily.

Next on my list for this evening's listening session is Fushitsusha - Purple Trap 2CD (Blast First 1995) . This is and always will be one of my favourites.
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« Reply #7938 on: May 29, 2020, 07:24:55 PM »

There's a guy on Dime a Dozen (actually, two of them, but they seem like the same person) who uploads six live recordings every year for Haino's birthday.  User:  firusan.  Every group and kind of performance you can imagine, some pairings that never get released and are live-only.  They also go to Tokyo every year for Haino's marathon birthday shows and records them (not this year).  Really nice sounding recordings, too.  It's difficult to keep up with the listening.  Haino is in constant great motion.
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« Reply #7939 on: May 29, 2020, 08:07:12 PM »

There's a guy on Dime a Dozen (actually, two of them, but they seem like the same person) who uploads six live recordings every year for Haino's birthday.  User:  firusan.  Every group and kind of performance you can imagine, some pairings that never get released and are live-only.  They also go to Tokyo every year for Haino's marathon birthday shows and records them (not this year).  Really nice sounding recordings, too.  It's difficult to keep up with the listening.  Haino is in constant great motion.

I grabbed some of these from his last round but haven't had a chance to check them yet.

I need to get around to uploading my recording of his show here in 2018.
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« Reply #7940 on: May 29, 2020, 09:01:42 PM »

FAUSTIAN PACT - Outojen Tornien Varjoissa CD
Some Finnish black metal tonight. My wife bought this and told me I'd probably like it, and she wasn't wrong. After releasing one demo in 2010, Faustian Pact took their time and waited to February 2020 to put out their debut CD. That is some oldschool attitude right here, folks. To provide a little context to any interested outsider I have to generalize a little (though not much). Finnish metal usually means one of a few things:
1) Massive and commercially successful heavy/power metal
2) deliberately silly or ironic folk metal
3) some combination of 1) and 2)
3) Obscure, rather brutal black metal (in the tradition of Impaled Nazarene, Barathrum, Beherit and later Satanic Warmaster, Clandestine Blaze, Saturnian Mist etc).

There are also, however, the odd men out, and if I have to sort this into some Finnish metal category, that is the category where I'll put it. Stuff like Darkwoods My Betrothed and that pink album by Thy Serpent would be the first comparisons, but this is not quite like them either. In fact, it might be better to leave Finland and instead bring up mid-90's Norwegian stuff - early and/or extra-underground. This is difficult, considering the violently shrieked audibly Finnish lyrics. Even so, Outojen Tornien Varjoissa  to my ears has a lot in common with the debut album of Dimmu Borgir (I repeat, debut album), Perished's Kark, Ragnarok's Pagan Land demo, Bak De Syv Fjell's excellent From Haavardstun 7" and any number of other Lusekofta-clad svart metall bands..

The name of the game is mid- to fast paced melodic black metal, with plenty of synthesizers. The latter sound a whole lot like lined physical units from the 90's rather than VST virtual instruments, but even if the latter is at work here, it's still a nice touch to use "classic" sounds rather than bringing on the fake orchestra. Many strange musical choices, a high level of rabid aggression despite the melodies and synths, and last but not least an extremely rough production brings everything together. Boring riffing or (worse) too much polish and rational dynamics processing would have made this a far weaker experience. As it is now, it's fucking great. This is the sort of black metal I preferred back in the day, and it's very nice to hear someone still doing it.
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« Reply #7941 on: May 29, 2020, 09:36:53 PM »

There's a guy on Dime a Dozen (actually, two of them, but they seem like the same person) who uploads six live recordings every year for Haino's birthday.  User:  firusan.  Every group and kind of performance you can imagine, some pairings that never get released and are live-only.  They also go to Tokyo every year for Haino's marathon birthday shows and records them (not this year).  Really nice sounding recordings, too.  It's difficult to keep up with the listening.  Haino is in constant great motion.

I grabbed some of these from his last round but haven't had a chance to check them yet.

I need to get around to uploading my recording of his show here in 2018.
firusan's recordings give us some idea of how often Haino plays.  He plays A LOT.  Exploring with new people all the time.  I don't know if his "bands" rehearse, but in a way, he reminds me of Jerry Garcia.  Not so much in the final decade when Garcia was hooked on heroin and watching TV on a Lazyboy, but in his prime, he was playing 5-10 hours per day, squeezing 30 hours out of a day.  Haino must have an instrument in his hand every day, hours a day.  I hope someone writes an insane biography of Haino some day and also a couple hour documentary on him as well.  Artists like this fascinate the hell out of me (time squeezers).
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« Reply #7942 on: May 29, 2020, 11:28:58 PM »

There's a guy on Dime a Dozen (actually, two of them, but they seem like the same person) who uploads six live recordings every year for Haino's birthday.  User:  firusan.  Every group and kind of performance you can imagine, some pairings that never get released and are live-only.  They also go to Tokyo every year for Haino's marathon birthday shows and records them (not this year).  Really nice sounding recordings, too.  It's difficult to keep up with the listening.  Haino is in constant great motion.

I grabbed some of these from his last round but haven't had a chance to check them yet.

I need to get around to uploading my recording of his show here in 2018.
firusan's recordings give us some idea of how often Haino plays.  He plays A LOT.  Exploring with new people all the time.  I don't know if his "bands" rehearse, but in a way, he reminds me of Jerry Garcia.  Not so much in the final decade when Garcia was hooked on heroin and watching TV on a Lazyboy, but in his prime, he was playing 5-10 hours per day, squeezing 30 hours out of a day.  Haino must have an instrument in his hand every day, hours a day.  I hope someone writes an insane biography of Haino some day and also a couple hour documentary on him as well.  Artists like this fascinate the hell out of me (time squeezers).
There is a biography from a couple years back but it's in French only so far, AFAIK:

https://www.lespressesdureel.com/EN/ouvrage.php?id=5284

I've read it and it was pretty good, though not necessarily revelatory.
And I remember disagreeing with the author on his assessment of some of his records, ha.  Seemed to me like the author had sort of a bias against the albums where Haino collaborates with non-Japanese players.  Still a good read.
Now a long documentary, that would be fantastic... If Boyd Rice got four hours, Keiji Haino deserves at least that much!
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« Reply #7943 on: June 01, 2020, 05:05:45 AM »

V.A. - Someone Wake The Maid It's Time To Kill The Butcher
The Japanese / Texan (+ 1) Noise Treaty. That’s what I wanted to call it. But the title they went with is pretty okay, too. So yes, same old story. Poor bugger gets caught, again, favoring the hired help with choice slab of primo uncut um product, pays the ultimate price. Wait, hold your cleavers cause I’ve got another great title here for ya: The Hasegawan (+1) / Other Noisean Treaty. (Those seeking assistance trying to think up Real Good names for their comps are encouraged to inquire herein.)

Hasegawa certainly dominates the first side, though he’s got several different names. The first name,  Hiroshi Hasegawa, plumbs the depths of Hades, an odd title given the project’s tendency to reach for the heavens but not so odd once the atypically erratic- if firmly gripped- herking and jerking starts to sever skull from spine. At a key juncture, voice-ignited lightning-scathe blasts straight through psych-tinged reverb hiss, like Darth Vader taking a very painful shit around lightsaber stuffed halfway home. Still the expected whitewashed tumbling blaze cycling and searing, in more or less straight line, to requisite stratospherical bliss.

The second Hasegawa, codenamed Angel Body Import, duly tries to out-Hasegawa the Hasegawa, to out-Astro the Astro Man. Do they succeed? Well, you’ll get no heresies from me. But pretty fuggin luscious lines on this sensuous sweety. Slow sultry build of reverberant whitened sheets, licking languidly through the cool echoing caress of deep sunk chromium-plated rocket chambers, heaving and swelling in massed waves of monumental roar ‘n shimmer. At their outer limits a threat to scorch the skies, but then to rein things in oh so deliciously at the brink. What a fucking tease.

Prof Hasegawa’s Psyche Class 101 continues courtesy Leecher, subtle bass-buffered softies progressively harshed and ill-controlled via ill-coherent belches of curdling grind-strangle. A rather sudden rush into some fairly nasty severities and perhaps the first inkling, if that damn maid ever shows, that that butcher is in for some seriously harsh attention. By the time all the squealing layers come into their full and ugly-mugged fruition, buckling and shuddering in filthed and furious disarray, we have admittedly taken some leave of the Hasegawa, setting things up for the +1.

This next project may have little in the specific to do with Texas or Japan, but is probably still worth remarking on. Collapsing metals clank and stammer- echoing with perhaps the faintest of nods to Hasegawa- as a forested thicket of strangulated grit-kernals crumbles about the perimeter. At choice junctures a slather-voiced scorch-bristle or two punches straight through, massed layers duly acquiring roughly contorted densities before the heaving mangleage-a-trois buckles under pressure, the junk-scrap attacks getting noticeably violent and out of hand there. Call it remarkable or just goddamn weird.

P.O.V., aka The Final Hasegawa, takes a page from the Leecher book, accelerating aggressively toward an Absolute Mass of absolutely obliterating scorchout. The requisite whitened sheets abound, lustily piling on in a full and determined clusterfuck of competing shriek and blister. This is one of them beauts where the listener is invited to attend to the arched and sweeping periphery even as more bruted incisions drill straight through the center of the skull. The perfect and all-consuming end to the Hasegawa, ‘holes left to desperately flash at their rotten limit.


Side Other Than Hasegawa’s got two Japanese projects duking it with three Texans. Texan 1st, aka Scathing delivers more of that seething, searing, scalding scorch. The shit, is hot. Actually this particular shit’s also got plenty P.O.V.-esque white-sheeted blisternment rushed into the raging scree, so at some level perhaps to suggest a perceptible deference to Hasegawa, like why mess with a good thing? But nah, the shit’s too vicious, too frenzied, drilling with too much driven intensity, deep deep into the harshwhorecore to admit but a single exceedingly fleeting moment’s consent to breath free, the ‘holes well and truly butchered, like where’s that fucking maid?

Kazehito Seki channels RHY Yau in an unhinged-out-the-fricken-gourd, or better, unhinged-in-the-fricken-gourd, burn-it-till-you-puke, squeegee twizzle. Start. Stop. Choke. Hawk. Pah-too- er, pardon me...apparently recorded live with a “Good PA” in Buffalo NY. Completely lives up to the self-stated manifesto published in the liner notes: I believe in GOD-crossed-out-MY AESTHETIC...ever panic, just play. Dude sounds like he was having a panic attack live and in the flesh, but it was probably just something stuck in his throat. For fucksake Buffalo, you people just stand there and watch? Any fucker clap and it’s time to play Fist, meet Face. The new poster boy for Vapo Cool.

Then a wee bit ‘o gentrification per the Elder Texan, flushed purple and bleating in distressed sub-ambient frieze. Observe as Richard Ramirez takes his sweet old time, flopping out the Backroom Prize and ever-so-eloquently shoving the shit home, plunging with a firm and single-minded pressure into hazy, deadened machine burial ritual: murked wheedle ‘n fizz slowly ascending through grim, electrified, steely-faced buzzing, scraping along the dense and unyielding assemblage, to resolve, finally in clustered singe-bleed of monolithic redwall.

Mo*Te’s So Fucking LSD is about as Other Noisean as you could want. There’s definitely more than just LSD in there. Starts with a straight-ahead beat before sharp uptake of gaseous bong-chambers envelopes a stuttered boiler-room clunk ‘n tremble, exhaling in uneven blurts of alternately flatulent butt-huff and choked-whistling dog-slobber. Steady gradations of singed warble-bleed punctuated with wide-panned electro-jitter and muffled dumpster thud. The dumpster thud gradually starts to dominate, distort, flatulate, briefly entertain possibility of going it harsh, nice phat ka-BLEEWY, end, like to hell with the maid, what in the fuck was that?

With flashes of Mo*Te still echoing in the brainpan, who who better to succeed than A Fail Association. Heard they were playing this at the recent stateside street protests. A little faux rhythmic drama to get the blood pumping, cut to wide-bodied pinging and keening, cut back again to the drama, rhythms getting badgered and buffeted by whittled midrift shizzle-snort. Then. Enter the maid. Nylon’d knee to the neck and the suffocations start to crowd in. Harsh, HEAVY, uncompromising, short but far from sweet, like, gurgle seriously urk man gluglughgh, it's chck-xss Hard...To fucking Brea-
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« Reply #7944 on: June 02, 2020, 05:39:27 PM »

Masonna ‎– Exploring Self-Corrosive Noise With Coquette 7xcassette - Urashima 2018
so I listened through this entire box between Saturday and last night and I feel like I should get the few remaining thoughts I have left down before my leaky sieve of a brain forgets them all. Before even starting this “review” I realized I should’ve taken notes while listening…

I'll talk about the similarities before I talk differences. I’d say all of these tapes have a fairly freewheeling and exploratory nature compared to some of the mid to late 90s Massona material. Some tapes feel like one giant 60 minute session, others clearly have breaks between “tracks”, but the tracks are long. I think hearing the material on cassette might also help it feel more melted together rather than the hyper editing assault of Hyper Chaotic or Frequency LSD. The main elements are always explosive, gibbering or bizarre vocals, ripping noise, fucked up panning, a fair amount of guitar cord feedback/unplugging type sounds which personally I love, and later on, synth stuff. Aside from the Hate and Freak it’s fair to say the material is less polished than most Masonna CD albums.  I think what makes this set so clearly Masonna is the absolutely relentless and churning nature of everything. The onslaught almost never lets up except for arguably the last side of the last tape.

So regarding differences, Like a Vagina and All Live Recording At My Room clearly stand apart in terms of weirdness and lack of consistency compared to the rest. There’s a slight fumbling amateurish aspect that’s charming but not always sonicly mind-blowing. Some parts sound like Maso is just figuring out what to do next. BUT, there are parts of such extreme violence that often follow it makes up for any subpar sections. 

Mad Onna and Maso + Onna = Masonna are probably the most well-rounded and executed. Arguably flawless harsh noise. I kept thinking Mad Onna sounded familiar and then I realized some version of it is on Noskl in Ana so duhh.  Interested to listen to the different versions back to back and see just how different they are. I want to say that the Mad Onna tape is the best of the bunch but that might just be because of my familiarity with it?  But Maso + Onna = Masonna is fucking excellent too so it's a close call.

The last three tapes, Hate, Freak and Filled With Unquestionable Feelings are all from 1995. Each one feels like a different expansion of the Masonna sound. Hard and unnecessary to pick a favorite but I’d probably go with Hate. It seems to be made up of several tracks over both sides, and the first one is absolutely delicious synth noise that really gets my dick hard. There’s some goofier parts in later tracks but the good parts strike that perfect balance between enjoying synths but still getting that harsh sound and feeling. Truly brutal space shit. And very unexpected when I first got to that tape coming off of 4 brutally harsh tapes. Freak is also very strong, but way more harsh sound focused. By the time I got to it on Sunday night my brain was feeling pretty fried. Listening to it on headphones felt like a non-stop pummeling for 30 minutes. I was ready to cry uncle by the end because it’s such ceaseless assault explosive vocal noise. I think it was one of the ones that had a fair amount of vocal panting and labored breathing. Love that.

Finally last night I got to Filled With Unquestionable Feelings. A-side is harsh pummeling noise, broken into a few tracks. Excellent as expected. B-side is nothing of the sort. It sounded like object abuse, often backmasked or reverbed or something. The attack was fucked up sounding. Never blasting, just slowly shifting physical noise. A strangely calm way to end 7 tapes of relentless noise abuse.
Final thoughts, any of these recordings would be worth buying on their own. No tape feels like a boxset bonus, all are strong. The wood box packaging is total useless and there had to be better ways to put this boxset together. But I appreciate that each tape has its own tape, rather than combing 2 tapes to a CD like the CD reissue version that followed after. And the tapes aren’t dubbed in the red, which is probably better for this material. I am surprised that out of these 7 tapes that All Live Recording At My Room is the first to be reissued on vinyl. Would not be my first choice. But considering the cost of LPs with shipping, this box is probably still the best value.

To those hardcore, long-time Masonna fans, if I got something wrong let me know. I did my best to offer my thoughts on what I heard rather than make assumptions about how or why it was done. I’d love to hear other peoples thoughts about this material.
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« Reply #7945 on: June 02, 2020, 06:53:09 PM »

re: meat beat manifesto
mbm is xlent electronica across the board. their unmatched mix of electroacoustic noise, hip hop, dub, jazz and fat beats is quite unique. (sounds horrible when typed out like this, but hey...) the early albums "armed audio warfare", "storm the studio", and "99%" are the most abrasive / in the red, from there it gets mellower but often dissonant and always tasty. there are a few tracks on each album that are quite poppy, but definitely never mainstream-cheezy-poppy. i'm not a completist, so i can't comment on absolutely everything by no means, nevertheless mbm is always genius stuff. also because i came across mbm early it set the bar pretty high for other stuff to make an impression. again, not a very deep connoisseur of the genre, but because of mbm most other stuff got filtered out.
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« Reply #7946 on: June 05, 2020, 06:50:30 AM »

UND / MAN IS THE BASTARD / BIZARRE UPROAR "Sources of power..." LP
This was quite important compilation LP, or ”3 way split LP” for me. Possibly first noise 12” vinyl I got, 1992. Therefore I also own both versions of this LP, this silver-foil embossed cover version I found in regular 2nd hand music store in Finland, while the multi-color printed one I got in 1992 from guy of U.N.D.
U.N.D. started in 1991, and rarely mentioned when Finnish noise is discussed. Primitive brutal electronics, using couple efx pedals, guitar feedback, household objects etc. He was not involved in ”noise scene” per se, but came from noisecore/grind/hc background and main influence for noise was probably Audio Stench and ATTA! Material has quite unique take.
Man is the Bastard here is their early noise recordings. Style is still taking its shape, and the template of how ”Bastard Noise” does noise, was not ready yet. I find these songs way more interesting than later era where there is sort of better material - but clear routine. Now vocals are different, delivery different, sounds and songs have far more diversity as well. Some of my all time favorite MITB tracks here, even if not every piece is gold.
Bizarre Uproar here is also the early style. Drumset blasted via distortion and some feedback. Starting to move into harsh noise realm, more saturated and distorted compared to MITB/BU split 7” that came before this. Some really neat moments, although the BU people tend to love, is yet to take shape. Visuals and all that were already great!
LP is ”Sources of power... ...from another world”. Dirt cheap still after all these years, at discogs.

KULTURE SHOT 2 CD
AIPR.
This looks and sounds like tape compilation of the era. Mid 90’s with Lasse, Taint, Ramirez, Gilden, and more. All harsh noise, blown out and cruel. Spray paint and hand made packaging, like most of his label releases.
World Record CD, excellent compilation with totally great noise tracks being only quickly interrupted by less noisy improv freak-outs.

Entertainment Through Pain CD
RRR
one comp I never listened since it came out. Gave it a spin back in 1995 and felt this must be one of the least interesting RRR discs... hah. Well, it is not good, but it has some humor value at least. Merzbow track is absolute stand out on this.

LHD "Opaque" CD
Troniks
Good solid harsh

MERZBOW "Dadarottenvator" LP
Urashima
Glad to have the Merzbow, but even more glad I would be if it was original PDB. Just because I think it is the last missing item from PDB catalogue, and could finish ”complete collection”, very very rare occasion of that happening for me. I doubt I have any complete label discographies, with exception of some who put out only couple items. Album is good. Very diverse in sound, it's not as harsh as some of the albums. It's not album, but with clips of jazz and very "free form" structure. Like Masami is fishing what direction to go, and then going there full force a bit later.


If only making of 7”s was not so ultra high.... I don’t care if people don’t seem to generally like 7”s. I do. And these are pretty damn good empiric proof why one should worship noise 7”s!
 
Merzbow Rod Drug 93 - total blast
Merzbow / BLJ 7” - equally brilliant
I recall Incapacitants was not very thrilled to have MSNP pick up tasty cover-art for them, but this split with Macronympha is certainly great.
Merzbow+tea culture 7" more odd than ultra noisy. Good nevertheless.

Tea culture is pretty good name. I have couple good noise & tea related stories. One short is sitting after good noise show at flat of Cheeses Internation (uk) and asked water to drink. He replied that in this household, we only drink tea or beer, and now is not tea time.

Thorofon / ipda split 7”. One side quite unusual, when there is pitch effect going strong all the way. Always in the way that you hear the original and pitched sound. Of course effect that is used, but not so common these days. Ipda is ultra minimal death industrial type of stuff.
Taint / smell & quim split, excellent Taint side. Odd and weird S&Q side.
Violent Onsen Geisha 7” continues vey logically this S&Q material.
Toroidh 7”, martial / historical / industrial feel here. Feels too short for this project. Certainly more album oriented material.

Followed by a many more 7"s.. but lets mention:
The Haters! These all are PURE gold... Truncated Formica, A Furthered Pause, and more. I doubt if there even are full lengths that are as phenomenal as Tuncated Formica? Well, except Ordinarily Nowhere and In shade of Fire - of course! Each 7” here is different, multi-layered physical, and crunchy noise loops.

Hair Police "strict" 7". I got CDs and LP’s, but... seems like I don’t have too many 7”s. B-side has drumming, with noise, but A-side is even more ”non-band-music”, although that term hardly applies to b-side either.

I do have Peepland CD, but 7” version of Intrinsic Action, I like flipping sides, browsing artworks, touching the vinyl slabs. Complete collection of IA 7”s listened and they are probably stronger than ever: Groupies, Male Payment, Manhattan Power Surge, Dazed!

Then Iugula-Thor set of all the 7”s I could find. 1994 single on AWB is very very tasty! Cunt Supermarket! Hollywood smack! Sshe Retina Stimulants split 7".

Freudwerk/Incapacitants 7”. Needles to say I like what I am hearing. No single wasted minute on this batch of singles!

That recent HAARE/VU split tape is a treat! Unusually harsh Haare on that one, but way better than noise cd FA did! So Haare clearly improves also on field of noise making! This some years old Haare "death happening" 7” is good stuff. Dark and heavy.

Hagall 7” fills the soft spot towards obscure industrial-noise vinyls. Never been collectible even if Warcom release. Perhaps not classic, but works on my turntable!

Talking of ”collectibles”, there is this thing, that some release in noise have ”reputation”. items that seemingly everybody want. Items that may have been listet in classic mailorder catalogues.. Nowadays hunted desperately. But entirely different category of noise is this... ”DIY noise”. Barely was available in distros. Or sold for bargain prices. Tapes often traded by artist to other artist. This meant that you needed to be in touch to get it, or care enough to discover yourself, since there was no praise in any ’zines...
Hermit for example. Style varies greatly. Some stuff is just imprv, some pretty harsh, some kind of DIY industrial-noise. On flipside you got Armenia, Napalmed,... and stuff is kind of unique. It far from the shining aura of cult names (haha), but this hand made noisy dirt, has charm. Of course some classic noise album is phenomenal to listen to, but there is something *else*, something quite different in listening 2usd bargain bin singles nobody seems to care about. Out of these 4 Hermit 7"s, especially good here is the total no-tech harsh blast of Amenia and Hermit’s anti-capitalist regurgitations on ”bizarre rituals in honour of capitalist machine” 7”. Or first few minute of Napalmed broken damage.
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« Reply #7947 on: June 05, 2020, 09:53:08 AM »

See bottom of this post for digest commentary.

Hive – Demiurge 2xc90 (reissue)
And now, a brief history lesson from your friendly neighborhood Skeleton Dust. Brief? Yes, well. Nineteen-shitstain-ninety-five. A good noise year. Enter Niklaus Wiesend, aka Hive. Hive, one of those rare and utterly slaying urgencies, pops up from nowhere, annihilates everything in its path, and then pops right back to nothingness, never to be heard from again. But before the proverbial Hive-head gets popped for perpetuity, it blesses us with Demiurge.

Demiurge, original, is pretty much the complete package. Harsh slaying goodness, razor-sharp, dynamic, little inclined to relent, constantly evolving over a wide-ranging measure of moods and colors, many of them manhandled in piercingly vicious rough of rawhide-red ear-bleed dry-shred, pared down, butt-naked, crystalline, spiky-headed. Harsh slaying goodness, but off-kilter, different from practically everything else out there, open-ended and open-aired enough to suggest  an almost acoustic, or physical, disposition. Seasoned, too, with some faux ambient-psych intrusions, sky-blottening thunder-bellows, and the occasional vocal spastic, the whole messy spectacle shifting by degrees from one extreme to the next. Nary a dull moment over the full and ferocious 100-minute course. To help guide the listener through this veritable tour-de-féroce, a lengthy tract of text comes folded neatly into the fetishizable hive-box housing, serving in part as condensation of the sonic-sensual experience in play, part of which I quote:

They stick you in by yourself in this slider and then pipe in this noise—sort of a pierce jumping back and forth between shrieks and crashes they made with machines. At the same time, green lights find your retina quick and prance away just as fast doing little zig-zag dances on the way out and yer eyes can’t help but follow and yer lexicon starts to bulge all by itself, without you even raising a dirty, lazy finger. That noise they learn you with is supposed to be pure information or some trash, and yer head gets all drooly and hungry for it and just waits for the next session in the slider, cause you can start feeling what it’s like being a demiurge.

And honestly, that’s exactly how it hits. In kaleidescopic flashes of primary color, flooding the brainpan, multi-hued shrieks and crashes jumping about in a maddening dance that ultimately communes at a deeper, proto-informational, level, leaving the head popped, primed, panting, starved for more More MORE.

Craving more? That can be arranged. It is very much worth noting that the Demiurge originally bequeathed is a c90+c10. Per discogs, the persons responsible for this reissue would appear to have revised history in a way only a noiseperv could love: with the “full version” otherwise hidden from ear for the last two-point-five decades. Now, I did struggle a bit with the complex math here, but if my calculations are correct a 2xc90 gives us, let’s see here, yes: eighty whole extra minutes of very-probably-irreproachable earhole annihilation. There you have it. Skeleton Dust: putting the vision back in historical revisionism.

What this also means is we’re getting the four colors restored to their proper order, though I’m probably getting ahead of myself.

More worthy of mention, vis-a-vis the sonic-sensual experience, is that this is not merely the debut of material excised from the original, but that due to the limitations of format the material is ordered and arranged quite differently. I mean, it is unmistakably the same material, but in its full and glorious extravagance leaves quite a different and lasting impression. I am not yet ready to hold one above the other, the original or the reissue, but will say simply: the world needs both. (We’ll see what’s what in the course of time.)

Heresies duly acknowledged, it should be agreed that in presentation and packaging the reissue is as faithful to the original as could be hoped. Up to and including the eminently quotable tract of text penned by the demiurge himself, a second revelatory nugget of which to sample-

...there was this guy who taught us all to kill with poems. Not the special part that happens in yer brain with electricity and chemicals and trash, but the actual word part of things, the part about the lexicon that makes the juices flow hard enough to pop a head.


Side YELLOW—I am born and begin to shout slogans starts, quite literally with a bang, a bang that does not quite correspond to the banging accorded the c10 original but one that nicely prefaces the extended annihilations to come. Razor’d raw shrieking scorchleries savagely ripping ‘hole with a precise and poised kinetic hammering that refuses in its breakneck pacing to let up for a moment. Or so I would have expected. In the early going, the demiurge works itself into quite the frenzy, attacks coming so swift and severe it strikes as almost percussive. Nothing hidden or distorted, nothing buried in layers of murk, everything crystal clear, the total killing in store vivid in its WHITE-YELLOW hues. Ax-chops erratically thunk off fat chunks, then hack and blast them to bits in fevered rages of char-burnt seethe. And then…a marked slowing. A more considered thunk here, a more deliberate hack there, spaces opening wide to admit near silences and crawls through downward-dragged rubble-drudge.

As the ears acclimate to their less than ripped-to-shit surroundings one is forced to speculate. Suggestions of scandal emerge. Overzealous-if-possibly-visionary Plague In Perspective label boss cuts material deemed less annihilating. To fit the resulting format he then deliberately mixes up the colors. The poor suffering artist, in a fit of pique at the heavy-handed intrusions into his magnum opus, goes ape-shit, and the head, it just...snaps...crackles. Pops. Whatever the case, color me intrigued by the more broad-brushed perspective. The patience, the feeling things out. Holding back the wack. Centimetering along. Playing close to vest. And moments of genuine, say it, drag.

Then, inevitably, the unloading of the requisite holy hell, the unbridled ferocity that much more impactful and resonant. Several such episodes are sprinkled into the narrative, none of them really defining the whole but offering a sort of collage of complimentary impressions and exertions. Toward the end a not unwelcome bit of Maso-ish vocal-spastication, revealing that perhaps Mr Voice was there all along, driving the harsher severances, and in fact coloring many of the more rabid-flecked flavors on tap. The final episode does again carry on for a bit, this time in rasped and ruptured mid-shizzled shreddings, but with a filthed and blotchy atmosphere that convinces the attentions to stay the course.


RED—Stretching to Yawn, I Crack the Ceiling of Heaven. Now this, is harsh. Brutal. Vicious. Nothing quite so arty or episodic, fuck no. The penetrations are almost without exception delivered straight through Skull Central, drilling with severe and single-minded intent to damage hole. Kicks off in dramatic fashion, ruptured bash of echoing rhythmic distortions suggestive of Incoming. And then the harsh. Again very percussive in its unceasing ice-pick-through-the-eyeball stabbing insistence, quite minimal in its range of materials deployed. On the original YELLOW fronted c10, you’d automatically flip over for some GREEN, hard to be arsed to bother according the colors their the prescribed order. Here in the REDzone, the contrast couldn’t be sharper. Simple, but highly effective, not particularly fast-paced but just completely unrelenting. Or better: unforgiving.

Some minutes in, the demiurge piles on the scorch tones, seemingly headed for massed and layered oblivion, but then abruptly pulls back and enters a fantastically twisted dialog of crudely hacked blurt and more whitened blister-spasms. Open invitation, then, to wider-bodied psych permutation, brute belching insinuations gradually softening along the distorto-curve, soon to grow utterly incinerating in a pointed slathering meddly of severely-pitched dental scree, grinding shriek, screeching ear-scision. You could perhaps say RED, per YELLOW, is also somewhat episodic in unfolding, as each micro scorchout session tends to break into pauses for breath, ratcheting up the tension, promising that much more Ear Rape. But it just doesn’t fucking matter. The ‘holes are utterly fucked however you slice ‘em. The ending sequence here is simply divine, wide open spaces lacerated by tremendously violent slashes cum more mangled and ripped-raw mutilations.

Fuck. Got another ninety minutes to go. Earholes are fucking good as-


GREEN—Garlic Trembles From My Tongue. Yes I’m sure it does you pervert. This one sounds familiar. The sound of the earholes getting pummeled into submission. Look, they submit already fercrissake. This is the FULL GREEN, the c90 version, so question as to whether the rabid intensity can be sustained throughout as it is in the original abbreviated format. Well, certainly for the first few minutes it comes swinging: spine-ripping violence and abrasiveness hammering at the poor abused skull with merciless force and fury. After that, yes, well. Still pummeling rabidly away. An almost ambient underbrush suddenly pokes into the substratum, but hard for the GREEN’d grey matter to notice or care under all the incessant hammering. At one point, portly buzzing drone rolls onto the field but I don’t know if that’s the best of ideas. Just gonna piss the rabid pummeling off.

Now the rabid pummeling is joined by whitened bristles and the occasional hawking blurt. The field starts to distort, perspective warps, erratic percussive blasts resolve into straighter stuttering lines, the faux ambient underbelly starting to resemble choked and strangulated flatulence. The general sense is of an industrial-grade blender full of knife-blades all grinding twisting and whittling away at one another, edges dulled, broke off, bent, shattered. In the more overloaded intervals there is a genuine resemblance to traditional harsh noise, but then things go off-kilter again, indulging in swirling squeal and shriek even as the chopped stutter starts to resemble a pocked and seizure-racked engine-deathspasm.

Nevertheless, halfway through, a distinct grinding down of the gears, plowing straight into muddied fields of crumpled distorto-grits. Being that this is the demiurge talkin’ you know it ain’t gonna last, but still a good chance to enjoy the deviation from the unbridled ferocity that has been mercilessly raping hole for the better part of two hours. Naturally, when Ear Rape returns, none too much later, it is with fantastically white-hot stuttered incisions, breaking into pure waves of scorching fire. Yes, traditional harshnoise here, no question, but. Just. Brutal. In the closing minutes, false respite in the form of gasps of air, painfully sweet contrast of whitewashed searings flashing GREEN, charring BLACK.

Seriously folks, do I have to continue? I’m seriously going to have to give up noise for the next two-point-five decades at least. Seriously.


BLUE—My Red Heart Bruises Black, but we already knew that. Ditto the utterly scorched holes. Now, all that stuff I’ve been diarrhetically rambling on about, above? Well, you know it’s just the set-up for the main course. These could just be the ramblings of a sorry sod with earholes ready to give up completely, because, well, they are, but here the most piercing intensities seem just that much more...intense. Harsher, sure, but balanced quite precariously on a knife-edge of control and complete spastic-frenzied, eviscerating, bloodbath, the piercing intrusions continuously poised to fly off the handle, then driven deep into the sonic-sensual entrails, twisting, wrenching, jerking with willfully sadistic abandon.

The intro seems to set the tone. Not particularly harsh, but kind of...hinting at what’s to come. Thundered and rupturing stutter-belch wracked with little needle-sharp points of stinging heat. It’s just a question of when the stinging heat is going to erupt to outright inferno. In very short order the stutter-belch evolves into strings of rapid-fire percussive drilling rips, broken up among open-aired echoing blasts before driving furiously toward flattened scorch-curves. There are, in fact, quite a lot of open airs pock-marking the BLUE, serving more often than not to convey that spasmodic demi-urgency, the seeming ready willingness to blow clean apart without ever really letting go the raging white-knuckled jerk-o`-stab

Sudden slide now to galvanized psych-chambers, strands of lickety-spit liberally slathered about the metallic interior, deep dives to de-harshed grey-edged de-compressions, but not long before the demiurges get all scrunched and screechy-scorch hot again. On the home stretch here and piston-like PURPLE-headed knob-slobbery mimicking, shit you not, the sound of the damaged ears on the receiving end of harsh: all the pointed edges and piercing peaks roughly sanded off in vaguely sludge-drizzled remove, to learn us that, truly, there’s more to it than just scorching hole. The noise told me so.


Digest spew
Nineteen-shitstain-ninety-five was a good noise year, for several reasons including this one: kaleidescopic flashes of primary color, flooding the brainpan with multi-hued shrieks and crashes, razor sharp, dynamic, piercing, vicious, pared down to butt-naked, crystalline, tacks. Harsh slaying goodness, but off-kilter, the precise and poised kinetic hammering almost acoustic in disposition. There are, perhaps, a few let-ups in the unceasing frenzy of breakneck blistering attack, but principally to emphasize the incandescent raging ferocity of the next round of over-violence. And the next round always inevitably comes due. Praises be to the bringers of this rare wonder, going the extra mile in providing a “full” 3-hour version that is more than sufficiently different in its sonic-sensual unfolding from the 100-minute original. The world clearly needs both, so perhaps somewhere down the road some enterprising spirit could entertain reissue of the original in original format. That is, if the demiurge’s head doesn’t pop.
« Last Edit: June 05, 2020, 02:59:31 PM by Bloated Slutbag » Logged

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« Reply #7948 on: June 06, 2020, 03:53:52 AM »

Honestly ever since I spun that Hive reissue I’ve been digging hard into 90s Japanoise. The real classics, ya know.

Cracksteel, Crack Fierce, Thirdorgan, Government Alpha, K2, Kazumoto Endo.

Oh and Pain Jerk started that Bandcamp and is reissuing a ton of old stuff with bonus material, so that’s sick as hell.

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« Reply #7949 on: June 06, 2020, 04:21:53 PM »

Honestly ever since I spun that Hive reissue I’ve been digging hard into 90s Japanoise.

For me, coming off Hive, the first thing to spin was was Blister Pack Trini's Wad, issued via MSNP in that same blessed nineteen-shitstain-ninety-five. Sounds, at the core, somewhat Hive-ish, but rounding out the pointed percussives with hefty boy psych-distortions crushing in from the periphery. Nothing like any of the other Blister Packs I've come across but sufficiently removed from Hive as to imagine any number of possibilities. Up to and including the hidden hand of Roemer.


Pain Jerk reissuing is sick as hell.
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