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Author Topic: PLAYLIST with COMMENTS/REVIEWS  (Read 2801866 times)
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ConcreteMascara
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« Reply #8055 on: August 28, 2020, 03:33:31 PM »

JARL - Tunnel Vision Mind Reaper 2xCassette - Autarkeia 2008
I haven't kept up with Jarl output after 2014 but I have nearly everything before that. I'm always impressed how he manages to create new things in familiar ways, meaning each Jarl album is clearly a Jarl album but each one stands on its own. I love the wild and willy Vertigo trilogy but this double cassette is one I return to frequently. Much less spiky, way more abandoned and forgotten subway tunnel ambiance. Hard and unnecessary to pick a favorite tape from the two but I'd probably lean towards Mind Reaper. Also worth noting the difference the medium makes. Jarl on tape is a softer affair by nature of the medium, even if the songs are no loss prickly at times. Exceptionally good music for late night meditation with the lights off or even reading.
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NaturalOrthodoxy
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« Reply #8056 on: August 28, 2020, 05:46:24 PM »

Feels like living in a small crowded commune with drug crazed sideshow lunatics.

The Young Ones: a noise album
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theotherjohn
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« Reply #8057 on: August 28, 2020, 06:13:59 PM »

Feels like living in a small crowded commune with drug crazed sideshow lunatics.

The Young Ones: a noise album

Nah, more like Bottom!
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cr
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« Reply #8058 on: August 28, 2020, 08:28:31 PM »

(The Cherry Point, Mania, The Rita, Sewer Election, Treriksröset) - Total Slitting of Throats
Harsh Noise Wall to end all Harsh Noise Walls

Kovana: Fluids of Chimera
This tape is really, REALLY great. I'm the worst fucking reviewer ever, but I'm absolutely amazed about the great amount of new (Kovana, Nuori Veri,...) and 'old' noise (BU, Grunt, etc.) coming out of Finland recently.
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Balor/SS1535
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« Reply #8059 on: August 28, 2020, 08:58:34 PM »

(The Cherry Point, Mania, The Rita, Sewer Election, Treriksröset) - Total Slitting of Throats
Harsh Noise Wall to end all Harsh Noise Walls

Out of curiosity, are you able to differentiate the contributions of each project to this?  Or does it all just blend together?
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aububs
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« Reply #8060 on: August 28, 2020, 09:35:26 PM »

(The Cherry Point, Mania, The Rita, Sewer Election, Treriksröset) - Total Slitting of Throats
Harsh Noise Wall to end all Harsh Noise Walls

Out of curiosity, are you able to differentiate the contributions of each project to this?
not at all
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Balor/SS1535
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« Reply #8061 on: August 28, 2020, 09:36:28 PM »

(The Cherry Point, Mania, The Rita, Sewer Election, Treriksröset) - Total Slitting of Throats
Harsh Noise Wall to end all Harsh Noise Walls

Out of curiosity, are you able to differentiate the contributions of each project to this?
not at all

That's pretty much what I expected.  HNW has never been my thing, but the names on this got my hopes up a little.
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aububs
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« Reply #8062 on: August 29, 2020, 07:52:18 AM »

i don't really listen to hnw either but that is probably one of my most listened to noise releases
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cr
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« Reply #8063 on: August 29, 2020, 08:58:31 AM »

(The Cherry Point, Mania, The Rita, Sewer Election, Treriksröset) - Total Slitting of Throats
Harsh Noise Wall to end all Harsh Noise Walls

Out of curiosity, are you able to differentiate the contributions of each project to this?
not at all

True! But this is one of very few HNW releases I Iistened more than once.
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Bloated Slutbag
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« Reply #8064 on: August 29, 2020, 03:53:50 PM »

See bottom of this post for digest commentary

The New Boyfriends – The New Boyfriends c40
Aprapat sure knows his way around his scrap metal. In January it was the textured junk-scrap epic of Ultimate Freedom. In March came the well-tempered steel and glass symphonics of Chamber Music. In May he teamed up with the latest boyfriend, Magao, to present this unstoppable exercise in harsh junk abuse & hot steam, not necessarily in that order. As long as I’m throwing dates around, it probably behooves me to mention the actual recording date, November 2019, quote in the grip of winter. (So that’s what they're calling it now eh?) And just to round out the name dropping, a third partner in the name of Jaako Vanhala– aka His Royal Metal Whangedness– was commissioned to master the shit (no word on whether this too was “in the grip of winter”).

As for the shit, or should I say the scrap, well, there’s a lot of it, never for the moment stopping: whanging on, whanging hard, whanging, Whanging, WHANGING. All right, simmer down there. if you’ll bear with me as I crib from comments elsewhere slobbered I confess that, back in May, I actually hesitated in copping this, mainly because I was then only familiar with Aprapat. Duly sample via bandcamp and– once that first metal-on-metal whang whangs home– instant wood. As to whether such supreme force can be maintained for the full forty-minute course, well. I don't think I can emphasize enough how much wood that initial whanging stirred up. Even during the intervals where interest might otherwise be inclined to flag, there's still that constant suspense that further wood-bestirring whangs are round the corner. Any moment now, any fucking moment. By the second or third time through it dawns on me I am a total, whanged-to-death, convert.

I suppose I’ve whanged on enough about the proper whanging in store for the righteous. Truth be told, it’s not just about the metal-on-metal er crash-bash-gash-kersmash. There’s all this other analog spittle and slobber steaming up the scene. Four scenes actually, seemingly culled direct from live-to-recording-device sessions. There’s lots of space here, plenty of opportunity to feel things out, their contours and edges gleaming in the steamy backdrop. And no one seems terribly keen to ensure that the whangs drop in earnest. Drop they will, of that there can be no doubt, but meanwhile, stick around a while, grab a towel and an ice-covered chair– or whatever else grabs you– stretch out and bask in the languid sensuality of whang after whang after…

well, you get the picture.

Erotic Tundra is, of course, the one to light the passions. Bone-dry whittle-drone lead-in duly WHANGED into oblivion. A single solid whang, but it is a full flavored doozy, drawing with it an unsteady series of ker-blams and slams. Whittle-drone ups its amplifications, starting to sound as though some asshole is driving a motorbike through the fucking sauna, edged rubbers burning and squealing with the intense friction. At this point the junk scraps enter into unbalanced dialog with their analog piddle partner. Snatches of silence slip between the cracks before hefty whang-loads forcefully plow through the gaping spaces. Harsher washes of abbreviated scathe cut through the center, undercutting a now jerkily buckling junk dis-semblage, banging haphazard about a steady motoring of midrange flatulence. The final raspberry snorts out at around seven minutes, cueing up a scrappily manhandled orgy of purely acoustic, raw-razored, junk abuse, tastefully rusted screech-bleeds spicing steely-spiked percussive traumas in a way that could only be called SEXY AS FUCK.

Motor Yoga seems at first a more laid back affair, drawn out drone harmonics holding steady against pinprick stabs of piercing feedback and more physically intrusive acoustics of chirp, crackle, fart. Meanwhile at the perimeter the farts start to dissolve among wider-panned rust-scrapes, working in concert with some rudely overbearing duck-honking to set teeth on edge. Soon the rust-scrapes are chafing with renewed aggression, keen to drive proceedings from hard to harsh. It appears that someone finally got that motor running- or at least revving- fat flatulent chunks blowing out the tailpipe in meaty blurt clusters, ultimately spinning out of control, jerking around on the saddle, funneled into the filthiest fucking mess you may soon wish were not quite so easy to imagine.

Field Mirage is a decidedly atmospheric affair, exercising some caution in threading a path through dangerously sharp pieces of jagged metal and glass. This time the motor is content to rumble away in the background, not really getting in on the action. And frankly this is no place to be pulling donuts. The floor is iced, slick, one wrong step and, well it doesn't bear thinking. The raw acoustic materials seem to have been selected with some care for their non-elasticity, slender brittle lengths grinding, buckling and splintering under the firm but gentle pressure of sauna-sized trash compactor. Occasional slides of simmering white give it a cool glassy sheen, hooking up with some rumbly motor action in a suggestive push for hefty boy brutalities. Frankly, however, this is a field of almost purely acoustic hell, the tightly narrowed bands stabbing with deceptively piercing excruciations, sharp edges twisting snapping thwacking, to yield quite possibly the harshest cut of the set.

Analog Sauna dials the aggression right back up, delivering, as it say on the tin, raging purple-crowned beef injections of red-hot analog sphinct-rupture. At moments, motorheaded belching flatulescence rumbles through the thick, but more often than not loses its shit to the tune of rabid, white-flecked, slathering salivations. So shrill are moments of said salivations that one might wonder whether they are in fact junk-scrap driven, the result of a furious metal-on-metal thwack attack, savage testing of the metal via maximal impact pressures. Needless to say, the steely-spiked whangs are out in force, thrashing and bashing from every which wherever. But. The competition with the convulsed electronics is fierce. Here drops an angular mass of scrap, full-bodied full-spectrum L-R iterations submerged in deluge of brownest butt chunder. There swings hefty-armed hacking epilepsy of razor-sharp gleaming screech, whitewalled clusters swirling through the flaking, butchered, rust-flaps. For the most part, the gestures toward coherence are lost in the harsh moment, whitewashed feedback-flecked shriek-fits duly shredded raw in the pile-on of disparate convoluted rumple-blurt, rust-scrape, scathe-gristle. In the final minute or so, the acoustic scraps exact their vengeance, dynamic screeches and shrieks grinding through wide-panned moments of perfectly shattered gristle, in-delicate dances of unadorned junk-abuse reprized in the celebratory stench of rotted-through rust.

Digest spew
There’s metal-on-metal whang and there’s metal-on-metal whang. With Aprapat the metal-on-metal whang is the sort that just...whangs. It’s epic, massive, screeching, grinding. A perfection of collapsible scrap-thwack whanging that you’d think by this stage would be de rigueur but in fact seldom is. At least, when it comes to this level of perv-vected junk abuse, the rivals are few and far between. On this occasion, Aprapat commissions the latest boyfriend, one Magao, to spice up the scraps with motorized clusters of analog rug-burn. It is acoustic, it is electronic, it is raw and it is brutal. It is, frankly, hot, raw acoustic materials screeching, grinding, plowing through the gaping spaces left in the wake of collapsible metal-on-metal dis-semblage. The contours and edges of the ruptured thwack-attack gleam bright in the steamy backdrop, their scrappily manhandled orgies of raw-razored junk abuse tastefully spicing steely-spiked percussive traumas in a way that could only be called SEXY AS FUCK.
« Last Edit: September 01, 2020, 05:13:05 AM by Bloated Slutbag » Logged

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« Reply #8065 on: August 31, 2020, 11:41:47 AM »

I recently got on the Noise Now Playing fb group and have much enjoyed the many comments coming in. I've posted a few of my own (comparatively brief) comments and I think I'm going to repost them here too, just for fun or possibly for the sake of discussion. Slight alterations may ensue. So let's see, uh... how about...

PBK - Shadows Of Prophecy - In His Throes
Still among the all-time faves. I didn't think so back in the day, but sounds to the current earholes like some nicely textured, rrrrriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiping crunched-out harsh! At sufficient levels.

Back in the day I think I'd filed it carefully in with the ND roster- eg something to which to stroke the chin. And I suppose this would, still, register as somewhat less muscular than earlier brutes like Asesino or Vivisection. But, still, some nicely ripped-to-shit burnt electronics all the way through. There's a minimal quality I like, vaguely consistent with certain recent Rita or ZK moments- just recorded a couple decades and change prior. Still the chin-stroker but also inviting of all sorts of stroking. Has been a go-to for some time and I guess this afternoon I just had to go-to-it again (er, the disc, not the...uh...)

Get down and stroke it buddy boy.
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« Reply #8066 on: August 31, 2020, 12:46:43 PM »

PBK - Shadows Of Prophecy - In His Throes
I should pick up some more PBK! I'm curious to hear this specific disc, as I've never considered anything by PBK to be even mildly "harsh" (not even Asesino to be honest). A bit rough, maybe, but that's it. His qualities lie elsewhere for me. Nevertheless, thanks for the reminder! Had to inka-dink between Die Brücke, Asesino! (both self-released, 1988) and the collab disc with AMK and Hands To (Pure, 1995) now. Die Brücke it is, and I never grow tired of it.
What strikes me about 1980's PBK is that some of the sounds are very outdated, but not in a bad cringy way. They can be appreciated in their context, and I would never want to be without them. But they're sounds noone would want to use today (and even if one were to remove those sounds, I still don't really hear anyone walking down the path PBK did in the mid-late eighties). As opposed to, say, Grey Wolves from that same period, a sound (I believe) many would kill for these days. There's industrial and there's industrial.
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ConcreteMascara
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« Reply #8067 on: August 31, 2020, 06:06:43 PM »

Toho Sara = 東方沙羅 - Toho Sara = 東方沙羅 2xLP - Black Editions - picked this up with the other two reissues Black Editions put out. They're doing wonderful work slowly reissuing albums from all over the PSF discography. Packaging always looks nice, has real heft and most importantly the records sound really good. I knew the players on this one but not the project. Instrumental, improvised drone made in part with traditional Asian instruments. It feels like something between the ritual ambient of Halo Manash and certain chambara scores. Best part is there is absolutely no feeling of synthetic or digital anything. it's human made music with real sweat and movement. While there are some more energetic moments, it leans heavily towards semi-spooky/semi-psychedelic dirges. it was easy for my head to synch up with it. If you're a Arktau Eos or Halo Manash fan I have to imagine you'd be able to easily enjoy it. of the 3 newest records out on Black Editions this is the easiest listen and an early favorite.
« Last Edit: August 31, 2020, 06:26:44 PM by ConcreteMascara » Logged

moozz
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« Reply #8068 on: August 31, 2020, 10:54:23 PM »

MERZBOW - Environmental Percussion Vol. 1 (Slowdown Records)
MERZBOW - Environmental Percussion Vol. 2 (Slowdown Records)
MERZBOW - Material H2 (Slowdown Records)

All material from 1986-88, mastered (and in the case of EP Vol. 1 also mixed) in 2018. More archival material from Merzbow brought to you by the Japanese Slowdown Records. As a Merzbow fanboy I have been very much interested in these tens of archival "treasures" released by Slowdown and apparently more is still coming. I have commented on a few of the earlier ones and I will keep commenting on the ones I buy just in case someone else is wondering if any of these are worth checking out.
These three records are very similar to each other and that's why I have grouped them together. They all have some of that "trying different things in a warehouse" feeling that many of the more "experimental" (cannot come up with a better word) records have. Distant klangs, distant bangs, instruments (at least a violin) plucked, rubbed, scraped, banged, some rhythmical elements (at times drums, at other times something else tapped/banged/knocked), screech of metals. It never gets out of hand or too hectic but instead is kinda mellow all the way through.
To me these sound too much alike (says a man who owns tens of Vomir releases) and I am not the biggest fan of the screechy "violin torment" but I'd assume people who love Merzbow releases like Ecobondage and Crocidura Dsi Nezumi would get a kick out of these.
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Bloated Slutbag
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« Reply #8069 on: September 01, 2020, 04:32:35 AM »

PBK - Shadows Of Prophecy - In His Throes
I should pick up some more PBK! I'm curious to hear this specific disc, as I've never considered anything by PBK to be even mildly "harsh"

I'm with you there. That's why I specified "at sufficient amplitude" (not actually specified in the original fb post I digress*). On that particular day I accidentally had the volume cranked way beyond acceptable levels and the results, as Dan Johansson might put it, were the sounds, literally, of the speakers being ripped apart. So okay, I turned it down a bit, to minimize the possibility of permanent damage- to speakers, earholes and neighborly relations. But kept it up at what I'd describe as sufficient amplitude. Very jagged sharp-edged sounds, the ripping meant literally, lots of ripping and tearing, the shit was doing all kinda crazy shit to the speakers. Not that I'd say this is the recommended way of listening. At the insane blasting rirrrpitude you're probably going to lose a lot of nuance, and the disc is plenty nuanced. (Perhaps to achieve new and exciting nuance I again digress.)

I get this too to an extent from some of the Asmus Tiechens Menge series. The extreme dynamics at extreme levels and the results are, simply, extreme. Truth be told I get this from a lot of things because I always seem to be dicking around with playback options and shit oftens blasts out, intended or not, at skull-destroying levels. Perhaps there's an adage to be re- the unintended awesomeness of the uh harsh moment.
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