Load
Neon Hunk walks the line between quirky and totally annoying. They playtwisted jerky rock music that was probably inspired partly by Boredomsbut is nowhere near as fun. Certainly their garish artwork seemsgreatly in debt to Yamantaka Eye, but like the music it seems a littlediluted. I bet they like the Residents a bit too. Brutalism withkittens might mess up kitchen table if the totally distortedsynthesisers don't mess up the lettuce first and the clattering drumscould probably crush your tomato at fifty paces. I can't really say Ilike this album or don't like it, it just kind of craps about like aflappy kid who tries too hard and knocks everything over while I trynot to get annoyed that I'm not listening to Boredoms instead, and endup mixing metaphors instead of chopping up Robert Sandell from 'MixingIt' on Radio 3 to feed to my pack of hounds who all sound a bit likeXTC but not really and the rest of the CD is quite different and notvery good in actual fact. Not in this HC fact though, its all of thesame quality with a super-dumb drummer who clatters off a bit behindthroughout but that's his minimal charm. Mothmaster seems to be after afingernails-on-chalkboard sound on the synth but falls just short ofutter shrillness. Sometimes they even fuck about playing the tapesbackwards. Its like they wanted the lunatics to take over the asylumbut only got the toytown version with Larry the Lamb and Noddy jinglingbells all night until their mums shouted at them to shut the fuck up.The quasi-songs threaten to fall apart any minute but are usually overjust before that happens. The album is also really short, which mightbe a blessing in disguise but could be one good reason not to shell outfull price for it, if I haven't already put you off. Like Pink andBrown,they give their tracks humourous titles that aren't really very funny,but who cares what the songs are called anyway? They might be quiteamusing to catch live if they pull off silly moves to match the twistsand turns of the gargled unintelligible babbling screeching vocals.Neon Hunk seems like a one trick pony one leg short, but you might keepit around out of some kind of misguided pity. Someone should flog thislot to the Hoxton trendies fast, while they wait for an exciting newband called Radio 2 to pretend they wrote an old Gang of 2 song, whilstnot mentioning that wave, punk and core are now acceptable to theafternoon teatime set. At least Jonathan Ross will never play Neon Hunkon the radio, and that's the immoral of this sordid abortion. Don'teven think about getting this until you have the ultra heavy killerNoxagt album on Load. Fuck Neon Hunk, they couldn't even be bothered toget a classically trained viola player in the band, and what good isthat?
Neon Hunk walks the line between quirky and totally annoying. They playtwisted jerky rock music that was probably inspired partly by Boredomsbut is nowhere near as fun. Certainly their garish artwork seemsgreatly in debt to Yamantaka Eye, but like the music it seems a littlediluted. I bet they like the Residents a bit too. Brutalism withkittens might mess up kitchen table if the totally distortedsynthesisers don't mess up the lettuce first and the clattering drumscould probably crush your tomato at fifty paces. I can't really say Ilike this album or don't like it, it just kind of craps about like aflappy kid who tries too hard and knocks everything over while I trynot to get annoyed that I'm not listening to Boredoms instead, and endup mixing metaphors instead of chopping up Robert Sandell from 'MixingIt' on Radio 3 to feed to my pack of hounds who all sound a bit likeXTC but not really and the rest of the CD is quite different and notvery good in actual fact. Not in this HC fact though, its all of thesame quality with a super-dumb drummer who clatters off a bit behindthroughout but that's his minimal charm. Mothmaster seems to be after afingernails-on-chalkboard sound on the synth but falls just short ofutter shrillness. Sometimes they even fuck about playing the tapesbackwards. Its like they wanted the lunatics to take over the asylumbut only got the toytown version with Larry the Lamb and Noddy jinglingbells all night until their mums shouted at them to shut the fuck up.The quasi-songs threaten to fall apart any minute but are usually overjust before that happens. The album is also really short, which mightbe a blessing in disguise but could be one good reason not to shell outfull price for it, if I haven't already put you off. Like Pink andBrown,they give their tracks humourous titles that aren't really very funny,but who cares what the songs are called anyway? They might be quiteamusing to catch live if they pull off silly moves to match the twistsand turns of the gargled unintelligible babbling screeching vocals.Neon Hunk seems like a one trick pony one leg short, but you might keepit around out of some kind of misguided pity. Someone should flog thislot to the Hoxton trendies fast, while they wait for an exciting newband called Radio 2 to pretend they wrote an old Gang of 2 song, whilstnot mentioning that wave, punk and core are now acceptable to theafternoon teatime set. At least Jonathan Ross will never play Neon Hunkon the radio, and that's the immoral of this sordid abortion. Don'teven think about getting this until you have the ultra heavy killerNoxagt album on Load. Fuck Neon Hunk, they couldn't even be bothered toget a classically trained viola player in the band, and what good isthat? 
The mix of smooth-jazz and four-on-the-floor beats on this new full-length is rather bland on this release from Shitkatapult, who is more commonly known for excellent releases that are usually somewhere between airy and desolate beat-driven songs and flat out boogie down, break out the boom box party pleasers. The grooves on Revolv_er do not always connect, however and I'm left feeling disappointed by its combo of live and electronic sounds.
Whether one enjoys these label-sampler compilations depends mostly onhow one's taste agrees with that of the person who runs the label.There are no record labels whose taste I agree with 100%, but I like alot of what LTM does, enough to keep me interested in what label-bossJames Nice decides to issue next. This CD compiles tracks from therecent batch of LTM releases with a few otherwise unreleased songs tosucker in the completists. Hell, it works for me, why not. LTM and itssub-label Boutique seem to have several related missions: to reissuemusic originally released by Factory (other than the bigshots, JoyDivision, Durutti Column, and New Order) to music by bands who might atsome point have had a record (even just a 7") on Factory, and torelease new music by bands who were on Factory long ago and are eitherstill going or who have been ressurected due to Nice's enthusiasm. Oneof those bands, Crispy Ambulance, has donated a live album from thierreunion tour as a bonus CD that comes free with the first run of "BlackMusic" CDs.
Listening to the overtly Eastern influenced percussion Angus Maclise plays on parts of this double CD, I can't help thinking that replacing him with Mo Tucker might've been the best thing that ever happened to the Velvet Underground. They're such different drummers, almost opposites, that you suspect Lou Reed had totally had enough of the hippy dippy guy who'd turn up to play gigs half an hour late and then carried on playing half an hour after the rest of the band finished. Tucker's monotonous tub thump became such a signature of that band that it's hard to imagine them any other way.
Further into the Angelika Koehlermann riddle, here is a release thatsurprised me by actually not being that bad. It's not really that good,either. However, I'm surprised that a release like this made it onto alabel that seems proud of its unbroken record of pure, unadulteratedsilly crap. B.O.S. is an Austrian trio whose sound is informed both byKrautrock and by current German lap-pop like The Notwist and Lali Puna.B.O.S.' songs use the classic Can formula: a dark, insistent bassrhythm that repeats ad infinitum, to which is added instrumental andpercussion overdubs, trance-inducing vocals, and galaxy of spaceyeffects. B.O.S. alternately use simple guitar chords, trumpet,clarinet, harp, toy percussion and burbling electronics to round outtheir kosmische music. None of these instruments are played with muchskill or virtuosity, but that's really not the point, is it? They havequite a knack for writing a pop hook, as well, even if you can't reallydecipher what the vocalist is singing. As a first release, O-Land showsa lot of promise. There's nothing terribly inventive about a song like"Bring Back," but it does have a passable atmosphere and a rathercatchy melody that make for an engaging listen. Unlike Ted Minsky andBoulder dDash, this album does not have me sprinting for the ejectbutton. Will the Angelika Koehlermann riddle ever be solved? I thinkAngelika herself sums it up best when she says "[My friend Gerhard]stopping swimming after an accident. He's finally like sinking to thebottom of his lonely life. I also try to get home in a way. I had ahouse some times ago, but one day, I went there, and the house haddisappeared." There is absolutely nothing I can add to that statement. 
Ted Minsky is actually Anne Grabow. Why has Anne Grabow chosen such a masculine moniker? Who is Anne Grabow? Who, for that matter, is Angelika Koehlermann? That's like asking who Betty Crocker is. Someone. Anyone. No one. And in the end, does it matter? What evidence can we glean from the press release? Nothing important, it seems, except that Ted Minsky is described alternately as a "young costume designer" and as a "super-architect" leading us "to the borders of pop music." This is pure hyperbole, I'm afraid.
The further I investigate, the more Angelika Koehlermann seems to be a fictional character. According to the press release, she is a girl from Paris who, on a whim, took a train to Koln and met a guy who suggested that they "make an electronic music label." She decided to try her hand at playing "guitar tracks for Japanese young people."
Pop music has become associated recently with certain bands that loveto either impersonate early rock n' roll to no avail or slickeverything up in fancy production to make up for the horriblesongwriting. This delicate debut does neither and ends up inducing aneased state of mind. It also happens to include a second full albumwith each track mixed by the likes of Rafael Toral, Hrvatski, andChristoph Heemann. Every instrument and every little nuance takes itstime to develop and never raises its voice beyond a low murmur. Thelyrics are lighthearted, sometimes nonsensical, and always have atendency to pass in and out of the spotlight. There's a sense ofheartbreak here and there, especially on "Moon" and "I Don't Mind."Slightly treated guitars and pianos phase in and out of eachother andon the latter a small, gentle voice declares "I don't mind if I'm notby your side" as if it were a catharsis and a resignation. Sun has afantastic sense of space and their more laid back songs areparticularly excellent: there's always room to breathe and stretch outwithin the songs themselves and so every small detail stands out andsparkles as if it were the proud star of the show. The closing "It'sNot Real" is a blues-inspired mark that puts a pit right in the centerof my stomach. The impression is one of loneliness and a dying sense ofhope. I've often sat down outside at night with this playing and justzoned out completely; everything just slows down right along with themusic. The remix album is entirely different from the original. Themusic is still mostly low-key and some of the original elements areretained but there are noiser and more cavernous waves of sound used.Perhaps I'll go take a drive and remember all the places I used to hangout while listening to this, there's a sense of childhood throughoutthat makes me want to reminisce about a few things. 
Tell the hippies come back and be crushed to dust! This is easily BardoPond's best album and maybe the most dazzling recording I've heard in adecade or so! Straight out of the flimsy artwork bereft plasticenvelope on its first wonderful spin even their previous run ofoutstanding vented trip-fuck drone-rockers hadn't quite prepared me forsuch fine honed intensity and sheer beauty. Bardo Pond have alwaysliked their psychedelic stew very heavy and deeply hypnotic. These sixsongs take a trip through beautiful cosmic mindfuck sex energy and outspinning around stars, dissolving into pure light. If you want headexpanding drone rock with mammoth slow guitar overkill, this is theplace to find it. I didn't think they'd ever be able to surpass theirprevious highpoint Set and Setting,but they have and then some. The recording is sharper but that doesn'tdetract from the heady riff brew, just fires it to harder glory. Whereonce they were sludgey they now burn clear and bright with no sops tovapid commerciality. Two guitars overdriven with effects trace patternson the sun. Isobel Sollenberger sings beguilingly of every man being astar which sounds trite on the screen but fits the music perfectly.There is a deceptive lull when one of the guys, probably bassist ClintTakeda, takes a mumbling stroll through "Walking Clouds" in a superiortake on the kind of psych-folk Flying Saucer Attack used to excel at.When the final swirling megablast of "Night of Frogs" atomizes solarrevolution time, it's obvious that Bardo Pond have penetrated so farbeyond the mundane now that there isn't any turning back. Just at thepoint of collapse, about to t(r)ip over into infinity, On the Ellipseis such a fitting title—this would be a great soundtrack to leaving theplanet, dropping out forever.Mogwai have proclaimed them theirfavourite band, but Bardo Pond are universes beyond. The word is thatthey're going to be touring Europe with Jackie-OMotherfucker and Threnody Ensemble in the Autumn. Maybe it'll be timeto hit the road and never come back. 
Ex Models torment their instruments, creating sounds that can be lookedupon as pushing the equipment to its limits or just plain making ithurt so that it screams in pain and joy. They are the latest masters ofthe no wave sound, emerging from the New York underground only severalyears ago and already boasting a mature sound and a loyal following. Zoo Psychologyis their second full-length, and it shows growth over their debut asthe band grows comfortable in some ways but branches out in others.These musicians want to dismantle the song structure, abating therelentless verse-chorus arrangements to allow for more adventurous andimprovisational terrain. At the same time, there is an overalldismemberment of melody and time signatures. All throughout, thebrothers Motia intertwine the screams of the guitars with the shrieksof Shahin, who seems to enjoy pushing his vocal cords until they don'teven have the will to relent. It's not easy listening, and it's not aneasy listen, either. It's organized disorder, with a fine sense ofhumor and a generous helping of tongue-in-cheek, particularly on thesong titles ("Fuck to the Music," "Brand New Panties," and "HeyBoner"). In fact, its the sexual charge that gets these songs across,despite the almost disjointed nature of the music. It's not foreveryone, but the near funk of "Hott 4 Discourse" and the jackhammer"What is a Price" can appeal to most anyone who likes post punk eardamaging noise. A band that's this unafraid to push their limits can'tdo anything but improve, and it'll be a strange and pleasureable rideevery time.
