27 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

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26 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

Kate Carr melds the exquisite details of her field recordings with an ephemeral approach to the song. This Australian has relocated herself to London after many trips around the globe. With each orbiting journey, she has collected innumerable sounds from the urbane to the aqueous and from the frenetic to the sublime, contextualizing all of these into compositions rippling with primordial melodies through guitar, piano, voice, and electronics. The Story Surrounds Us follows her highly acclaimed albums I Had Myself A Nuclear Spring (first released on her own Flaming Pines imprint in 2015) and Carr's debut for Helen Scarsdale in 2016, It Was A Time Of Laboured Metaphors. Emblematic of her work is a gentle dislocation between the environmental sounds and her drone-dub ellipses of somnambulant melody. The clatter of a frozen dock or a vibrational shimmer from rustled objects or the unintelligible whispers displaces the sense of self amidst a sea of disparate symbols and coded thought. More a travelogue in and out of one's own body than to any particular place. Carr suggests "In a way, it is about restlessness, an uncomfortable tossing and turning in all these many different places, a struggle somehow to forge a connection between my own internal world and all these places and persons I have encountered. I think this holds a sense of unease and strain, with both beautiful and failed moments of intimacy and connection which are made either possible or impossible in the difficult and distorted context of being away. It is quite sad, really." Look to Carla dal Forno, Alan Lamb and those moments of clarity in the shapeshifting ethos from Jewelled Antler for neighboring sounds to Kate Carr's chimerical compositions.

more information can be found here.

24 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

Tara Jane O'Neil describes her latest album Self Titled as a "singer songwriter"  endeavor.

At the invitation and by the design of Mark Greenberg (The Coctails), half of this record was recorded mostly live at Wilco’s Loft Studio in Chicago with a band that included James Elkington, Gerald Dowd, Nick Macri, and Greenberg himself. Another half was made in TJO’s home studio in California with Devin Hoff, Wilder Zoby, Walt McClements and string supervisor Jim James. This album also features the voices of Chris Cohen, Carolyn Pennypacker-Riggs and Joan Shelley. Tara Jane ONeil plays guitar, bass, keyboards and percussion.

As a solo artist she has released eight full-length albums internationally.  O’Neil was a founding member of Rodan, the Sonora Pine , amongst other ensembles. She has collaborated on recordings and stages with Papa M,  Michael Hurley, Little Wings, Marisa Anderson, Catherine Irwin, Mirah, Mount Eerie,  and many many others. She has  also performed at clubs, galleries, and DIY spaces around the world and venues such as the Centre de Pompdou, the Whitney Museum of American Art, and All Tomorrow’s Parties.  She starred in the cult classic film Half-Cocked.  Her visual art work has been shown in cities including London, Tokyo and Portland and has been published in three monographs.

More information can be found here.

24 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

A few years ago we received an anonymous email with a link to three tracks and a simple message: "Hi, maybe you would be interested in this music." It’s easy to be skeptical of yet another link from yet another artist in a world overcrowded with them, but listening is our job and so we do it. The songs were instantly striking: extraordinarily slow, somber, and spacious, each vaulted cathedral chord reverberating poetically into the distance, the melodies rolling out like fog across a cemetery. Captivated, we requested more, receiving a single word in response: "Yes." Then, nothing. Eventually, three months later, we received another email with slightly more information: a name (Irma Orm), a location (Stockholm), and a bit of context (she worked alone, and progress on music was slow but steady).

Fast-forward to mid-2016: we're informed the album is complete, and it is breathtaking. Hermetic gothic swan songs conjured from funereal piano, twilit ambience, minimalist percussion, and spellbinding vocals. The mood is lulling and lush but lost in sorrow, stark grey structures looming in the night. Majestic open spaces between notes heighten the melancholic grandeur of Orm's arrangements, blurring the line between lament and lullaby. The songs less end than ebb away, succumbing to their own downcast beauty.

More information can be found here.

24 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

Michigan trumpeter Justin Walter's solo work centers on evocative, intuitive explorations of the EVI (Electronic Valve Instrument), a rare wind-controlled analog synthesizer from the 1970s. Its unique, smeared tonality allows for an expressive range of glassy, jazz-like textures, which Walter loops and layers with hushed electronics and twilit trumpet, painting opaque landscapes of resonant beauty.

Walters 2013 debut, Lullabies & Nightmares, included a handful of collaborations with percussionist Quin Kirchner but Unseen Forces finds him fully solo, refining the project to its essence: shape-shifting watercolors of pastel haze, lit by the soft synthetic glow of electric breath. It's a sound both modern and timeless, fusing emotion and technology, gauze and melody, force and fragility.

from Justin Walter:

"Unseen Forces is a collection of recordings that document the use of improvisation as a means to create sounds that can either function on their own or serve as the foundation of, or source material for, additional improvisation.

There was a definite process used to create this music but at no point was any music ever written or composed. When putting this music together I was often aware of feelings related to density, spacing, silence, and the sense of time pulling back on itself, like trying to stretch a scene and pull on it in ways that distort it ever so slightly. This is a record of melodies, alone and in complex relation.

This music is a reflection of both feeling, and thought, as much construction as composition. The recordings of the EVI, as well as the sequencing done using samples of those recordings, are mostly the result of exploring melody through intuition. Harmonically simple, but with a complex palette of texture."

More information can be found here.

23 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

Over the last two decades or so, my Legendary Pink Dots fandom has gone through quite a few different phases, but my current self is most enamored with the Chemical Playschool series.  Each new installment always feels like a large and mysterious gift-wrapped box that unexpectedly shows up at my house, stuffed full of plenty of random things that I did not particularly want and a few revelatory surprises that absolutely knock me sideways (finding the latter is always the fun part, obviously).  This latest plunge into the band's unfettered experimental urges, quietly released for the band's fall 2016 tour, is an especially rich treasure trove: it does not so much feel like a meandering psychedelic fever dream of orphaned ideas and studio experiments so much as a rich tapestry of evocative and coherent themes expertly blurred together into a mesmerizing fantasia.  This is easily one of my favorite LPD albums in recent memory.

Beta-Lactam Ring

Uncharacteristically, Chemical Playschool 19 opens with "Real World," an actual catchy song that sounds like it would have easily fit on one of the Dots' more accessible album intended for (relative) mass-consumption.  Thematically, however, it fits very much into the overarching theme of sardonic commentary on the modern world that runs throughout the album.  Of course, "Real World" never quite reaches the finish line (this is a Chemical Playschool album, after all), appropriately dissolving into lysergic abstraction only to cohere anew as the similarly song-like (but much stranger) "El Cid."  Bizarrely, all of this material was recorded all the way back in blissfully pre-Trump and pre-Brexit 2015, which makes the tone of political pessimism eerily prescient, though that timeline might explain Ka-Spel's fixation on guns here, as 2015 was yet another prolific year for mass shootings in the US.  This year will probably be prolific in that regard too, but xenophobia seems to have seized the zeitgeist and become the hotter trend here these days.  Perhaps that will be the theme of the next pair of Chemical Playschools.

In any case, "Real World" and "El Cid" reveal themselves to be mere appetizers for a mesmerizing 30th anniversary re-envisioning of Asylum's classic "So Gallantly Screaming."  Edward Ka-Spel is in peak form, delivering a blackly funny and rhyming indictment of America over a simmering bed of drones and electronics ("Now the Hollywood sunset is served in a can").  As much as I love the content, I may love the phantasmagoric and shifting structure even more, as Ka-Spel drifts in and out of the piece, sharing the spotlight with a wonderfully surreal and sometimes nightmarish collage of samples.  The remainder of the Chemical Playschool 19 disc does not offer any more dazzling centerpieces of that caliber, but the quality level and focus stay atypically high with the gently burbling and shuffling reverie of "Sunset Strip" and the foreboding and industrial-damaged "Impeccable Machine." The languorous, understated and warped psych-rock of "How Many Fingers?" is especially wonderful, making me wish it were a stand-alone song. Part of that is highly subjective, as I always prefer Ka-Spel's wry and/or laid-back vocals to his more urgent ones, but "Fingers" also offers a very cool bass line and some nice flourishes of backwards melodies.

The Chemical Playschool 20 disc initially feels like more of the same, opening with a solid "rock" song ("Hysterical") followed by some woozy, synth-based ambient drift, but then the bottom drops out and the album plunges into a deep rabbit hole of utter derangement with "iTranslate."  Following a brief big band-style fanfare, Ka-Spel turns up to nervously announce the call letters of a fictional radio station (his halting and weary delivery resembles that of someone who has been in an interrogation room without sleep for a few days).  Then a considerably more animated radio announcer takes the mic to let me know that they are about to present the first ever interview with an alien from outer space (with Ka-Spel acting as translator, of course).  It initially seems like the Dots at their most cringe-inducing and proggily indulgent, but then it becomes unexpectedly very funny as the translation gets increasingly awkward and lewd ("may we eat and may we drink each other and exchange…biological yogurt?"). Then, after a sustained interlude of buzzing, druggy abstraction and warped choral samples, the band erupts into the best "song" on the album: "Amy in the Underworld," a delightfully kitschy bit of psych-pop built upon a foundation of skittering drums, liltingly melodic vocals, and swirling hallucinatory weirdness (Erik Drost even sneaks in some very surf-sounding guitar at the end).

Following the atypically radiant, major-key, and almost Beatles-esque balladry of "Miss August" (it thankfully gets a bit darker and more fractured as it progresses), the album comes to an end with a pair of absolutely perfect pieces in a row.  The first, "Carnival Cracker," is admittedly quite a brief one, but its blown-out cheap synth tones and maniacally insistent beat feel like a gleefully out-of control post-mutiny parade at a psychiatric hospital. Those short-lived festivities draw a close with the epic "The Answer (At Least for Today)," which captures Ka-Spel in narrative mode once more, this time in the guise of an omniscient sage dismantling the entirety of our mundane reality and understanding of time over a faintly sinister bed of The Silverman's synthesizers.  Again, Ka-Spel is in top form, managing to seem impossibly wise, witheringly sardonic, and playfully absurd all at the same time ("or you eat the alarm clock because it tastes like blueberries").  With an appropriately simmering backdrop of vague menace and the right degree of deadpan, messianic gravitas, Ka-Spel can make  just about anything seem like the most rarefied and profound revelation.  When I think about why I love the Legendary Pink Dots, it is generally pieces like "The Answer" that spring to mind–those rare and precious moments where it feels like I am receiving an intergalactic transmission of ancient wisdom refracted through a fog of psychedelics.

Of the two discs, I prefer Chemical Playschool 20, though it is not necessarily better than Playschool 19.  In fact, the first disc probably has the stronger songs and melodies.  On the album's second half, however, the band seem far more intent on breaking away from their expected trajectory and go much further out on their already rather outré limb.  Far more important than the differences between the two halves, however, are the similarities: while the whole point of the Chemical Playschool series is ostensibly to give free rein to more experimental urges, this latest plunge into the Dots' singularly skewed collective psyche shows welcome signs of rigorous editing.  While the content itself is certainly no less strange and adventurous than usual, it feels like all of the unnecessary fat and water-treading has been excised.  None of these pieces ever overstay their welcome and the band never gets lost in amorphous, space-y drift (a recurring peril in this series).  Instead, this double-album just seems to flow seamlessly and purposefully from one strong idea to another with no unnecessary lingering or filler to slow the momentum.  Also, the strong ideas are even stronger than usual, as there are at least three pieces here that could feel right at home on my imaginary personal The Best of the Legendary Pink Dots collection.  I truly have nothing to gripe or grumble about here: this is a legitimately great release from start to finish.

• So Gallantly Screaming Anno 30
• Amy In The Underworld
• The Answer (At Least for Today)

 

 

16 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

Axebreaker is a new project from Locrian vocalist/keyboardist Terence Hannum, and one that harkens back to the earliest days of the power electronics scene (right when it transitioned from the world of industrial), while putting an entirely modern spin on the sound. It is heavily politically charged and packed with all of the anger and rage I could have hoped for. The strength of Hannum’s performance ensures, however, that it will still be relevant even when the political landscape shifts to something hopefully more pleasant in the USA.

Primal Architecture

Politics and power electronics have been tightly entwined ever since the genre’s inception in the early 1980s.Early projects such as Whitehouse and Ramleh took the more dissonant elements of Throbbing Gristle and SPK, but also emphasized the more extreme political imagery.For most of these bands, they used totalitarian and fascist themes for the same purpose of shock and provocation, sometimes with a more intellectual nuance than others.These early practitioners largely moved on to more developed themes once the shock gimmick was exhausted:Consumer Electronics have been presenting issues of social/economic inequality and toxic masculinity on their most recent releases, and even Genocide Organ has shifted their ever vague and obscured lens to topics such as private military corporations and US interference in foreign governments.

The unfortunate side effect of these early projects is that a subset of their fans latched onto the politics more than the provocation, resulting in a group of antecedents that are riddled with unpleasant themes and a slew of "prohibited for sale on Discogs" listings.That is why Axebreaker is such a stand-out project.Within a scene and style where conservative/fascist beliefs are frequently espoused (sincerely or not, it does not really make a difference), it is refreshing to hear the other side of the coin presented in a similarly aggressive manner and with the same intensity and force.I mean, I may be somewhat biased since the views and ideas espoused here are more in line with my own, but even without that piece it is a great piece of aggressive noise.

Hannum wears his influences pretty overtly on this tape.Most telling may be the layout of the included lyric booklet, which is a clear homage to the legendary Broken Flag label.This comes through in the audio too:"White Rose" has a low, nausea inducing bass synth that could be from Whitehouse's New Britain, and cheap drum machine that sputters under the manic vocals and violent noise wall of "The Reek of Your Privilege" sounds like a leftover from SPK's Information Overload Unit.

Of course it has to be acknowledged that Hannum's occasionally prog tendencies are still at play on Burning False Flags, and I mean that as a sincere compliment.Rather than just a chunk of overdriven bass and distortion, there is a complexity to the electronics that causes these songs to stand out even beyond the aggressive approach.Sure, "White Rose" is at first all aggressive screaming and ridiculous shards of reverb, but by the end the lighter, almost ambient synthesizer work shifts forward, giving an almost pleasant grounding to an otherwise ugly work."Changeling" also features lush electronics and melodies that manage to drift to the front here and there, adding a rich color to a style that is too often monochromatic.

One of the notable things about Burning False Flags is while it is riddled with frustration and anger; it never comes across as hateful.What could have been the audio equivalent of a half hour of punching Nazis (which would have also been enjoyable, I am sure) is instead more constructive without being condescending.Lyrics like "Is Your Spirit Already So Crushed by Abuse/That You Forget it is Your Right to Eliminate this System" on "White Rose" make it pretty clear that Axebreaker is not striving to just deliver simplistic political sloganeering without thought.For the lengthy "Know Your Enemy" Hannum delivers no vocals at all, and instead just opts to underscore recorded during the recent US Presidential campaign with a slow burn of buzzing noise, eventually reaching an intentionally unpleasant, unrelenting bit of dissonant repetition that matches the samples in tone and discomfort.

Given the nature of the power electronics realm, I am not quite sure how Burning False Flags will be received.On the content of the audio alone it should be heralded:Terence Hannum has put a unique spin on a style not widely known for its innovation, resulting in a tape that stands toe to toe with the best practitioners of the genre.The political bent, however, may be a different matter since it is anything but the status quo.That being said, I do not think Hannum will at all care about any dissent on that level, and any social media/message board griping will likely just feed into and strengthen the next record even more.

samples:

• White Rose
• Changeling
• Know Your Enemy

 

16 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

The plain, unmarked white shell and clinical titling of break_fold's debut certainly adds a mysterious quality to this project. There is no hint as to what to expect musically, and that alone always makes me curious. That ambiguity carries onto the tape itself, in the form of complex and diverse beat heavy electronics that excels as much in mood and texture as it does in pleasant melodies and memorable rhythms.

Reject and Fade

These six pieces—all simply titled for the date they were recorded (I assume)—are refreshingly varied and dynamic.Right in the opening moments of "24_08_15," there is a great snappy drum machine, tastefully filtered, to click away as beautiful synthesizers glide effortlessly over the top, immediately followed by the ghostly melody and stuttering, idiosyncratic beat of "07_07_15".In both of these cases, however, there ends up being much more.On the former, the electronics slowly become more dense and dissonant, and by the closing moments they engulf the remainder of the mix.In the latter case, the balance of raw and polish is upset in the ending, as the entire piece disintegrates brilliantly.

This dichotomy continues throughout the tape.While "11_09_15" begins with a dense, heavy beat that eventually transitions from darkness to light, the remainder of the piece does the opposite.The beat may become less oppressive, but the overall arrangement begins in a far more chill zone than the intensity in which it closes.For "05_01_16" break_fold leads off with gentle, fluttering electronics and an overall slower pace, and despite the big, resonating handclaps the mood stays light.However, the beat is shifted around and the focus instead shifts to the big, dramatic synths that stand out strongly.The latter parts of the piece may drift into noisy territory, but the melody never fully disappears.

On the final third of the tape the differences are a bit more pronounced, however.On one hand, break_fold drifts more into conventional song structures on "21_02_16,"compared to the more techno-oriented sounds that preceded it.There is a wonderfully dense synthesizer progression, but as a whole there seems to be more melody and varying structures to be find.On the other hand, "13_04_16" may be a direct continuation of the previous, but the tempo is slowed.Instead the beginning minutes are slower and in general the mix is more stripped down, cutting the electronics back somewhat.It picks up towards its end, but the inclusion of vocal fragments makes the piece more unique overall.

07_07_15-13_04_16 may not be the most experimental or challenging sounding tape, but the familiar ground that break_fold covers is done with such panache that it is an engaging tape completely as it is.The complex production ensures that the beats never become stale, and the wonderful melodies make for a tape that is rife with heavy beats, but without numbing repetition.The presentation may be intentionally obscure and a bit obtuse, but the content itself is excellent.

samples:

• 21_02_16
• 11_09_15
• 24_08_15

 

16 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

This latest album continues to explore the more electronic phase of Evan Caminiti's art, yet feels quite a bit different from his other recent work.  Inspired by the "psychic and physical toxicity of life in late capitalism," Toxic City Music is a corroded, crackling, and bleary miasma of processed guitar and industrial textures gleaned from Caminiti's surroundings in NYC.  While the prevailing aesthetic is a somewhat noirish ambient fantasia on urban decay and alienation, the smoggy gloom is artfully balanced out by some fine spectral dub-techno touches. In fact, this record is most successful when viewed as a deeply experimental electronic dub album, as Caminiti is not so much appropriating a new influence as he is dipping it into the acid bath of his flickering and smoky dystopic vision, then presenting the barely recognizable remains.  Toxic City may be a diffuse, shadowy, and understated vision, but it is a very compelling and distinctive one as well.

Dust Editions

Over the course of his career with Barn Owl and his many solo and collaborative releases, Evan Caminiti has covered a remarkable amount of stylistic territory, so this latest album is not a particularly radical aesthetic move.  What is radical, however, is how completely Caminiti has shifted from a composer mindset to that of a producer.  While a rare melodic motif occasionally surfaces, Toxic City Music is an album that is almost entirely fixated on texture, largely drifting along as a murky, crackling fog fitfully disrupted by industrial rumblings.  The opening "Acid Shadow I" is a perfectly representative harbinger of everything that follows: cavernous, wobbly throbs; washes of hissing static; enigmatic snatches of machine noise; and ghostly, indistinct swells of processed guitar.  Most of these pieces never quite cohere into anything particularly song-like, but that is very much by design.  Caminiti’s intention here, for the most part, seems to be just conjuring a shifting and vaguely menacing fog that sometimes fleetingly dissipates to yield a glimpse of the structures beneath.  That is an admittedly compelling and ambitious aesthetic move, but one that only works because it is not all tease: a few more substantial pieces eventually emerge from the morass as the album progresses.

The first piece to come more sharply into focus is "Joaquin," which sounds like massive high-tension cables swaying and shuddering in the wind over a desolate cityscape.  There are some warm and dubby chord swells lurking beneath the subdued cacophony of roaring and hissing textures as well, but it is primarily the reverberant non-musical elements that occupy the foreground.  It sounds a lot like trying to quietly enjoy my favorite Mille Plateaux album in an empty parking garage as a city collapses in slow-motion around me, albeit with all the sharper sounds softened and blurred into hallucinatory abstraction. Elsewhere, "NYC Ego" pushes the dub elements further to the fore, dragging along a woozily static and droning chord with a glacial and erratic beat, but gradually stretching and dissolving the structure until it is largely eclipsed with swells of overtones, echoing cracks, and snarling electronics.  It is one of Caminiti's most inspired moments on the album, as it feels like he had an actual song, but decided to see what would happen if he allowed all the minor details to break free of their normal constraints and consume everything.  The following "Toxic Tape (Love Canal)" stands out for similar reasons, starting off as lushly gorgeous bit of electronic dub that increasingly sounds like it has been drugged and is rapidly unraveling: rather than building, the piece deconstructs into isolated individual components drifting lost in a haze of emptiness and existential dread.  The closing "Acid Shadow III" takes deconstruction still further, as its initial thrum of drones gives way to a simple wobbling and sputtering motif that dances nimbly through a wreckage of static and hollow scrapes.  It feels like one cool sound from a Chain Reaction classic decontextualized and isolated to endlessly flit around in a decayed tape loop like a ghost.

To his credit, Caminiti certainly did not choose an easy or expected path for Toxic City Music, which makes some of its exquisite pleasures somewhat elusive and challenging to appreciate: it often feels like Caminiti recorded an absolutely sublime and beautiful album, then dumped a bunch of rubble on it and left it to rot.  The more obvious pleasures peeking through the ruin are certainly an important part of the art, but the more interesting and distinctive aspect is largely the transformative decay.  In fact, the rare forays into minor key melodies feel like missteps to me, as the darkness of this vision works best when it is shadowy, indistinct, and "natural" rather than composed and explicit.  Also, while it is not a flaw, the subtlety of Toxic City means that it takes a bit of effort and attention to fully appreciate what Caminiti has done, as most conventionally gratifying aspects of music (hooks, beats, harmonies) have been willfully blurred and stretched into muted oblivion.  I am perfectly fine with that, but it admittedly took a significant recalibration of my expectations to fully warm to this release: Toxic City Music is not exactly a good dub album, but it beautifully evokes what a good dub album might sound like if it was being played on a dusty and malfunctioning tape deck through blown-out speakers in a bombed-out building.  As far as I am concerned, the latter is the far more intriguing achievement.  If there could be a darkly lysergic nexus where electronic dub; Basinski-esque tape decay; and post-apocalyptic, rusted-out urban wasteland all seamlessly came together, it would probably sound a hell of a lot like this.

Samples:

• NYC Ego
• Toxic Tape (Love Canal)
• Acid Shadow III

 

 

16 April 2017

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Albums and Singles

I had a very unfortunate false start with Gnod, as the first time I heard them, I mistakenly concluded that they were basically the UK version of White Hills rather than a deeply radical and experimental entity of Swans-like intensity.  With the benefit of hindsight, I have since embraced them as one of the single most exciting forces to emerge from the underground in recent years.  Thankfully, no one at all will be likely to repeat my mistake after hearing Just Say No, though it admittedly tones down the band’s more arty and indulgent tendencies quite a bit in service of visceral brute force (the album title provides a very unambiguous clue as to the band's current mindset). Of course, as much as I enjoy raw power, punk energy, and hardcore fury on their own, the beauty of this album lies in how brilliantly Gnod manage to blend heavy music with their longstanding Krautrock and psych fascinations, enhancing the expected monster riffs with bulldozing no-frills repetition, seismic percussion grooves, Gang of Four-style minimalism, and a wonderful textural chaos of electronics and radio broadcasts.

Rocket

If I had to succinctly summarize Gnod’s aesthetic with Just Say No, Entertainment!-era Gang of Four would be the clearest reference point, but with the caveat that all their equipment was stolen right before an important gig and that they had to perform using gear that was already set-up and soundchecked for Ministry or Neurosis.  There are plenty of tight grooves and "angular" guitars, but they are often atop an incredibly dense, earthquake-level low end.  The opening "Bodies For Money," ostensibly the album's lead single, is a bit of aberration from that template though.  In fact, Gnod are roughly in White Hills territory again, barreling along at a double-time pace with a simple power chord riff and even erupting into a noisy guitar solo at one point.  There are some key differences though, as Jon Perry's drums are jacked-up to rumbling, elemental force and vocalist Paddy Shine's ragged, world-weary vocals are more of a sincere, snarling, and rueful denunciation of the state of the world than a melodic hook.  Put more glibly, it is Motorhead music with a Crass intellect.  That is an admittedly gratifying and bracing aesthetic, but it is not nearly as compelling as the more distinctive fare that Gnod conjures up elsewhere.  For example, the following "People" is every bit as bludgeoning, but slowed and pared down to little more than pummeling, fill-heavy drums; densely buzzing bass; and a flanging sample that sounds like a processed muezzin's call.  Eventually, an ascending strummed guitar motif appears, but the foundation of the piece is essentially just a sample and some stomping, improvisatory drumming and it all works beautifully.  In fact, it seems like Gnod work best when they are working with the fewest materials.

The following "Paper Error" unexpectedly brings shades of Steady Diet of Nothing-era Fugazi, as Gnod lock into an obsessively repeating two-chord riff while Shine howls elliptical and scathing thoughts about errors and bodies.  While it is not exactly my favorite piece on the album, "Paper Error" makes one of the stronger cases for Gnod's brilliance: it is built upon an incredibly simple riff and a lyric sheet that probably only has like three lines scrawled on it ("Error! Error! Error! Error!"), yet it feels like being run over by a goddamn tank.  It is the perfect distillation of the album's description of "a harsh and repetitive riff-driven rancour refracted through a psychotropic haze of dubbed-out abstraction," as the riff is an unstoppable juggernaut, Shine's raw-throated intensity is magnetic, and the underlying music is a dense and roiling onslaught of furious crash cymbals and buried snarls of ugly guitar noise.  Even better still is "Real Man," the album’s muscular and hyper-minimal centerpiece.  At its core, it is essentially a cutting denunciation of macho culture delivered over a heavy and perversely funky drumbeat.  There are some embellishments, like a blown-out one-note bass line and stabs of discordant guitar, but all of that is secondary to the perfectly swaggering menace of a song mocking swaggering menace.  Eventually "Real Man" erupts into a crescendo of noisy guitars and jabbering loops, but the lasting impression is that Shine and his drummer are about to curb-stomp a bunch of football hooligans.

The album finally winds to a close with the epic "Stick in the Wheel," which initially reprises the band’s winning formula of heavy drums, Shine's bitter and blackly funny rants about society, and well-placed splashes of noisy guitars.  Bizarrely, it suffers a bit from having too many ideas, as Gnod seem to reach their peak when they focus all of their energy on just one simple thing with face-melting intensity. I suppose I cannot blame them for including it though, as its extended length (just over 12 minutes) gives the band a chance to shift gears into a lengthy dub-damaged interlude of simmering psychedelia, reminding me that the rest of Just Say No is not necessarily the true Gnod.  Of course, the true Gnod is a very fluid concept that varies greatly from album to album.  The band have certainly made some stellar albums exploring their more hallucinatory and abstract side, but Just Say No works best when the band sticks to no-frills thuggish brutality, so the arty coda mostly feels like it accidentally wandered in from a different album.  Aside from that, my only real critique is that the band has a tendency to drag their songs on a bit longer than necessary here, as riding a groove for ten minutes works a lot better with psychedelia than it does with eruptions of violence.  With music like this, the best approach is to get in, tear my goddamn head off, then get out.  There is no need to linger.  I have absolutely zero problem with the vision and the execution here though, as Just Say No is otherwise an absolutely crushing and timely tour de force of controlled fury.  This album will deservedly be all over "Best of 2017" lists in December.

• Bodies for Money
• People
• Real Man