| Home | Community | Message Board |
|
You are not signed in. Sign In New Account | Forum Index Search Posts Trusted Vendors Highlights Galleries FAQ User List Chat Store Random Growery » |
This site includes paid links. Please support our sponsors.
|
| Shop: |
| |||||||
|
Registered: 07/11/99 Posts: 8,399 |
| ||||||
|
Weird, but I kind of like it... it's, um, kinky.
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
It tickles my brain in places I never knew it could
| |||||||
|
Stranger Registered: 05/15/07 Posts: 271 Last seen: 15 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
| |||||||
|
Visual Alchemist Registered: 04/27/06 Posts: 11,181 Loc: Solar Circuit |
| ||||||
--------------------
| |||||||
|
Visual Alchemist Registered: 04/27/06 Posts: 11,181 Loc: Solar Circuit |
| ||||||
|
--------------------
| |||||||
|
Visual Alchemist Registered: 04/27/06 Posts: 11,181 Loc: Solar Circuit |
| ||||||
|
--------------------
| |||||||
|
Visual Alchemist Registered: 04/27/06 Posts: 11,181 Loc: Solar Circuit |
| ||||||
|
--------------------
| |||||||
|
Man of the Woods Registered: 08/18/04 Posts: 14,684 |
| ||||||
|
i just listened to acid mothers temple on 2C-b and it was perfect !
-------------------- "You all are just puppets... You have no heart...and cannot feel any pain..."" you may think thats pain you feel but you must have a heart to feel true pain and that pain wont be yours
| |||||||
|
Registered: 07/11/99 Posts: 8,399 |
| ||||||
Quote: Awww yeah, just when my play list was getting a little stale. Tool - Special Guest Compilation
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
Wolf Eyes - Burned Mind
http://www.sendspace.com/file/b7 It's not just Gilles Deleuze who thought folks were becoming less fleshy; David Cronenberg loves a good organ-less corpus – as long as the guts are replaced with tangles of live wires, circuit boards, or VCRs. The body's a bother to lots of philosophic, (quasi) religious, and sexual "movements," too. Buddhists begrudge the body; imagine thought trying to think whilst wearing a robe of rotting meat. Sadists and masochists operate in the repulsion/compulsion arena: On the one hand, flagellation brings the pain, erasing the bod and sketching sensation in its place; on the other, without a skin to strike, there isn't any ecstasy. Getting rid of the corporeal, and getting our tech on is big business. Corporations arrange conferences that sound more like course listings at Bard College: "Machines That Become Us: The Second Skin In Clothing, Fashion & Technology." Why even read Philip Dick or Sam Delany when SPAM fills the inbox encouraging one to "Tune into the TV that's tuned into you!" Inevitably, technology and the body's functions have become conflated. Voices have lost their lungs, and are relegated to cell phone converse, or are converted into Helvetica by one's BlackBerry. Even mere presence is becoming obsolete; companies now hold e-meetings, where groupthink/brainstorming is no different than 'Instant Messaging' a friend. Of course, nowhere is technology's potency more pervasive than in music, especially the avant-garde's most preened commodity, "noise." Take the laptops, the oscillators, the FX pedals, the homemade/jerry-rigged electronics, and the outrageously amplified sound away from these sonic terrorists, and the din is de-toothed – nothing remains but an adipose'd grumble in sound's soft underbelly. Could Masami Akita make do with some rocks and a mouthful of mud? How 'bout Masonna? How would they be received if they resorted to Maciunas like antics – snipping people's clothes off in lieu of a "performance?" Probably wouldn't work for the Asian tandem, and it wouldn't work for Michigan's Wolf Eyes either. If Deleuze had made it past '95, he might have written about this. Machine & Man as inextricably bound; one can't "have"/experience one without the other. Wolf Eyes, the moniker alone, connotes the hissing, malfunctioning electronics, the hysterically overdriven contact microphones deep-throated by Mr. Dilloway, the fist-pumpin' inducing BLIP . . . BLIP . . . BLIP sounding like Pong's progress made percussive. They've created a bona fide brand; they've enabled someone with a modicum of familiarity to read the eight letters and immediately register the "sound." This is bigger that being able to articulate what a band sounds like; this is bigger than being able to draw comparisons: The "idea" of Wolf Eyes, and the "actuality" of Wolf Eyes have – in all honesty – meshed. Not to say that Olson and Dilloway haven't worked at it: 23 releases in 2003 alone – mostly on their own labels, Dilloway's Hanson, and Olson's American Tapes. But, it's not because of the product's preponderance; it's because they've "maintained" their aesthetic like some hyperactive teenager on fistfuls of Levitra. As far as personal aesthetics go, it's a complete wash. "Aesthetics" is a noun that's become as numbed as "philosophy" has; everyone's got their personal "philosophy," even if it's what empowers their hawking of juicers via 4 a.m. infomercials. Of course, it has nothing to do with the mind/body problem, or the question of Being. Aesthetics – the real stuff, armchair variety and grad table discussion – is all about approach; it's all about perception. It's about what the agent finds pleasing, whether it's fried pork liver or Picasso. Wolf Eyes' aesthetic is simple; they want to melt your motherfucking head. Like all the Mego guys under the grip of experimental hallucinogens and fire-wiring the world's USB port with the worst PCP nightmare imaginable, Wolf Eyes bring the pain omnipotent, it's just encoded into centripetal objects called compact-discs. And, Burned Mind is no exception. 'System Error' addled electronics open the disc, rolling ass-backwards into a whole lot of post-Trent Reznor'd vocals, and an enacted field recording of a factory full of assembly-line condemnation. Clemency? Not possible. Does not compute. This is the place where language's designation melts off and bubbles up like rendered bacon fat. These words aren't so much words, they're rather impolite bodily functions like vociferous spitting or feral farting, but instead of yielding saliva or miasma, they coat and crust each grunt and growl with both: a letter, an odor, so on and so forth. Admittedly, this isn't anything antithetical to the Wolf Eyes M.O.; yet, this music evolves – quickly. The entire panoply of sounds from past recordings is brought to the forefront and depleted prejudicially. Sonic serpent rattle, centrifugal drones, cottony flashes and fizzes, dog-whistle squelch, electronic hives freed of their bees – the whole lot's here, and it's incrementally larger and more agitated than prior show-'n'-tell sessions. Yet, it should be noted that this is a controlled unleashing; nothing is left to chance; there's no let's-see-what-happens with Burned Mind – everything is deliberate, and contained: Each piece slips out into the air fully formed, and regardless of what sort of metaphor is attributed, they all eventually deliquesce. It's not like a tangible or phenomenal equivalent would serve the understanding – like the clichéd piece-as-sonic canvas: Whatever is posited can – and is – broken down further. This music resists holism like the Bush administration resists reality. There are no wholes. Everything is sonically segregated: Sounds seize up and stand in separate boxes; little rectilinear boxes that persist in popping up over a track's duration like fantastically blue-gilled mushrooms. Yet, despite demarcation, transformation continues: Now it's not pieces-as-boxes, only geometry – only segments, and lines, and points. Perhaps this is the point: there's something, and it's nothing, and here it is – and isn't – and deal with it. Man Machine? Maybe. There's not much room reserved for humanity in Burned Mind. Olson & crew convincingly dehumanize a completely humanized process: music making. For Wolf Eyes, the utilization of electronics is no different than vocalizing. Bringing the electrified squall is akin to pushing wind up through the throat to rattle the vocal cords. Yet, if Wolf Eyes have become the body electric, they do so consciously: accepting the conflation of technology and the corporal is self-confining; instead of a model, it becomes an ensnaring byproduct of pop philosophy which neo-thinkers are sometimes too willing to populate, as if their so-called aperçu was as real as the world they walk in. Some good would be done for all if the over-heated clauses that cover their eyes were wiped away like a stubborn stool that refuses to tank in a toilet. Regardless of the ostensible absence of the ol' flesh-'n'-blood in the noise genre, Wolf Eyes' ecce homo is disseminated in reverse; instead of man becoming machine, machine becomes man. Presence? It's in the amp. Voice? It's dungeon'd in the esophagus engulfing the contact mic as a boa does a rodent. Groupthink? It suffers the worst demise: eschew the shared values, and adopt the shared aesthetic; but, with these guys, sound is enslaved; there's no submission to the machine. The so-called second skin is noisily shed, like a tornado freeing an entire subdivision of its roofs. The master/slave paradigm stays with those studying Hegel; Wolf Eyes transcend all this bullshit, and do so convincingly. Highly recommended. By Stewart Voegtlin
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
http://www.sendspace.com/file/pu
Virus - Carheart I’ve come to expect two things from Jester Records. First, Jester albums will never ever come out on time, or even anywhere near the original estimate. Second, they are, without exception, worth the wait. The existence of styles such as post-rock, post-hardcore, post-black metal is a testament to music’s constant progression but lack of creative names for genres. Ved Buens Ende was one of the forerunners of the often apocalyptic, dissonant, and forward thinking post-black metal scene. Their brief career only offered the release of one proper album and a souped up demo passed off as another album. In the near six years between the release of Written in Waters and the debut of their reincarnation as Virus they haven’t been idling. I shudder to think that it’s come to the point where it can honestly be said that there’s a post-post-black metal genre, but that's essentially what this is. There are aspects of this album that are blatantly black metal, like the dissonance that’s still used so prevalently. These guys are experts at stringing together notes on a guitar that make no sense but the ways they’re set up give not only cool and unusual melodies to the music but set a much different tone than anything I’ve heard often before. Guitar playing is about the only area where Virus is still rooted in black metal to any noticeable degree. The drumming is neither fast nor brutal but instead has a more “garage” style to it; still quite technically proficient, but more focused on being simple and to the point. On bass, Plenum (yes, they still have black metal names) is rarely just plugging along playing the same things the guitar is, and that’s a really good thing. Where there could be nothing special at all, it adds another dimension to the music and is executed just as it should be. Czral’s vocals are sung with dark conviction and a healthy (but not excessive) dose of melodrama. They bring to mind The Talking Heads if the singer had just had a really bad day. Carheart leaves the listen at odds in some ways. It’s a relatively simply put together album; nothing initially seems to be very complex or difficult. The illusion of straightforwardness dissolves with further listens when you get a real sense of all the little things they have going on. There are subtle differences between the first time you’ll hear a part in a song and its reprise later on, and things like that keep you on your toes and make you really pay a lot of attention. This is an album that manages to stay relatively simple but have a lot of depth at the same time. As with the drumming, the overall feel of Carheart is that of a very finely tuned and unique garage band. The instruments aren’t altered much at all; the musicians here know what guitar, bass, and drums are capable of doing and they do those things. A band not relying on technology but still creating something pure and exciting is a breath of fresh air in metal music. Part of not relying on technology means that they don’t want to rely too much on studio effects, and it’s clear that they didn’t. Knowing that, I’d say the production serves its purpose and realizes the vision of the band as much as is possible. Overall, Carheart is a very solid album in all the ways it needs to be. It’s initially captivating and fun to listen to, and it’s aged very well thus far. I don’t see either of those qualities changing any time soon. This goes highly recommended to anyone who thinks the black metal genre is slightly stale and wants something in a similar vein but with exciting new ideas.
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
OK, this isn't an avant-garde metal release but since I uploaded it for someone, I may as well share it.
http://www.sendspace.com/file/63 Akira Yamaoka - Silent Hill 3 Original Soundtrack Konami's Akira Yamaoka has established himself as one of the top composers in the gaming industry, primarily through his excellent scores for the first two Silent Hill games. Combining frightful industrial noise with haunting piano melodies, Yamaoka has brought notoriety to himself and the series with a unique mix of musical styles. Few game scores are as integral to the overall mood and atmosphere as the ones Yamaoka creates for the Silent Hill titles, and his compositions are nearly unmatched in their ability to augment the emotional context of the on-screen action. Konami's latest horror adventure, Silent Hill 3, may have returned to the themes of the first game, but this hasn't hindered Yamaoka's evolution as an artist in the least. Yamaoka's score to Silent Hill 3 is a bit of a departure from his earlier work that introduces new influences, instrumentation and stylistic elements into his compositions. The most obvious change is the inclusion of full vocalization on a number of tracks, a trend that has gained popularity in game music over the last few years. Lyrics are first heard in the game's theme song, an up-tempo rock piece entitled "You're Not Here". The track itself bears an obvious resemblance to many of Yamaoka's songs from Silent Hill 2 (such as "Love Psalm", "Promise", or "Theme of Laura"), but the addition of vocals creates an extra layer of emotional context that strongly reinforces the plight of the game's main character, Heather. The lyrics to "You're Not Here" are sung by Melissa Williamson, a singer/actress with quite a bit of experience providing voices for video games and anime. (She is most notable to me for performing the part of Julia in the English version of Cowboy Bebop.) Melissa lends her seductive voice to a number of important tracks (including "Lost Carol", "I Want Love" and "Letter - From the Lost Days"), imparting to them a warm and soulful tone. Melissa's heartfelt sense of yearning on "Letter" is quite stirring and provides the perfect backdrop for Heather's emotional soliloquy during the car ride to Silent Hill. The lyrics for these songs, while not particularly complex, are very strongly tied into the themes of the game and nicely compliment Yamaoka's compositions. In contrast with the predominantly piano-and-violin arrangements from Silent Hill 2, many of the songs in Silent Hill 3 adopt more of a trip-hop flavor. Tracks like "Breeze - In Monochrome Night" and "Sickness Unto Foolish Death" are outstanding musical works that tip their cap to electronic acts like Portishead. There is quite a bit of diversity to these songs as well: "Rain of Brass Petals" is a driving drum-and-bass track highlighted by a suitably ominous harpsichord arrangement; the surreal "A Stray Child" features otherworldly synthesizer accompaniment; and a downright haunting piano melody characterizes "Dance With Night Wind". Yamaoka even provides more of his wonderful acoustic guitar work on "Please Love Me... Once More", a somber interlude that follows the most emotionally affecting scene in the game. The soundtrack itself is also a much more conceptual experience than the previous two Silent Hill scores, incorporating a number of spoken word segments that flesh out the story of the game. It is clear that Yamaoka's intention was not simply to produce a collection of songs, but to create a tightly-focused mind trip that recreates the major events of Silent Hill 3. These recitations (performed by Melissa Williamson) are culled from a variety of sources, including speeches by Claudia, the Creation Myth of the town's cult and even parts of the infamous Shakespeare riddle. Many of these readings appear at the beginning or end of tracks, but some, like "Walk on Vanity Ruins" and "Sun", layer Melissa's breathy speech over top of the music to create a captivating listening experience. Far fewer industrial noise tracks appear on the Silent Hill 3 soundtrack, which might come as a disappointment to those fans of the original Silent Hill's ambient barrage. Yamaoka himself mixed the CD, so we can only assume that he felt these pieces didn't entirely fit with his vision. Notable exceptions include the metallic-yet-melodic "Flower Crown of Poppy" and "Prayer", an unearthly amalgam of noise, percussion and baritone chanting. Bits and pieces of some of the other ambient tracks are integrated with other songs. For instance, the familiar low-frequency moaning can be heard briefly at the beginning of "A Stray Child". Though the industrial noise is featured prominently in the background of many areas of the game, Yamaoka's sparing use of it results in a much more melodic soundtrack. The CD draws to a close with the end-credits theme "Hometown", a reworked version of Silent Hill's classic mandolin opening theme. This rendition is much more emotionally charged however, thanks to Joe Romersa's downright haunting vocals. The lyrics recount the harrowing ordeal endured by Harry Mason as he frantically searched for his daughter in Silent Hill. If you've played the first Silent Hill game, passages like "That misty night / That dismal moon / The dead search for their kin" will undoubtedly make a world of sense. The final track on the CD is an extended studio mix of "I Want Love" that sports some of Yamaoka's trademarked axe work, along with some fiercely impassioned singing from Melissa Williamson. Though this cut doesn't appear in the game, it still fits in wonderfully with the rest of the material. Though I'm personally split over which of the Silent Hill soundtracks I prefer most, the music in Silent Hill 3 deftly illustrates the continued development of Akira Yamaoka's musical artistry. Silent Hill 3 Original Soundtracks is a very diverse score that undergoes a number of subtle shifts in mood and tone as it progresses, yielding a soundtrack that not only mirrors the storyline of the game, but provides a unique aural experience in its own right. Yamaoka's accomplished instrumentation and arrangement skills, coupled with Williamson's spirited vocal work, make this soundtrack a definite standout in the horror adventure genre. It has a very different flavor than his previous work, but true fans will undoubtedly find a lot to love about Akira Yamaoka's excellent Silent Hill 3 score.
| |||||||
|
One Way Street Registered: 10/30/07 Posts: 1,239 Loc: The un-united ki Last seen: 11 years, 7 months |
| ||||||
|
i love Akira Yamaoka , i've got all the silent hill soundtracks, i like.
| |||||||
|
21st Century Sch Registered: 04/29/06 Posts: 836 Loc: Canada Last seen: 10 years, 10 days |
| ||||||
|
Y'all need to check out the new Minsk release, 'The Ritual Fires of Abandonment'. It's all psychedelic and heavy sounding, with the feeling of coming out of a dark abyss and reaching for the light. Damn good stuff, that Minsk is.
-------------------- We are always acting on what has just finished happening. It happened at least 1/30th of a second ago. We think we're in the present, but we aren't. The present we know is only a movie of the past. Ken Kesey
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
Faxed Head - Chiropractic
http://www.sendspace.com/file/x5 This album is their best definitely. From Demon's Chills one realizes these guys can throw out black crust like that of which Euronymous or Varg Vikeres hasn't seen. Trey Spruance (Mr. Bungle, Secret Chiefs 3) appears on guitar and mixing as Neckhead. Gregg Turkington (Zip Code Rapists, Three Doctors) is on vocals as McPatrickhead. The only other I know is Phil Franklin, the touring percussionist for the Secret Chiefs 3 is LaBrea Tarpits Head; drummer. This super group of Avant/Wierdo musicians is some of the heaviest yit that has ever been created. This is too much for anyone who thinks Linkin Park is metal. This album is so heavy, even the mix is bending under the pressure. (and tweaking, dropping, slowing...) Amazing music from amazing people. I believe.... (Review off Amazon.com)
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
Colour Haze - CO2
http://www.sendspace.com/file/d2 Colour Haze is a German stoner/psych/retro/acid band that’s been around for more than a decade by now and they understand the art of silent revolution. Even though they’re from a country that’s not exactly a hotbed of stoner-oriented bands (not that I know of, anyway, so correct me if I’m wrong), they’ve gained quite a reputation as one of the most dependable European acts in the genre, a unit of extremely capable musicians who manage to merge all of their influences into a unique mould that can be quite a sonic experience. Unfortunately, their releases suffer from something that’s very common among like-minded bands: their massive wall of sound doesn’t translate that well onto a shiny disc (with especially the drums lacking the live force). When I saw them perform in good old Belgium a while ago, they dragged in so much gear that I initially thought they were a five-piece band. Obviously obsessed by sound and equipment, the band next delivered a set that was pure aural bliss, with warm, buzzing guitar tones, led-heavy bass parts and drumming that alternated between understated grooving and all-over-the-place rumbling. I called ‘em “stoner” for clarity’s sake, but the trio (Stefan Koglek - guitar, vocals; Philip Rasthofer – bass; Manfred Merwald - drums) alternately recalls sludgy acid rock, lumbering doom-laden Sabbath and far-out psychedelica, but also European influences such as Can and Tangerine Dream, which often gives their music a droning, nearly mantra-like Eastern vibe. It makes their brand of heaviness much more cerebral (less instantaneously ‘catchy’) than that of their contemporary brethren, but this refusal (or inability) to offer transparent ideas also makes them a damn intriguing band that demands your unconditional attention. If you’re in it for clearly structured, concise pop songs, you’re checking out the wrong band (the 40-minute CO2 contains a mere six songs), because these guys are capable of unleashing monstrous 20-minute epics that suggest, tease, pull back, suddenly bludgeon and trample you, and slowly fade out into more restrained, dream-like territory again. They’re a jam band in the purest sense of the word, a single-minded entity that’s capable of turning in mind-blowing explorations that contain moments of simple beauty and crushing volume. Koglek may not be the best vocalist around (his range is limited and he hasn’t the more direct approach of, say, John Garcia or Dave Wyndorf), but at least he makes up for this with a wholly unique style that incorporates influences from rock, blues, jazz and even avant-garde, earning him a place near other rock innovators such as Motorpsycho (who he undoubtedly likes). Like any other superb musician, he also realizes that simplicity often offers the best ideas, witness the simple, infectious riff that propels album opener “Get It On,” a whirling, repetitive drone wrapped up in an accessible format. The other tracks are a bit less straightforward: “Shine” and “Motormind” find them exploring bludgeoning doom-styled riffs that go well together (despite the contrast) with Koglek’s usually smooth singing style. My personal favorite, though, is “Inside,” a song in which they used a simple key melody to great effect while creating a sonic ebb and flow that’s as seamless as could be (and there’s even a Beatles-reference you can’t miss). “CO,” finally, is the kind of track that works even a lot better on stage: an 11-minute marathon featuring some frantic solos, concrete riffs and a rhythm section that progresses with the force of a thunderstorm. Like I said before, the band didn’t exactly capture it’s awesome live force on tape, but CO2 already goes a long way at showing you why this band – despite their lack of mainstream success – is becoming more and more respected among those who dig heavy retro-rock with a psychedelic edge. If that sounds like something you might like as well, don’t hesitate to check this band out. Cloroform - Hey You Lets Kiss http://www.sendspace.com/file/ow Norwegian art-punkers Cloroform mix up raw rock, electro noises, freeform jazz and other oddities to produce a sound that's just a little too twisted for its own good at times. They seem as if they're having fun though. Think Electric Six, but just a whole lot weirder and you're nearly there. Colour Haze - Chopping Machine http://www.sendspace.com/file/4m Could not find any reviews on this album, but since most people are aware of who Colour Haze are and what they sound like, then it probably doesn't need explaining. This is their debut album.
| |||||||
|
One Way Street Registered: 10/30/07 Posts: 1,239 Loc: The un-united ki Last seen: 11 years, 7 months |
| ||||||
|
colour haze
| |||||||
|
Registered: 07/11/99 Posts: 8,399 |
| ||||||
|
Yep.
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
Todd - Comes To Your House
http://www.sendspace.com/file/uq This is how it begins, how it always begins. You’ve lost the others, somewhere, back there. You didn’t stop to ask which way they were headed, nor did your eyes, the edges of your peripheral vision blurred beyond any precedence, register where they bolted to, where they sought cover once the fire fell like hailstones. It was coming from all angles; you were right to run whichever way you could; they should have followed you. Yes, they should have followed you. You’ve done no wrong here. You’re safe in your hiding place; you could live here forever if need be, anything to maintain refuge from that onslaught; although, it subsided minutes ago... Perhaps it’s safe. Perhaps the others fell, and whoever was out there, above there, under there, over there, has gone. Gone back to whatever godforsaken place such merciless men call home, where the cowardly are considered champions of a cause that others – you – can’t condone. Yes, the noise has faded. You grasp your rifle, tight; the square’s before you, no sign of movement. No life, just decaying structures toppling slowly into piles of dusted masonry. Yes, they should have followed you, then everything would be fine, now... ...Now you’re in the open, again. Your eyes still aren’t quite up to speed, which seems odd as your heart is pulsating at a rate doctors would surely disapprove of, that your doctor at home would prescribe some pill or other for; a little something to take the edge off the everyday, only the everyday is so far away. You consider calling out, but the words stick in your throat. Are they around? Are they okay? You were never the bravest; they probably stood their ground. Fools. But you’d give anything to see their foolish faces, right now. Right now… you’re alerted by something. Something on the left, out of sight, just; something moved you’re sure… The first two don’t register but the third cuts clean, into your shoulder. Spinning, suddenly dizzy, you point your weapon – unfired, until now – toward the source. Your shoulder’s bleeding; a closer inspection conducted in a second reveals that one of the two earlier shots grazed the skin of the same arm, and already blood from the brace of wounds is mixing, steadily making tracks to your elbow. Fire: one, two, three. But at what? You’re seeing nothing, hearing nothing, smelling nothing but the sweet smell of your own well-maintained firearm. Then, a crack... You look down, assuming a twig had been crushed underfoot, but no: the pain’s not immediate, not until you see the shot that’s pierced your lower left leg, clean and true. Just below the knee. You fall, immediately crippled, firing off another few rounds into the clouded sky above; then, a shadow looms, a blade catches the single beam of light that’s navigated the cover overhead. You reach for what’s fallen from your hand and landed a yard too far away; it’s out of touch, you’re out of luck. Then, a sharp intake, and… And you awake, your destination of choice two stops in the other direction; drink and merriment has seduced you into a deep slumber, one you’ve been having too regularly. The dream, too, is a constant; ever since Todd’s Comes To Your House came to your house, you’ve found yourself engulfed by its relentlessness, consumed by its feverishness, duty bound like a soldier to sing its praises to all and sundry. But now the tables have turned, the roles reversed: it’s not a record you own, but a record that owns you; it possesses a force never experienced before now, as if the tiny, microscopic pits on the compact disc’s surface house intelligent bacteria, living organisms that tunnel their way into your system, from fingertips to the deepest synapses, each and every time you handle this album. Of course, this is nonsense, you know as much; yet why, then, does the same dream haunt you so? You reason, unconvincingly: “Todd are the war, I’m the enemy, their enemy. I’m what they seek to eradicate.” But why? Bombast is one thing you’ve heard a thousand bands before this one implement in such a way that your five senses shake ‘til they’re irreparably damaged, yet never before has such a sizeable lasting impression been made. There are craters in your skull, circling your headphones; there’s a dryness in your mouth born of fear and pure awe, not thirst. Todd aren’t the war, per se, but the absolutely final death blow, the closing chapter of a series of skirmishes: rock versus pop versus this versus that. Nothing matters, not now: Todd have re-written the rulebook on compositional etiquette, they’ve torn the spines from hairy rockers archaic and made racks for their tank-sized amps from them. They’ve ground the bones of a billion pretenders – those fashionable sorts that loiter about the edges of the right shows to be seen by the right people so they can hand them the right demo recorded by the right producer with a stamp of approval from the right band – snorted them and shat them back out like pepper spray in the eyes of the establishment. Their guitars are the guns, their drums the bulldozers that sweep away the limbs and bricks and brains and dreams that lay, broken, before them. You change platforms, wearily. A ten-minute wait; you buy a bottle of fizzy drink from the vending machine. It slips from your hand as soon as you take it, rolling away from the platform’s edge, thankfully. Foolishly you allow it no time to settle, and duly cover your white shirt in brown stickiness. Kicking yourself, you slump in a wooden seat. Nine minutes. Your headphones rumble again; repeat was engaged when you set off, remember? The noise comes again, and although it’s recognisable to you now no degree of preparation ever renders you strong enough to withstand its multiple waves of undiluted aggression. It is a killer, a savage, drooling beast from another age, an age we’re yet to live through. It knows no age, perhaps? It just is, now and forever, then and tomorrow. “This is how it begins,” you think, sipping the still-frothing drink you paid too much for. “How it always begins.” You drink, you drift, you dream. You die all over again. (How's that for a review?) http://www.drownedinsound.com/re
| |||||||
|
Registered: 04/02/02 Posts: 10,137 Loc: Exile Last seen: 5 years, 9 months |
| ||||||
|
Black Lodge - Covet
http://www.sendspace.com/file/ru Black Lodge, as fellow reviewer Insignium puts it, has always been an incredibly elusive band. After forming in 1993, the band did absolutely -nothing- until Autumn 1994, when they started writing the music for Covet. Not until late in the summer of '95 was it finished, and then the band spent months recording, not finishing until later taht year in December. Afterwards, Head Not Found released the CD to an apathetic public, the band immediately split up, and as of now, only Black Lodge's bassist, Halvor Larsen, has re-entered the metal scene. Despite the lukewarm sales of Covet, it is without a doubt, the most brilliant collection of musical genius ever to be released. Mixing elements of doom, gothic, thrash, black, and even death metal into their work, each of Covet's 7 songs is a mindfuck in its own right. The style of the songs range from being as peaceful and melodic as Leaves' Eyes, to as chaotic and dissonant as a Cryptopsy song. The album kicks off with Dissonance, which, right from the beginning, creates an eerie air of suspense, despite the beautiful female vocals which introduce the track. The mood of the song varies, beginning with a peaceful-yet-melancholy collection of dirging guitars and wailing male vocals, but it changes gradually as Kim's voice takes on a more sinister, mocking tone, and the instrumental work speeds up exponentially. Quickly again, though, the song changes back to an ultra-slow bit of funeral doom, only to change again shortly thereafter until the track ends abruptly, moving onto Mother Urge. The second track is the fastest one on the whole CD, filled with unexpectedly brutal male vocals, and even Kim joins in, adding her own screams, for the second half of the song. Even more dissonant than Dissonance, Mother Urge is as much a mindfuck as any Pig Destroyer song, but without the lame punk elements thrown in. Things die down in the last 10 seconds of the track, which then fades into # (rips as "Untranslated"). A hypnotic, eerie, droning voice and Larsen's bass are all that's used in #, and the lyrics are taken from Hamlet. The last 27 seconds of the song, though, are just the voice repeating "All life...has gone...all life...has gone," a play on Hamlet's "all -light- has gone", but acheiving the same effect. The fourth track, titled "Cube", picks up where # left off, with Moller still chanting, but quickly changes into a truly rageful song, filled with misanthropy and cynicism, supported wonderfully by blasting dirges from the guitars and excellent, sporadic bits of drumming. The song changes completely every 42 seconds (I kid you not), and gets slower and slower during the last two pieces, before stopping abruptly. Tower Inertia is my favorite song on the entire CD. From the beginning, both vocalists take on a mournful tone as the guitars and drums support it, with Halvor mysteriously absent. Nonetheless, the song goes on, picking up to almost-normal speed at times, but then dying down, as the guitars stop, the male vocals stop, and the drums tap faintly in the background as Kim whispers slowly, almost inaudibly. The music picks up again quickly after a seconds-long stop about two thirds of the way into the track, and the male voice is back and enraged as ever. Although the minimalism of the track remains, so much is expressed through the sole guitar and alternating vocals, it truly is incredible. After Tower Inertia ends on a rather melancholy note, Travesty picks up and destroys any semblance of funeral doom. Brutal and fast as all hell, Larsen's bass fights with the two guitars as Hoel bellows with fury for the entire track. I won't lie, though - some of the guitar riffs sound oddly like they were taken...directly...from Celtic Frost - Cherry Orchards...just sped up. If you haven't listened to Cold Lake upwards of 50 times before, though, and don't have it playing simultaneously, you probably won't even notice, and the song will sound just fine to you. Nonetheless, Travesty blares on angrily for its 7 and a half minute duration, and then stops suddenly at the end with the word "harsh." Covet's final track, Mortal, begins almost as slowly as Tower Inertia, with the drums faintly tapping in the background and all the guitars buzzing quietly. This illusion of peace is quickly shattered, though, as the vocals return. Hoel's voice has taken on an air of acceptance of his fate, and Kim's joins in, still mocking, but with an ever more superior quality to it, knowing that she's won. For the first time on the CD, the guitars and drums complement each other and play in harmony, creating a decidely unsettling dark aura of closure. The two vocalists sing in unison: Hoel, beaten and submissive, Kim, strong and dominant. The music plays on, shifting from melodic and victorious to chaotic and threatening again, but with a much more sinister air. The track and the CD end with a final, whispered plea from Hoel for his death, before everything stops without warning, and Covet comes to a close. Covet, although a long-forgotten and never-acclaimed album, was released over a decade ago to an unresponsive metal scene. In 2004, though, Head Not Found put out a reissue of Covet, and thanks to the wonders of the internet, sold all 1500 copies to a much more appreciative public. Despite this, though, the band is still incredibly unknown, which is always a plus. If you manage to locate a copy of Covet, even if it's $250 (the price of my original, bought in 03), by all means, *buy it*. Both kvlt as fuck and incredible, Covet is easily the most amazing musical work ever spawned.
| |||||||
| |||||||
| Shop: |
|
| Similar Threads | Poster | Views | Replies | Last post | ||
![]() |
Avant Garde/Noise/Ambience anyone??? ( |
3,309 | 33 | 11/27/07 05:28 AM by falkor187 | ||
![]() |
-= Shroomery Metal Guide =- ( |
35,572 | 203 | 03/29/15 06:25 PM by akira_akuma | ||
![]() |
Shroomism's Metal Guide (obsolete - see new thread) ( |
12,123 | 71 | 01/15/05 12:58 AM by ryou | ||
![]() |
New Opeth Album | 1,122 | 16 | 10/12/05 04:50 AM by DirtMcgirt | ||
![]() |
Favorite Opeth Album? | 1,062 | 17 | 02/09/06 08:13 PM by WeAreAllOne | ||
![]() |
the album thread ( |
69,567 | 156 | 09/23/10 04:10 PM by Idiot | ||
![]() |
The Indie Album Thread ( |
173,679 | 1,280 | 11/20/11 12:37 PM by froess | ||
![]() |
Album(s) that changed your life ( |
14,275 | 84 | 12/09/08 03:57 PM by Grav |
| Extra information | ||
| You cannot start new topics / You cannot reply to topics HTML is disabled / BBCode is enabled Moderator: Middleman, automan, DividedQuantum 60,453 topic views. 0 members, 4 guests and 4 web crawlers are browsing this forum. [ Show Images Only | Sort by Score | Print Topic ] | ||



new tunes!
