It’s not every day you put out a groovy EP of acid house tracks. This is especially true after one of your band members falls over twenty feet through a skylight, breaks both wrists and six ribs, and sustains a head fracture that results in permanent hearing loss.
Yet, Operator Music Band did just that with their new Four Singles EP. How? You got me, but Jared Hiller figured out a way, and, along with Dara Hirsch and Daniel Siles, crafted a slick record.
Blending house with some krautrock and synthwave, “As It Goes” comes out of the start with a drippy, bass-filled bang, wicked hand percussion, and low-end vocal effects to warp your brain even further. “Screwhead” is a sexy, slightly industrial (Those drums!) track with sensuous vocals (“Focus is a function of ecstasy. Let me go slow. I’ll be right back.”).
“Oval” is bouncy and bubbly that, at the halfway point, turns into almost a dance-punk track with its almost frantic drums. “10 Days” continues this dance-punk theme with percussion and synths that sound like they’re coming through pipes and pneumatic tubes in an abandoned factory where a rooftop rave is taking place.
It’s all over too soon and leaves you wanting much more, as any good EP should. Many accolades should be given to Operator Music Band for creating something this good after Hiller’s harrowing accident. That kind of grit is rare.
Opener “Got a Fire in My Socket” is a song about what its like to have a neurodivergent brain in a world that’s constantly clamoring for your attention. Dare mixes solid drum beats with post-punk guitar riffs and weird keyboard bloops. “Matter Vs. Matter” is about hoarding not only physical stuff, but e-clutter and mental trash as well (“10,000 options across 30,000 featured posts.”), and the only way to clear it out is by blasting it with fuzzy guitar power.
“10,000 Monkeys + An Argument with Time” uses sounds from what seem to be 16-bit video games to highlight how time is easily wasted even in a time in history when all this technology is supposed to save us time. “No One Wants to Hear It” is a fun takedown of virtue signaling with crunchy guitars and fight scene drums.
According to Dare’s notes on the album, “Gotta Cold Feeling” is about “That time when someone talked about something so boring, so long, it felt like time had fractured.” Haven’t we all been there at some point? “Entangled Entropy” is Dare apologizing for his sometimes uncontrollable behavior and explaining what it’s like to be autistic (“The wires don’t connect sometimes. Don’t you see? My waves aren’t free.”).
On “Call My City, Don’t Call My Telephone,” Dare pleads with everyone not to waste his time (or anyone else’s). God bless him for calling out time wasters, “shirtless bros,” and “standing in line” with his shredding solo and growling bass. “Josephine Says Explode” has Dare encouraging us to let our emotions out now and then. That stuff will eat you from within if you don’t.
The Osees-like fuzz and funk of “Schrödinger’s Apocalypse” is a fun track about living in a time of uncertainty, and how perhaps ignoring the uncertainty is the best path. “The Elasticity of Knowing” takes down racists and xenophobes by challenging them (and all of us, really) to travel and experience other cultures in order to see and acknowledge that others exist outside our little cocoons.
Finally, on “A Billion Voices Screaming, Hello Void!”, Dare encourages us to embrace the end and not fear death (“When the call comes, fear not for what’s been done, we all return to where we begun…”). The garage rock drums and distorted guitars certainly help give you confidence to step into the void.
This is a fun, wild record that mixes punk lyrics with touches of Zen. Don’t skip it.
Keep your mind open.
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Every now and then, you hear a new band described as arriving “fully formed” on the scene. It’s actually true in Punchlove‘s case, as they sound like they’ve been making shoegaze since at least 2010. You hear their debut album, Channels, and think, “This can’t be their first record.”
Yet, it is, and opening track “Breeze” hits you as heavy as any track Hum would’ve put out in their heyday with roaring guitars and crushing drums. The album was created not only post-pandemic, but also post-move from one continent to another. Jillian Olesen and Ethan Williams landed back in NYC after being forced out of Prague by the COVID-19 lockdowns. They met up with other NYU music technology students and Punchlove was born.
So were songs like “Screwdriver,” which sounds like The Cure meeting Failure in a battle of the bands. The ethereal fuzz of “Pigeon” is wondrous to behold. “Dead Lands” might be about Jillian Olesen’s feelings about returning to the U.S. to find it shut down and essentially empty thanks to the pandemic. It’s a lovely track.
“Apartment” is warped and weird. Every guitar and vocal in it sounds like it was partially melted in a studio fire that almost got out of control. “Birdsong” flies back and forth between bursting guitars and subtle chords. “Guilt” takes those bursting guitars and somehow pushed them further until it feels like you’re racing downhill with the band in a tour van without brakes.
I don’t know which is louder on “Elapse,” the driving guitar riffs or the drums hit and cymbal crashes that sound like Godzilla kicking over a power line tower. The album closes with “Corridor,” which could be thematically interpreted as a song beginnings or endings depending on where the corridor leads. It’s the softest song on the record and probably the most haunting as well.
This is all fine shoegaze stuff from Punchlove, who are already far ahead of other current bands in the genre. A lot of people are scrambling to catch up while Punchlove is making it look easy.
Keep your mind open.
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LFZ, otherwise known as Sean Smith, has dived even further than usual into his exploration of soundscapes and sound technology on his new album Raveled Veiled Known.
The album combines Smith’s hypnotizing guitar work with sound loops, vintage synths, field recordings, and probably song structures based on numerology for all I know. I mean, the album cover of embroidered art by Smith reflects numerological, tarot, and mystical themes.
I like how the album is bookended with long tracks. The opener, “Extinction Burst,” sounds like a Wall of Voodoo instrumental mixed with a John Carpenter film score and is described in the liner notes as “a characterization of the psyche’s potential to utterly resist change.” It’s all weird synths and reverb-laden guitar flourishes, and it’s all neat for over twelve minutes. In case you need a slightly radio friendly version, “Extinction Burst (edit),” at about half the length, follows it.
“View from Here” was improvised and recorded in one night and uses a lot of tape loops and “…represents themes of being trapped inside the boundless prison of one’s solitary perspective and the peace and madness that can coexist.” I mean, holy cow. LFZ is into some deep water here, and he’s floating on it like a cork while encouraging us to do the same when the water gets choppy.
“Waiting for Esme” is about Smith awaiting the birth of his daughter and the nervous anticipation of such an event. It has the most “normal” structure of the album’s tracks, but is no less full of strange synth effects. The long closing track, “Naturally I Found It Within,” reflects the outward journey that always returns inward – using buzzing guitars and dark wave synths to create moments of chaos and clarity.
It’s a weird, neat record. It’s strange at times, and soothing at others.
Keep your mind open.
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That’s what you get with LAIR and their new album, Ngélar – an album that salutes the band’s hometown, Jatiwangi, and the earth that provides most of the areas income through terra-cotta production, and discusses the struggles to reclaim that same land from deforestation.
“Tatalu” gets things off to a fast start with wild beats and exotic guitar work. “Pesta Rekyat Pabrik Gala” takes on a sorrowful tone that sounds like a call to ancient ancestors and spirits. “Tanah Bertuah” has more stellar guitar work from Tedi Nurmanto. “Hareeng” is almost desert rock with beautiful vocals from Monica Haspari. “Boa-Boa,” with its car horn honks, fuzzy bass riffs from Andzar Agung Fauzan, is one of the coolest songs on the record and will go straight onto your psych-rock playlist.
The chant-like vocals on “Bangkai Belantara” dance back and forth between power and celebration. “Kawin Tebu” is a lively track that makes you want to dance, sing, and invite strangers to a party at your house. The title of the album, after all, refers to a local custom in Jatiwangi of musicians roaming around the town, playing music for anyone, and celebrating whatever happens to need celebrating. “Setan Dolban” brings in some synthesizers and these cool microtonal guitars that would make King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard drool.
If you didn’t know LAIR was from Indonesia, you might think they were from the Algerian desert upon hearing “Gelombang Pemecah Malam,” which is a brief instrumental of sand dune rock. The closer, “Mencari Selamat,” is a lively song of thanks and uplifting beats made to help you forget troubles.
This is one of the most uplifting albums I’ve heard so far in 2024. It comes at a time when we need music like this to expand our horizons and jolt us out of any bad funks we’re in right now.
elvis, he was Schlager, the debut album from Church Chords, is difficult to describe, but that’s part of what makes it so good.
Combining recorded field sounds and samples with live performances in the studio, the album is a blend of musical influences from three cities: Philadelphia, Chicago, and Los Angeles. It’s the brainchild of producer / multi-instrumentalist Stephen Buono, who decided to become more of a producer / bandleader / circus ringmaster with a wide number and variety of musicians from those three cities.
The result is a neat experimental record that somehow blends electro, post-punk, psych-rock, jazz, and other stuff I can’t quite define into sort of a calm chaos. It’s like the album cover, a woman stopped along a roadway while forest burns immediately next to her and she records the growing danger on her phone…or perhaps is reciting her thoughts for future meditations.
Songs like “Recent Mineral” and “Apophatic Melismatic” combine killer bass riffs with soft vocals and hip-hop drums. “Spacetime Pauses” reminds me of some of MC 900 Foot Jesus‘ jazz-psych fusion tracks.
Songs like “Warriors of Playtime” bring in wild jazz horns and prog-rock guitars. “She Lays of a Leaf” has industrial beats and, I think, vocals from Chicago alt-rockers Finom to make it a weird robot-dance / lounge club groover that builds into something that would fit into a late 1970s French erotic thriller. “Owned By Lust,” on the other hand, would fit into a modern horror film with its panicked guitar licks and rambling madman vocals.
“Then Awake” has sultry vocals over a synth-bass line that moves like a snake across a sand dune at midnight. “Man on a Wire” reminds me of some Siouxsie and The Banshees tracks with the vocal stylings, goth synths, and post-punk saxophone and beats. The vocals on “I Hope You See” are layered with extra effects to almost make them unintelligible, but also make them more ethereal.
In case you’re wondering, as I was, “Schlager” is a type of European pop music characterized by catchy beats and love-song lyrics. I suppose Elvis Presleywas that for many of the masses. This record has catchy beats and love-song lyrics, but it’s not Schlager. It’s too experimental, too stream-of-consciousness, too odd.
But it’s not too much of any of that either. It’s one of the most interesting records I’ve heard so far this year.
One of the biggest surprises for me of 2023 was that stoner metal giants Acid King released a new album – Beyond Vision. Shame on me for taking so long to get to it, because it’s a fine piece of work (and their first since 2015, no less).
The opening drone of “One Light Second Away” is perfect for the album’s cover image of some kind of heavenly cosmic tunnel / path leading to either an all-seeing eye or another reality we can’t yet comprehend. The instruments are subtle, even as they build in power, not overwhelming you right out of the gate. They’re still guiding you along this swirling tunnel of nebulae, planets, monoliths, stars, and lightning.
We’re floating in the astral plane by the time we drift into “Mind’s Eye.” It hits hard in all the ways you want a stoner metal track to hit – crashing drums, deep Earth-heavy bass, wasp’s nest-buzz-menace guitar, and ghost-like vocals. “Transmissions from the sky, from someone left behind. Was it just a sign?” guitarist Lori S. sings on “90 Seconds,” a song of cosmic messages that sounds as ominous as its warnings.
“Electro Magnetic” starts like a giant robot powering up from sleep mode, shaking off cobwebs and dust, and arming its missiles and electro-magnetic power sword for battle in some kind of desolate wasteland. The short “Destination Psych” merges / melts right into the title track, which has Bil Bowman‘s drums landing like mortar shells and Rafa Martinez‘s bass chugging like hydraulic fluid through that giant robot’s metallic veins. The closer, “Color Trails,” is the sound of the giant monster rumbling across the land as the giant robot comes to meet it, missiles streaking across the sky, trees uprooted with each step from both, roars louder than thunder, robed monks watching a prophecy come true from a safe distance.
I love that most of Beyond Vision is instrumental. You can tune in and drop in rather than out. This album drops you into something beyond your current space.
Keep your mind open.
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No one knew in early 2023 that Desire Pathway would be Screaming Females‘ final full-length album. The band decided to call it quits late last year and have since only released one five-song EP (Clover). I haven’t read or heard any official reasons for the band’s dissolution, but it seems to be an amicable decision from a band who’d been one of the champions of the DIY method since their inception. Desire Pathway‘s title might have been a clue to what the band was thinking, as perhaps they each desired a different path to walk for a while. The cover art by guitarist and singer Marissa Paternoster depicts a city jammed with buildings and teeming with activity while open paths (or perhaps rivers) divide the city into sections and offer peaceful escapes from the chaos around them. Perhaps that’s what she, Mike Abbate (bass) and Jarrett Dougherty (drums) wanted – a nice path to walk so they could get away from the chaos of being one of the hardest working touring bands in the U.S.
Starting with the slow build of what sounds like a synthesizer found in a thrift store, “Brass Bell” kicks off Desire Pathway with growling energy that comes at you like an overstimulated orange cat. “I’m living in a brass bell. It’s too loud!” Paternoster sings, again a possible clue to the pressure / grind the band was feeling back then. “Desert Train” races by you like its namesake as Paternoster sings, “I know this feeling, tied to the road. I’ll get high ’til I explode.” and puts down one of her signature ripping solos. On “Let You Go,” she sings, “If I could explain it, how black turns into blue. Now the stage is empty and I am, too.” The signs are right there that she was tired. She and her bandmates weren’t tired of jamming, however, as all of three of them click well on the track. Dougherty’s drumming is especially crisp on it.
“Beyond the Void” is a beautiful love song, the kind Screaming Females do so well – singing about the blissful and sometime frightening parts of love while putting down solid rock licks and bright bursts of sound. “Mourning Dove” is a good example of their “sad” love songs, as Paternoster knows her lover is going to leave soon and there’s nothing she can do about it.
“It’s All Said and Done” has lyrics back to their punk roots as they take a swing at government overreach (“No one’s safe. The state will surround you. When they come, here’s what they’ll say: Trust in the dream, don’t deny. Time says it can be yours.”). Paternoster’s guitar work on “Ornament” is so deft that you almost miss it. It seems subtle at first, but you realize how skillful it is when you listen close.
On “So Low,” Paternoster practically begs a lover to not reject her. It’s a modern day blues song without a single blues lick in it. “Let Me into Your Heart” is in a similar vein, but with heavier hits from Abbate’s chugging bass and Paternoster’s lyrics reflecting how her lover bears some responsibility in all of this for a lack of willingness to fully embrace her (“I know the mess I made, admit that I’m afraid. You’ll never let me into your heart.”).
The album closes with “Titan,” which contains what might be the biggest clue to the band’s decision to give it a rest in the first verse: “You smoked beside the stage, with the can in your hand, then you said to me, I’m tired. Please make it true and do what I, I have asked of you.” She and her bandmates weren’t the only ones who needed a break, so did their families and lovers. So, they end the album with a sizzling, growling, heavy-hitter that has some of Abbate and Dougherty’s best rhythm work on the record.
Desire Pathway was a good one to leave on the path for us fans. Screaming Females never put out a bad record. You can start anywhere in their catalog and be amazed. I hope their new paths lead to great(er) things.
Keep your mind open.
[I desire that you take the pathway to the subscription box.]
As if bossa nova queen Astrud Gilberto‘s lovely voice isn’t enough motivation for you to pick up her 1972 album, Now, then consider that she teamed up with a stunning array of musicians on the record (as she tended to do) from Brazil and the U.S. Gilberto self-produced the record and enlisted Eumar Deodato for arrangements.
Starting with the playful “Zigy Zigy Za,” Now begins with funky jazz drums from Billy Cobham and fun organ solos from Mike Longo. “Make Love to Me” is an English-vocal ballad with a sound to it that reminds me of soft-lit late night live TV broadcasts from 1972. Longo’s piano on “Baião” could almost fit in a rock song and reminds me a bit of the kind of stuff Ben Folds plays nowadays. Gilberto has fun with the track, as it just seems to be her, Longo, Cobham, and Deodato (on acoustic guitar) having a laugh with a fun track.
“Sunday was a fun day I spent with you,” Gilberto sings on “Touching You,” another sweet ballad to her lover…but he’s not real. She can only dream about him. “Gingele” mixes groovy bossa nova with a touch of lounge-disco into a funky brew. “Take It Easy My Brother Charlie” mixes English and Portuguese lyrics and is one of the standout tracks on the record. The flow of it is infectious and gets you moving and smiling. You instantly agree with Gilberto that things will get better and not to fret about things that are fleeting.
“Where Have You Been?” is a sad tale of loneliness from Gilberto that will hit you hard if you’ve been through a heart-breaking loss. The string arrangements on it are a nice touch. The swinging beats of Cobham’s drums on “General da Banda” are sharp as a hatchet. “I have crossed a thousand bridges in search of something real,” Gilberto sings on “Bridges” – a song about her many travels around the world and how bridge, literal and figurative, has lead to or from some significant moment in her life. The album concludes with “Daybreak” and Gilberto singing “I’m walking out on yesterday.” She encourages us to go forward, to live in the now and not in a past that was gone the moment it happened.
It’s, as always, lovely sweet stuff from Gilberto. She doesn’t miss.
Failure‘s debut album, Comfort, does something right away that the band loves doing – making you uncomfortable. This is often done through cryptic lyrics that challenge one’s thoughts on reality and fantasy, technology and humanity, or love and despair…all with crushing shoegaze riffs and masterful production. Comfort gets you unsettled right out of the gate with the album’s cover. Who is that girl? Is that a shadow of a cow behind her? Or a minotaur? Is it supposed to be her shadow? I don’t know, and the album’s songs don’t give a hint either…which is part of the fun, really.
“Submission” might be about sex, but I think it’s more about how easy it is to get trapped in the rat race (“They work hard and they sell things. We like that, ’cause there’s no choice.”). Failure waste no time in pummeling you with thick bass (courtesy of Greg Edwards) on the track, and then Robert Gauss pummels you further on “Macaque” – which is literally about a monkey lead singer Ken Andrews saw in a Los Angeles zoo that provided him with a Zen-like moment of enlightenment. Andrews’ guitar on “Something” swells and builds like river water casually drifting along one moment and then turning into a racing current below the surface the next.
“Screen Man” has a sense of menace throughout it, which is appropriate since it’s about a man on Andrews’ TV screen who freaks the hell out of him (“This man’s eyes are serious. He’s the man in my screen. I cannot let him frighten me.”). Andrews’ guitar is like lightning you see on the horizon (And the solo? Holy crap.), whereas Edwards’ bass is distant thunder, and Gauss’ drums are the wind that keeps building as the clouds get closer.
On “Swallow,” producer Steve Albini hung a microphone from the ceiling and swung it like a pendulum to record Andrews’ vocals during the first verse, causing a weird panning effect and being a neat example of the kind of stuff Failure love experimenting with in a studio setting. “Muffled Snaps” continues some of this experimentation with Gauss’ drums taking on odd sounds and Andrews’ guitar nearly sounding broken until the song bursts forth like dragster. The lyrics reference physical violence, and it seems to be a song about boxing…or at least fighting. It certainly hits like a boxing match.
Gauss’ drums on “Kindred” are sharp, hitting hard in all the right places. “Pro-Catastrophe” is a whopper, with Andrews flat-out telling people he’s looking forward to an apocalypse and watching chaos unfold around him. Little did he know, that in 2020…Edwards goes nuts on a fretless bass throughout it, often making your head spin with the licks he puts down on it.
“Princess” is sort of a love song, as Andrews sings praises to his lady pal (“I’m always pleased that you don’t say no.”). It’s a burner that’s over before you catch your breath. The album ends with “Salt Wound,” a song about one of Failure’s favorite subjects – relationships going awry. The trio unleash a sound that reflect Andrews’ confusion about why his girl is leaving him and the nervousness that comes with a future alone. Edwards’ bass pounds in your brain, Andrews’ guitar dissolves into a jumbled rage, and Gauss’ drums are a pounding heartbeat ready to burst.
Comfort heralded great things to come for Failure. It’s a great place to start if you’re new to them. Hearing how they evolved from this is a neat journey, and the remaster of the album done by the band in 2023 is sharp.
Keep your mind open.
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