Fake Youth Cult is actually Dutch artist Richard van Kruysdijk, who created his new EP, White Light / Black Noise, with minimal arrangements. “The concept behind the songs is: create one song a day with a minimal, mainly analogue setup. Just a few synths, some drum samples, a sequencer and GO!” – he says in the press release sent to me. The result is an impressive work that mixes dark techno with some punk, and one track is even meant for a ballet performance.
The trolling synth-bass of “Visitor” grabs your attention right away, and you feel like you’re about to enter a combat arena filled with menacing robots. “Scorched” is probably how the dance floor is left after it’s played, as it’s full of powerful synths and hot, crashing beats.
Then along comes “Messing,” which will become your new favorite industrial dance track. It hits all the right beats and notes, transporting you to dark clubs in places with leaky ceilings and sweaty people who may or may not be undead fiends. “Smear” roars right by you like an out-of-control truck hauling scrap metal.
“Management” starts off side B (if you’re hearing this on vinyl) with pulsing sounds that mimic a lover’s heartbeat in the throes of rapturous sex. The looped, echoing vocals of a woman saying, “I feel…I see…I touch…I need…More…” are alluring and haunting. “Pulsar,” the closing track, is the one made for a ballet performance. van Kruysdijk often collaborates with dance troupes, and this track, with its relentless kick drum and buzzing, ticking motor-like beats, must create quickened heart rates in the dancers and audience.
The whole EP is like that, really. It’s heart-racing. Brace yourself before you play it.
Aaron Metzdorf, the bassist for Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol, described the writing process of their new album, Big Dumb Riffs, as “What if we just played two notes the whole song? What if we tuned down to almost unusable string tension? What if we write a record that will make everyone say ‘Wow, that is dumb.’?”
That record would be a fun ride, that’s what would happen.
RBBP are never short on heavy riffs, goofy lyrics, and projecting a raw, fun energy, and this time they’ve gone all-in with that idea. Right away, “Clowntown” unleashes chugging, charging mania and you can’t help but laugh as you’re moshing. “1-800-EAT-SHIT” is just as fun, and I’m sure causes phone number chants whenever it’s played. “Papa Pop It” has early Primus-like bass licks all over it.
Leo Lydon‘s guitar on “Peanut Butter Snack Sticks” sounds like he’s pulled it out of a deep fryer and is playing it with a belt sander. Sean St. Germain‘s drum groove on “Whip It Around” immediately grab you and make you pay attention. The song transitions perfectly into “Body Bag” – which hits harder than a good number of doom metal tracks.
“Brat” stomps along like an angry elephant as Lydon calls out haters who can’t and won’t back up their words. “El Sapo” is a quick roughie, leading into the almost-panicked “Bastard Initiated.” I’m sure the pits during this song are bonkers (and, really, I’m sure their entire shows are just plain nuts). “Blue Collar Man” throbs, growls, and snarls as Lydon sings about a woman in love with a blue collar worker, but the lovely dream seems to turn into a nightmare.
They save the longest track on the record, “In a Jar” (at three minutes and thirty-eight seconds), for last. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” Lydon almost croons as he and his pals slow down the pace, but don’t relent on the fuzz.
Again, Big Dumb Riffs is a crazy ride that’s over in a flash – a bit like a roller coaster that only slows down at the end but your brain is still foggy from the adrenaline rush and your body is a bit sore from banging around in the car.
Keep your mind open.
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Back when goths and the gothic lifestyle was barely a thing and post-punk was yet to exist, five ladies in Hamburg, Germany (Anja Huwe – vocals, Caro May – drums, Manuela Rickers – guitar, Fiona Sangster – keyboards, and Rita Simon – bass) with little to no musical experience started a band, shocked their hair, and the world with their intensity, drive, and sound. They toured the world, opened for Cocteau Twins, played for legendary DJ John Peel, and released four albums before splitting up.
Now, Sacred Bones Records has released Xmal Deutschland’s Early Singles 1981-1982 collection to remind us of how influential they were. I mean, how much more of an influence on goth rock do you need than opening track “Schwarze Welt” (“Black World”)? It’s hard to pick out if Rickers’ guitar growls or Huwe’s snarling vocals is the darkest element of it. “Die Wolken” (“The Clouds”) is short and almost a poem of an instrumental, whereas “Großstadtindianer” (“City Indians”) is an angry proto-punk ripper with Sangster’s keyboards sounding like they’re stuffed full of angry bees.
May’s simple drums on “Kälbermarsch” (“Calf March”) build into a rhythm that almost induces panic. By the time we get to one of their biggest hits, “Incubus Succubus,” they’re really in the groove, and Simon’s bass has grown from being subtle in the background to a menacing shadowy figure at the forefront. May’s drumming on “Zu Jung Zu Alt” (“Too Young Told Old”) reaches near Alan Myers levels.
The title of “Blust Ist Liebe” (“Blood Is Love”) is already cool enough, but the way Huwe’s vocals move around the track (and Sangster’s keyboards) is even cooler. Closing the compilation with a live version of “Allein” (“Alone”) is a great touch, as it’s a powerhouse of a track with everyone in perfect synch. Rickers, Simon, Simon, and May are on fire throughout it, and Huwe absolutely commands the microphone. It’s a stunner.
It’s great that Xmal Deutschland are finding new fans and old fans are enjoying their revival. This collection is a great start to their catalogue. Don’t miss it.
Back in the early 1980s, Anja Huwe was the lead singer (although not originally by choice) of German post-punk pioneers Xmal Deutschland. The band tore across the world, inspiring many and becoming somewhat secret legends before they split up for other ventures. Huwe became a fashion model and visual artist, but music was still in her blood. Now, almost out of nowhere, she’s returned with a new album, Codes, and is exploring what it’s like to live in extremes – be it extreme environments, relationships, or beliefs.
Beginning with gothic, lonely guitar chords by fellow Xmal Deutschland bandmate Manuela Rickers, “Skuggornas” has Huwe confessing, “I don’t regret anything I’ve done. I have lived, and I have sinned.” Most of us can’t admit half of that, and here Huwe is doing it with elegance. “Rabenschwarz” (“Black Raven”) hits with powerful industrial crunch and themes of rebirth.
“I changed myself into myself,” Huwe sings on “Pariah.” The drum beats on it start at a slow boil and are soon cooking a luxurious brew. “Exit” moves around you like a cat that might be an android in disguise. Rickers’ guitar sounds like its being played in an abandoned factory a half-mile away (to produce a cool effect, mind you). “O Wald” (“Oh Forest”) could easily fit into a science fiction movie or the soundtrack to season five of Stranger Things with its computer-generated 16-bit-like synth beats.
“Zwischenwelt” (“Intermediate World”) would also fit on that soundtrack with both its theme of being between worlds and also its misty synths and Huwe’s beautiful vocals on it. “Sleep with One Eye Open” reminds me a bit of early Peter Gabriel tracks with its neat bass line, slightly weird percussion, and Huwe’s delivery. “How shall we face the cold?” Huwe asks on the somewhat stark, yet aggressive “Living in the Forest” – inspired by diary entries of a boy, Moshe Shnitzki, who left his home in 1942 to live in the White Russian Forest. “The woods are lovely, dark and deep,” she sings on the following, closing track, “Hideaway,” leaving us with hope that more music from Huwe (and Xmal Deutschland?) will come.
Released, and still available, for free on their Bandcamp page, King Buffalo‘s Live at Burning Manis a great capture of them doing what they do best – melting minds and faces, and what better place to do it than the Burning Man Festival during their first trip there?
Starting with a scorching version of “Silverfish,” the trio immediately hook the crowd – many of whom might not have known who they were. It was the first time they’d played the festival, after all. The guitar solo on “Grifter” sounds like a test car racing across a salt flat. People are already shouting, “Love you guys!” by the third song (“Shadows”).
“Longing to Be the Mountain” is their ten-minute-plus psychedelic take on a classic Zen story. “Repeater” is probably on rotation in a Zen retreat on a mountaintop somewhere, as it seems to make you levitate. “Orion,” one of their best-known tracks, absolutely rips here. You can tell that King Buffalo and the Burning Man crowd were feeling it by this point, and everyone knew they were experiencing something special.
“Red Star 1 & 2” is a massive double dose of mind-altering sounds (nearly fifteen minutes in length). “Loam” is trippy and heavy at the same time. The set ends with the epic “Cerberus,” sending the Burning Man crowd back into the desert with visions of things on the horizon they hadn’t noticed before the show began.
King Buffalo are, despite their frequent touring, still a bit of a secret. This live album gives us all another reason to learn their secrets, the number of which seem to increase with each listen and performance.
Imagine this: It’s barely post-pandemic. Your brain is still foggy. You’re not sure whom to hug or trust. You’re sick of Netflix. You’re sick of your house. You’re sick of being sick. You need something, anything, to shake you out of it.
Then along comes Welfare Jazz by Swedish post-punk rockers / goofballs Viagra Boys to slap you across the back of the head and remind you to get back to partying and laughing.
I mean, don’t we all know somebody like the lead character in the opening track, “Ain’t Nice”? Lead singer Sebastian Murphy warns a potential lover about his bad temper (“Trust me, honey, you don’t want me. I’ll start screamin’ if you look at me funny.”) and habits (“I’ll borrow your stuff and never put it back. I’m kinda hungry, could you give me a snack?”). There’s some much good stuff here that it’s difficult to tell who shines the most. Is it Henrik Höckert‘s bass? Elias Jungqvist‘s quirky synth bleeps? Oscar Carls‘ saxophone honks?
“Toad” is a story of a man who can’t settle down with someone who’s perfect for him. “I don’t need no woman tellin’ me when to go to bed and to brush my teeth,” Murphy sings as the rest of the band creates some kind of wild blues chaos behind him that swirls around like a menacing pack of hyenas. On “Into the Sun,” Murphy laments his actions and tries to repair the damage he’s done, but it’s too late. Benjamin Vallé‘s guitar notes are simple and sorrowful. It’s a blues tune hidden in a post-rock cut.
The bouncing synth-bass of “Creatures” is outstanding, and Murphy’s lyrics are a shout-out to those us not controlling the majority of the world’s wealth. “Shooter” is a wild psychedelic jazz instrumental and Tor Sjödén‘s drums on it are as tight as stuff heard on early Devo records. “Secret Canine Agent” is a song about, well, a spy dog.
“Jesus Christ, I feel alive! Just last week I thought that I was gonna die!” Murphy sings on “I Feel Alive,” summing up pretty much everyone’s post-pandemic attitude. The band’s slow juke-joint blues stomp of the song (and Murphy’s vocal delivery), however, reveals our true feelings: exhaustion, confusion, and indecision.
“Girls & Boys” has Murphy (and the rest of the band) in a panic as he tries to figure out what’s going to bring him happiness in a post-pandemic world? Girls? “They always try to tie me down.” Boys? “They stay out all night, don’t go home.” Drugs? “They make me feel I’m all alone.” Love? “Somethin’ that I know nothin’ about.” Shrimp? “Bu-bu-bu-blah-blah-blah-blah.” Dogs? “The only real friends that I got.” So, it’s either dogs or “One day I’m gonna burn it down.”
The album ends with two love songs: “To the Country” and “In Spite of Ourselves.” The first reflects a common desire during the pandemic: Let’s get out of the city and away from everyone where “it would all work out” and “it would be easier.” Or so we think. The instrumentation on it reminds us that you can’t run away from yourself. The second song, featuring Amy Taylor of Amyl and The Sniffers on guest vocals, is about a dysfunctional couple who realize they’re perfect for each other.
Welfare Jazz and all of Viagra Boys’ discography, really, is more clever than you realize at first blush. They write songs that poke fun at toxic masculinity, rich elitists, annoying party girls, drug addicts, and sex freaks, but also make them relatable. You know at least one person described on any given album by them, and Welfare Jazz is full of such characters. It’s like listening to conversations in an all-night diner at 3am, where they’re serving a fried shrimp special, and the diner is in the same block as a bodega, a strip club, and a Radio Shack that is somehow still in business.
The last time I saw Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs in Chicago, it was their first time there, let alone their first U.S. tour. It was at Chicago’s Sleeping Village, and there were maybe eighty people there. They flattened that place.
Now they were playing Chicago’s Lincoln Hall and the size of their audience had tripled. There were a small number of us who’d been at the Sleeping Village show, and it seemed only a couple dozen more who knew much about them. I envied their innocence. They had no idea what was about to unleashed on them.
First up, however, were Chicago’s own Edging – a wild post-punk band that my friend described as “They look like a bunch of people who all answered the same ‘looking for a roommate’ ad and then decided to start a band.” It’s accurate, and it somehow works. We only got to see the last three songs of their set, but it was wild and fun, and their saxophone player (around whom the band seems to rotate) plays a crazy horn.
The porcine quintet were next and they started out with a psychedelic version of “GNT” that grew into a menacing beast. They barely let up for a moment, with heavy-hitters like “Rubbernecker” and “Big Rig” flooring those people who didn’t know what to expect.
Some mosh pits started a couple times, but they were short-lived and not well attended. I think this is because people were too amazed at the sheer amount of weight they were dropping on the place to even think of moshing. I, too, noticed how much heavier they were from the first time I’d seen them. Songs like “Mr. Medicine” and “Terror’s Pillow” practically laid on you like a weighted blanket…thrown on you from a fourth-floor balcony.
“Sludgy” was a word I heard multiple times as my friend and I walked out of the venue. People who hadn’t experienced a live Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs show were marveling at the thick, almost viscous sound they’d been pummeled with for a little over an hour (and no encore, as the band said they decided at the start that “Encores are for bullshitters.”)
Don’t miss them. They’re touring the U.S. a lot through the spring. You need this fae-melting stuff in your life to sandblast you out of your doldrums.
In case you weren’t aware, DeapVally are on their final tour. The power-duo from California have decided to amicably walk away from the band to, among other things, be full-time moms (“jennylee [of Warpaint] is pretty much my personal clothes shopper. I have two kids. I don’t have time to shop,” guitarist / lead singer Lindsey Troy told me during a meet-and-greet when I commented on her killer boots.). So, they’re going out with a big tour that is taking them all over the U.S. and to Europe, playing their debut album, Sistrionix, in its entirety and then a second set of hits and whatever else they want.
First up in Chicago was Sloppy Jane, which I can best describe as part-orchestral rock, part-post-punk, part-acid jazz, part-performance art, and all fascinating. Frontwoman Haley Dahl commands the stage from arrival to departure, singing songs about heartbreak, death, anger, love, and hope. I really want to see her team up with Gary Wilson. She and her bandmates won over a lot of people that night.
Sloppy Jane warping bodies and minds.
Deap Vally came onto the stage in boxing robes that made me think (“Why aren’t those at the merch booth?”) and proceeded to tear into Sistrionix‘s opening track – “End of the World.” It had been several years since I’d seen them, and it was such a delight to not only see them crushing a stage but also hearing their power. Julie Edwards is one of the best rock drummers around, and how Ms. Troy gets so much sound out of one guitar is beyond me.
The Sistronix set was great, with “Raw Material” being a personal favorite that oozed with sexy menace. After a brief break, they came back with wild hits like “Smile More,” “Ain’t Fair,” a crazy, punked-out version of “Perfuction,” and a stunning version of “Royal Jelly” to close the show.
Pure rock and roll right there.
Don’t miss them if they’re near you. They’ll be missed. They’re one of those bands people will discover later and wish they’d seen when they had the chance. Their friend and merch booth manager, Nate, told us at the meet-and-greet that, “Maybe after the kids are grown up and starting their own band I can work on them to do a ten-year Femijism anniversary tour.”
Good luck, Nate. I hope you pull it off.
Keep your mind open.
Thanks to the lucky lady who scored this for letting me snap a photo of it.Thanks to Julie and Lindsey for being so kind to chat with us VIPs and sign so much stuff.#swoon. I’ve met DV each time I’ve seen them, and this time was the most delightful. Thanks for everything, Julie and Lindsey. Have fun. Best of all to you both.
Lighter, the new album by Belgian rockers Tangled Horns, was written and recorded during the pandemic – a time when the band, like most of us, were separated from each other and looking for ways to cope with confusion, misinformation, loneliness, empty toilet paper shelves, and impermanence. It turns out that Light would be, according to the band’s Bandcamp page for the album, “their most personal and introspective work—a coping album born from the unique circumstances.”
One of their coping mechanisms was, and I’m guessing still is, brain-shredding rock. The album opens with Tim Van de Plas telling us “I fell into a deep slumber in the dark and when I woke up I felt lighter.”, and then they launch into “April Fire” – a song chock-full of hard-hitting guitar riffs and a bass line from Raf Vorsselmans that gets your attention right away. “I’m tired of dragging my feet,” Van de Plas sings. Good heavens, weren’t we all in 2021?
“Pig” takes a swing, and connects hard, at rich elitists taking and not giving, or at least not replenishing what they’ve taken from neighborhoods and the Earth. The roaring, squealing guitars from Stef Kustermans and Dennis Van Der Auwera are like buzzing hornets you can’t escape. “Sleeping Dogs” has a bit of a proto-metal sound to it, and a good chunk of menace.
Kris Martens‘ drums on “Suspended Animation” remind me of early Genesis stuff by Phil Collins, and the rest of the song has a neat mix of prog and punk. Van de Plas’ vocals on it have some Bad Religion-like stylings, and his opening wail on “No More Mistakes” is raw fury backed with rough garage-blues guitars. The song builds to a wild frenzy that’s a bit jolting. “Mug,” I’m sure, causes a mosh pit to erupt whenever and wherever it’s played…so be careful where you blast it, or just blast it anywhere and enjoy the chaos.
“Here’s to us and all the rest. I guess we did our best,” Van de Plas sings on the heavy-hitting drinking song “Pissing in the Wind.” “Tick” is a wild, fast ride that’s just under two minutes and packs the power of a song four times longer into it. “Nothing Everything” closes the album with heavy psych riffs, suitable for journeys through deserts or infinite space.
Lighter is as heavy as they come, but it’s designed to elevate us all.
While many of his contemporaries in Japan were focusing on drum and bass and underground EDM, Paperkraft decided he was going to focus on progressive house and strive to bring it back into popularity. He’s off to a good start with his Not C but K EP.
“The Amazing Spaceman” blasts us into orbit and begs to be cranked while you’re doing a spacewalk outside the International Space Station. It will make the job of fixing that solar array go much quicker as you tap your toes inside their insulated boots to the syrupy bass and zero-gravity synths.
“Dizzy Disk” could refer to a UFO or whatever Paperkraft is spinning on his decks. It has a fun 1990s rave flair to it with the vocal sample loops and party-inducing bass riffs. Aiden Francis‘ remix of it is a nice addition.
“OK Corral” is a for-sure floor-filler. Again, Paperkraft uses vocal samples and loops to great effect and has you moving no matter where you are. Be careful with where you hear this, you might start dancing in the middle of a bus station or any other place. Aldonna‘s remix turns it into a bit of a trance track.
The EP closes with “Stella” – which is chock-full of processed drums, kitten-sneeze cymbals, and chonky cat bass lines.
The whole thing is a blast. Get in on it now!
Keep your mind open.
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