Ceremony – “Not Tonight”
In order to avoid a half-hearted listen to, and review of, Ceremony’s Not Tonight EP for the sake of riding indie blog trends and churning out a trash review for its April release, I instead entertained a six-month long affair with it. I listened to it in the car. I listened to it in my house. I listened to it before drifting to sleep on hot, hazy nights when an endless deep indigo masked the stars. And when the air finally turned cool and spilled over the sill into my quiet room, I, pulling the covers to my chin, decided it was time at last. At least, that’s my excuse. Really, I’m just a busy S.O.B. Did I say busy? Lazy.
At any rate, it should please Custom Made Music darlings Ceremony, and Custom Made Music itself, to have someone raving about the music six months after its release. That’s a long time in Internet years.
As alluring as their debut Rocket Fire, Ceremony’s EP Not Tonight is a seamless continuation of their full sound. Its title track and CD opener propelled me across four songs steeped in lush depths that make their music as danceable as it is brooding. Blending synth beats with atmospheric guitars, Ceremony form a unique sound that is instantly recognizable as their own, though they pay homage to elements of JAMC, New Order, and Medicine along the way.
Not Tonight‘s standout track – positioned nicely in contrast to the other rugged tracks that make Ceremony’s music aggressive if not entirely intimidating – is “Dreams Stripped Away.” Sounding more like a liminal new wave song the 1980′s inadvertently denied, its fuzzed-out edges are far more sensual than Ceremony’s usual head-nodding/fist-clenching songs and balances the EP perfectly between dance and darkness.
You can buy Ceremony’s EP Not Tonight through Custom Made Music.
Sea Dweller to Release Full-Length This Year
Italian dreampop trio, Sea Dweller, released a new track in anticipation of their first full-length album scheduled for this fall. The track, dubbed “Marion,” features the same charisma and signature wash of soaring guitar that made their 2008 debut EP Underwater Town a must-have.
The full-length, whose title and release date remain as mysterious as the Dwellers themselves, will be released on limited edition vinyl. More information will be available soon.
Not familiar with Sea Dweller? Get acquainted with Love is Coming, a two-disc collection of EPs that feature their past work.
APTBS Shift Labels, Prepare for New EP Release
A Place to Bury Strangers sign with Dead Oceans in time to announce the release of a new five-song EP in early 2012. Phil Waldorf, co-founder of Dead Oceans, had this to say about the label’s newest addition in a statement released Monday:
I’ve been enamored with A Place to Bury Strangers since I first heard their debut album. Their live shows have rattled me time and time again. It is not often you get to work with a band that you’ve been closely following for years, and we are honored to be a part of their new chapter. Wait until you hear what comes next.
A Place to Bury Strangers will headline a CMJ showcase at Union Pool in Brooklyn on Wednesday, October 19th. More details on their upcoming EP will be available soon.
… indie rock had balls?
Do a Google/Bing/Yahoo!/Whatever search for “milf”, and you’ll find plenty of porn links and a Wikipedia entry divulging the word’s slang usage. Do another search for “milf band”; you’ll find a couple of links to a sexy-ass mom playing Rock Band naked , and one solitary link to a Myspace page for a band who, unfortunately, didn’t make the word ”milf” as notorious as the movie American Pie did.
A long time ago in the ’90s, an indie band from Buffalo, NY called themselves Milf and played the fuck out of alternative rock music. Their two full-lengths, Ha Ha Bus! and Antidope respectively, show a nice progression from unbridled, drum-pounding rock ‘n’ roll to ambient layers enshrouding unbridled, drum-pounding rock ‘n’ roll. Both perfectly under-produced, Ha Ha‘s primary appeal is its proximity to those forgotten feelings of passion in all things: emotions that wouldn’t let you sit still, unfulfilled desires that made you punch walls and run away from home, inspiration that instigated sick truck grinds and rail slides in bank parking lots at 3 a.m.
But where Ha Ha was angst, Antidope was daisies. Showing a shift toward maturity and something internally personal, the album’s 14 songs flow unforgivingly from start to finish as if swallowed up in the great depths of abandonment and solemnity. Punctuated by interludes of big rock drums and georgia pads, Antidope is a sophisticated concept of Milf’s apparent aggression with synth accents and sounds that shimmer languidly like pearls of rain in puddles. In this underrated gem of auditory pleasure, Brett Essler’s drumming adds complex textures to the music, and Justin Chapman’s unique voice stretches out and wrangles notes in beautiful obfuscation. Matt Roblee’s bass riffs, in conjunction with Essler’s big rock drumming, give each song that added touch of fuck off that was so prevalent in Ha Ha Bus!
My introduction to the band’s music in ’96 (a year after their last album) already seemed on the regrettable edge of their descent into obscurity. The only insight their Myspace page (one of the last remaining remnants of their presence online) offers is that they are a band that “defined rock music in the late 20th century”; I will die defending that. Nothing short of a full-scale inquisition can help me shine a light on this gleaming trio from upstate NY, and even as the bittersweet verses of “One Man” play, I find myself not only longing for answers to questions unvoiced, but for just a few minutes of my simple past when music made sense to me.
Who is Georgia Tucker?
Where is Tugboat Annie?
What’s become of Isao Minami?
On what day did Gram Parsons die?
Why is “Shoegazer” the lowest energy song?
Did Matt Barber ever get better on the drums?
Where can I get my hands on Feasting on Fried Dough?
Bloody Knives at The Pedicab
There aren’t many options for listening to good music in San Antonio, so when I found out Bloody Knives were playing at a local jip joint in Southtown, I was “’bout it”. Slammed some rum and coke, took a bit more for the road, then made myself as comfortable as possible in one of the smallest back seats in which my long legs have ever been crammed.
Newly outfitted with synth/samples guru Jim Moon, Bloody Knives’ co-founders Jake McCown and Preston Maddox shattered eardrums with their unapologetic rock that feels as much “shoegaze” as it does thrash. Preston, the band’s towering frontman, whose innumerable curls whipped around his head as he unleashed a dizzying battery of notes per measure, punished his bass instrument throughout the set’s duration, trying desperately to rip it from its strap, slamming its strings against the black pickups. The urgent way his fingers walked up and down the fretboard produced hectic melodies akin to the final frenzied seconds of any given level on NES’ Super Mario Bros.
Then there was Shoeless Jake McCown who tried to bust his drum heads and crack his cymbals during every song. His driving tempo was so energetic that even the hodgepodge of b-boys in the back had to stop and listen. In its entirety, Bloody’s set flowed smoothly with webs of atmospheric noise unifying each song, filling what are usually awkward silences for bands, or inappropriate opportunities to introduce each band member and the instrument that member plays. Whether it was courtesy of groaning feedback from Preston’s bass, or diving knob turns from Jim’s table of gadgetry, the songs maintained a soaring, psychedelic-tinged theme that grabbed up the audience in a tight grip and only let go when Jake put his shoes back on.
Blonde Redhead – La Zona Rosa
© copyright Andrew Youssef 2010
White glossy mask. Conceptual horse’s skull, perhaps… It shone white and glossy, glossy white as wet, white paint, with horsetail whiskers trailing, tumbling down below the long, sad hollows of empty eye sockets – tearless, terrorless, eternally forlorn.
© copyright Andrew Youssef 2010
Standing in a field of electric marigolds, ineluctably bathed in brilliant blue, fuchsia, yellow, green, and white that tangled inevitably in cobwebs of smoke. Kazu’s voice a colored smoke cloud. Amedeo’s voice timid and touching the colored cones that hung guilty upon the smoke.
And if it all sounds and feels like art… it is.
“ I like playing museums,” drummer Simone Pace once commented in an interview with SFburning. Last night at La Zona Rosa in Austin, TX, Blonde Redhead had the benefit of being an installation. Visually and aurally, they stunned a large crowd that gathered in a spacious venue tucked away at the end of 4th Street. Roving spotlights reached out across the stage and audience, alternating colors, collecting heavily in the clean canvas of the band members’ white garb. Their light, ethereal set, largely composed of Penny Sparkle‘s haunting soundscape, could have drifted away like the colored fog that enshrouded the stage, but the trio nailed down their work with rocking jaunts to the past, revisiting most recent albums Melody of Certain Damaged Lemons, Misery is a Butterfly, and 23.
At times singing from behind an eery mask, Makino touted one of Blonde’s greater appeals: her beautifully shrill, wafer-thin voice, which only elevated in charm during their new material. Made for the electro-influenced minimalist direction of Penny Sparkle, her voice laid lightly atop the music, too light for the smoke, even, and rained down her trademark cascade of provocative lyrics.
© copyright Andrew Youssef 2010
If Penny deviated too drastically from previous albums for most of their fans, it wasn’t evident at last night’s show. The crowd stood enthralled as Blonde impressed with a perfect balance of past and present, electronic and organic, soft and loud, fast and slow. Makino and guitarist Amadeo Pace switched from guitar, bass, keyboard, and samples frequently throughout the set as they navigated songs such as “Not Getting There”, ”In Particular”, “My Plants are Dead”, “Spring and by Summer Fall”, and “23″. Even drummer Simone alternated between real drum heads and synth pads to achieve overall band harmony during their relentlessly engaging electrorganic set.
And only when the stage returned to complete darkness for the last time did anyone disappear outside on the cool winter air like embers.
Disclaimer: The images in the post are from Blonde Redhead’s November performances at The Music Box and The Glass House in California, which Andrew Youssef captured. Attire and stage design were the same for the La Zona Rosa show.
Was She a Vampire
I find as I mature physically, my spirit returns to a youthful angst; perhaps renewed by a fearful sense of growing old, perhaps a retaliation against the natural order of life. Despite the reason, the perfect fuel for my angst lies in Was She a Vampire‘s four-song demo.
The Russian trio contacted me one day and suggested I take a listen to their songs. I was initially thwarted by the fact that I didn’t have the means to open the file they directed me to, and the episode with my car burning to a crisp didn’t hasten my listening to the tracks, either. Finally, however, I sat down and listened to what the Russian Federation churns out these days.
I’m not too sure what city Was She a Vampire hail from, but I imagine it’s dismal, crumbling apart from the foundation up, perpetually grey, and torn by sociopolitical factors. I could be entirely wrong, but their music suggests the kind of frustrated brilliance that squeezes out between the fingers of a clenched fist around a culturally turbulent environment. I’m thinking late ’70s Manchester, and that’s a good thing.
The ferocity of the music initially struck me, as if the members couldn’t get the songs out of their blood fast enough. The guitar, bass, and drums kick off in the opening track, “Alone Again”, like an angry mob, foaming and frenzied, out for blood. By the time “Distorted” shrieked to a start, I was ready to stomp ass.
Was She a Vampire don’t so much play their instruments as they do destroy them, or try desperately to do so; heavily distorted, heavily picked guitar tones pit against the sharp edge of a bass that sounds more like lead than rhythm as drums trail just behind the music, goading each song on to the point of aggression. The harmony of their music grins with the same rough affectations that made Joy Division so significant in a fresh, thriving post-punk climate. WSAV’s songs are raw, no-nonsense, and highly energetic, anchored down by a disenchanted voice that quietly stalks throughout the tracks like a mental patient.
Was She a Vampire plan to record their first full-length album this month. Until its release, listen to “Distorted” below, or stop by WSAV’s Myspace page to sample all songs on the demo.
Drop Nineteens – “Mayfield”
© Turlach MacDonagh 1992
Every now and then,
I like to remember when…
Favorite bands, and the
mem’ries they evoke.
Drop Nineteens are no exception. And while they’re certainly “Remember when”-able, I decided to take things a step further with this under-rated Boston stand-out (albeit, largely in the UK) to give you more insight, and to leave you with a gift.
The quintet formed around the on-set of 1990 and was only visibly active in 1991 with their self-released full-length, Mayfield. Initiated by former classmates, Greg Ackell (vocals, guitar) and Chris Roof (drums), Drop Nineteens rounded out their deeply layered sound with the addition of Paula Kelley (vocals, guitar), Steve Zimmerman (bass), and Motohiro Yasue (guitar). They took their cues from bands like My Bloody Valentine, Slowdive, and Th’ Faith Healers, becoming one of few American bands of their era to do so. As such, Drop Nineteens soon became highly visible to British press who were moved by two 8-track demos the band released; however, 19′s weren’t formally recognized on UK album charts until they signed with Caroline Records (Hut in the UK).
In 1992, the release of their second full-length – the first on Caroline – brought them slightly more fame. Delaware, still a highly reputable album today, earned Drop Nineteens college radio airplay, positioned them on indie albums and singles charts, and ultimately became the last work the original lineup would compose together. By their 1993 follow-up, National Coma, Kelley, Roof, and Yasue would leave along with much of the magic. Although Drop Nineteens fans argue National‘s appeal, the album clearly lacks the allure of Delaware and Mayfield, which made the group such an indie forerunner.
You can still find Delaware in digital and CD formats online – and even check out this killer video for “Winona” – but Mayfield has become something of an indie treasure considering its DIY treatment and subsequent out-of-print status. I found some badly dubbed YouTube videos of the album’s songs, but nothing to really call my own.
Until my research one day yielded a poor little blog that looked like it had seen better days. Dubbed “Willfully Obscure”, the blog contained a Drop Nineteens post, a link to all Mayfield‘s lo-fi glory, and a complete track listing. I will warn you in the same fashion as “Wilfully Obscure”, however:
“If [sic] helps to have an appreciation of Delaware before delving into this cassette-derived set…”
In other words, check out the video for “Winona” above first, or head over to Drop Nineteens’ Myspace page for some other tunes before immersing yourself in the gritty swirl of Mayfield.
Anne – “Mixtape One”
Several months ago, I wrote about a Portland, OR band called Anne that made Jim the indie expert express himself in a mildly coherent way by comparing the band to “My Bloody Valentine and Nickelback with a splash of Coldplay”. Try as I might, I listened to the tracks over and over to see exactly where those influences existed within the songs, if at all, and just couldn’t wrap my mind around it (sorry, Anne, if you’re going for the MBV/Nickelback approach via Coldplay, but you’re failing miserably).
Anne is no MBV - not because their music lacks integrity, but because they’ve carved out a musical identity independent of MBV’s appeal – but on the bright side, they’re also no Nickelback or Coldplay (because their music doesn’t lack integrity). At any rate, Anne have released more material that will likely make Jim return once more to share the depth of his musical knowledge with us.
This four-track mixtape, which they’ve simply called Mixtape One, is a follow-up to the demo tracks they previously released. Still awash with ethereal guitars, Anne add synth, augmented song structures, and more prominent vocals to suggest a mature pop feel for this effort, kinda like they crafted the tracks with cinematic scenes in mind, although not in an empty-for-the-sake-of-commercialism kind of way.
Mixtape One glows with a fuzzy sparkle that takes understated, low-key songs and elevates them to wider consumption levels. The compositions are, overall, lush, complementary, and well-developed. Anne’s Mixtape picks up exactly where their 2010 demo, except for raw “Summer Babies” and “Punk Bike”, left off: smooth vocals, the ocean surf sound of buzzing guitars, and the warm personality of infectious drum beats.
Two of Mixtape‘s tracks stand out the most, “Stripping” and “Perfect Teeth”. Indicative of West Coast charm, they lull like the pacifying glare of sun-speckled wave tops swept over by the directionless flight of soaring, singing gulls. Anne have recently signed on with ATX’s Withdrawal Records and plan to release a 7″ EP as well as a 7″ split with Memphis band American Gods. Check out “Stripping” below or download Mixtape One for free.
Between the Cities Are Stars
If you listen to Between the Cities Are Stars’ songs at a low volume, you’ll only hear drum-accented white noise. That’s because, like so many other sonic annihilators, their music is best appreciated at louder volumes.
Recently, I received Between the Cities Are Stars’ four-song EP, which is more of a four act play about a high-speed escape from the apocalypse than a handful of tracks. Tucked among the feedback frenzy thrive furious rock ‘n’ roll songs radiating static shock waves to the rhythm of relentless cymbal crashes. Imagine throwing a drum set down a flight of stairs, turning the gain on your amp all the way up, leaning your guitar pickupsfirst against the speaker cab, and singing a grim little incantation while mortar shells whistle down all around you, and only then will you barely begin to understand the chaotic destruction of which this California trio is capable.
Not to mislead you, Between the Cities Are Stars pull off their destruction with calculated finesse and attention to tone. “Miss West”, a song written during a penniless summer in L.A., explores a slower, calmer side of sonic rock… at least, as calm and slow as these aggro-rockers are willing to get. Between the Cities Are Stars identify themselves as “noisy, fuzzed-out, space rock”, and with good reason. Their loud, shrieking, guitar-driven music exists on a plane beyond this world.
