It can’t be a good thing when a CD ends and it takes 10 minutes or so to register that the music has actually stopped.  It’s hard to write this.  Because I really wanted to like this CD very much.  I love the artwork.  I love the idea.  I love the name.  I love everything about it except the music.

The question I then sought to answer for myself was “Why?”  Why don’t I like the music?  Where did the CD go wrong for me?  What’s my big gripe?

In the most unscientific and moronic terms possible, I can only explain that, “It doesn’t go anywhere.”

Sometimes I wish that I had been able or willing to sit through the music theory class.  I just couldn’t.  I felt angry in that class.  Like how I felt in the art classes where we dissected every great painting I’d ever loved; the art class that made me see every painting now by it’s technical merits.  If however, I had sat through that music theory class, I might be able to explain in not-so-moronic terms what, “It doesn’t GO anywhere” really means.

It’s all I can say though.  There’s nothing about this music that engages my brain enough to pay attention to it.  It doesn’t gently take my hand and lead me along as perhaps I feel it should.  It doesn’t whisper things between the lulls.  It doesn’t leave me feeling like I’ve had a *relation-ship* with it, and even the bleakest KK Null tracks have done that for me.  This just doesn’t.  I listened to the disc several times, and the same thing happens each time.  The music ends and it takes a while before my brain registers, “Oh.  The music stopped.”

I will say that tracks 6 and 8 have moments that are exceptions to my general feeling about this CD.  These two tracks had moments where I felt my brain awake again from “sleep” mode and begin to follow.  Only to be thrown again into an unwilling disenchantment.  I tried so hard to like this.  I hope the musicians involved will not give up.  It seems they are headed some-where, but as for now, this isn’t a disc I’ll spend any more time with.  I’m sorry, fellows.

Track Listing:
1.)  The World Has Changed
2.)  Explains Colors To The Blind
3.)  Beatitudes
4.)  As The West Encroaches
5.)  Lest We Forget
6.)  Lock 32
7.)  The Crowds Amass
8.)  Summer 1977

On Skean Dhu Recordings
http://www.skeandhu.net

Mana ERG
THE BLIND WATCHMAKER (Glyptique)
~review by Mick Mercer

Some forms of music baffle me more than others, which is obviously a good thing, but also frustrating. Composers of dark, twisting music frequently take from dance as they also batter seven bells out of boundless electronic possibilities, which inevitably confounds the listener, as you bring your own expectations and preferences into direct collision with what you are hearing. Bits will excite, others entice and much will leave you wondering why on Earth something is happening in a certain fashion.

Is it relevant to expect an opening track to set out the artistic stall and hint at what is to come? ‘Bother’ shakes some of the Middle Eastern and Asian percussive slivers about that you find a lot of Industrial artists using but throws them against solid beats, and oblique vocals suddenly shove in a touch of the novella. Call it compatible with a less commercial Chemical Brothers, with commendably blazing guitar, and notice how much of the rhythmical shifts are similar to popular Fetish club fare. Bruno has a great voice, being the scalding man, frequently offset by Deborah Roberts having a beautiful voice. Preposterous pop antics are shape-shifting throughout ‘Wasps’ but with dark doldrums landing arising to hamper your expectations. And so it goes on, with exemplary performance, and mystifying intentions. What could be a massive dance record, with striking rock strata, turns sideways and constantly folds in on itself. Flashes of musical thunder enliven ‘The Lynx’ with bass and piano touches, and ‘Cunctis Diebus’ may be some antique musical piece, but here it sounds all squashy with its soft d’n’b pulsing after the Ethereal angle seems set to rule the roost.

‘Angel Of Chaos’ appears soft until a submarine-type sonar pingggg keeps you perplexed, with metallic beats and sweet vocals going head to head. ‘Target’ has gently distressed cyber kitsch, with shuddering vocals. ‘Novi Mir’ sees weird noises gathering, then whumpp, Bruno snarls a la Lydon, but all too briefly, and although this is a surging bastard of a song, like Lamb meets Art Of Noise, is that slap bass? Lordy! ‘Burning Fields’ seems like abstract tinkering, then ‘Children Of The Rubble’ finds Roberts being sly in another song which could have been lethal gets bleepy and bloodshot..

The rhythms are robust and the textures tough. It has sinister lyrics, politely conveyed, and when it’s musically pretty it’s usually being totally deceptive and setting you up for a nasty shock. Honestly, I found it hard to maintain attention indoors, because so many of the tracks get into a rhythm, twist back and become something else, then revert, slow down, get heavier, and fade out. Outdoors with the walkman it’s completely different: frequently arresting, and vibrantly adventurous.

So make of that what you will.

BOTHER
WASPS
THE LYNX
CUNCTIS DIEBUS
ANGEL OF CHAOS
TARGET
NOVI MIR
BURNING FIELDS
CHILDREN OF THE RUBBLE

http://www.manaerg.1me.net
 

MANUSKRIPT
THE CYPRUS RECORDINGS (Resurrection)
~reviewed by Mick Mercer

Never having joined anyone’s fanclub I never enjoyed the bonus of occasional rarities. In the old days it was the occasional single but now you get albums, and such was the case with this, which is now available as a limited release, which you imagine any Manuskript fan would need for their collection.

They’re an unusual band, having gone from the comedic touches early on to this mature sound, which hoovers up modern pop sensibilities and then wedges it alongside some pretty heavy guitar, and ridiculously strong vocals.

What do you get? A mix of studio (including remixes/edits) and live, with the smell of Eau de Sauvage wafting over opener ‘Guru’; its brashness calmed by a soothing synth, with inventive Ladyboy guitar and a great chorus. It shows how they understand you can move from a rhythmic stamp of identity into seamless, rising guitar, which is the fluidity bands should aim for.

‘California Dreaming’ gets a right, well deserved, kicking and you know they’d do a great ‘No Limits’, then a touch of mild blandness ‘No Reprise’, a nose-breaking ‘The Sun Always Shines On TV’, the frothy and deliberately soppy ‘Another Heaven which has some lovely delicate touches, and then a pretty gloomy ‘Rings & Scars’.

They must have the limpest song with ‘Halloween’ as its title ever, which still manages to be catchy for all its willowy shyness, and for all the guitar whiskiness, ‘Natural High’; is bland again. The dank bass and hushed vocals turn ‘(You’re The) Devil In Disguise’ into a spreading guitar shadow, and ‘Plastic Fangs’; is ridiculously powerful for such a daft idea, with guitar hacking divots out of the song’s burly rhythm.

The sharp ‘Semaphore In Thunderstorms’ undulates delightfully, and “I’ll explain the vicar’s outfit later” would make for a great epitaph for some! ‘Crash-site Compassion’ hints at twisted innards behind glorious signing but really it’s a synthy pop nothing, at which point ’Hidden Shallows’, easily the best song, shows how matured they have become, yet conveying it in such a light manner.

They leave the crowd wanting more with a daft ‘Rock Me Amadeus’ but you’ll already be a convert by then.

GURU (RE-INVENTION)
CALIFORNIA DREAMING
NO REPRISE (TENEBRAE MIX)
THE SUN ALWAYS SHINES ON TV
ANOTHER HEAVEN
RINGS & SCARS (EUROVISION)
HALLOWEEN
NATURAL HIGH (RADIO EDIT)
(YOU’RE THE) DEVIL IN DISGUISE
PLASTIC FANGS
SEMAPHORE IN THUNDERSTORMS
CRASH-SITE COMPASSION
HIDDEN SHALLOWS
ROCK ME AMADEUS

http://www.manuskript.co.uk (C10 movie download available!)
http://www.livejournal.com/community/manuskript/
http://www.resurrectionmusic.com/acatalog/index.html
 

Mar De Grises
The Tatterdemalion Express
~review by Matthew Heilman

Mar De Grises is a dark and innovative metal band that hails not from the cold forests of Norway or the rainy moors of rural England, but from Chile of all places.  The Tatterdemalion Express is the band’s debut after forming in 2000, and as the title ambiguously indicates, their musical offering is indeed a ‘tattered, ragged’ journey.  But it might also be one of the most pleasurably challenging and genre expanding dark metal releases of the year.

If I could choose one word alone to describe Mar De Grises, it would be sophistication.  While the band draws from similar sources as other leading dark metal bands, it is the manner in which they have applied these elements that make them so unique.  They have the density and frightful darkness of Funeral Doom, the grace and fluidity of Gothic Metal, and a suitably progressive sense of timing and arrangement.   The rhythms and changes are impressively dynamic, and the atmospheres range from somber calm to tempestuous rage.  The entire album is underscored by a marvelous sense of unease and restlessness that keeps the listener not only on the edge of their seat, but constantly looking over their shoulder.

The guitar work is mammoth, a fondness for thick barred chords or jarring atonal jabs and shrill pinches. Indeed, there are a wealth of melodic riffs and elegant harmonies, but the effect is significantly more profound than most contemporary bands passing themselves off as ‘Gothic Metal.”  The band’s melodies are not marred by over sentimentality.  The mood evoked is one of honest contemplation, as opposed to the common tendency of bands to wallow in self-aggrandizing pseudo romantic pity with the trendy hope to pass as melancholic.  This same gravitation toward the bitter instead of the sweet is brilliantly reflected in the keyboard playing, which frequently employs dissonant chord patterns and sharp, sustained synth-noise to create a more subtle and disquieting effect.  The threatening growls and raspy clean vocals lurk in the shadows of it all, sneaking in and out of the musical fog.  The album’s production is very warm and spacious, the guitar rendered with deep bottom end, the drums crisp and punchy, with a tasteful amount of reverb to enhance the overall atmosphere.

The listener is downright attacked by the band upon pressing play the first time. “El Otro” begins abruptly, introducing a wall of magnificent darkness and unbridled cacophony, massive and utterly foreboding.  Only a quick swell of nearly imperceptible feedback prefaces the song’s introductory eruption.  An elongated vocal roar monstrously crowns a whirlpool of pummeling crunch, grinding drum dirges and disharmonized layers of synth.  A serpent’s hiss and disjointed riffs appear amidst the maelstrom, with ragged pianos eventually pushing the nightmare past the point of excess.  The overall sound is just gigantic, incomparably dense, and immediately arresting.  Aural terror rages on for about three minutes before fading into a deceptively quiet interval of murky arpeggios and lugubrious drumming.  The effect is like a paranoid dream, where you unknowingly stumble along a shadowed, drafty hallway, beckoned by some unknown and irresistible force.  This hypnotic interlude in many ways could be said to be picking up where Anathema left off with “The Silent Enigma.”  The song eventually crescendos to a climactic finale, spurred on by a shuffling rhythmic propulsion, intricate riffing and drumming, and violent stabs of guitar.  Disordered synths present a surreal ‘melting’ effect achieved by random pitch bending, diving in and out of key, to resemble a vast choir of vengeful ghosts.

The listener is shaken, stirred, and impressed.  “To See Saturn Fall” is a decidedly more direct and up-tempo song; an elegant melodicism shapes it, pushing it forward toward more dynamic variety.  At first, the song comfortably treads the epic pastures of bands like In Flames or Tristania before they fell from grace, or a less emotionally detached Opeth.  Ultimately the song pushes toward a climax as the melodic center completely falls through, collapsing into a disjointed and hellish mire of manic piano and feverish experiment, bashed out and hammered, until you can’t help but wonder if the band lost their minds right there in the studio. But they explode back into a tight galloping riff, blazing across the aural landscapes with grace and determination, with their faculties entirely in check.

“Storm” is perhaps one of the strongest and most powerful moments on the album, boasting a deeply affective introduction, steeped in dreary yearning and haunting gloom.  With the pained, dusty vocal delivery lurching atop the ringing tides of murky guitars and spectral volume swells, one can’t help but recall the Fields Of The Nephilim.  The song explodes into confident, metallic heights of breathtaking beauty.  It is just absolutely an outstanding and paralyzing good song, dynamically sailing through bombast and serenity, never abandoning the listener.  A trickling chorus of layered piano riffs flit about at the heart of “Recklessness,” the next triumphant track to appear on the disc.  The song introduces a variety of catchy yet powerfully stinging twin guitar harmonies and impassioned vocals, the band’s most accessible yet commanding and emotional moments.

The instrumental “Self Portrait No. 1” is not the average short solo piano piece to appear on a contemporary dark metal record.  These are professionally skilled hands tickling the ivory here, and the result sounds like a genuine piano sonata or impromptu close to the style of Chopin or Debussy.   “Be Welcome Oh Hideous Hell” unexpectedly cuts through the nocturnal tranquility of the piano piece with perhaps the most dynamic and explosive track yet, offering a truly fascinating arrangement, with rhythms offsetting one another, odd time signatures - unpredictability reigns supreme.  As the band grows more technical, they are careful not to neglect the atmosphere.  The more complex the rhythms become, the melodies reach a new poignancy.

The otherworldly “Onírica” brings this extraordinary album to a fine close.  A heavenly echo enhances this quieter though no less powerful song.  Loose, fluid guitars ring over languid drumming, as soft vocals drift and whisper from what sounds like another sphere.  The song is the sound of fading away, rising into the light, with only a slight regret and sadness for the world you will leave behind.   The fragile ethereal grace on this track in particular is comparable to perhaps Soul Whirling Somewhere or Slowdive alone.  Hopeful abandon, an aspiration for peace, and a fear of the unknown usher the song toward its spine-tingling climax.

Each track on this album stands as an individual work of elaborate art.  As a whole, it is simply a majestic collection of high-metal excellence.  The only drawbacks are the lyrics, which when written in English, fail to reach their poetic potential.  The ideas are not entirely lost, but they just read awkwardly and it is apparent that they have not fully mastered the subtly of the language.  Ultimately, this is rather incidental as its difficult to make out any of the words in the first place.  The music speaks volumes and makes up for this indiscretion, and it is impossible not to perceive the feelings expressed in the vocal and instrumental performances.  That aside, Mar De Grises is a dark metal band that is not to be missed.  The occasionally abrupt and unpredictable style might be hard for some fans to initially adapt to, but I can’t imagine any fan of dark music not feeling the impact of this release.
 

Track list:
1. El Otro...
2. To See Saturn Fall
3. Storm
4. Recklessness
5. Self Portrait No.1
6. Be Welcome Oh Hideous Hell
7. Onírica

Mar De Grises is:

Marcelo Rodriguez: vocals, keyboards
Rodrigo Morris: guitar
Sergio Alvarez: guitar
Alejandro Arce: drums
Rodrigo Gálvez: bass

Mar De Grises – Official Website
http://www.mardegrises.cjb.net/

Firebox Records:
http://www.firebox.fi

MELISSA’S INTENT
EP (MI)
~reviewed by Mick Mercer

Ah, they’re pleasant. ‘Ginger’ sees them wielding pleasant guitars, with slow, grazed vocals telling us about nothing in particular, and they’re warm and bubbly, but far from distinct. Then two songs of mild and attractive rock, and apart from the guitar it seems no-one has any wish to work hard. Who needs pleasant?

Ginger
Silent love song
Bleeding for noise

http://www.melissasintent.com/

Miguel And The Living Dead
Demo 2004
~reviewed by Matthew Heilman

Miguel And The Living Dead: the name says it all!  The interesting thing here is that this brand of lo-fi Ghoul Rock hails from Poland, rather than the expected NYC, LA, or Germany.  Apparently, the band’s founder, Nerve69, decided that Warsaw’s Goth scene was headed toward disastrous integration and convolution, where the new blood in the scene couldn’t differentiate between Goth, Post Punk, cheesy Goth Metal or EBM/Electro. Sound familiar?   Alas, the plague of cluelessness is closer to world domination.

The good news is that Miguel And The Living Dead have successfully begun to set the record straight as it were, and have presented five tracks that range from raging Misfits inspired horror punk, Cramped psychobilly (“Train Of The Dead”) and washes of eerie rhythmic claustrophobia (“Salem’s Lot”).  There is a humbling apology for the lack of production on the demo, but the raw and b-horror movie decadence is well suited by the limited roughness of the recording.  Truthfully, it really isn’t as bad as some of the things I have heard. The guitars buzz with grating gloom, ringing haphazardly and discordantly above relentless upbeat drums and rumbling bass.

The opening title track has probably the most direct appeal, sounding like it was lifted right off of “Walk Among Us” but injected with the thrashy angst of “Earth A.D.”  Samples recounting zombie plagues (however worn out) work well, as do the surprising chimes of creepy guitar.  However what really sticks out about M&TLD are Slavik’s lugubrious, echoing vocal bellows.  It has to be a Polish thing, because the stark vocalist of Variété has similar graven intensity and expresses the same rigid sense of torment.  His voice is truly stellar on “Aliens Wear Sunglasses,” reverberating and throaty, adding an impressive sense of gloom that is lacking in far too many bands.   “Salem’s Lot” is positively chilling, with dizzying typhoons of guitar fuzz, creepy watery chimes, and punctuations of low-end piano chords.  The vocals cry out like anguished howls from within a barren tomb.  Of all the classic vampire tales to interpret with music, I am both surprised and somehow pleased to see homage paid to one of Mr. King’s most effective early tales.  This must also be a Polish thing because Americans would be too ‘cool’ to admit they like Stephen King.  Disclaimer: Just his early novels!  (See?)

Though the song titles and lyrical explorations suggest a thoroughly campy affair, the music has a sincerity and darker urgency to it that suggests that M&TLD have a sense of maturity that one might not expect. I personally am not too partial to the zombies and all the arguably corny imagery of contemporary Death Rock (see my review of Penis Flytrap) but I didn’t have to ignore my uptight conceptions of what is dark and cool to enjoy this.  This still won me over despite my usual resistance.   The stark black & white visual collages of all things spooky and putrescent reflects a pure old school sensibility, and the band definitely has the look down to a tee.  But all of that aside, this is an impressive demo that despite its production drawbacks introduces a confident new addition to the legacy of Death Rock and Ghoul Punk.  This demo successfully testifies for the band’s potential. I am positive that the aural threat would absolutely quadruple in a live setting.  And finally, the very existence of M&TLD attests to the popularity and universality of the genre.  So these are all very uplifting things.

I can’t imagine these guys would want much for this EP – the shipping would be the only minor inconvenience. Its short and DIY but will serve as a very interesting international treasure for fans. All Death Rockers and such need to check into these guys, so wander on over to the website and see what you can see.  I don’t suspect most would be disappointed.

Track List:
1.) Miguel And The Living Dead
2.) Aliens Wear Sunglasses
3.) The Night Of Terror
4.) Salem’s Lot
5.) Train Of The Dead

Miguel And The Living Dead is:
Nerve69: guitar, drum programs, founder
Slavik:  guitar, vocals
September: bass
Niuniek El Diablo: drums

Miguel And The Living Dead – Official Website:
http://www.migueldead.com/

THE MIRROR REVEALS
THIS INFINITE EYE (Middle Pillar)
~reviewed by Mick Mercer

This is interesting. We’re all used to the splendour of ethereal music, part of which comes from the lyrical themes being so beautifully and emotionally presented, as there needs to be harmony between the words and music or there’d be one almighty clash, and also because this is one form of music where musicianship is a massive plus. In punk a unified impact is sufficient to make great songs jump out of their skins and into yours, but on this side of Goth and Ambient music you need to know what you’re doing. It’s like taking the snooty aspects of classical and throwing them away, bringing in new approaches to old themes.

So you have here a band who have a cool head start, being a trio, which makes for natural balance in itself, with singer Kit Messick, Joanna Dalin (ex Backworld) and James Babbo who handles guitar, bass and some imaginative programming. Messick’s past includes Unto Ashes, which is something to consider, and she has an alternative cabaret/torch side to her activities which also shows through here. This is a beautifully realised record, and it benefits from the added interpretive styles Messick has acquired in her time, as well as this not sounding too old. The beauty of Unto Ashes is they way they take Olde Forms and make them bleed as they’re dragged towards, or into, the world of now, with sharpened perspective. The beauty of The Mirror Reveals is that they’re not old in the first place. Okay, violin, but here you have what sounds like an rabidly imaginative Indie band playing in a Victorian parlour. The instruments seem to bulge outwards, the vocals are all around you like a daylight séance. The guitar rings out.

It is off to an impressive start with ‘Cold Heart’ which sounds like Indie Ethereal with vibrant guitar, richly mixed vocals and a seriously fine chorus, then the light Goth guitar styling inside ‘Waves’ mixes delightfully with crisp percussion and a persuasive voice. ’Blue Fire’ is more of the same, after which you see the vocals become folkier in ‘The Grail’ to fit the lyrical theme but instead of becoming predictable as a result some slick beats keep it nimble.,

‘Out Of A Misty Dream’ is more challenging with austerity used to create a beguiling aura, drawing you in, as is ‘Moons On Fire’ with male vocals and big guitar upfront, everything else swirling behind, and somehow suggesting matters of profound weight, when they’re nothing of the sort…which lets me slip in my usual snide comment about former/current nazi fantasists Death In June, whose ‘The Golden Wedding Of Sorrow’ is included here. (I’ll always be suspicious of that band, even though it is now just Pearce. Old habits die hard.)

‘Storytellers’ is sweet and lively, and yet so frail, with gorgeous vocals dominant as the music twists in on itself, and ‘Little Plaything’ is lyrically strong, but was actually a disappointment to me, sounding like an amateur All About Eve tribute band, as if they don’t quite have the confidence in this type of sound, although it’s rescued by vivid violin, and it ends with two superb, stark pieces, the title track and closer ‘Finale’, where the music ripples outwards from an intriguing vocal heart, shot through with great percussive streaks.

Almost flawless, but not just yet, I hope they stick together, because are going to create something incredible one day.

COLD HEART
WAVES
BLUE FIRE
THE GRAIL
OUT OF A MISTY DREAM
MOONS ON FIRE
THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF SORROW
STORYTELLERS
LITTLE PLAYTHING
THIS INFINITE EYE
FINALE

http://www.mirrorreveals.com
http://www.middlepillar.com/mirror

Machine Men
Scars & Wounds
~reviewed by Joel Steudler

Fabulous Finns Machine Men are a quintet of hard rockin' guys making throwback metal with a modern edge.  Man, that sounded like the PR gobbledygook I read in press releases.  Nevertheless, it is an accurate statement.  If you are a-hankerin' for a hunk of 'guitar driven early 90's Americanish hard rock/metal' in the vein of Queensryche (or other contemporary acts), Machine Men will sate your hunger with Scars & Wounds.  Speedy riffs, catchy melodies, and a propulsive beat keep the album from sounding like reheated leftovers that are far past their expiration date.

I routinely bash bands who ape a previous era's style... mainly because most of them write dull songs.  Dullness is a timeless crime, really, but when you're dull -and- derivative it makes it even worse.  Luckily, the Machine Men know how to extract potent musical ideas from past ages and then ably rearrange them into new music that retains the spirit of its source.  I'd hesitate to say Scars & Wounds resembles glam metal, but if you took a little late 80's glam, a dash of harder-edged thrash, and a dollop of NWOBHM Brit metal, you could roughly approximate Machine Men's sound. Thankfully, though, the production on 'Scars & Wounds' shares no such affectation of the past.  It is modern through and through, with a thick and lush yet crisp sound perfect for the genre.

The Queensryche analogy is further bolstered by the uni-named Antony's Geoff-Tate-ish singing voice.  While not displaying quite the silky-smooth crooning that is Tate's hallmark, Antony's voice has a similar timbre and range.  It pleasantly evoked memories of a bygone era of music... though thank goodness it was not potent enough to make me remember all the stupid crap that happened to me in high school while I was listening to the bands from which Machine Men derive their sound.  Like the time Jim backed his dad's vintage Studebaker into the garage wall before hockey practice and- well, crap. I guess it -was- potent enough after all.

If you pick up Scars & Wounds expecting innovation or thought provoking, original ideas, you'll be disappointed.  If you pick it up expecting to nostalgically re-live an era you enjoyed long ago, or just want a good time, your money will have been well spent.  Machine Men have crafted an engaging album that should please people who liked the rock and metal scenes in the early 90's... along with new fans who may not have been born or particularly aware of their surroundings back then.  I am now feeling quite old.  Time may wait for no man, but if a man waits around long enough, somene will revive the music he liked when he was a kid.

Track List:
01.) Against The Freaks
02.) The Gift
03.) The Beginning of The End
04.) Silver Dreams
05.) Man In Chains
06.) Betrayed By Angels
07.) Victim
08.) Scars & Wounds

Machine Men is:
Antony - vocals
Turbo J-V - guitar
Johnny - guitar
T-Pain - Drums
Iron Fist - bass

Machine Men Official Site:
http://www.machinemen.net

Dynamic Arts Records:
http://www.dynamicartsrecords.com

Morgion
Cloaked By Ages, Crowned In Earth
~reviewed by Matthew Heilman

To fans of Doom Metal, the five years that have passed since Morgion’s last release, “Solinari,” were far too long.  Most of us honestly didn’t think we’d hear from these guys again.  Then rumours began to seep out, slowly spreading around assuring that the band was indeed still active and a new album was on its way.  At last, this album is here and there was much to digest.  As always, expectation plays a very crucial role in a listener’s initial reception of an album.  For as long as it took, it damn well have better been a masterpiece!  Obstacle number one.  Obstacle number two, for me personally at least, was the fact that I tend to evaluate music foremost on its ability to move me emotionally.  When it comes to Doom, it better annihilate me.  It better suck the air right out of my lungs and suffocate me in dismal oppression, exorcise all hope of happiness or romantic comfort from my fragile form, and leave me to drown in a sea of unsettling darkness…a darkness that is dark enough to distract me from the minor torments of everyday life, academic responsibility, futile interaction with other lowly human beings with their own sinister agendas, the universal decline of morale and the political incompetence of our government.  In other words, present something more miserable than life as it already is, so that I can have a temporary artistic means of escaping.  If I am not frightened, irreconcilably saddened, or cackling in macabre delight after hearing a Doom band, than I am not happy with them.  This of course is exaggeration, but I was hoping to be flattened by this record.  And I wasn’t.

It’s just not that kind of Doom.

Of all the great masters of contemporary Doom, I have never found Morgion to possess the same kind of emotional immediacy or accessibility as other bands.  Their first two much lauded releases “Among Majestic Ruin” and “Solinari” were sprawling, enthrallingly monotonous, arid releases that utilized thunderous, rumbling chords, hellishly slow paces, parched guttural vocals, and hypnotic minimalism to create a sound that was inescapably heavy, suffocating, and inspired such a sense of defeated lethargy that the listener (of decidedly more elevated tastes) eventually succumbed and began to understand the band’s subversive power.  Then it all made perfect sense, but it took a while. Morgion’s brand of Doom is sneaky, secure in its eventual ability to claim its listeners, creeping beneath and sinking in, rather than directly tugging violently or demandingly at the heartstrings.  They possess a cool, calculated confidence and reward the patient with truly epic masterpieces of dark colossal art.

This third release yields the same latent rewards.  I approached the album thinking that they were going to return with a kind of embellished vengeance, expecting it to kick off and immediately assert itself as a triumphant return to the scene.  I expected a collection of urgent blaring depressive funereal dirges, but instead, what I encountered was a much more refined, refreshed, musical and yes, emotional release.   It took at the very least three listens (all of which I have to admit were relatively casual) before this album clicked. And honestly, I wish that I could recreate the feeling that overcame me when this album first made sense to me.  It was like a veil was lifted and it all suddenly made perfect sense.   It’s rare that an album can cause you to literarily stop what you are doing and ask yourself, “Do you hear how fucking cool this is?”

An understated introduction, consisting of very low subtly eerie drones, evocative and pensive, conjuring the abysmal greens of the deepest midnight ocean tide, the listener displaced, as if peering out from the airless void beneath the waves.  Feedback screeches phantom like in the distance, as a dreary disembodied riff rises to the surface, gathering equally dissident harmonies until the climactic rumble of a drum punches through the uneasy stillness, and the song “A Slow Succumbing” pummels its way into being.  Crunch to die for, density rarely achieved.  And the epic begins.

“Cloaked By Ages, Crowned In Earth” is a very fine-tuned and carefully structured record, tweaked to perfection down to the very last detail, and hallowed by an absolutely pristine production.  The clarity of this disc is remarkable when compared to the band’s previous releases.  The use of texture and layering is incredible, with guitar sounds that are as immense as they come, impressively bottom heavy, perfectly spaced riffs which are enabled to breathe rather than crowd the sonic landscape, therefore helping the melodies and harmonies stand out.  There is an abundance of shadowy arpeggios; murky green guitar tones ringing out like a fine mist or humid rain beneath or between passages of jarring terror.  The drums pound and crack with a bone-dry snap, thick, punchy and perfectly executed while a very conservative and meticulous use of low-ended orchestral synths provide additional depth and shade to the band’s encompassing sound. Vocally, the growls could not possess any more of an unearthly timbre, low and threatening, weary with grief and age but hardened, sepulchral and sobering while the clean vocals are a sedated, whisper of dejected grace, a comforting breeze amidst torrential storms.  At first I found the clean vocals to be precisely that – far too clean.  But it didn’t take long to adjust to them, a kind of Floydian traditional style of soaring singing, ebbing on the breath of final hope and brave optimism.

While firmly grounded in the Doom tradition, the album could easily be enjoyed by a variety of listeners, not just fans of that genre in particular.  Morgion’s fast moments sound like Iron Maiden or Alice In Chains at their slowest, and there is a lot of Fields Of The Nephilim going on here.  But they disguise and reshape their influences, and stir their ideas up enough to remain interesting, winding through a veritable labyrinth of sound and texture.  As long as you are willing to be ferried along, you embark upon an enthralling journey through the murkiest and dankest regions of an emotional underworld, eventually to emerge enlightened, resigned and at rest (and I am guessing perhaps the metaphor in the scheme of things is indeed the peace of Death, the final “crown of earth”).

“Cloaked By Ages, Crowned In Earth” can be referred to as an epic in the most literal and strictest sense, as all eight tracks work together to create one cohesive work of gorgeous and smartly dark art, one long multi-dimensional piece that is like a modern day metallic tone poem.  Each song contains its own memorable and chilling climaxes, from the darker, oppressive first half of the album to the melancholic warmth of the second half. “The Mourner’s Oak” stands as one of the most atmospherically astounding, “Cairn” the most exciting and anthematic (Or perhaps even Anathema-tic, “Silent Enigma” era that is) and the final two tracks the most pensive and melodic.  Listening to this album is truly an experience, one that thought it may require patience and a bit of dedication, is of immeasurable reward.  I can’t help but genuinely admire Morgion and feel proud of what they have accomplished with this record.  Sophisticated and refined, this is the sound of very mature and experienced musicians who know their craft inside and out, and can breathe new life into perhaps the inherently and intentionally most lifeless genre of music there is.  This is a breathtaking and powerful return.  Welcome back Morgion, I have indeed been annihilated—by a sense of astonishment and genuine reverence.

Track List:
1.) Cloaked By Ages
2.) A Slow Succumbing
3.) Ebb Tide (Parts I & II)
4.) Trillium Rune
5.) The Mourner’s Oak
6.) Cairn
7.) She, The Master Covets
8.) Crowned In Earth

Morgion is:
Justin Christian - bass
Rhett Davis – drums
Dwayne Boardman – guitars, voice
Gary Griffith – guitars, voice, keyboards

Morgion – Official Site:
http://www.morgion.com

Dark Symphonies Records:
http://www.darksymphonies.com

MORTHEM VLADE ART
ABSENTE TEREBENTHINE (Pandaimonium)
~reviewed by Mick Mercer

I’m not the sort of person who sits about allowing his mind to wonder whether this band have achieved their aim of creating “a metaphorical universe, a bridge between us and the world as a ‘tube’, no talks but thoughts throwing” on the grounds that that is mental.

I do know that it starts and ends with noise; ‘Dancing Without Learning’ being an overture of interference, with voices off. It’s painless, seemingly pointless, and can be seen as an itchy introduction, while ‘Mannn’ will see you off in more attractively dappled mood, after you’re already well contented with the rest of the album, so there is a circle there. From bitter to bland, with all the quality in the middle

Musically, they reek of the 80’s in their melodic sensibilities, and anyone who can’t hear the Human League and (ironically) Heaven 17 rattling their languid chains really needs to send their ears back for repair. Seeing as half the electro bands in the world do exactly the same this is no great crime, or shock, but Mortern Vlde Art do something with it. They simply aren’t looking for a commercial cortex to exploit, and they constantly take what could be a potential hit or crowd pleaser, smearing and ruffling it with artistic intensity.

‘Absenthe Terbenthine’ is a fine example, where the vocal vibrate just ever so slightly above a flat tone, which could be monstrously dull, but they use specific words to introduce tension and very sparing synth just moves them away from empty spaces and installation background music. ‘Someone With A Transparent Eyes’ is far better, having a wretched New Romantic core, but with an off kilter strumming that elongates moods and even the disinterested singing style seems captivating, whereupon they up the ante in ‘Blessingway; with what sounds like a plastic toy acoustic guitar. On its own it’s ghastly, but so strong is the composition that when this plink-plinky strumming returns later it sounds attractive

If a song can feel light-headed ‘E-clipse’ definitely nods off, but ‘Paranoia’ has some funk bass to give us typical Go West nightmares. Think deeper and you could make a decent comparison by suggesting if Soft Cell ever covered Joy Division songs they might have brought us this sort of curious mood. Not deeply felt enough, not quite kitsch, just trapped in a parallel universe all its own, and a truly excellent vocal performance.

After that high point it’s gentle art which coaxes you into staying hooked, but your mind will wander throughout, because until ‘Zone’ where the vocals are slowed to a gravely crawl, you just get their general sound, which is slight, occasionally given a Bowiesque whisking. ‘Getting Around Realism’ is a strange interlude, with a whiff of tribal strength, then they’re downhill into sleepiness again, and the noise for a end.

The good thing is, it works as a record because it doesn’t do expected things, and you can’t predict their turns. Given that I prefer my music thick with atmosphere or lively to the point of sonically hazardous, the fact I find them intriguing surely means people who really go for the artistically stylised sounds would be well advised to try this.

DANCING WITHOUT LEARNING
ABSENTHE TEREBENTHINE
SOMEONE WITH A TRANSPARENT EYES
BLESSINGWAY
E-CLIPSE
PARANOIA
FLOW
LONG DISTANCE CONVERSATION
ZONE
GETTING AROUND REALISM
FAR AWAY FROM ME
MANNN

http://morthemvladeart.chez.tiscali.fr/
http://www.pandaimonium.com

MISTER MONSTER
OVER YOUR DEAD BODY (Hell’s Hundred Records)
~reviewed by Mick Mercer

It appears from the press release that since they began in 1998 Mister Monster have done a pretty good job in attracting an audience, and a reputation with the ghouls and boys who go for Horror Punk, which is a scene I haven’t seen much about, although it runs parallel in many ways to Deathrock, and I did a lot of site reviews last year. It’s where the mutant strains of punk with character, pscyhobilly and gothpunk merge together, and in Mister Monster we have a punk band who exploit the lyrical possibilities, or so it seems to me. The title track is nice and busy with linear bass, tight but light riffing and melodic vocals everywhere, ‘Prom Night’ is a deeper Ramones, ‘This Night I Call (Bad Luck)’ is slower, but the vocals work it all up and create a sleek sense of action. ‘’Til The End’ gets by on sweet riffs, and ‘Her Open Grave’ has adventurous reliance on more emotive vocals throughout. The way he has the confidence to sing, while a lot of punky boys simply rely on rhythmic chantiness, maintained my interest despite a lot of this, ‘like ‘Dead Flesh Gurl’ being like Stiv Bators rejects, mixed with a touch of The Adicts, with an occasional whiff of The Rubinoos, and while that is never a bad thing, it isn’t produced with enough power.

Punk without power needs cracking melodies, and they don’t actually have those, so excess character would be required to really stamp their identity on the songs, and they don’t display that either, what with so much guitar flying about. So it’s a hotch-potch of styles, but the songs themselves are very trim and purposeful. ‘Bigger Shop Of Horrors’ is move by the jolting guitar, ‘All My Monsters’ is roaring thrash, ‘Love Thornz’ sees Ramones bass give way to slush, ‘Amy Sue’ offers lighter, swirlier guitar, and we have some ramalamasingsong in ‘Little Frakenstein’. The main stab at something different is in the controlled, canoodling drama of ‘Transylvania-mania’, ‘Send More Paramedics’ buzzes with life, and it ends with the moodiest mover, ‘Scars 19’.

So, it’s a nice album, and a nice idea, but overall I felt perplexed. I don’t know if there’s some kind of kitsch stage show they do which boosts the horror aspect, or that live they have increased effort which sees them flaying the audience with Punk energy, but this is all seems rather subdued and polite to me.

OVER YOUR DEAD BODY
PROM NIGHT
THIS NIGHT I CALL (BAD LUCK)
‘TIL THE END
HER OPEN GRAVE
DEAD FLESH GURL
BIGGER SHOP OF HORRORS
ALL MY MONSTERS
LOVE THORNZ
AMY SUE
LITTLE FRANKENSTEIN
TRANSYLVANIA-MANIA
SEND MORE PARAMEDICS
SCARS…19

http://www.boowop.com
http://www.middlepillar.com
http://www.hellshundred.com

Murder By Death
Who Will Survive, And What Will Be Left Of Them?
~reviewed by Matthew Heilman

Despite the redundancy expressed in this band’s moniker, Bloomington Indiana’s Murder By Death is a band that definitely has a purpose. Released last October (sorry it’s taken so long to review), this disc offers a delightfully fresh approach to musical arrangement and off-kilter lyrics exploring a small town’s apocalypse with pitch black humour and bad ass bravado, but all with a sincere hope that the forces of good will emerge victorious despite the evidence that evil could very well succeed.  Murder By Death’s lyricist is the type of person that more than likely deals with tragedy or difficulty with a distracted sense of humour.  As the title of the band’s previous release, “Like The Exorcist With More Breakdancing,” would suggest, Murder By Death is definitely a unique and intriguing ensemble of talent.  Despite the sense of humour and goofiness at the surface, Murder By Death is definitely not some snide sarcastic joke band.  The musicianship is top notch and is a graceful amalgam of dark styles, sobering at times even, and it offsets the peculiar lyrics with another dimension of maturity.  If this can at all be imagined, I would say that Murder By Death fit somewhere in the realms of Voltaire, Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds, Son Volt, Amorphis, and the Stone Roses.  And none of it whatsoever was intentional – just some comparisons I personally thought of while listening to this disc that might help you to get an idea of what we are working with here.

Who Will Survive, And What Will Be Left Of Them is indeed a concept album, centering on the various incidents that occur in a small Mexican town after the Devil appears and is shot in the back by one of the locals.  The opening track begins with the reverberated sounds of a saloon piano, soon joined by desolate guitar strums, organ, cello, and a tight rhythmic section.  The overall vibe’s got a distinct melodic twang to it (hence the comparison to Son Volt, primarily in the vocals).  Things begin on a great note, very arresting and easy to adjust to the somewhat odd fusion of styles.  The second track “Killbot 2000” is a bit of bumpy transition, much more upbeat and a bit too quirky and emo for my tastes.  “Until Morale Returns…” and “Three Men Hanging” restore the slower pace and the moodier atmospheres return, fuller and even more developed.  The latter is an acoustic led ballad, with light percussion and cello.  A gorgeous and dreary track, disciplined and invocative, but the best is still to come.

The second half of the CD is where things really begin to get interesting, where the band’s ideas begin to gel more effectively.  The songs are stronger and the dynamics are more explosive. Sarah Balliet’s cello work is remarkable and in many ways, pushes the band into distinction. “A Masters In Reverse Psychology” has many changes, from delicate piano and cello interplay to climactic bursts of drum cascades, slinky swayable rhythms and urgent, soaring vocals. “The Desert Is On Fire” opens with a blaze of jangling guitar chords (possibly lifted from that classic alternative song “Anything, Anything” by Dramarama) that are soon paired with fantastic cello riffs and snapping drums to create a gorgeous tornado of melody.  The shuffling rhythms, hypnotic guitar riffs, and frantic cellos make “That Crown Don’t Make You A Prince” the album’s crowning achievement, a majestic and beautifully rendered song calming for soft soaring vocals and deep, rhythmic percussive strings and foreboding pianos, only to climax again with dizzying bliss.  “Pillars Of Salt” is a gloomy masterpiece, with slow, defeated vocals and somber piano and dreary cellos at the forefront while the murky minimalism of “End Of The Line,” a nine-minute epic brings the album to a stylish close.  The townfolk are at the end of their tether and are prepared to meet the Devil for the final showdown.  What happens is never revealed…but perhaps a sequel will be penned.  Or perhaps it’s up to the listener to decide what happens (the band’s website offers a great deal more lyrical insight).  Whatever the case, Murder By Death has presented a classy and absorbing album that dips its foot in Goth, Indie, Alt.Country, and traditional alternative rock and succeeds on nearly all levels.  Ultimately, I find this to be a unique and very worthwhile release.

Track List:
1) The Devil In Mexico
2) Killbot 2000
3) Until Morale Improves The Beatings Continue
4) Three Men Hanging
5) Intermission
6) A Masters In Reverse Psychology
7) The Desert Is On Fire
8) That Crown Don’t Make You A Prince
9) Pillars Of Salt
10) End Of The Line

Murder By Death is:
Vincent Edwards: keyboards
Matt Armstrong: bass
Adam Turla: guitars, vocals
Alex Schrodt: drums
Sarah Balliet: cello

Murder By Death – Official Site:
http://www.murderbydeath.com

Eyeball Records:
http://www.eyeballrecords.com

Muslimgauze
Alms For Iraq
~reviewed by Goat

Ah, Bryn Jones, we miss you so.  I often wonder how his music would be sounding these days, as the situations in Iraq and Palestine grow ever worse.  Would his music be more angry?  Somber?  Sad?  Distressed?  Alas, we will never know.

This recording, Alms For Iraq was completed in December of 1995.  Within the span of three years, young Bryn Jones would die.  The work he completed in those last years is phenomenal; increasing evermore in technical prowess and mastery.  Alms For Iraq is a perfect example.  Layers upon layers of sound, emotion, and meaning.  The sounds veritably shimmer with heatwaves of sorrow and fury; and yet, they skitter along over layers of surety and serenity.

These are the things that have always amazed me about his music; the endless unfolding facets; the kaleidoscopic tiers.

I very much recommend this particular Muslimgauze work to those who have been curious about Bryn Jones and Muslimgauze and are wondering where to start.  Alms For Iraq is Jones at the top of his form, and is a pleasure to listen to.

Soleilmoon - SOL 129 CD  released: (11/11/2003)
in a 6 panel 5.5" x 8" tall folder

Track Listing:
   1. Harizat  (3.38)
   2. Izzedin Al-Qassam  (5.14)
   3. Gold Kalpakcilar Dome Pt 1/2  (3.43)
   4. Pale Elegant Egyptian  (1.34)
   5. Hab Al-Zeitoun  (4.29)
   6. Dark Bedouin Silver  (6.13)
   7. Gujurati Moon  (2.28)
   8. Alms for Iraq  (2.23)
   9. Dirhams Your Dirhams  (4.39)
  10. Hari Rupee  (5.13)
  11. Divine Pink Jinn  (1.23)
  12. Yigal Gun Amir  (1.42)
  13. Gulf Camel Baksheesh  (2.08)
  14. Kapali Carsi Souk  (1.14)
  15. Date Odeur  (4.11)
  16. Za-Hazzanani  (1.20)
  17. Mehmet Quarter  (2.39)
  18. Donated Organ  (2.38)
  19. Bombay Wire Less  (4.00)
  20. Malacca Cane  (3.26)
  21. Serpent Sting  (2.23)
  22. Caravan Sari  (.37)
  23. Fathi Shqaqi  (1.40)
  24. Skin Tone  (.13)
  25. Madhat Basha  (2.26)
  26. Tamil Tiger S.O.S.  (3.59)

Run time:  (75:44)

http://www.pretentious.net/Muslimgauze/
http://www.soleilmoon.com

Muslimgauze
Re-mixs Volume 1 +2 double CD
~reviewed by Goat

If ever I came into a great deal of money, one of the first things I’d do would be track down all the Muslimgauze releases I *don’t* have, which sadly is quite a few.  I just can’t keep up.  It’s been financially impossible, and really, if you view the amount of work Bryn Jones completed in his lifetime, the wealth of it seems humanly impossible.  How he did it, I don’t know.  What I do know is that every single thing I’ve ever heard by him has been of unquestionable quality, and highly fascinating.  This leads me to believe that if a person were able to possess everything Bryn ever did, one would have an incalculable treasure.

Fortunately, some of the long out-of-print material is now being released, this remix collection being a case in point.

Volume one was released back in ‘96, and Volume 2 in ‘98.  This re-release contains both volumes in a four- panel folder with new artwork.  There was a limited (150) edition run which was fur-covered!  You can see a photo of both editions here:
http://www.pretentious.net/Muslimgauze/releases/re-mixs1-2.htm

I definitely recommend getting this re-release.  It unquestionably represents some of the best Muslimgauze recordings ever, and you cannot beat the price for such a collection.  If you’re even remotely curious about Muslimgauze or experimental electronica, please do yourself the favor of making this particular audio investigation.  It’s wondrous!

Track Listing:  (There are no track titles.)
Disc One:
   1. (18.59)
   2. (25.39)
   3. (17.23)

Disc Two:
   1. (10.23)
   2. (7.02)
   3. (8.34)
   4. (3.16)
   5. (6.09)
   6. (4.16)
   7. (4.27)
   8. (6.01)
   9. (5.55)
  10. (6.38)

On Soleilmoon Recordings:
SOL 131 (dbl-CD)  released: (11/11/2003) in a 6" x 11" four panel cardboard folder
150 hand numbered copies covered in fur with paper band

http://www.pretentious.net/Muslimgauze/
http://www.soleilmoon.com

MXD
Musicogenic
~reviewed by Joel Steudler

Lighter than Rammstein, heavier than Peter Gabriel, poppier than Ministry, less depressing than Depeche Mode.  That's about the best I can do to describe the electro-metal of MXD.  A hodgepodge of genre conventions, MXD's Musicogenic cobbles together elements from several related styles and provides a consistently engaging listen... or at least, that holds true on the five track promo CD I was given.

The full version of Musicogenic apparently has fifteen tracks.  Fortunately, all of them are available for free listening at the band's official website, provided you have Flash installed (and a decent net connection).  I gave a couple a listen, and they seemed to be of similar quality to the tracks presented on the promo CD, but more techno and repetitive in nature.  Don't take my word for it, though.  Go listen for yourself if you're interested in this kind of stuff.

So what is 'this kind of stuff,' then?  Well, the smooth, clean vocals are what made me think of Peter Gabriel...  that and an upbeat sensibility absent from your average Teutonic technometal band.  Some tracks have a very 'rock' feel to them, while others delve more into the 'sound FX and intolerable looped vocal samples that sounded cool at the time' territory.  All of the music is exclusively synth-driven, but occasionally some heavy guitars pop in to vary the mood a bit.  The beats are propulsive, the melodies and choruses are catchy.  Electro metal!

Please forgive my vague generalization, but I got no press material with this and can't find info on the web, so hey.  Take what you can get.  I don't know who's in the band, or why this promo only has five tracks, or much else about MXD since their website is devoid of useful info and their label's site is completely broken at the time of the review.  What I -do- know is that MXD has some catchy songs that surprisingly held my interest while I listened to the promo.  A few of the tracks they have available on their site were... not so interesting. Since you can hear the whole album online, you might want to do that before deciding whether this enigma-wrapped-in-a-synthesizer is the right band for you.

Track List:
01.) Powder Mind
02.) Le Pire
03.) Clean-Ex
04.) Charlie Brown
05.) Defoliant

MXD Official Site:
http://www.mxd.ch

Equilibre Music:
http://www.equilibremusic.com

MYSSOURI
WAR/LOVE BLUES (Furnace Songs)
~review by Mick Mercer
 

nidus (n) a nest or breeding-place: a place where anything is originated, harboured, developed or fostered: a place of lodgement or deposit: a point of infection: a nerve-centre

So, greatness then. Here it is. Cast in the form of a Dark Country hybrid, of which I know little, but the tainted resonance of other bands come swimming back into my mind. In fact during the late 80’s/early 90’s one of my all time favourite bands, The Galley Slaves merged country with Irish folk and created something similar to the glories here, as did someone else we’ll mention later. The Galleys took the ironic love song route, but Myssouri have death on their palette, and paint with intricacy over a disquieting wash.

I am truly indebted to Blu for her interview with them in Starvox which alerted me to this mighty band and during a year when I have already lost count of the number of great albums which have arrowed in through my ears and given my brain a fearful kicking, this one stands prouder than the rest, for here is a band - and don’t laugh – who make the kind of music, rich in lyrical power and cool in downplayed musical expertise, that U2 fool themselves into believing they’re either capable of, or actually producing. This is modern rock which spreads like spilled ink over a template of traditions. No-one need be put off by the term Dark Country, as it isn’t a constant theme, and what is country at its best but the most supreme form of music for story-telling? And if those stories just happen to be dark, then all the better. And I don’t see anyone doing it better than this.

As with all stunning bands it only takes one song, ‘Road Boy Blues’ in this case, and will give your first glimpse of the lyrics;

 
”Your body figures in my future with a boa’s tender tether,
I’ve got a love to shelter us like a flesh and bones umbrella”

The blues motif disintegrates into a country chug around which Goth vocals style entwine, then rasp in explosive ferment, showering dust and rust over a glorious commercial potential. For all their diligence in not shying away from a hugely literate enterprise there is no pomposity here, not when they have such musical power to unload. Strongly delineated, regardless of the surging noise, they nail you time and time again.

‘Terrible Love’ then droops down and patters by with low, mashed steel guitar, then spurts off in a super-fast dash, a scratchy delay and a swift drop into a worrying hole, where lyrical ideas beset your head, like disturbing terrified bats in a cave.

Michael Bradley is the host, and a lugubrious storyteller who has a manner and selfless authority in displaying bruised romanticism in a way Nick Cave will simply never master, and you’re submerged quickly in the musical liquid of ‘March To The Sea’, drowning in its curious depths, often buffeted by the exultant drums of Chris Reeves, and guided by the miraculously invisible bass of Cade Lewis. Honestly, you know he’s there and you can concentrate on it, but the glow he provides inside these songs is quite something, as Mark Rogers wafts the attention this way and that with his guitars.

With ‘The Floorless Jig’ we embark on quite a stirring song of a murderer thrilled, a la Turpin, with his own reputation, and here we have suitable sleaze grind, which scatters the bones of The Cramps to the four winds, and everything feels filthy beneath the scabrous vocals.

By total contrast, ‘Orphan Song’ is beautifully moving, and made captivating by the constantly revolving repetition of words that creates the melody and rhythm, and when we descend into the madness of ‘My Only Love’ the truest comparison I can give is back to The Folk Devils and the Ian Lowery Group, both of which had Ian’s take on an American seamy underbelly. Myssouri naturally do it better, because they’re steeped in it themselves, and this particular song really lets loose with some upright vocal drama into a tormented whirlpool of emotion, from which we are led out by a swampy guitar waltz.

There isn’t a single song here that you don’t welcome on return visits, excited by the prospect once more. In fact the only problem with the record at all is some rather drab artwork, and I have finally initiated a once in a life time star rating for an album in this journal.

‘Down In Flames’ is gorgeous and jaunty. I’m surprised Bradley isn’t whistling over the Kinks-like walking bass opener, or the keyboard trill near the end, as he jiggles around sensational wordplay about a mad couple, in a union which seemed doomed from the start:
 

”She dressed in red, on the day that we wed”

‘Rictus’ also shows they can strike hard and low, with a brisk rock growl, before opening up, saturated in heavenly sighing, and ‘The Eyes Of Others’ sees the traditional lone guitar weeping which seems fitting for a song seemingly awash in self-pity until the final line surreally spins everything on its head. It’s maybe ‘I Got It All’ that signals the real modern impact this band could have. True, there is more than a whiff of Fleetwood Mac about it (circa 1975), possibly because it’s chirpy, but as the sly, weighted delivery trots out I think you’ll soon be agreeing with me that this is the finest song Cobain never got to include on Nevermind.

Absorbing and challenging throughout, I love this album. It is quite magnificent.
 

”I’ve looted my life
to the very walls
to find the nidus of my discontent
I do recall
That I had
the gall
to give up church
for Lent”

ROAD BOY BLUES
TERRIBLE LOVE
MACH TO THE SEA
THE FLOORLESS JIG
ORPHAN SONG
THE OTHER PEOPLE’S MONEY STOMP
MY ONLY LOVE
DOWN IN FLAMES
RICTUS
THE EYES OF OTHERS
I GOT IT ALL
TEASER STALLION BLUES (EXCERPT)

http://www.myssouri.com

NICK GREY AND THE RANDOM ORCHESTRA
REGAL DAYLIGHT (Sensitive Records)
~review by Mick Mercer

Welcome, then, to more peculiarity. Having expressed an interest in this man after the intriguing Sensitive sampler earlier, I find myself equally charmed but mystified by much of what is on the album. A stranger to much of the world of avant garde composition, where electronic arrangements mingle with classical theory, I can only frown as mutations bloom.

In one way it doesn’t differ greatly from much that spills from the worlds of ambient or ethereal, except that they have their chosen preferences, which you either identify with or don’t. What Nick Grey is doing is having two factions at work within many of his songs, creating a new form all of its own, although I’m daresay there are other such adventurers in the world of music. As before, he sounds like more a storyteller than a singer to me, with somewhat hesitant control, but excellent diction and delivery, so he fits in with the jagged music made harmonious by certain instrumentation, and in case anyone is wondering, no, it’s isn’t full-on orchestral, just minor twinges. It simply isn’t noisy

‘Structure & Faith’ is a conventional indie ballad, then ‘November Fadeline’ sees a piano stand nervously by as ashen vocals float across in a sentimental fashion, threatening to break into highly artistic triphop at any moment, and the album boasts many such incidents where rhythmical curios punctuate the undertow, often snagging deliberately against the forefront rhythm, creating a weird surreal nature to proceedings, which is still attractive, all of the time.

It starts with an ambient overture, like a smeared ‘Ave Maria’, and ‘Look Like Moses’ has one big voice soaring, with Nick crouching in its shadow, introducing us to be the gorgeous atmosphere. ‘Song For Wyatt’ then makes clearer how they slowly advance in an arrangement, as though two songs were gradually overlapping. ‘Intruders (Upon The Family Grief)’ allows strange little scratchings behind vivacious guitar and faltering vocals, which seem to be sharing secrets, and even a rock riff trying to burrow in later.

‘The Zealot’ is more traditional and mightily mournful, the nuttily named ‘Weeping Chipsets, Workshop Mess’ is artistic, like an infected dream, and then ‘(You Can’t Spell) Parachute Chops’ is bright and polite, swiftly turning gloomy, then introducing a slinky feel which you expect to become a dancefest, but it stays linear. By the time they finish with the grand, stately drama of ‘Obedient Fathers’ and the sonorous delights of the heavenly ‘Hiding In Seaweed’ you’re confused, bewildered, but utterly calm.

It’s a beautiful thing.

THIEVES AMONG THORNS
LOOK LIKE MOSES
SONG FOR WYATT
INTRUDERS (UPON THE FAMILY GRIEF)
THE ZEALOT
WEEPING CHIPSETS WORKSHOP MESS
(YOU CAN’T SPELL) PARACHUTE CHOPS
STRUCTURE AND FAITH
NOVEMBER FADELINE
OBEDIENT FATHERS
HIDING IN SEAWEED

http://www.nick-grey.com
 

Ninth House
Swim In The Silence
~reviewed by Goat

The experience of listening to this has been a series of cringes, deep frowns, jaw-clenching, and sadness that the good bits are surrounded by such horrors.

One, most of the lyrics are atrocious.  In that, “I’m in a band and I’m so deep” kind of way.  On the other hand, that describes about 97.977% of popular music.  Then there’s the singing which smacks of vocal lessons and trying too hard.  Jim Morrison churchboy imitations, et al.  I’m not a big fan of vocal lessons because I feel it makes everyone sound basically the same.  I’ll take a Tom Waits or a Mary Margaret O’Hara any day to a technically trained and correct vocalist.

So.  Compared to what’s on the radio at any given time, this would make radioplay just fine.  They could even hit the bigtime, who knows.

But the thing that bothers me most about this is that there is something real and beautiful that shimmers just underneath the trying so hard.  I wish it were something that could be easily identified, so I could say, “If they’d just drop the 80s bar band act,” or, “If they could just stop trying to be deep and astro-logically profound.”   I just can’t say.  What’s wrong about the recordings is all of the above.  But what’s *right* is weaved right in there with the worst of it.

The best of what shines through reminds me of several things.  Toad The Wet Sprocket’s “Walk On The Ocean” days.  Eric Andersen, the 60s folk singer, (who’s still going strong, by the way).  Mark Lanegan.  Patrick Ogle.  Stan Ridgway.

There is promise here.  There is beauty that shimmers through.  Maybe next album they’ll nail it.

Track Listing:
1.)  Injury Home
2.)  The Wall that You Hide Behind
3.)  Dissolve
4.)  Peephole in the Wall
5.)  The Cure for Your Disease
6.)  Your Past May Come Back To Haunt Me
7.)  Swim in the Silence
8.)  Put a Stake right Through It
10.)  Ninth House
11.)  Warned You
12.)  Down Beneath

http://www.ampcast.com/music/albumdetails.php?id=18285
(This is a great way to try out the songs and see if you like them well enough to purchase the CD.  If you're curious, definitely visit the Ampcast site.)

Related links:
http://www.ericandersen.com/
http://www.marklanegan.com/
http://www.illegalteenagebikini.com/
http://www.stanridgway.com/

NON
Live In Osaka (DVD)
~reviewed by Goat

My own first memories of Boyd Rice and his music are rather vague.  I’m guessing it was some-where around 1991 when I first started hearing the name spoken with either whispered reverence, or self-righteous fury.  Holes drilled all over the middle of LPs, connections to the Scary-Dark Calliopist Howie Levy, and all sorts of wondrous mysteries!

I don’t think it was until later, maybe 1993, when I finally felt compelled to track down some of his music for my own.

Through years and lives, I managed to not have strong feelings about him and his work one way or another.  In my naive and perhaps (dare I say) girlish way, I found him handsome and intriguing, but honestly, it pretty much ended there.  I wasn’t believing the hype.  It’s fair to say that I wanted to believe, and I maybe even tried to believe, but at the end of the day, Boyd Rice and his work left me thinking and feeling, “The Emperor, He Hath No Clothes”.  Boyd Rice made my Bullsh!t Detector go off.

All these years later, I still feel pretty much the same way, but my ambivalence has been replaced with a bit of nostalgia.  Somehow, I feel more forgiving of the hype, and can appreciate the things he wrote and the sense of humor with which he (some-times) conducted himself.  It almost allows me to get past the vision I have of him at an L.A. art gallery, in sliver platform boots, wearing a long trenchcoat and surrounded by a gaggle of post-adolescent boys who looked positively aglow.  Every time I think of that, I snigger.  Caligula in drag.

I’ve met people to whom Boyd Rice and his rituals and magicks are very serious business indeed.  I have a hard time keeping a straight face and following along the conversations for long about how powerful it all is, and to what glory.  I appreciate that what they, (Rice, Moynihan, Pearce, Julius, Wakeford, et al,) have been doing is the anti-underground of the underground.  I appreciate that it pushes buttons and envelopes.  But for me, a girl who has grown up in a family of soldiers, real soldiers, with battle scars and medals not purchased on eBay, it’s been hard for me to ever see anything Boyd and Co. have done as anything but art.  And to me, art is not life.  End of story.

So, while I did enjoy the concert with commentary, and I found the slideshows to be witty and humorous, (especially the 12-year-old-looking M.J.M!) I can’t see much beyond music history in the value of this piece.  That is to say, the “art” films which drew comparisons to Anger are to me about as interesting or enlightening as Warhol’s “Sleep”.  I’ve got better things to do.

If you’re a big fan of Boyd, NON, and all the other spinoffs and side-projects of the people involved, then surely you’ll want the DVD for posterity.  If you’re just delving into Satanism, Fascist posing, Fascist art, Fascist Whatever-It-Is, then yes, I would say the DVD could be of interest.

The best part for me, and the part of Boyd’s work I’ve consistently enjoyed most, is the writing.  The liner notes are fantastic.  Somehow, I think some part of me has always wished that he would write more and perform less.  I think I enjoy what comes from Boyd Rice’s mind more when he’s writing, than when he is Being Boyd Rice.  I could do without the charade.

All in all, for /fans/ of Rice and his work, certainly this is a must have.  For the curious and casual, perhaps look for it used, etc.  For those, like myself, who have stood some-what nonchalantly, (not a pun, I promise!) at the sidelines, the DVD is of interest for the liner notes, the concert-with-commentary, and the slideshow.  My lasting feeling about the whole thing is, “I wonder what Rose is up to these days?”

Track Listing:
Concert In Osaka:
-Introduction
-Total War
-Sunrise
-Without Judgement
-Might Is Right
-Invocation
-Abraxas

Films:
-Invocation (One)
-Black Sun

Extras:
-European and Japanese tour photo diary in slideshow form.
-Concert in Osaka with commentary by Boyd (and his can of snuff).

"Live In Osaka" is coded as a region-free DVD, making it playable in all DVD machines worldwide.

On Soleilmoon Recordings (Cacaciocavallo):
http://www.soleilmoon.com

What Rose Is Up To:
http://www.rosemcdowall.com/home.html

NON/Boyd Rice:
http://www.mute.com/mute/non/non.htm
http://www.boydrice.com/

Other stuff:
http://www.sinister.com/%7Eoblivion/dij/texts/DIJ_Interview_I.html
http://weecheng.com/europe/bologna/bologna.htm
http://home.online.no/~janbruun/writings/blood.html
http://brainwashed.com/
http://www.93current.de/
http://www.thresholdhouse.com/
http://groups.msn.com/TravisSteamCalliopeHomepage
 

ORDEAL BY FIRE
UNTOLD PASSIONS (Strobelight)
~review by Mick Mercer

If you’re like me (you poor bastards!) it can often be the most attractive and artistic records which make the deepest Goth impact, for their deft creation of mood and the scintillating, truly beautiful use of vocals. But then sometimes you have to accept that when Goth became rocky there was a vast, rolling sound possible which the earlier, kinkier side of Post-Punk/Goth couldn’t produce, and the more Ethereal side will never rival.

The trouble is that so many make a complete arse of the rock side. Many go soft and fall into the same trap The Mission once discovered, where you become mired in your own musicianship love of Rock Myth. Others go so far into Metal that they lose sight of Goth altogether. It takes a strong band to remain strong and not become lost in their own oblivion. So, just as Love Like Blood always maintained the right sense of hungry deportment, now we have Ordeal By Fire, whose ‘Roots And The Dust’ debut was scandalously inspiring, and they bring you a sort of Nephilim offshoot, where vocally things are clearer, and where musically things are starker.

I wasn’t knocked out by any one individual song, because on this album they have created an overall mood, and the fire is a lot less than before. Here they are bewildered among smoke and roaring. ‘Dirty Floor’ has its solemn, dour vocals scowling while they demonstrate the cunning rhythmical variety, and the powerful grip they exert from simply being interesting! ‘Hiding’ is as obvious a late 80’s Gawf song as you could want, without unnecessary frills, then ‘Hanging On’ is gappier, with a scattered mood and frisky guitar. ‘Re-creation’ gives us clompy drums, and thin wiggly guitar as the traditional sound stands proud and uncluttered, then the glowering, furious ‘Prisoner’ unfolds; plainer and emptier still, leaving you to concentrate on the steady guitar and vocal drama. The whirly rocky ending cannot disguise just how strongly their character comes through, which continues with ‘Life’s Uncertainty’, taking an age to ignite.

‘Tides’ fails to rush in. It may be full of life but here I was just praying for it to explode, and that’s the only drawback here. This album is like an exercise in restraint, where the attention is constantly thrown on their vocal monolith., and the use of Passions in the title is no accident. He emerges like a vengeful figurehead on a black ghostship, creating simple friction across a drizzle of unhappy guitar, and then ‘Heartfelt Sympathy’ smacks us round the head and sends us home after eight epic minutes.

Done right, as it is here, Gothic Rock can be a majestic thing and one of the most naturally recognisable forms within this wide genre of ours. Next time round it’ll be good to see them speed up, and exhibit their wild sense of attack again, but for now they can show you why Gothic Rock makes for fond company. Passionate? Oh yes, but not for wimps.

DIRTY FLOOR
HIDING
HANGING ON
RE-CREATION
PRISONER
LIFE’S UNCERTAINTY
TIDES
AT THE MERCY OF MEN
HEARTFELT SYMPATHY

http://www.ordealbyfire.it
http://www.strobelight-records.com

Peccatum
Lost in Reverie
~reviewed by Eric Rasmussen

Lost in Reverie is an accurately titled trip into dreamy surrealism, somewhat in the vein of André Breton, Salvador Dali, Luis Buñuel, or Federico Garcia Lorca, but altogether more coherent and set to music.  And unlike the aforementioned poet, painter, filmmaker, and playwright, Ihsahn (Emperor) and Ihriel (Star of Ash) do not neglect the mood-setting aspects of the music, nor operate so entirely on instinct as to create an incomprehensible mish-mash of sounds. Although some have argued that their approach on past releases did culminate in such a mish-mash, Lost in Reverie is a very balanced and highly enjoyable release.

The dynamic range present on the CD is quite impressive. You get everything from the softest, most aimless ambience, to the heaviest, forward-driving riffs. Ihsahn and Ihriel trade off on vocals, both singing cleanly and occasionally much more angrily. “In the Bodiless Heart,” features a very pleasant jazz atmosphere at the start, but takes on a number of shapes as it runs its course. Ihsahn gives one of his most emotional (non-angry) vocal performances yet, singing powerfully and with a nice range.

If one thing about Peccatum hasn’t changed, it’s the darkness that pervades their music. No one is going to confuse this with Helloween style happy metal (if, indeed, it can be confused with metal to begin with). Although the music is not doom metal, it carries a similar level of intense darkness. Where *Lost in Reverie* differs from doom metal is that Peccatum does not stick to one lethargic, foreboding pace: moments of expressive beauty, light ambience, and easy going rhythms break up the flow quite often, and only serve to make the heavy parts heavier, and the dark parts darker.

It’s too soon to say whether or not this is the finest work to date by two of metal’s luminaries, but it is unquestionably a must-have CD for fans of powerful music and transcendental art. If you have an appreciation of Emperor, Star of Ash, Arcturus, In the Woods..., or even Opeth (if you can imagine them going beyond their current limitations), then you definitely have to secure a copy of this CD.  I’ve heard few albums that are as consistently compelling and artistically mature as Lost in Reverie, so make a point to go listen to it now.

Track List:
1) Desolate Ever After
2) In the Bodiless Heart
3) Parasite My Heart
4) Veils of Blue
5) Black Star
6) Stillness
7) The Banks of this River is Night

Peccatum is:
Ihriel - Vocals and instruments
Ihsahn - Vocals and instruments
Knut Aalefjær - additional percussion

Peccatum - Official Site:
http://www.peccatum.com/

Mnemosyne Productions:
http://www.mnemosyne.no/

The End Records (US):
http://www.theendrecords.com/

People Like Us + Kenny G
Nothing Special
~reviewed by Goat

‘Been outdoors lately?

The last People Like Us album Soleilmoon sent (Stifled Love) I adored.  It was so perfectly, beautifully demented.  I became convinced then that Vicki Bennett had something exquisitely wrong with her!

She’s done it again with Nothing Special, and it really makes me wonder how the person who lives with the brain which could create an album like this can stand to live in the world today.  It must seem so horrifically, painfully droll.  [”I must deal with the limitations of the people who I walk this miserable planet with.”]

Gosh, how to describe this work.   A 50s educational film on quaaludes and drinks from tiki glasses.  A bit of Paul McCartney and Wings here.  Snippets of words and sounds there.  A little Carpenters music.  “Just like me, they long to be/just like me”.  Hah!

This is genuinely cleansing.  I appreciate People Like Us mostly for the fact that whenever a new PLU album comes out, it serves to remind me, (like a faux-leopard-skin-covered-2x4-to-the -head,) that there is just so much more to life.

Whatever it is I’ve been doing, there’s so much more.

Let’s see.  What else.  An appearance by Neil Diamond.  Some screamin’ and screechin’.  Bluegrass with orchestra.  Random madness which is brilliantly put together not randomly at all.  [Elton John.] This disc is a meditation.  [Cake!]  Not for pleasure, exactly, [”I’m from Vagina!  We’re all from Vagina!”] but in a good pair of headphones, it’ll certainly [Frank Sinatra] bring the blue sky and meandering sheep-clouds [”Gee, this is swell!] back to even the most troubled consciousness.

Kind of like, okay, remember that great Golden Palominos album Dead Inside?  This has the same effect Dead Inside did, only take Dead Inside and light a firecracker in its butt.  With pink frosting.  And Carly Simon.

Or, imagine yourself in a Hoo-Hoo Hotel. You’re in the tv room for long-term patients, and some nutter has her thumb pressed permanently “channel up” on the television remote while 70s Adult Contemporary muzak oozes through the speakers (in which you know there is a hidden camera).

“I didn’t crawl to the top of the food chain to eat salad!”

If you’ve ever been even vaguely curious about “experimental music”, please, for the love of your ears, start here.  And then work backwards.  Find everything she (Vicki Bennett) has ever done, and make it yours.  It’ll be an education, I promise.  An exercise in letting go.

Somewhere, Laurie Anderson is smiling.

Track Listing:
1.)  I'm From
2.)  Wake Up
3.)  Nothing
4.)  So Sorry
5.)  Close To Me
6.)  You'll Be A
7.)  More Sorry
8.)  Counting Time
9.)  Give Up It's Mine
10.)  Greatest Nobody
11.)  Wouldn't It Be Nice In Yr Face
12.)  I've Got You

Run Time: (59:20)

http://www.peoplelikeus.org
http://www.ubu.com
http://www.wfmu.org
http://www.soleilmoon.com
(Check out the PLU T-shirt! Neato!)
 

Phantom Vision
Calling The Fiends
~reviewed by Goat

It has taken me nearly a month to complete this review.  And that’s not like me.  No not at all.  I keep listening to the CD and forgetting that I’m supposed to be writing something about it.  I keep getting lost in memories of the 1980s and long rides to work on a bus, wearing headphones playing worlds of music that were so new to me then.  Somehow this CD draws on all of that music.  This band is not then.  This music is not then.  But it’s full of all then’s good things.  Everything I ever loved about gothic music fills the room when this CD is on.  I never want to listen to anything else when it’s on.  I want to stay lost in it.  Forever.  “Please, Please, Please” would be the first song on my mix tape.  If I still made them.

I close my eyes and remember the clanging screeching pitching harrowing coughing hacking air-brake diesel soundsmell of that bus to work.  Of my sad grey suit and responsible pumps.  Of my hair pulled tight in a French roll and Christian Death in the headphones.  I remember the ocean far below us along Pacific Coast Highway, and how, back then, I believed that the world was heading to better things.  As the miles rolled by I listened to tapes of Echo & the Bunnymen, the Violent Femmes, The Cure, Alien Sex Fiend and Kraftwerk, and wondered how my life would go.  This CD reminds me.  Of too much.  The music is so beautiful and right, it’s painful in light of how things have actually gone.

Phantom Vision have created a quintessential goth album.  They have somehow pulled up all the wonders of the gothic 80s and the shimmering flight of the darkwave 90s.  It works; it’s a CD for rainy days, starry nights, cloudy drinks, and deep friends.  A CD for loneliness and for old folks who remember life before MTV when we raced home to tear open the plastic wrapping of vinyl LPs that were not trendy, to play the records over and over until we burst.

Calling The Fiends reminds me of the first time I ever saw the old sepia-toned version of Nosferatu.  And my silent, entranced awe over Dr. Caligari.  It reminds me of the first time I tasted real absinthe.  And the time I stood on the wrought-iron gate of the botanical gardens and told my friends to watch be-cause I was going to fly.  This music is divine.  It’s like watching a shoebox full of pictures.  My first Bauhaus t-shirt.  My beloved Gary Numan 8-Track. (No, seriously.  And it still works!) Learning to make ^^v^^ with a computer.  Standing in the corner of a club with tears streaming down my face; beautiful people all dressed in black, lace, vinyl, leather, sorro