Elvin Brandhi-K A K E Z ep:
Hulk Yeurgh! A whorl of girly electro extrusions & low-key noise passeggiatas through emotional scrubland in the hhmoons sheen. Who the fuck is the Brandi? Some kook from the far-flung agrestic desolation that strategized a sonic laboratory in her living quarters… a sorceress in the bedroom (hey! that’s artistic/music related) <or so I assume> – she percolates a mean elixir – over five tracks – from 2014 – of off-kilter, beat-driven, cool digital percussion, chafed chip-tune, circuit bending or some such similar), glitch-veering – but generally clement, static-discharging IDM 8-bit grunge-grot, & gourmet avant-girl-splurge electro-perspiration. A canny & keen deployment of beats & drum-programming – rummaging in a candy-bag of “urban” omnium, whipped-up & suffused with reheated electronic experimental & negligible “pop” genetics tacitly brooding from beneath the floor-boards (okay! okay! – paving slabs) – like the stranger, more perilously avant-garde Eurythmics b-sides (don’t slumber on that shit, the goings good!) wired-up to the weirder deposits of early 00s internet art-house & some of the dope snut I imagine to crawl out of the side-door of the cult Detroit IDM label LowRes back in the prime stride.
Man she’s good!
Her vocal circumference & thematics stray wildly, sometimes with clarity & “commercial reference” <very competent> or/& otherwise awash with a wonderful array of distortions & defections …. very cool.
The track that really blows my gaskets is Mønstah … oh man! the chick pulls a pasquinade on the classic “distressed 50s panic-pouring monsters moll from a disaster movie in-scene”, or what have you, to tremendous effect …. too cool! Pitched-down burble in tha back & a twist of the gutttz high-speed vehicle interchange – whilst swigging – speed-up & beat-switching half-way through the monster memento…..magnificent.
Gal got skills.
The full ice-cream truck brilliance … in neon.
self-released digital download, 2014
PMNT – Polution ep:
fuckin’ maniac. You should by now be on brain-scraping terms with this amok goliath of both utterly demolishing, lethal, harsh oblivion & scrupulously assembled, multi-sonic, harsh virtuosity. Hailing from Brazil & focusing on corrupt politics, malfeasance, misrule, ecocide, & neoliberal collapse from a forward operating base in Belo Horizonte, PMNT stunned & stupefied with the Com Supremo Com Tudo cassette LP (Lo-fi or Die/Jigokuki), marshalling a staggering amplitude of highly variegated & ultra-politicized sonic fallout & documentation to the Operação Lava Jato scandal & the ensuing Bolsonaro coprotocracy & catastrophe. The stakes & standards for diligent & detailed, transient harsh noise expansion demonstrated was ridiculous, & a spree of PMNT’s spectacularly harsh punishment beatings have also featured on the contentious Basayev Inductions cassette series. On Polution (sic), we find PMNT dispensing stripped-back, straight-ahead concentric incineration & mauling harsh prepotency, with the expected expertise in staunch support. One track, 22 minutes, maximum scald. This is less cerebrally energetic & divaricating than some of his other material, which commands collation, splicing, cross-cauterization, politicized sampling & extreme finesse – to yield extraordinary ascendent harsh noise progressions, without any slacking in destructive capacities.
Here you have an unabated old-school rampage of apex harsh eradication.
The motherfucker is a tower of destructive justice.
self released digital download, 2021
strange malaise. ad-hoc. Two experimental electric guitarists with Industrial & noise countenance assembling avant “other”. & thus forth, we arrive at the webbed-feet of the intensely curious & weathered eremite Daniele Brusaschetto, a cult & crypt badlands artist & multi-instrumentalist of the most adventurous strain, who has been on an enduring, ever-angling, pilgrimage through the ravines since the mid 90s onwards. Reducing his repertoire to a sentence is an extremely difficult action, easily prone to error or insufficiency, but highly diversified Industrial activity, noise, ritualistic drone, dark ambient & extreme electronics, math & prog stoked variations of extreme metal & grindcore, technical rock & highly-theatric & atmospheric experimentations & detailed arrangements wherein – are but a silhouette of the spell-binders contents.
Brusaschetto counterpart in Burnout is fellow guitarist Paolo Spaccamonti. I know nothing about this musician outside of this release, & have decided against background research for this article, preferring to remain singularly beholden to the impression left by the material on this ep. But from my vague & possibly misinformed understanding, Spaccamonti embodies a compatriot cult solo composer like figure, specializing on electric guitar, & situated in the same avant-garde, experimental, diversified noise & Industrial vicinage (or so it seems).
United, the four tracks on Burnout IIexpel an unsettled gallimaufry of carravagious Industrial churnings & experimental dual-guitar scopings. delicate, noisy, threatening, mellifluous, soaring, submerged. Ambience modals, effects, synths, noise, electronics, drum-programming – an expansive myriad of scapes & materials (no vocals present). A contrasting palliative of more genial & amorphous guitar duets that perhaps hark towards the Ralph Towner or John Abercrombie territory of old, at least to my ears.
The seven-and-a-half-minute starting shot, Gocce, is the crowning expedition for me, & I include the inception of this song as it is a fantastic ignition/process.
2020, Toteschwan Records
Jet Jaguar KR3 Kill Spree/FztFwrd split 10”LP:
Fast Foward were a techno/speedcore outfit from France doing what might be identified as conventional, quality speedcore & techno. At some stage, the intention to attempt to generate “the most insane/extreme” speedcore/noise experience was conduced. The FztFwrd shadow moniker was malformated, or post identified & attributed by the loons at LOD for the berserker doppelgänger, sometimes presented as DJ Die-Suck or Lord Negative Vaginismus. Here, on this sublime & indelible ten inch, FztFwrd erupt a barbarian-blitz of extratone floor-wipe & a convulsive kaleidescope of unstable lurid electronic nightmare fusillade frenetic fervent fragmented speedcore overkill … choppy, rough & ragged digital harsh noise & rampant static flensing, destroying speedcore mangling, erratic IDM scuppers, randomized schizophrenic sample blurtings & the full gamut of reamed, introrsed, destabilized digital-debris & acid-eaten synths.
A banquet of blitz & cataclysm.
Whats more, DJ Die-Suck really, really knows how to construct, arrange & program, with the resulting mega-carnage clearly demonstrating great expertise & considerable, preparation, input & conception.
The production, mastering & sonics are also, extremely high.
Hand on hunch, I have still not come across another slot of speedcore vinyl that can match this proverbial limb-lopper! If it is out there (& it may well be?) – I ain’t heard it! in the almost two decades since this sweeping detonation burst the banks.
A classic crater of overdriven anti-listener banjax.
Jet Jaguar KR3 Kill Spree:
depending on the depths of your decent, you may of encountered the reference “avant-garde cyber grind”, a rare term that would generally be suffixed or proceeding a cybergrind description. I don’t think any other project encompassed that expression better than early JJKR3. It’s just the hands-down weirdest, most artistically accomplished avant-machine-cybergrind-noisecore eruption to date. So original, so far-ahead, so ornate, like another solar-system.
The dawn of the millennium & ultra-early 00s were a very interesting time for mutation inclined grindcore (mostly drum-machine driven) & its connected ambits, before major commercialization & chronic homogenization had intruded, & cyber/machine-grind was a small vanguard that hosted a tiny but dedicated rabble of freaks, unconnected, internationally. plenty fucking sucked, or were less adventurous or sonically extreme & expansionary, but others were far more intrepid, & with the frontiers not yet established, the confines not inked, small groups of individuals performed or posited some crazy & inspiring shit in the wake of the beyond, when the horizon still seemed “endless” or at least unconfirmed & limitations were not yet solidified.
This fucking loon, Dr. Goro Ibuki, just went further than any of them.
& here it is, ten tracks of the most fucking bizarre, profound, uncategorised “supernaturally difficult” anti-listener avant cyber noisecore extreme-surrealism” oddness overload.
Layered beyond belief, like 35 conventional tracks crushed into one micro-crystal, heaving with hallucinogenics & obscene preternatural extended out-tripping, straying, veering, teleporting, transmuting, deforming, mind-morphing over/under/onto advanced art extremism.
Hey! Do you want an “out there” record? Like a really, really “fuck you!” out there record?
The phonetics sound like solid analog, this is manual override, before the convenience & simplification of access that the software revolutions would deliver in the coming years (which had such a large effect on Breakcore/digital music, for the worst actually).
This fucker also generated his own pallets (or sourced them from some of the most wayward of wellspring), so the drum sonics & everything else are not standard issue (& neither – at all – is their programming).
The golden era of Glitch had not quite yet materialized, but even the best they have to offer cannot match the weirdness & asymmetry of early JJKR3 …. its just too weird & too original & too odd-fitting, a feat that it astonishingly manages to maintain throughout the entire spectacle (ten tracks, the briefest four seconds & the longest two minutes & six seconds).
You can take this shit today, & it still sounds completely like distant future extremism or parallel dimension cognocenti-cacophony collision. Just ridiculous.
this was the first slab of vinyl shed on the unmatched, peerless, peregrine mutant-mavericks Lo-fi or Die Rekadz, run by rogue ronnin recusant Kikanju Baku & shadow shards, issued in 2002 or something …. smashed-off on a diaphanous purple 10”LP with suitably absurd artwork & inscrutable scribe that lead to brain scarring. It was the perfect starting shot for the extraterrestrial teratoid user-hostile phantasmagoria that has continued ever-since ……
Lo-fi or Die Records/Jigokuki, 2002
Bilge Pump-Rupert the Sky CD:
so it’s 2007. the sky is Rupert, & three guys are in the studio in Leeds. According to the contraction, they are a “post hardcore band”. That could mean a lot.
On the chopping board you have an eccentric dolling of energetic & rambunctious prog-rock, that seems to have considered/factored/sequestered the environmental alterations escalated by the likes of Primus & co – inebriated on lashings of Frank Zappa, or at least his arithmetic, by technical/progressive rockers who study/dig, jazz, metal & punk – harnessing it’s authentic energies (& sound, the bass is a sapid distorted block of nickel-wound lard) outside of the given genres …. or something.
Just listen/inspect/witness first hand.
The guys are excellent musicians, technically & compositionally. The music remains consistently energetic, which is tremendously pleasing.
Complex booby-traps, awkward aiming, contrapuntal larking, & great fluffing wads of originality, flare & mischievous smart-arsery abound.
For me, this album is a touch overproduced. You can understand, given the keen wizardry of the musicians, wanting it to be captured or presented with the best clarity & heft. But a slightly more raw take would definitely of been my preference, especially for a band that naturally stomp so much arse in tha nude. An alternative take of the superb “The Rise and Fall of the Alpha Male” on the hard-spiffing Love & Circuits dbl CD compilation on the now sadly defunct Cardboard Records was just that, & all the more potent for such presentation.
A brilliant album & a brilliant group. The disc is still in circulation along with a vinyl version if I am not mistaken. Uncertain if adequate recognition was secured by Bilge Pump? Being “excellent” can often be a disadvantage, & the industry & outer-grounds orbiting it remain perversely corrupt & anti-meritocratic (the fucking usual then).
Speaking of which, what ever happened to Carl White? The ridiculously technical, hyper-hyper-hyper change math-rock duo from London?
Bury your champions & hoist your charlatans – it’s all in the grift!!
Gringo Records, 2008
whilst you are here – top up on your “forever chemicals” – & fuck U$A!!! https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2022/mar/22/i-dont-know-how-well-survive-the-farmers-facing-ruin-in-americas-forever-chemicals-crisis