Started by GEWALTMONOPOL, December 15, 2009, 09:30:59 PM

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Bloated Slutbag

Treriksröset ‎– Kristen Musik Från Rågsved
Dutiful submission of faith from Frere Carlsson. Jesus, this shit's fierce! Starts in the familiar Trerik mold: thick rich chocolaty. Fat densely packed fudgily punchily- rapturous, rupturous, sphinct-rupture a la bulging bass-rapture. Ripping spiky-headed bulbous bung-fury plunging the tightly constricted depths without so much as a get thee behind me Satan. Then, well... well, my brothers and sisters in Filth, suffice it to say: thy holes be done.
   Seriously though, if I may take this moment to curtail the soddly digression. What we have, here, essentially, is five-minute tip of the hat to the Trerik we know and love, followed by long, hard, downright nasty digression into shockingly severe ear-bleed severity. Toward the end, several loads of filth are hastily shoveled onto the platter, but no. Nice try there. The damage has already been done. Treriksröset will never for me be the same again.
   Still, those opening five minutes are quite, um, bilge encrusted. Think jazz, think punk atti-FUCK OFF!  Whoops, wrong piece of wax. WANKER! Sorry bout that. Think filth, think shit, Real Shit(tm), thick turds of green-tinged glistening putrescence. Reams of it. Think of all that good stuff, forced with patient and loving cruelty into packered up, bone dry, earholes. Now comes large, spiky, dildo-shaped object. A carefully selected length of cactus might do. Okay m'boyo: ram that fucker through. Just ram it. Keep ramming it. No cheating, no stops for air. Replay it all in slow motion, dragging out the lower end, letting the bilge-loaded bass urgings surge and buckle. Pay special attention to the most deliciously agonizing intervals of pure aural torture, the ground-down grit, the throat-fisted gristle, the unvarnished crunch-up. Feast of flatulent overload, overbilge, overbulge... buncha stuff pushing hard to escape its unyielding, pitch-black, confines.
   Now by all this you may imagine high scores in the areas of HARSH and RAW. For the latter, at least, we are talking at least an eight. Very rumpled crumbling rumpsty pumpsty, dumpster-ready power shit-tronics, heavy on the meat-gristle, flits of feedback squeaking through, plus what could be backmasked voice reciting the Lord's Prayer somewhere way down the mix. As the screechier feedback elements start to dominate so too a certain deferral to HARSH, by which point we are about ready to cue the remainder of the plate.
   The remainder of the plate, as alluded to earlier, serves something so far removed from expectation that I almost ripped off my Trerik tee in exasperation. Fuck you, stupid shirt. Alright, well, in all honesty there is nothing here that makes me imagine anyone other than The Carlsson at work. Just that the man seems to be indulging a newfound respect for TOTAL EAR RAPE. This at least may be apparent in apparent commitment to hearing damage proper. Crank the shit and shave another couple years off yer diminishing ability to hear. A prevalence of mids n highs, the highs occasioned a good several intervals to vent at their ear-bleed scorchingest. Still fairly tightly reigned-in range of materials and frequencies on hand, concentrated bursts dragged out to achieve almost droning, feedback-laden, viscosity. Severely pitched, screeching, feedback-laden, droning viscosity. I'm not going anywhere says EAR RAPE. I can do this all day. Your audiologist will thank me later.
   With great trepidation comes the flip side. The title track. Plainly the main event. Ka-blow! Sharp percussive hit, extended out to continuous mid-riff bludger. Avalanche of rough-cut granite chunks inundate close-walled crevices, drilling fairly straight-ahead groove through the center of the aural cavities. Feeback flecks again fight the rougher edges, compressed layers of analog-cum-possible-vocal incursion duking it out for dominance. EAR RAPE takes a bit of a back seat as more bottom ended crunch starts to surge into the field. Sudden dumping of several shovel-loads full of grit, fat meaty bilge-dongs of tracheal choke, hammering ill-effectually against iced-smooth metallic grind, to net sheering rasp of blistering scree. It is the blistering scree that ultimately wins the day, EAR RAPE served cold, almost stealth-like, aural passages reporting damage of the possibly permanent persuasion.
   That was three days ago, my brothers and sisters in Filth, and the shit...just...refuses to stop. I seem condemned now to serve this punishment for my sins for all eternity, locked into an unforgiving groove of malevolent repetitive strangulation, burble-retched wretched epilepsy, scorched to Kingdom Numb.
   Thy holes be done. On earth as it is in Mikawa's stinky butthole. Amen.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


White Medal - East Riding Cart Burial
One of the most consistent black metal projects. This recent full length offers a bit more melody and catchiness compared to the last two LPs. At first it took me by surprise, but after a couple listens I like it as much as preceding material. Songs traverse through triumphant passages sounding both ancient and contemporary at once. Really memorable and great tracks.

Thor's Hammer - Fidelity Shall Triumph
Absolutely strong and hateful classic. Vocals resonate with the powerful music quite well. I'm not one to be all about "the RIFFS \m/" when it comes to black metal, but the leads on this are absolutely superb. To me, this is the standard bearer of the Polish scene. Also good knowing he never cucked like Behemoth and others. NOTHING BUT HATE.


Linekraft ‎– Delusional Disorder

Received yesterday, play last night. It's a good one. I'm late to the game and have the recent LP but have not played it yet. Going to have to find the Black Plagve cd along with whatever else that doesn't cost an arm and a leg.


Listening to it on Bandcamp right now... Vocals on first track are nice & the second track is just excellent with the constant hum, processed metal/voice/whatever..


Graustich - Morality Ends LP
Recieved in a trade just yesterday. I've listened to earlier releases a few times each and after 2 spins I believe this has surpassed them all and stepped the project up to another level. Get onto this if you have not already.

Geheimnisvoll ‎– Venomous Sorcery Through Hidden Darkness tape/digital
Tape arrived recently, but I've listened to it 1000 times via bandcamp already. Best way I can describe this is early Black Funeral / Xasthur type vocals meets French style Black Metal similar to Seigneur Voland, Bekhira, etc etc. Really good and a notch above the rest in the current wave (and ten notches above utter trash like Hand Of Glory)

Bloated Slutbag

Incapacitants – Zouvneree cd (Alchemy)
Holy laser noise, Batman!

Erm, still reading? A word then on the previous missive, Survival Of The Laziest. SOTL is, put simply, a ripper. Very pleasant surprise, the best of the banker buds in the better part of a decade. A fine fresher as to why, when so many of the old guard have relinquished their claim to the noise throne, the grip of the The Mikawa (and Kosakai) is as firm as ever. Valuable lesson, too, for all them young whipper snappers, rushing about from one release to the next. Meanwhile here come the Kings, to casually stroll onto the scene and, to just as casually, rip shit up. The ripping up of the shit owes much, perhaps ironically, to the blown out crunch textures of 90s classics like DDDD and Asset Without Liability, fed though with seemingly newfound penchant for wildly dynamic flailing, a purely - and almost perfectly - rapturous reflection of near cosmic chaos such as might be witnessed in the live incarnation.
   Now, I will argue two things. First, the Incaps greatness, and essential brutality, has always been in the studio- re No Risk No Return, FLS Syndrome, What A Stupid Bureaucrat!!!. Second, the dynamic variation has always been at the flailingest extremes, if somewhat submerged in the cosmic ooze.
   The difference here, with Zouvneree, is with the subtlety- or total lack thereof. If you can make it through the initial laser fight you'll find room dynamics harnessed to quite persuasive effect. The effect is of very live-in-the-flesh re-incarnation despite the range of digital effects in the offing. Near silent intervals (by Incaps standards!) humming in wide open acoustic space. A note too on the sheer alien oddity of outcome. Whatever criticisms or cringe-ings one may be inclined to propose- and in the wake of SOTL one may be inclined to propose plenty- this is still, frankly, unlike anything else I've heard. The Mikawa once divulged that the noise comes from outer space. With the prevalence of open-ended Sun Ra-ish wheedling oscillations some might envisage incoming signals from Saturn. (Personally, I've always preferred Uranus. Mine's purple btw.)
   So too the second and third tracks. Development Hell In A Cell is like a digital rework of Half Acoustic Night Of 80, trading steel bars for phased piano-like percussive prong, plink, and dong. Development slow and unsteady, intervals of drawn out whine punctured by horn-like electro honk. Air-raid sirens keen over drizzling psyche-streams of wet-flushed drainage funnel, only in the very closing minutes to achieve a full out and proper raging, unabated as track the third rips it up a notch. "Ear Health By Stealth." Riiiight, of course. A harshnoise outfit that cares about the permanent damage so severely being done. Naturally. That persistent ringing in the ears? Sign of a good aural workout. Smoke rising from the speakers? Freshens the air. But all in a days work from Their Royal Majesties. Per track two gaping holes again hollow out the center to render a fluttering half acoustic in-consisistency, even as the overarching dynamic flails about with grossly erratic, spectrum-length, swings. Let's not undersell the harsher commitments shrieking through the gapes. Full bore, full spectrum, psych wailings flailing at ringing holes with all epileptic fervor.
   (A side note that if you order direct from Alchemy you get eleven minutes worth of "raw materials" on cdr, upper register squeals against fuller wind tunnel droning. Nice to have, hardly essential.)
   That's three tracks over thirty-eight minutes. Now to the thirty-three minute closer, live and much in the flesh. What to say, if you liked the studio efforts, you'll love this. Essentially the same range of materials, oscillations, frequencies, tendencies, turned up to eleven. So perhaps to concede that any sense of space is pretty much crowded out, obliterated, in the massed clusters of overload. Nothing, let's be clear, to match the overbilged extremes of SOTL, but certainly unencumbered by any artsy-fartsy need to futz about with acoustic space. Much more of the DENSE and the HARMONICA. A marked SPASTIC inflection in the sense of two elder statesmen completely losing their shit. Bulging burly undertones overtones swinging up under over and through one another with very little regard for anything less than total cosmic rapture. Supernovas of exploding sonics, orgies of erratz excreta hitting, blasting point blank at frenzied fanatics, splattering the venue with ozone charged particles of exuberant hysteria magnifique. Ho hum. Just another day in the life of the BushBashWhackers.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


I love Zouvneree. It's not for everyone though. But it's not an entirely new direction for Incapacitants, what's new is the magnitude in which they do it. You can trace this particular style of theirs back to the 1980's. Listen to "terrible hallucinations" or "It's a blue day, bloody girl", both from the (mandatory) T.MIKAWA - I, Noise 2CD set, for example. It's not all supernova chaos as in Zouvneree, quite the contrary, but it's there. What they've done on Zouvneree is they've picked up that certain strain that's always been present in their work, sometimes buried and and sometimes more audible and out in the open, and expanded upon that certain strain and multiplied it by ten. An early thought of mine when hearing this for the first time was that it sounds as if some early Swedish electronic music pioneer, such as Sven-Erik Bäck or Leo Nilson, tried to do harsh noise.

Bloated Slutbag

Damn, I'm gonna have to to re-listen to the suggested items from I, Noise (agree- mandatory!). As Baglady may suggest, or as I maybe wanted to suggest but didn't quite, Zouvrenee seems to occupy its own particular, peculiar, space- somewhere possibly, if only occasionally, outside of noise. Or perhaps to say that, when you've been in it for so long it is also possible to be outside it. For instance, to be completely oblivious to what one should and shouldn't do. I mean, pretty much any contributor here would be at least somewhat acquainted with the sorts of things that are and are not frowned upon. And then here come the Kings to, decisively, not give a shit one way or another. I think the reference to early Swedish pioneers is astute. I've at best passing familiarity with the names, but Mikawa often references semi-obscure shit from... well, if not that far back, at least from the sixties. To draw parallels or connections where I would never have otherwise thought to draw. Also: Borbetomagus!

edit edit
For another reference to fairly straight-ahead harsh-ish noise that occasionally occupies a space some steps off center, The Return Of Gomikawa Fumio could be worth a re-listen. If I recall correctly, the main of it is the result of Gomi-Kosakai post edit / mix, less the Mikawa there.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag

Bloated Slutbag

Cosey Fanni Tutti - Tutti
Leaving aside the essential purpose here- to revisit my twelve year-old schoolboy crush - it is hard to find fault. Kick off into the expected ice-cold disco beats but then the submergence to latent blackened unwind. All the higher scores to reside almost entirely in atmosphere, an atmosphere of repetitive down-pitched skulk, soft sensual slither suggestive of sedulous trance induction, bippily boppily incantation, persuasion, you gotta get some, feel me, feel this, wet whispered wafts sliding silken-like across the satiny ruffles, fabrics shucked n jiving, grooving, groovin, deep deep blue velvet, it takes me down, wraps so tight, around.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag

Zeno Marx

That Tutti is indeed mellow and fluid.  Had me in Clock DVA territory at times, and in others, I was wondering if it was a Hearts of Space/Fathom release.  Not a bad album at all.
"the overindulgent machines were their children"
I only buy vinyl, d00ds.


Aleksandr Scriabin / Nemtin / Mysterium:

2+ hours of apocalyptic power, play loud! (the back story is also pretty insane...)

Bloated Slutbag

V/A – Leather
Leather fetishists of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your, um, harness. Yes alright it needs work. Leather. Right, well, aside from a shared - and no doubt unhealthy - preoccupation with the tanned hides of dumb animals, it's hard to suss the unifying aesthetic. On the one hand, there's a clea- LICK THE BOOTS, CUNT! Er, what I mean to s- LEATHER BELT FRENZY! Well, it certainly needs to b- LORD OF THE COCKRINGS! Now loo- SOUNDS FOR BUTTPHONE!


At least Mania gets things going on the right shoe. Hefty iron-clad thud, echoes muffled by thick cellar door, hammering in slow succession against subtle backdrop of leather'd rub and slither, industrious backroom sweatshopping. Unhurried, leisurely, good time to nip out for a smoke, leave the heavy machinery to thud away. Soon however the slither becomes slather getting whiter, hotter, echoes swelling to bulging bass-heavy crescendo. Flits of feedback steal into the space, now fairly crowded with oscillating drone and faint, gloomy, downpitched beacons. Overall convincing display of leather machining done right, sober semi-bemused documentarian approach that seems to serve the title well.
  Encephalophonic, of course, sounds like Encephalophonic. Bonkers level schizo freak-out frenzy, spastic stutter-junk avalanche orgy. Tense, tight, poised, skins of dead animals chafing at the flesh, feel the burn. Masterful mess of mangled metals meet jagged hair-trigger shriek-drillage to output raw scrap-bashing rapid-panned clusterfuck excess.  The sound of Mania having an epileptic seizure, accidentally kicking over prized collection of scrap junk, going totally ape-shit in fit of purple-faced rage, fat pointy hack-sawn chunks careening about the room as frazzled electronics scorch ozone-tinged air raw. So pretty much completely un-Mania-like, but good working through of the channel pan, and of the earholes, to the get the blood good and properly pumping. Good and spurting. Don't ask me where the title fits in here, probably wearing leather skivvies while bashing meaty junk-stack, so to speak.
  Clinic Of Torture dish extended porn clip masked with grey, dingy fuzz-drone, drizzled drainage funnel choked with pronounced bilge flavoring. Heavier electronic agitations filth up the atmosphere, drawing attention into narrative which, fortunately, is barely parse-able. Just as threats of harshnoise proper promise to rip apart the dis-calm, the whole cuts out completely to welcome enthusiastic bevy of leather'd paddy-wacks. Call in the vocalist. Here you are good sir, huff and puff to your hearts content. Rough dirge-splurt churns out choked bilge flavorings, gathering rust, drudge, steam, salivation, paddy-wacks turned feeding frenzy of paddy-thwacks, ample word of encouragement punctuating sensuous gasp, coo, quiver.
  Flip that shit over and here comes the lord of the cockrings, aka Caligula031. Flattened greys of tremulous shivering essence, woozy murked psychedelia shining through even-keeled sheen. Now in comes the voice, dis-torted, dis-tended, relegated to textural duties, repeatedly swallowed up in the murk, and no, it ain't so pleased with these proceedings, can't imagine why. But what this does, see, is heighten the sense of drama, the sense of exceedingly irate individual and the end of his proverbial rope. No relent here, rather a slow build of progressively seering burn as lower extremities report esophageal uptick of flatulent turd-layers, rumbling through the shizzling storms of dry-welled seethe. A bit of ye olde stealth harsh, of which I may say I am the consummate sucker.
  Sadio then take the plunge into, pretty much, pure filth. Fully bilged gutter-tronics flecked with shithawked feedback squawk, booties shoved down throats to issue low-grade, low-end, turd burglary of rough, raw, rugged, crud-bilge. Basically total audiophonic wreck, redzone so flooded with crap as to beg the question. Nothing in the specific. Just, the question. In an attempt to get into the spirit of the thing, I started licking the boots with gusto but came away with bitter taste that still lingers. More of that shithawk squawk over mid-range overload, whining feedback just refusing to back the fuck off. Nasty!    
  What's great about the closing ditty, courtesy Grunt, is it picks up pretty much where Sadio leaves off, but just massively ups the layers of coarse granulated texture. So much shit is there chucked into this mix that one is left to wonder where the attentions are supposed to inevitably fall. Perhaps upon this cute little piece of wriggling sludge vomit. Perhaps to the collapsible crush of cantankerous junk-spew applying pressures from without. Or perhaps to the continuous drilling into aural passages via wheedling flits of abbreviated analog palpitation. When the massed pressure of over-encumbered layers pulls back for an instant or two, hint of scrap sources scour to the fore, but these instants are few and far between. Perhaps a good moment to shuck them skivvies and wiggle about about in ecstatic butt-fervor. I mean, what the fuck do I know? Very probably a leather'd thwacking is in order.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


ehm.. some lessons learned about fooling around with small phone screen. Instead of replying previous message, accidentally managed to hit "edit" rather than "reply" for mr. Bloated Slutbags message. Luckily managed to return the old message back after erasing it, hah.

Quote from: Bloated Slutbag on March 22, 2019, 06:21:20 PM
V/A – Leather
    What's great about the closing ditty, courtesy Grunt, is it picks up pretty much where Sadio leaves off, but just massively ups the layers of coarse granulated texture. So much shit is there chucked into this mix that one is left to wonder where the attentions are supposed to inevitably fall.

This track is actually studio live. Most of Grunt recordings from 2018 was studio live noise recordings, this being only thing released thus far. Next week fairly similar material coming as 3". Not all studio-live, though. Just today was assembling discs to covers. I dare to say best Grunt noise so far. Yet, it will be quite brutal battle when on same batch is WORTH 3" and JAAKKO VANHALA 3" and SELECTED KILLING 3".

PS: Leather is sold out. Due packaging, it had to be limited edition...
E-mail: fanimal +a+ cfprod,com


Quote from: FreakAnimalFinland on March 22, 2019, 07:01:48 PM
This track is actually studio live. Most of Grunt recordings from 2018 was studio live noise recordings, this being only thing released thus far. Next week fairly similar material coming as 3". Not all studio-live, though. Just today was assembling discs to covers. I dare to say best Grunt noise so far. Yet, it will be quite brutal battle when on same batch is WORTH 3" and JAAKKO VANHALA 3" and SELECTED KILLING 3".
Sounds fantastic! Will these be similar in presentation to the Mania/Umpio/Sick Seed 3" set?


v/a - Noise War 5xCD - Audio Dissection / Industrial Recollections
Some words about the 5th, bonus CD only. Having no prior experience or attachment to this compilation prior to its re-release on the above labels, it's interesting to look at the old posts here on this forum and see the absolute shitstorm these bonus tracks kicked up years before the compilation was ever even released. cries of "destroying the legacy" and "insulting the past" show up more than a few times. I presume this is part of the reason why all of the new tracks were included on a separate, standalone CD. and if the disc is judged on its merits alone, outside of the scope of the larger issue, it stands quite tall. 5 tracks, all brutally harsh, all good. Encephalophonic is the odd-man-out as the relatively "youngest" artist on the roster but he delivers one of the best tracks on the disc, if not the best. absolute harsh, churning supremacy. no dead space, just noise. it's a very self-contained and complete feeling track. the kind that could do well on a biz-card CDr. then there's Kazumoto Endo who delivers another dose of harsh, with a slightly more cut-up feel. but the cuts are still pretty slow and the sections get to be heard. nothing as brutal as Killer Bug but not as weird as a lot of material under Endo's own name. also a fair amount of crunch to the mix that works well with the standards set by the comp at large. then Skin Crime comes in to deliver a dose of nasty harshness that's far removed from the lurking danger of more recent releases. sounds like maybe some abuse tape loops over feedback, crunch and metal abuse. again very much in line with the compilation and very satisfying. next, K2 delivers some heavy panning and crispy harsh textures. I really, really dig this. feels like a nice bridge between the analogue scrap era and the recent Nintendo DS digitalia. and then we get one of the American cut up masters to take us out, Sickness. His "American Merzbau" is surprisingly rough and dry sounding. very worn. nice cut ups of scrap metal banging and scraping, well placed silence and reverb. while I dig it, I think maybe it would have been better served sitting earlier on the disc. but instead we're left with metal scraping and sudden silence.
so if you like your noise harsh, stuttering and full of energy check out this great capstone to a legendary compilation.


Quote from: cr on March 22, 2019, 08:00:41 PM
Quote from: FreakAnimalFinland on March 22, 2019, 07:01:48 PM
This track is actually studio live. Most of Grunt recordings from 2018 was studio live noise recordings, this being only thing released thus far. Next week fairly similar material coming as 3". Not all studio-live, though. Just today was assembling discs to covers. I dare to say best Grunt noise so far. Yet, it will be quite brutal battle when on same batch is WORTH 3" and JAAKKO VANHALA 3" and SELECTED KILLING 3".
Sounds fantastic! Will these be similar in presentation to the Mania/Umpio/Sick Seed 3" set?

Only better! Same outer diameters so they fit the series, but instead of hand assembling them from raw prints, this time it's all pro-manufactured. Ordered them custom made, as sort of "gatefold" where cd is easier to take from the pocket. Stronger cardboard, nicer surface etc. All releases were too good to start saving $$ in presentation...
Vanhala 3" is supreme. Hard to compete with. It's basically the long-under-work album that was semi-announced years ago.
Worth kills, as most harsh noise guys know by now. Selected Killing is Encephalophonic+Grunt collaboration project that combines high energy electronics from Italy and conceptual acoustics+vocals from Finland.
E-mail: fanimal +a+ cfprod,com