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

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Spent time with some LPs tonight:

Pedestrian Deposit - Vestige LP (Hospital, 2006)

U.S. Steel Cello Ensemble - Noise in the Library LP (Putojefe, 2018)
Reissue of a tape recorded live in Berlin, 1989.

A-side at times sounds like a steel Stockhausen orchestra (though not that extreme, this is pretty low-key overall) with steel cello, bow chimes, and "vocals". B-side is a lengthy droning movement. Hard to believe these sounds are coming from physical instruments, not electronic gear. Would be great to experience in person. Pleasantly surprised with this chance pickup for the distro.

Skin Crime - Traveller on the Road LP (Hospital, 2019)
The transition from the U.S. Steel Cello Ensemble LP that was on deck prior to this was nearly perfect (as was Pedestrian Deposit - Vestige LP into Steel Cello. If it was a radio show I would not have noticed the segue).

One of the best of the recent run of Skin Crime releases, therefore deserving of the album treatment, but while it sounds good on LP it would probably be amazing on CD. Still total fire either way.

Jason Lescalleet - Electronic Music LP (RRRecords, 2003)

And yesterday:

Joe Colley - Psychic Stress Soundtracks 2LP (Misanthropic Agenda, 2020)
The mastering on this is excellent. Would like to compare to the 2005 CD, but this is highly satisfying.

Black Leather Jesus + Atrax Morgue - Your Eyes On My Hands LP (4iB / Bacteria Field, 2020)
Reissue of 1997 tape on Deadline.

Mania / Deterge - Lay Waste / Future of Pulse LP (Fusty Cunt, 2018)
Primitive Isolation Tactics
Scream & Writhe distro and Absurd Exposition label
Montreal, QC

Bloated Slutbag

Quote from: Zeno Marx on July 02, 2020, 09:57:16 PM
John Wall - M - 2020 - he's always been a master tactician and sonic surgeon (check Alterstill and Fractuur), but I lost touch with him when he went down paths that interested me less - listened to this twice today; could be that I was just in the mood for this kind of craftsmanship and sound, or anything sounding similar to a chopper blade is certain to pique interest, but whatever it is, this is a great 15 minutes - I'd like to see him collaborate with John Wiese - the way he puts together sound, I'm surprised independent film makers aren't knocking at his door - electro-acoustic, but other than that.

Thanks for this. Missed it completely. I think I'm somewhere in the same boat concerning the more recent output. I keep coming back to check on the progress so to speak and going away a bit cold. The collabs with Mark Durgan primo example of something I keep revisiting to see if the ears have undergone the necessary chemical rearrangements to ensure correct reception. But some of the very recent collabs with Edwards and Sanders (the live sets and the FGBH re-work) sound very good to me...possibly because the use of the more traditional live instrumentation puts them more along the lines of Fractuur & friends. It's unclear but I'd wonder if some of M was sourced from the referred to collab sessions. And wonder too if this could be the catalyst to shoot me down another rabbit hole.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag

Zeno Marx

Éric Cordier - Wars 2020 - first new album since 2013?  went into this with a lot of excitement and enthusiasm - as you'd expect, the fidelity is great, maybe only bettered by the sonics of Dave Phillips (who has at least two new big releases this year?) - a couple of the tracks could have been split because they felt like two very different directions, but maybe the source material was dictating not?  I think I was only disappointed because I was expecting more dynamics and surges.  It didn't frizzle my brain like Houlque, but that's a monstrous order.  They can't all be Reign in Blood.  A relaxing, deep Sunday morning newspaper read.
"the overindulgent machines were their children"
I only buy vinyl, d00ds.


Eric Boros / Dave Phillips 3" CD-R (Scrotum Records, 2003)

EB laughing in stereo. DP gasping for air (and eventually just yelling like crazy) while running samples of pigs squealing at varying pitches over a repeating pulse beat before blasting off at the end.

Hermit / Weird Vision CS (A.O.W.T.D., 1996)

Split between two cult Canadian acts.

Hermit (Eric Boros) side is titled "Vision of Tron" and is what I assume to be music from the Tron soundtrack sprinkled with a bit of noise... *shrugging emoji*

Weird Vision side is long-form HN. It's enjoyable even if nothing special.

Dubbed copy received from another cult Canadian, Francis Gauthier aka Frank Goshit.

Hermit - Pain Machine CD-R (Garbage Society, 1998)

Still on the Hermit kick. Nice little 13-minute effort here. Droning hum, a repetitious tone pattern and metal clang span the duration, with swirling electronics ebbing and flowing and eventually leading to what sounds like a very-sped-up tape of a saxophone, staying just below the surface.

Released on his own Garbage Society label.

Picked this up in my latest order from the Self Abuse distro a few months back. Sadly the cover insert has stuck to the plastic sleeve and can no longer be removed. Fuck PVC sleeves forever.

Due Process - Combine XXIII-XXXV CD-R (2011)

Stumbled upon this while digging through the box of (mostly) CD-Rs with no spines. It's exactly what the promo sheet says: "electro-acoustic musique concrete". The spliced moderate chaos abounds, but on the B-side ("combined" by Thomas Dimuzio) it gradually comes together, culminating in some structured elegance.

Received in a package from RRR when I ordered Jason Lescalleet's The Pilgrim (fire emoji), among other things, circa 2011. Eventually became the 2013 LP on Phage. I may have listened to the LP when I had copies in the distro but I don't think I've ever put this disc in until now.
Primitive Isolation Tactics
Scream & Writhe distro and Absurd Exposition label
Montreal, QC

Soloman Tump

Kjostad - Extinctionist

I have been an avid follower of the Kjostad output since near the creation of the project.  This albums varies a great deal from the rest of his catalogue, and yet retains similar production control.
This time there are definite "track" structures in place.  Rhythms from loops, layers, production and stereo placement.  
With albums such as the mighty Environmental Electronics which was essentially guerilla noise distortion of found sounds and recordings, there seems to be a lot more post processing and contemplation of structure involved here, which I approve of, as it still keeps the harshness of nature vs electronic manipulation that I hold a torch for in my own work.  A real step change forward for the artist in my view.
I should also add that the album is rather concise - 6 tracks and around 37 minutes long.  It hits hard and pushes a lot of my buttons, will probably be an AOTY contender if I ever get around to compiling a list.


Various ‎– Good Alchemy Video DVDr - Alchemy Records 2008 - so I had the brilliant idea a few weeks ago to record all the audio from this DVD and segment it up into separate files for easier listening since I rarely, almost never, watch music DVDs/VHSs. Well it still took me a while to actually listen to it but I have and now I can share my world shattering insights here. On the whole there's a lot of shriek and screech in these recordings. I don't know if they're mixer recordings or just from the video camera used for taping but there are few moments of bass-y noise. Although I guess that's fairly typical for a lot of the artists here. Also, I did actually watch this DVD years ago and I re-watched the Masonna and Solmania videos last week and from a visual perspective it's not always super engaging but there's enough VHS grain, multi-image merging and weird fading to keep you interested. And it's interesting from a historical perspective.

So as for the music, Masonna starts things off with simpler feedback and vocal oriented noise but eventually develops into more spastic, blasting vocal noise assaults. On the whole it has more in common with the earliest Masonna releases rather than the hyper edited assaults of the mid '90s. The video is quite cool too, seeing Maso throwing himself all around for extended periods. Definitely a much longer look than you'd get from post 2005 live sets.
Incapacitants sound like Incapacitants. I haven't watched the video in a while but I'm pretty sure there's some theremin action among many other things. It's squiggly and even obnoxious but still a satisfying listen.

And then mid '90s MERZBOW. How can you go wrong? You can't. Heavy blasting noise, more full sounding than any other recording. Absolutely brutal in parts, especially in what I think is the second set of the combined two. Constantly churning waves of distorted sound pummeling you like savage waters. An easy highlight, if not my favorite of the bunch.

Next up is Solmania in duo form. First off the live video has other video of topless women riding motorcycles fading in and out of it at the beginning and end which is very on brand. Tits and twin guitar noise, yes please. This is when Ohno still had a much uglier double neck guitar. Half guitar, half bass guitar, all sorts of built in effects. Sugahara, as far as I can tell, is playing a regular guitar with a focus on the high ending screech and squall. The screaming feedback never stops, but you get some riffs early on and interesting semi-loops later on. Also some tasty screaming vocals. It's definitely a far cry of from the more measured and immaculate sounding album recordings, but also more clearly guitar abuse. Not the first Solmania recording I'll be reaching for but it's cool to hear/see a different side of what those boys do.

But fuck if Hijokaidan doesn't come in to put a needle fine point on things. Absolutely penetrating mix of spiteful guitar, male and female vocals and broken electronic noise. The more the years go by, the more I can appreciate how uncool and absolutely brutal Hijokaidan are. Despite some great and weird graphic design, their noise offers no redemption. It's not even really joyful like Incapacitants. It's just ear-splitting and relentless. Now I'm re-thinking of MERZBOW is the highlight here after all. Fucking hell.


Bloated Slutbag

See bottom of this post for digest commentary.

Sewer Election – Blizzard Amplification 1xc40 + 5xc30
Every so often, the pure cleansing fury of a good harshhead ritual is demanded. More so I'd imagine when plainly heretical pursuits threaten to malign the internal consistencies keeping the head (the harsh one) screwed on a'right. Here, buffeted by perfect storms of harsh electronics & feedback, the head- harsh and otherwise- has barely space to think let alone channel its förtvivlan in the efterspel of a reverse-engineered piss poor performance. Put away that weepy guitar son, it's time w- incoming


Three hours eight minutes and thirty six seconds of never flagging Sewer ERECTION, six-fold amplifications cumming hard fast gooood, far from impeachable, further still from stoppable, roaring riot through cyclopean jetstreams, torrential electronic blizzards blazing to that cataclysmic Category Six, inundating senses, reaming 'holes, doing damage that, simply, needs to be done. Now that's what I call harsh head ritual.

Perhaps unremarkable for a project this storied and steeped in the craft, it's still I think worth remarking that, and not to oversell the cliché of it but: there really is not a single dull moment. Perhaps a single side's dalliance in not undesirous psychedelic oscilla-bloop, but more in the way of the exception proves the rule. The shit, rules hard. Perhaps too we can read something of this into the initial conception: the self-described improvised flow of each individual side staking a fly-by-the-seat-of-yer-soiled-panties immediacy, the constant, repeated, punchings-through of yet-still-harsher-eruptions absolutely obliterating even the teeniest suggestion of complacency. In the mindsear: locked down in shelter, unholy storms raging outside, left to own devices (and more than a few Elkbrew) and what to do but channel that rage straight to recording device. Later, per the liner notes, the er rage is remixed, but not at the expense of the living, breathing, ritual, moment.

Before completely losing the head in the moment, it may also be worth noting that not a single one of the twelve proferred sides sounds remotely like the next. Well, okay, a given one would at least remotely have to sound like a given other insofar as they are all subject to the same hardhheaded predispositions, above. But there's quite a diversity of aptitudes here achieved, verging far and wide among the blown-out vistas, diving deep into the ear-drilling shriek-holes, plumbing the crunch-depths, scorching the psych-skies, wringing from the harsh head every ritual energy it's worth.

Volume 1, the lone c40
Filterbank Waste Campaign leads off the set with an all-frequencies-maxed mass of dense, blistering, scorch. Redzone Electronics as far as the only thing I'm seeing is red red red, blood red radioactive rains lighting up the sky in dramatic fashion. An early ascent to absolute peak of 'hole-razing seethe and then that first punch-through, fat flatulent bass-heavy ka-bloowy clearly indicative of the improvised immediacy in play. So too with the sudden drop outs, the widening stereo scope, the narrowed singe-burrowing, all of it delivered on the fly, in the moment, but never once restrained in the full-forced thousand-millibar pressures utterly smoking 'hole. About halfway through and the intensity ups, hyper-tensions racing through a deceptively mined field of bleating glint and frizzle. A crash down to earth precipitates explosive lurch for the heavens, tempestuous flurry of furies sufficient to lock the listener, gawping, in place- but of course, in my sad and incurable case, pacing about the room like an utter nutcase, unable to stay at this fucking keyboard for more than three words at a time. So to say, in very short order, I am completely sold. No need for the other five tapes, let alone the B side (the earholes are already completely fucked anyway).

I refuse to speculate on the meaning of Fishnet Psych-Out but it's highly improbable that I haven't been there myself. This one hits via much more straight-laced passions, singular singe-tones burning their clear and whitened piercings straight through skull with single-minded devotion to the principle. The principle, naturally: damage hole. At eight minutes possible concrete sources, arched clack of stilettos or well-disguised voice, attempt to crack the veneer, high-end whittling oscillation assuming a defensive posture. The oscillation breaks away and so too the singe-tones, dropped into a bass-heavy field of choking belch. Dead silence. ScrrreeeEEEEEEEEE. Revenge, sweet painful revenge, burning singing seething...choke belch gurgle, extended hum, like you gonna choose a hole or what? The answer is no, the tension is thick, the passion- slaked.

Volume 2
Razor's Edge is a good title for the sharp, severely pitched concentrations in feedback-driven shriek. A dialog of the raw and the ragged seems to be holding more frenzied incursions at bay, spare jugular-straining rip-throughs ramping up the pressures before heftier curdles collapse the opening in piles of frequency overload. There is air, even hints of daylight in the over-amped chamber, frazzled rumble-balls scaling the inward-curving sides of spiraling screech-walls. Unlike the first tape, the sense of control, or unwillingness to bend, is pervasive, the chipped and stuttered physical exertions wasted in their attempts to divert attention.

Scream Bloody Acid expands on the blueprint sourced on the A-side, upping and dumping a good pile more shit into the outlying extremities. Heavy and steady wins the rage, the first decisive thrust seemingly promising of deviation to come only to fall in line, jacking the throttle to full mast, pouring thick and rich into whitened psych-sheets of puritannical scathe. Some ways through and low-lying underwater thunder bulgings start to disrupt proceedings, reinforced in their efforts by cascading dribblings of smoothly oscillating wave-ripple, presumably the Bloody Acid finally getting in on the action, bleep-heavy bloopery all but ensuring in their pathos a slickly sickening slither through rubbery puddles of jiggly jellied butt-wiggle.

Volume 3
The jiggly jellied butt wiggles reach their zenith in Crystalized Disease Genitalia, like we couldn't see this coming, juicy electrodes sending salacious psychedelic signals across wide-open pools of dribbly oscilla-poop. A concerted effort to generate necessary tensions in the rise and fall of reedy buzz-surge, ever so inexorably drawing on the feeding back hydro powers of an ultimately immersive tidal wooosh. Low-lying underwater thunder bulgings are now back in the mix and with them the unmistakably caustic insinuation of Bloody Acid, never quite to scream but to drown in the sweetly synthetic deluge.

Mass Mass Nerve will certainly get on them, the nerves I mean, in the wake of the Crystalized predecessor. Harsh, in the sense of lazer focused on extracting from the earholes their utmost attentions, choosing in its viciously pointed attack the classic method of searing through the core even as the outlying complexity of interlacing backwash attempts to distract from the fact that 'holes are getting utterly scorched into oblivion. I wouldn't call this terribly violent, more singularly, clinically, focused on ensuring that the remaining three tapes in this set will be played for significantly depleted receptor follicle thingies. At a key interval, the backwash starts to howl into open-aired bleed sirens, snatches of voice or ripped electronics propelling more visceral exchanges among the competing masses of nerve-wracked overtones.

Volume 4
Spirals I and II consume the whole of this tape, which on first hit could be taken as palate-cleansing dive into white-sheeted walls of purtinannical psyche-seethe. Layers of the shit, icy-smooth and impenetrable, caught in the thick of the jetstream, dense squalls obliterating any sense of forward movement even as more nuanced agitations compete at the periphery for attention. In the first Spiral an irregular coruscation of low-end thunder-bulge rolls through the all-consuming mass, the net effect of which is simply to remind the listener that, yes, but nothing is getting through. In Spiral the second, a slight narrowing of scope, occasional glimmers of definition emerging in the convergence of component parts, the metallic abrasiveness countered by low-lying rocket-shrines shredding the ozone, the stench of well-scorched hole heavy in the air. At this point one would expect things to move in a slightly different direction, an expectation gloriously borne out in the next volume of the set.

Volume 5
Trip Melt Flesh could be the most classically harsh head ritual-esque of the bunch, at least in the opening seconds. Here full-flavored clusters of bottom-heavy bilge flatulate through crunched-out rumble-loads, all but guaranteeing the speakers the work-out they so desperately crave. Soon, however,  an exceedingly nasty fit of jaggedly jerking rust-skewer ruptures the dead-center, hacking and slashing at already mangled nerve-endings, significantly upping the harsh stakes. Crunched-out rumble-loads start now to indulge a more rocket-flavored consistency, thundering in indignation, opening up to freshly skinned contusions of raw-textured abrasion, surprisingly well-defined in the cold glaring light, ugly as fuck, and just, well, sick. The brilliance is in the cyclic progression, returning again and again in waves that at every crest signal an ever-greater propensity for face-melting over-violence, the ultimate promise, the commitment to 'hole cleansing ferocity par FIRE.

High Voltage Face Removal is nothing less than more of the same. This time, however, all the multifold layers are peeled back, flayed from the bone, raw exposed nerves agonizing in the dry shrieking sado-bliss. Almost nothing remains in the char-blistered, ripped-to-shit, aftermath, mutilated electronic asphyxiations barely choking through tightly constricted apertures of broken glass and metal filings. A minimalist breakdown, in other words, and one which soon signals a renewed drive for massed overbilge of ratcheted-up cantanker, born in bass-bludgeoned filth-dispensers. Or so I would

dead silence

To the home-stretch, and a tense back-n-forth with grizzled blister-sludge, the un-ironic low-end crud-belchings clambering piling surging over one another in a final red-rimmed cluster-fuck, the shrieking tease, the flushed-through bristle, the face clean scoured off, the bone-dry remnants grinning in char-blackened incandescence.

I'd just like to take this moment to concede that, at this point in space-time, the earholes are, quite frankly, in no condition to faithfully report their findings. They haven't been for a good few sides now. I'm now at that rather disturbing point where everything is harsh. Everything. Even fucking silence. But hey, just one more tape to go. Can't possibly get any worse now can it?

Volume 6
It would be hard not to invoke the Almighty Hasegawa when a title like Cosmic Mirror drops. Definitely on the rocket shrine side of the harsh tip, on that deep and abiding psych insinuation, on that ghostly reverberant mass of strangely, say it, soothing coruscation, sweetly escorting the poor abused 'holes to their promised, cyclopean, armageddon. Look in the mirror motherfucker, see the Hasegawa look right back at you, baleful, unblinking, glassy-eyed, psyched to the fucking gills, the sound of the sea amplified to larger-than-life monoliths of pure, cleansing, fury. Look, I'll admit I've been going a tad diarrhetic even by my own diarrhetic standards, so I hope you'll pardon me while I just...





Cosmic Mirror II and a deepening of the psychedelic bliss, the never-bottoming sub-layers blessed with the increasingly harshed, glistening, wet-mouthed, salivation. This is simply huge, bigly arsed, all-consuming, dense distortions like expansive explosiveness drawn out for eternities of heavenly bilge-headed cataclysms, the Category Six bludgeon-scorch. In the closing moments a tentative attempt to sex things up, or perhaps the ill-sexed bilge-head caught in the drunkenly zippered disregard. That's gotta hurt. Regardless, this is such a perfection of texture and flow, forty-two-odd Elkbrews fueling forty-two-odd rocket shrines hellbent in their pursuit of the ultimate question. How many times must a perv shred hole before he's fucked for life? The answer, my friend, just blow it out your ass. The answer just blow it out your ass.

Digest spew
Now that's what I call harsh head ritual. Three hours and change of never flagging Sewer ERECTION, six-fold amplifications roaring riot through cyclopean jetstreams, torrential electronic blizzards blazing to that cataclysmic Category Six. Through it all, an impressively diverse range of aptitude, verging far and wide among the blown out vistas, diving deep into the ear-drilling shriek-holes, plumbing the crunch-depths, scorching the psych-skies, wringing from the harsh head every ritual energy it's worth. Improvised, he says, improvised and remixed and staking in the constant shift and change of the moment a fly-by-the-seat-of-yer-soiled-panties immediacy, the repeated punchings-through of yet-still-harsher-eruptions absolutely obliterating even the teeniest suggestion of complacency, a palpable, physical, blood-soaked, ritual air, living, breathing, choking, squealing, blood guts shit piss pus cum vomit elkbrews unidentified secretions, unhinged rippage on some Uppeth Ye Harsh shit, squeal boy, fucking squeal, naked sacrifice tied to upsidedown crosses and blood everywhere.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


You sir are truly the king of reviews.
Must hear this new SE asap.


Quote from: SILVUM on July 11, 2020, 03:49:58 AM
CON-DOM - Oh Ye Of Little Faith 7" Tesco
The Madonna sample.

Mais oui!


SLOGUN - ...kill to forget CD
This little bugger is now twenty years old, but it is one I've never listened to for some reason. Probably because I don't really care that much for serial killers and their psychology - I've done the documentary circuit and read a large amount of True Crime shit, but in the end it's either gross or boring to me. Kill to forget, however, is everything but any of those things. The Slogun sound is at its peak here, and fuses with the murderous lyrics and the vocals, which cover most bases from processed whispers to unpleasantly, threatingly whining screams. If you ever find a guy sounding like this standing in front of you, you'd better be armed or have a (well-funded) police officer in your absolute vicinity. The noise is full bodied despite being very non-physical in nature - this is electricity and circuitry, with literally no Finnish man smashing up an oil drum he's stolen from work. Still, it's heavy and shifting between oppressiveness and rabid hysteria. Slogun should really get back to the business of making noise - if he's tired of his old subject matter, this type of sound could support almost any theme except outright silly humor. Apocalyptic Christianity, overly intellectual self-analysis, anything really. Come back to us, Mr. Gun!

SURVIVAL UNIT - Tied down for Survival
I remember an old review of some Survival Unit release, I think it was in an early issue of Degenerate, that said the material was somewhat generic. Well, when looking back at the SU discography these days that statement feels very strange. The sound of Sundsvall's finest is distinct and personal to such an extent that many could probably identify a Survival Unit track without ever having heard it before. I've had the original Tied down for Survival for a very long time, but tonight it's the Autarkeia reissue that's spinning. As most people probably know this is grade A Swedish power electronics. Well constructed, often heavy, very diverse. These slightly later releases don't have the merciless, almost HNW-like qualities of Survival Unit's earliest work, but if that is seen as a loss there are many things to make up for it. Great analog synthesizers, crunchy and fizzing noise assaults, vocals that certainly belong on the top ten in power electronics history, innovative voice samples ("The World According to Rolf Peter Andersson"... The artwork is of course impeccable. If you just buy two Survival Unit releases (though you really should get all Autarkeia reissues, since they are usually dirt cheap) it should probably be this one and the  the No Surrender/One Man's War 7" EP.
"Alkoholi ei ratkaise ongelmia, mutta eipä kyllä vittu maitokaan"

Ahvenanmaalla Puhutaan Suomea


Form Hunter S/T- Masterfully executed contact mic and tape destruction. Sheets of sharp junk metal noise collapsing in on itself. A twisted mess of bare steel. The composition feels very deliberate and painstakingly organized. The album moves like a dying engine thats roars with life only to slowly peter out. This one has been on heavy rotation.



Back again with the results of the past 1 or 2 months of listening and its a long one, so strap in. I've definitely been on a Merzbow kick lately, so the Dadrottenvator LP reissue on Urashima and the Live At 20000V, 30 Sep 1995 LP on Blackbean and Placenta Tape Club (?!?!?) have both received repeat plays, along with the Metalvelodrome 4xCD on Urashima (not pictured). I fucking love Merzbow so much and really appreciate the wide swath of sonic territory the project has covered since it's inception; I can get my rocks off on the crispy clean, razor-sharp abrasive sounds found on Metalvelodrome or Dadrottenvator, or I can fulfill my desire for sweaty, knuckle-dragging American-ish sounding noise like that found on the 20000V live LP (which thankfully features additional "screaming mad voice" from Kosakai) as well as the Metal Mad Man cs (also not pictured). Best noise project overall currently in existence, in my humble opinion.

I've also been having some fun with the noise 7", my favorite format for the genre. Outermost proves to excel with the limitations of the format, the Enema Diarrhoea 7" and split with Praying For Oblivion being excellent examples. The Bustmonsters "Weedhead E.P." is a nice messy blast reminiscent of Hijokaidan, featuring a berserker lineup of Masami Akita, Shohei Iwasaki, Fumio Kosakai, Masahiko Ohno, and Maso Yamasaki...pretty cool to see so many Japanese titans crammed together on one 7". The Richard Ramirez/Autoerotichrist "Birthright" 7" also briefly fulfilled my addiction for nasty Americanoise, especially the Ramirez side from what I recall. The Dachise/David Gilden split 7" was also enjoyed without a doubt.

Glad to have grabbed a copy of the excellent Ahlzagailzehguh "Black Destination" LP reissue courtesy of Breathing Problem, as I've given up on finding a copy of the original Truculent Recordings 2xcs anytime soon. I had a good feeling of what I was going to get; like every Ahlz record/tape/CD I've heard so far, the quality and attention to detail is extremely present. I feel like a lot of heavily dynamic/cut-up noise has cuts and transitions that exist to merely jar the listener, then lose their disorienting power throughout the recording; I feel this is the opposite with Ahlz; every single cut and transition is full of intent and purpose and only adds momentum as the record goes along.

I was excited to get my hands on another release from the 90's Taiwanese label aptly titled "Noise"; this one being the Noisenet #4 compilation featuring tracks from Daniel Menche, Small Cruel Party, and Hyware. It's been a minute since I listened to it so I can't recall exact details, but I remember enjoying it and appreciating the exquisite packaging of the release. After listening to the NBDY/Violence Junkie "814 Gun Club" split on Stoned To Death, I realize it is now time for myself and probably other noise heads as well to start paying attention to more of what's coming out of Czechia. I was very excited about finding more Jacob Winans material after hearing the incredible "Delaware" tape on No Rent Records, a totally fucked and trashed harsh noise tape that at the same time was arranged and produced with a deft hand and attention to detail. A mystery tape that caught my attention was the Sweet Bloody Children "The Last Was The Flood" cs. A nice, kind of freewheeling, 90's noise-feeling venture through raw, blasting industrial noise, much akin to the Abfall recordings I've heard. With only a few entries on Discogs (not including this one), if anyone can enlighten me with more info about this group I would greatly appreciate it. Next up is the Diaphragmatic "No Chance No Choice" cs on Deathbed Tapes, another amazing offering by this US noise treasure. It's the kind of tape that just makes you want to shove your head through the speaker in the hopes that the pounding loops and abrasive noise will finally consume your pathetic physical body. I was very excited to hear a lost treasure from Dada Drumming, a live collaborative release between A Fail Association and Deadly Orifice. It's wild and insane as one might imagine, and apparently was never made available for sale. Finally, I got my hands on a copy of the Macronympha/Government Alpha "Obliteration" CD, unsurprisingly an excellent assortment of mid 90's material from masters residing on opposite sides of the noise world. Ahhh, one last thing not pictured is the David Gilden "Narcotics (Various Noise Works)" 3xcs released on Dead Mind Records/Narcolepsia. As frequently mentioned lately, it's fucking great. Gilden was a master of making unstable, chaotic noise that really sounds like its teetering on the edge of sanity, not surprising considering the lore that surrounds him. The first tape was the most enjoyable for me personally, but the whole set is excellent. Definitely a good amount of recycled material there, but I enjoy what I call the "Macronympha effect"; hearing the same textures, loops, and cuts that appear across a variety of recordings.

Bloated Slutbag

See bottom of this post for digest commentary.

Hal Hutchinson – Steelwork Fabrications
If the sweet sound of steel whanging steel gets yer motor good 'n whanging – and how could it not? - may I heartily recommend Wreckage Installations And Metalworks or Corrupted Scrap or any and all concomitant dedications to damage fielded in the celebrated Factory Of Metal Sound. As for the tape in question, whatever the title might suggest, expect due damages doled at some aesthetic remove from the prior preoccupations. Certainly, in its abrasively attentive steel-on-steel scrapings grindings 'n scourings, no the less industrious, but– with a notably reduced deference to the, er, whang.

For a better clue as to what's in store, check the dedication on the sleeve: to industrial development. Check too the looped industriousness of, um, Industrial Development (Locked Loops). Throw in some aesthetically averse fucked-up-beyond-all-recognition-esque facial-removal techniques, as scoured into the sometimes extended scrapings of Mangraft, and you are just about there. Industrial strength music through and through. Part of this is in the concentrated concatenation of frequencies distorted in the pile-up of metals roughly scraping against metals, exacerbated all the more in the decisive refusal to carefully separate component parts among the full-bodied stereoscopic iterations of the classic Factory Of Metal Sound. In other words, the shit's more raw, more immediate, more filthed in its dis-representation of the materials at hand, and also therefore quite decisively FUBAR'd in the intensely acerbic brutalities of each successive attack, the monochromatic densities converging en masse, convincingly driving an unambiguously HARSH disposition.

The tape kicks off in restrained fashion, heavy duty gears clacking in short-lived spurts, as though hand-cranked in wide-open acoustic space. Soon the proverbial pièce de résistance enters the frame, a genuinely confusing source, or combination of sources, that sounds at times like the dry chafing of steel on steel and at others like the po'd insinuations of badly shredded voice working itself up into quite the purple-faced fervor- and at still others like both, steel and voice, competing with one another for attention. The insinuations- steel, voice, both- grow more pronounced, coming in waves undercut with rumbling, bass-heavy, underbellows. At the amplified peaks, which just keep coming and coming, the results are so distorted and burnt to shit that it's impossible for the ears to reliably report their findings save to say: the shit, is quite unutterably vicious.

At about halfway through, hefty THUD-THUD of methodical, heavy-handed, percussion lends the scene distinctly ritual airs, thundering inexorably toward a climactic critical mass that trades off the harsh for the HEAVY. Suddenly, the whole thundering spectacle breaks away, allowing the clacking gears to dominate an uneasy stillness. And then--


Godsfuckingdamnit. I knew it, I just fucking knew it. Huge hefty-as-fuck slams of reverberant steel-on-steel go luddite on the hiney, bashing the living shit out of the few remaining scraps on hand. A sprinkling of half-hearted attempts to recapitulate the dry chafing voice-cum-scrapings, end.

The flipside starts out much as the first, but in more deliberate and dramatic fashion. Burnt shreds of voice-like chafe mark their re-entry in much reduced capacities, affording more space to breathe, more time to develop, the industrial development of crudely hulking steelworks grotesquery only gradually gaining weight in the decaying echoes of acerbic grind and scour. Meanwhile, the now-familiar clack of heavy duty gears continues to crank through the open-aired assemblage, augmented here with the clearly defined contour of rusted-through grate and iron-clad ker-plunk. Tension thickens to the point where you can just about taste it, bitter tangy textures of rust, of steel, stainless, stainful, acrid ozones heavy on the schnoz, heaving accumulations rich with densely saturated overtones.

Then, inevitably, the whang. More a thunk, really. A percussive thunk-thunk-thunk, to be precise. At this point the sharper leavenings of abrasive scrape duly het up. There's a palpable dis-ease here, a sense of frustrated ill humor on the cusp on boiling over, the thunkthunkthunk accentuating not so much a righteous indignation as agitation, agitating to do due damage and do it good. Against the hefty thunkthunkthunk an even heftier series of full-on BLAM comes smashing down, in its wake secreting genuinely intense slatherings of almost white-washed seethe, whangs well forgotten in the ensuing collapse.

Digest spew:
Factory Of Metal Sound it ain't. I mean, it could be. But there's too much bottled up aggression, too much commitment to raping 'hole, too much say it musical intent. The human element is there, and it is not a happy one. (Or maybe it is, what the fuck do I know?) The point is, the presumed human behind this dedication to industrial development is plainly committed to extracting from the materials at hand a maximal potential for earhole abrasion proper. The point is, the monochromatic densities converging en masse drive an unambiguously FUBAR'd disposition. The point is, whatever the point, the 'holes will burn. Say what you will for your developmental urgencies, industrial strength and otherwise: when steel meets steel, again and again and again, in and among the overtones, shit, unambiguously, happens.
Someone weaker than you should beat you and brag
And take you for a drag


The end of 2018 and beginning of 2019 saw me listening to the first 8 Dissecting Table CDs on a near endless loop. Each album has its own focus and style even if so many of the elements are quite similar. Many of them have remained in fairly regular rotation since. Dead Zone is the best, prove me wrong. If you accept the DT sonic language, you will reap dividends. If you don't it will all sound like trash I suppose. I've peaked only three times into the post 2000 material to listen to the Non-Euclidean Geometry and the splits with Sektor 304. It's the second split with S304 I've come to revisit.

Dissecting Table / Sektor 304 ‎– Utopia / Decay LP Malignant Records 2014 - So it's easy to look back at the comments here and see the lack of excitement over the DT material presented. While on a superficial level DT's side sounds like a retread of the sounds and style that made him great from the beginning, I would argue that the material here is very strong and significantly different than prior work, i.e. worth your time. My first listens to this record in 2014 were my first ever exposure to the project and I was taken aback by the frequently frenetic pace and elements that sounds like '90s bargain horror scores or video game OST. Re-listening now with more DT experience, yeah those are the familiar parts, but there's also a lot of this bizarre funnel-synth digital garble that comes in and out. It's the x-factor and it's fucking great even if I'm making it sound horrible. It's especially effective on Blind Despair And Hope, the final track. The elements themselves sound a bit clearer and less dense and the metal percussion textures have a new level of sharpness. Maybe because it's fresh in my mind but this could really serve as an alternative soundtrack to Rubber's Lover. Is it a totally new and revitalized take on DT, maybe by degrees, but arguably not. But do the new elements and new balance provide a rewarding and novel listening experience, I think so.

As for Sektor 304, well it's almost easy to say this is just another gem in an essentially flawless discography. Four tracks but essentially one piece in four movements. The first movement sets the stage but the second, Vertical Structure Control, delivers pulse pounding live in studio metal percussion, Bladh's nearly gurgled vocals, all the industrial decay you can cram in 4 minutes. Fuck! But then the back and forth sweeps, clatters and claws of part 3 maybe somehow top it? That classic but so effective hard panned double vocals by Bladh, doing separate and off-time narratives ties it all together. it's a crescendo of clatter. how do we end? in an industrial dirge of looping metal rhythm, tasteful guitar and Richard Burton delivering George Orwell's prophetic words. "If you want a vision of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face - forever"

also this LP sleeve looks almost too nice! it's a very smart design that appears to mix photography, illustration and digital illustration for effectively, all done with a glossy finish. Malignant keeps it classy.


Produktion/Club Moral -- Pro-Breendonk (LP, Menstrualrecordings)

Great reissue of a tape from 1984. Side A is mainly crude '80s noise with recordings of various speeches (the first one, in English, sounds like the introduction to the Breendonk concentration camp, the subject of this release, that would've been played to visitors to the site in the early '80s). Towards the end some nice heavy industrial sounds replace the electronic noise. Side B's first half includes vocals from, I assume, DDV of Club Moral, and the effects he uses turn his voice into some of the most bizarre I've ever heard. The way he keeps repeating "Breendonk" sounds like you're listening to someone who's clearly disturbed and should be locked up in a mental institution, and this is only reinforced by the pattern (not quite a rhythm) that appears in the music after a while. Excellent stuff all around. The pressing is flawless, and the LP jacket and the booklet are nicely done too (in keeping with the original tape's xeroxed aesthetics though).

I'm not familiar with Club Moral (or Produktion) otherwise, except for a few tracks I've heard from the To All Who Are Interested... LP. I remember they were very odd, far away from regular industrial/noise. I don't know what I'd think about the album, but a reissue is in the works, hopefully to be released this year, so I'll definitely grab a copy.