Goner Records News

It's been nearly a decade since Montreal's PYPY (pronounced like 'π π'...with a long 'i' rather than long 'e', thank you very much) landed with their debut Pagan Day (Slovenly), but the same lunatics behind CPC Gangbangs, Red Mass and Duchess Says are back with Sacred Times on Goner Records. One might recall the thunderous pop of their banger "She's Gone" carving out a place for itself in the high-end fashion world, becoming the soundtrack to Yves Saint Laurent's 2016 show. If that album bounced, punched and clawed like Delta 5 covered in dirt and trying to get somewhere in a booted vehicle while dodging lightning rod guitar licks the whole way, Sacred Times takes things to somewhere far beyond the proverbial "next level."

Co-vocalist/founder/multi-instrumentalist Annie-Claude Deschênes' (Duchess Says) signature howl and vocal acrobatics are present but so is a tendency towards beautiful melodies. Bassist Philippe Clement's (Duchess Says) brings a nastier bottom end that locks onto Simon Besré's drumming with a death grip for the entire affair. And guitarist/co-vocalist Roy Vucino (Red Mass, CPC Gangbangs, Black Leather Rose, Les Sexareenos, a gazillion others) goes bonkers with wildass blown-out guitar that's like hornets caught in yr hair.

"Lonely Striped Sock" grooves along like "Earthbeat"-era Slits/ESG until the chorus transforms PYPY into something else entirely. Something huge. Something with monster riffs and wah wah that pins you to the back wall. So there is clearly a brilliance with dynamics here, and it proves to be a not-so-secret-weapon that repays the "ear-vestment" in dividends throughout. "Ear-vestment"? Yikes. Then it's time for "She's Back," a sort of part 2/continuation (maybe a trilogy is in the works?) of Pagan Day's best-known gem (the aforementioned "She's Gone"). This one packs a hook that'll make your brain take out a restraining order. Looking for lost keys? Jury duty? Underwater welding? Negotiating a hostage situation? It doesn't matter...nothing will stop it from invading your thoughts. They say the only way to get a song unstuck from the noodle is to listen to it from start to finish, but you'll be doing that anyway. A lot. "Erase" is a (synth) noise-punk nugget; revealing a need for Brainiac-meets-Blondie we didn't know we had...deceptively kicking off with a no-fi drum machine that is immediately lost in the massive pop din that seemingly includes everything within reach. "Poodle Escape" is two minutes of perfect (and perfectly distorted) synth-punk and "I Am A Simulation" – with lead vox from Vucino – is yet another hit that deviates from the noise a bit and pays homage to both Devo and classic late-70's (big) power-pop (ex: the first Cars LP), but with a manic nature that is 150% circa right now. "15 Sec" (actually 3:38 in duration, thankfully) serves up a stanky-brown bass line, Deschênes' gorgeous vocals, wonderfully combative white hot, pin-the-meters Oh Sees/early Comets on Fire guitar rips, and a stunning coda that seems to utilize everything great about this band over its final minute. The album's title track is a love letter to Hawkwind in the musical language already established here. "Vanishing Blinds" is like being chased through the rain-soaked streets in an unknown dystopian nightmare from 40+ years ago. The album closes with the brooding if not playful menace of "Poodle Escape,” which, like its predecessors, is completely unlike every track before it.

Reissue of late-’80s release by lovably manly Australian punk rock trio! Sometime in the winter of 1989-90, I wandered into New York City’s Midnight Records, a store famous for its deep catalog of ’60s garage and psychedelic music, as well as a strong selection of classic punk rock and a cantankerous French owner with ridiculous hair. On this visit, instead of hearing a puny French bootleg of The Standells or the Seeds, as I opened the door I was enveloped in the massive opening chords to the first song on the Cosmic Psychos’ then-new album Go the Hack. “She’s a lost cause / She’s a lost, lost cause!” blasted into the air at maximum volume. In a perfect cinematic moment, the drums announced my entry, the bass dictated my walk, the air became thick with guitar fuzz and wah-wah, and snarled vocals described perfectly a girl’s descent into a cause which was lost. Instead of record shopping, I felt like I’d stepped into a biker movie and was motoring down a long, straight Outback road on a Harley. This was my introduction to the Cosmic Psychos, and I was hooked. I loved that a band could be so powerful, sound so big and unapologetically simple, and incorporate so much of what I loved about music—well, basically the attitudes and sounds of The Stooges and Ramones: setting up songs with a good title or idea, matching it with a massive riff, then running it out with squeals of wah-wah and manly disregard for cleverness or adornment. And they called themselves the Cosmic Psychos! They obviously had no regard for “makin’ it” in those days, when an alternative rock band at least had a chance to sell some records. I was an instant fan. Earlier records proved to be the same formula with even less refinement, and that was definitely a good thing. These were lovably manly Aussies singing about what they knew best: farm equipment, lusting after Elle Macpherson, wishing they were in Van Halen (for the ladies), drinking at the pub, and even more drinking at the pub. Trivia question: In what indie rock song does the lead singer bellow “I love my tractor!”? Answer: None! No scarves or looking like Stevie Nicks straight out of the hairstylist’s for these fellows. They were the real deal before the deal was dealt. And they couldn’t care less. The Psychos enjoyed a long run through the ’80s and ’90s on such Australian labels as What Goes On, Mr Spaceman, Survival and Rattlesnake, as well as American stalwarts Sub Pop and Amphetamine Reptile. Many bands from that era no longer seem vital today, lost in a murk of crisp drums, loud guitars, flannel shirts and shallow aspirations. These first Cosmic Psychos releases are as timeless and necessary as ever—still a bullshit bulldozer, a blurry loud night at the bar, a rollicking time hanging with the guys. The time has come for a new generation to be uplifted by these initial blasts from the Cosmic Psychos. Goner is proud to partner with Melbourne’s esteemed Aarght! Records to bring these platters of primal perfection back into a world that definitely needs them. — Eric Friedl, Oblivians / Goner Records 40th Anniversary tour about to hit UK / EU! Go the Hack!! Essential!!

Unique blend of rockabilly, R&B, and garage rock from deranged spirit of psychobilly madness

Following the highly acclaimed album Dream Violence
(2021) and the recent LP re-issue of his modern underground
classic Gravity/ Repulsion, Michael Beach has announced
a new self-titled 12-inch EP, to be released via Goner and
Poison City Records.
Recorded during the winter of 2021, the new record is
made up of both 8-track tape and full studio recordings,
interspersed with experimental, moody interludes, and
features Beach’s Australian bandmates Bonnie Mercer
(guitar), Peter Warden (drums) and Carla Oliver (bass)
throughout. The EP’s stunning closer “Only A Memory”
is a collaboration with Lloyd Swanton of renowned
Australian minimalist trio The Necks, recorded in NSW’s
Blue Mountains.
“Out In A Burning Alley,” the EP’s lead single, combines
Beach’s soulful abstracted lyrics over two minutes and fifty
eight seconds of blazing garage-rock, where the sounds
of the Melbourne and Oakland / Bay Area underground
collide.
In support of the upcoming EP and recent Dream
Violence album, Beach will be returning to tour the US in
September/ October, headlining dates on the East and West
coast and performing at the iconic Gonerfest in Memphis,
TN. The touring outfit will also feature Beach’s long time
collaborator Utrillo Kushner (Comets On Fire / Personal
and The Pizzas) on drums.

Burying '60s sing-alongs and dance crazes beneath waves of reverb and giddy thud, Ty Segall has carved out his own shelf in the San Francisco neo-psych garage alongside local compatriots and collaborators Sic Alps and Thee Oh Sees. After shattering the Bay Area underground as a frantic one-man band that was devoured by the local press, Segall has now given up the solo act for a three-piece group that destroys sonic and melodic boundaries with manic glee. This new live setup is a better reflection of his studio work. As an exploration of the space between Cro-Magnon fuzz and atmospheric acoustic psych, Lemons is the natural next step after his celebrated self-titled 2008 debut on Castle Face.

By way of some cosmic miracle, only one Total Hell pops up
when the band moniker is searched on Discogs. And that would
be the band responsible for the five-song blast of heavy metal
sounds at hand. Now active for about two years plus change
and exported from the very metal and punk fertile New Orleans,
Total Hell is DD Deth (aka Drew Owen—Sick Thoughts
wheelman, Trampoline Team etc) on drums / vocals, Henry
Hell (John Henry of Static Static, Heavy Lids) on bass / vocals,
and guitarists Jason “Panzer” Craft (Persuaders, Tirefire) and
Michael Maniac (Michael He-man of Trampoline Team).
If self-deprecation is beyond the listener’s processing skills,
then please know that as self-described purveyors of the “New
Wave of Shitty Heavy Metal”, Total Hell’s big-boy debut is
not “shitty” in any manner whatsoever. These four recordings
(“Desecrate”, “Clones From Hell”, “Violator”, and “Disfigured”)
are melodic monstrosities that hit with a wall-to-wall, floorto-
ceiling hugeness, while doing so in an economical manner.
There will be no mistaking this for Broken Bones screeching out
of an iPhone inside the vegan squat. On the flip, this is no Bob
Rock joint. DD Deth elaborates: “Recorded on a Tascam 8-track
cassette live at home (aka “The Parkway”) by Michael He-Man
and the process was a nightmare. Original tape crapped out on us
back in early 2020 so we had to redo the whole thing. Intros and
interludes were done last minute by me with the cheapest midi
keyboard on the net.” Well, color Goner Records impressed.
One might get momentarily lost in the cavernous drums that
introduce opener “Desecrate”, but soon the buzzsaw-riff-wall
will crush one into a smudge on the bathroom floor. Without
rocking some safety goggles and diving headfirst down a
terminology rabbithole, this is punk jumping into the sack
with metal and leaving black boots on the bedroom floor rather
than white hightops. Xmas came early for fans of Anti-Cimex,
Celtic Frost, pre-shit Discharge, Motörhead, Blitz, Midnight,
Venom, Broken Bones and...one gets the picture.

After the demise of the Ooga Boogas in the Before Time,
the four band members went their very separate ways. Being
in that band was such an intense high pressure experience,
some chillax time was well-deserved.
Leon Stackpole aka Stacky recorded under the name
Leon, Per Byström joined Voice Imitator, Mikey Young
recorded with The Green Child and Richard Stanley
played in Drug Sweat. All quite deserving projects, but it
was Stackpole’s solo outing that garnered the most interest
from public and industry alike. The demand for live shows
led him to recruit Byström from Ooga Boogas and a guy
named Brad into his touring lineup.
The trio was red hot, but inevitably the venues they
filled required a fuller sound so Stackpole recruited Young
as well on second guitar. The gruelling touring schedule
became too much for family-man Brad, so Stanley jumped
in to fill his size 11s and off they went for another lap of
regional Victoria.
Eventually the question presented itself to this freshlyminted
foursome: should they continue as Stackpole’s
backing band or strike out anew with a fresh identity? The
answer came in a moniker too electrifying to resist; a name
as clever, enigmatic and indeed, as powerful as the band
itself: Power Supply.
Back in the shed, jams became songs, jokes became
lyrics and long afternoons spent together became this record—
listen though, and one will hear life through the lens
of Stackpole and the tactile tentacles of his pals. In The
Time Of The Sabre-toothed Tiger contains ten songs that
listen so easy, one will barely notice when they’re gone.

On Now Where Were We, The Exbats hit the ground running like
a dystopian garage rock version of the Shangri-Las, or like
a message to the future from the pre-Velvet Underground doowop
wannabe Lou Reed. The album rings bright, like a beacon
in the wilderness: eminently, effortlessly catchy, and loaded
with buoyant choruses that rank alongside the best chart-toppers
launched by the Brill Building or Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound.
Kenny McClain and his daughter, vocalist and drummer
Inez McClain, formed the nucleus of the Exbats over a decade
ago, when Inez was just 10 years old; today, Bobby Carlson
rounds out the group on bass. Despite their remote location in
Bisbee, Arizona, just eleven miles north of the U.S.-Mexican
border, the group quickly racked up accolades citing a wealth of
influences that run from cartoon quintet the Archies to punk rock
originators the Avengers, and from the so-sweet-it-hurts 1910
Fruitgum Company to Los Angeles antiheroes the Weirdos.
Truthfully, The Exbats embrace a wider swath of musical styles,
incorporating blue-eyed soul, tongue-in-cheek country, Brit
pop, psych, and R&B into their sound.
The McClains describe this album as “more ambitious” than
its predecessors. They tooled ninety minutes northeast to Tucson
to record, per usual, with Matt Rendon at Midtown Island Studios.
Months later, the Exbats emerged with an album imbued
with harmoniously cautious optimism—the musical equivalent
but psychological antithesis to the Brian Wilson-Tony Asher
masterpiece “I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times.” While Wilson
was looking for “a place to fit in,” The Exbats have found
sanctuary via the brilliant “Ghost In The Record Store,” which
is “for all of us who need the joy of a little bit of plastic making
lots of noise.” Like the best records to croon along with, Now
Where Were We is captivatingly simple, yet hardly simplistic.
The Exbats are singing from their hearts—and they aren’t afraid
to bare their souls.

With Bending the Golden Hour, the third album from Memphis, Tennessee’s Aquarian Blood, husband and wife team J.B. Horrell (Ex-Cult) and Laurel Horrell (formerly of the Nots) continue the gorgeously stripped-down and atmospheric direction set on their critically acclaimed previous effort A Love That Leads to War.

While Aquarian Blood has roots as a chaotic punk rock six-piece, the band shifted gears after two raucous cassette-only releases on ZAP Cassettes, a pair of seven-inches, and 2017’s Last Nite in Paradise, released on Goner Records. After drummer Bill Curry broke his arm, the Horrells redefined

Aquarian Blood, reemerging in early 2018 as the more intimate, mostly acoustic balladeers behind the staccato, fever dream sound of A Love That Leads to War. Like its immediate predecessor, Bending the Golden Hour was recorded at the Horrell's Midtown Memphis home. The band turned over 43 tracks to Goner co-owner Zac Ives, who handpicked 17 songs for the album.

The final result is shimmering and hopeful; as beautiful and sparse as a Rockwell Kent snowscape. Bending the Golden Hour begins ominously with “Channeling,” which sounds like an outtake from Paul Giovanni’s soundtrack to 1973’s pagan nightmare The Wicker Man. Then the band upshifts for “Time in the Rain,” a sweet duet set to a rigid snare beat. From there, Aquarian Blood zigs to country and zags to psychedelic folk, brooding on one song and soothing listeners with the next. And while the music, feel, and experience is different, Aquarian Blood naturally brings to mind some legendary musical partnerships: Richard and Linda Thompson, Lee Hazlewood and Nancy Sinatra, Johnny and June Carter Cash, Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris; not to mention similarly-bent-but-beautiful luminaries like Roy Harper, Pentangle circa 1967 -1973, and Jackson C. Frank.

There’s a big middle ground, like folk-psych, or weirder country music,” he says, reeling off names like Skip Spence and Syd Barrett as stepping stones between the genres of punk and folk.

Inspirations for Bending the Golden Hour come from myriad sources that document the milestones and minutiae in a family’s full life. Some lyrics name a time or a place; others reflect the fleeting moments that elapse unnoticed. “Come Home,” which is sung by J.B. and his daughter Ava, was written the day Ava got her driver’s license. “Ava took the car out by herself afterwards, and I wrote the song immediately—she sang her part when she got home that evening,” J.B. recalls. Whether or not the listener knows the backstory, the song rings sentimental, with subtle, supportive instrumentation that underscores guitar and vocals. The bewitching “Rope and Hair,” on the other hand, is less sketched out, with lyrics that are simply a recitation of the talismen found on a silver sabertooth charm that J.B. purchased for Laurel at a Latin strip mall in southeast Memphis. That’s all to be said. “Sometimes when you know too much about what the song is about, it takes away the magic,” says J.B. “Alabama Daughter,” says Laurel, is about a place where a childhood friend lived called Castleberry Holler. “It was really rural, just a lot of shacks without electricity—the kind of place you didn’t go to unless you were invited,” she says. “Probable Gods” is a hazy reflection on the struggle of such a strange year. “It’s been very cathartic to put all of this into words and not have it live

Dream Violence, Michael Beach’s fourth full-length, is an epic album that explores the duality of the human condition. Or, as Beach himself puts it, the album is about “human futility, passion, desire, anger, frustration, and the struggle to maintain hope in a somewhat hopeless time.” Dream Violence, then, addresses the existential crisis of being an artist in 2020.

Known for his work touring with the Australian guitar pop band Thigh Master and the late, brilliantly eccentric Israeli guitarist Charlie Megira, currently the focus of a number of reissues by the Numero Group, Beach is the architect of a sound that is both well-built and ramshackle, straightforward and indeterminably complex, out of the norm yet familiar in all the best ways.

Dream Violence unfolds like a revelation, filled with sonic tumbleweeds that reference Neil Young’s On the Beach, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska, the Velvet Underground’s Loaded, and the Go Betweens’ Before Hollywood. Influences ranging from the enigmatic outlier Megira to Glenn Branca to the Oblivians are combined to create a new, exhilarating sound, part of the path that Beach has been on since 2008’s Blood Courses. A veteran of year-end indie rock round ups beginning with Golden Theft in 2013 and continuing with Gravity/Repulsion, released in 2017, Beach distills the best of those early albums and adds sharpened intent.

Dream Violence works beautifully as a start-to-finish album. There are magnificent stand-alone moments: “Spring,” a raggedly building ballad that perfectly captures the ennui attached to new beginnings; “De Facto Blues,” a born-to-lose anthem that, says Beach, “is the sound of people totally at their wits end;” “Curtain of Night,” a simultaneously derelict and bright tribute to the late Megira, which sounds like it could’ve been cut at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio after the Rolling Stones wrapped up sessions for Sticky Fingers; and the delicately vulnerable “You Found Me Out,” which evokes equal parts Lou Reed and Joni Mitchell. On the latter, the lyrics “You found me out, on a ship at sea, you pulled me in, made a wreck of me,” encapsulate “the aimless of a modern world view in a future without hope and the draw/dependence of love in those times,” Beach explains.

Through music, Beach strives to convey both passion and compassion, energy and action. “My hope is that something gets communicated that makes people think outside of themselves or their surroundings,” he says. “To ask questions, and consider the effects of their decisions. To communicate some essential part of the human spirit that understands intuitively how to feel connected to each other rather than divide, exploit, separate, ignore, and all the other heinous shit we have the ability to do with each other.”

Recorded on two continents, Dream Violence documents Beach’s move from Oakland, California to Melbourne, Australia as he navigated a new music scene, plenty of bureaucratic red tape, and, ultimately, citizenship. Parts of the album were recorded and mixed at Tiny Telephone Recording in Oakland, at the end of a 2019 tour with Kelley Stoltz producing. Other tracks were recorded at Beach’s new home in Melbourne, where he could be “relaxed and sloppy in all the right ways,” and partially remixed at Phaedra Studios.

At the Memphis-based Goner label, Beach joins an increasingly unique roster of international musicians that reaches far beyond garage or indie rock to encompass artists like gospel singer Rev. John Wilkins, Kentucky rockers Archaeas, New Orleans iconoclasts Quintron and Miss Pussycat, and no-wavers Optic Sink.

Trouble, the aptly named new album on Goner Records, is a confident and joy-filled statement delivering the good-news gospel message unapologetically through music influenced by Ray Charles, Junior Kimbrough, Bill Withers and of course, his father.

Recorded at legendary Royal Studios in Memphis by Lawrence “Boo” Mitchell (Al Green, Solomon Burke, John Mayer, Buddy Guy, Mark Ronson & Bruno Mars, North Mississippi Allstars), Trouble is the culmination of everything in Rev. Wilkins’s remarkable life, his regional history, his family music history. And in a world once again riven with discord and division, like the Memphis of Wilkins’ youth in the 1960’s, Trouble delivers passionate and confident musical performances with a message of hope that meets our present moment equal to the best music from that earlier era.

To call the Reverend John Wilkins a national treasure would not be an overstatement. He is the son of pre-war blues/folk-revival legend Reverend Robert Wilkins and he leads one of the most exciting and uplifting musical acts on the blues and gospel circuit today. His multiracial, multi-generational band blends soul, southern gospel and hill country rhythm, into a sound that has the infectious drive of hill country blues with the emotional heights of a summer tent revival.

Following in the footsteps of his famous father Rev. Robert Wilkins, a blues-singer turned preacher who went from the juke joint to the pulpit, the life of Rev. John Wilkins took a similar path, echoing the story of the elder Wilkins’ most famous song, “Prodigal Son.”

But in 2020 John Wilkins’ life has been closer to a different iconic bible character, Lazarus, as he has miraculously risen after surviving a month-long stay in intensive care battling Covid19 in a Memphis hospital. As Rev. Wilkins sings on the closing track of his forthcoming album, “I’ve come through the storm and rain, I’ve come through the storm and rain, and I made it!”

Trouble, the aptly named new album on Goner Records, is a confident and joy-filled statement delivering the good-news gospel message unapologetically through music influenced by Ray Charles, Junior Kimbrough, Bill Withers and of course, his father.

Recorded at legendary Royal Studios in Memphis by Lawrence “Boo” Mitchell (Al Green, Solomon Burke, John Mayer, Buddy Guy, Mark Ronson & Bruno Mars, North Mississippi Allstars), Trouble is the culmination of everything in Rev. Wilkins’s remarkable life, his regional history, his family music history. And in a world once again riven with discord and division, like the Memphis of Wilkins’ youth in the 1960’s, Trouble delivers passionate and confident musical performances with a message of hope that meets our present moment equal to the best music from that earlier era.

To call the Reverend John Wilkins a national treasure would not be an overstatement.  He is the son of pre-war blues/folk-revival legend Reverend Robert Wilkins and he leads one of the most exciting and uplifting musical acts on the blues and gospel circuit today. His multiracial, multi-generational band blends soul, southern gospel and hill country rhythm, into a sound that has the infectious drive of hill country blues with the emotional heights of a summer tent revival.

Following in the footsteps of his famous father Rev. Robert Wilkins, a blues-singer turned preacher who went from the juke joint to the pulpit, the life of Rev. John Wilkins took a similar path, echoing the story of the elder Wilkins’ most famous song, “Prodigal Son.”

But in 2020 John Wilkins’ life has been closer to a different iconic bible character, Lazarus, as he has miraculously risen after surviving a month-long stay in intensive care battling Covid19 in a Memphis hospital. As Rev. Wilkins sings on the closing track of his forthcoming album, “I’ve come through the storm and rain, I’ve come through the storm and rain, and I made it!”

And there is much to celebrate with this resurrection.