Suche:shudder to think

A band with many chapters and an everchanging sound, Shudder To Think’s story began in 1986 in Glover Park, Washington DC. Bass player Stuart Hill and drummer Mike Russell had just recruited Chris Matthews to play guitar in their fledgling hardcore band Stüge (1984-86) when they suddenly found themselves in need of a new singer as well. Matthews suggested his friend Craig Wedren for the role. At the audition, Wedren’s style clashed with the style of the band’s previous singer, but the group all sensed that they might have stumbled into a “chocolate-inmy-peanut-butter” situation with intriguing potential. The group changed their name and headed into new territory. Side A of this LP is comprised of five songs from one of their first recording sessions together. The tracks chosen are songs that were only released on demo tapes, never to be re-recorded for future proper releases (this version of “Too Little, Too Late” did appear on the local punk compilation FR-5 in 1987). Side B consists of four tracks that were originally released as their first 7-inch release, the It Was Arson EP, a split release by Sammich/Dischord Records. Included at the end of side B is a version of “Take The Child” from this session (later re-recorded for their first album in 1988).

In this post Sounds world, the boundaries of Post Punk have not only broadened but splintered. And over the course of (now) four releases, Index For Working Musik have seen to using the sprawling boundaries to great effect, flexing a polyglot of styles to convey the language of the moment. On Which Direction Goes The Beam, the murky, distant ambience that was 2023's Indexé has been fleshed out, incorporating everything from the Brian Aldiss laced, ground lightning shudder of Dome, to the chamber-like arrangements of This Kind Of Punishment. There's even a candle flickering in the window for Think Fellers Union Local 282 that warmed these ears. And if you're a fan of the great Dutch band, Trespassers W (who isn't?), the collective consciousness IFWM enunciates on here is a similar testament of a band growing more sure footed in the pursuit of not only knowing all the ways in, but carving a few of their own on the way out. And it's discerning releases like Which Direction Goes The Beam that keep us in the hunt. Long may they forge. - Tom Lax. RIYL: Brian Jonestown Massacre, Velvet Underground, TOY, John Cale, Wire, Dome

In this post Sounds world, the boundaries of Post Punk have not only broadened but splintered. And over the course of (now) four releases, Index For Working Musik have seen to using the sprawling boundaries to great effect, flexing a polyglot of styles to convey the language of the moment. On Which Direction Goes The Beam, the murky, distant ambience that was 2023's Indexé has been fleshed out, incorporating everything from the Brian Aldiss laced, ground lightning shudder of Dome, to the chamber-like arrangements of This Kind Of Punishment. There's even a candle flickering in the window for Think Fellers Union Local 282 that warmed these ears. And if you're a fan of the great Dutch band, Trespassers W (who isn't?), the collective consciousness IFWM enunciates on here is a similar testament of a band growing more sure footed in the pursuit of not only knowing all the ways in, but carving a few of their own on the way out. And it's discerning releases like Which Direction Goes The Beam that keep us in the hunt. Long may they forge. - Tom Lax. RIYL: Brian Jonestown Massacre, Velvet Underground, TOY, John Cale, Wire, Dome

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
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I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

AICHER is the work of longtime label veteran Liam Andrews (My Disco, EROS), with additional production from his My Disco spar Rohan Rebeiro – an experimental percussionist and erstwhile collaborator of Roland S. Howard and HTRK. Together, they make resoundingly coarse, bullish industrial musick, distilling fascinations with tone and space through eight gristly and darkly sublime cuts, sharpened by production from Boris Wilsdorf of Einstürzende Neubauten and Swans fame.

Through eight cuts, »Defensive Acoustics« reveals a clammy touch of reverberant buzz and below-the-belt shudder, with a creeping, sensual signature of authority that strongly recalls Alan Wilder’s Blasphemous Rumours-era sound design for Depeche Mode, stripped to absolute skeletal fire. Tectonic plates of sound are pushed to an extreme biting point in a sort of structural stress test that feels like an oil rig in action—or perhaps more acutely, junked at harbour.

We go from the lurching buckle of »Ascertain« and the bilious atonality of »Harness Pleads« to the vertiginous scale of the title piece and the brutal momentum of »An Exhausted Image«—almost collapsing under its own bass weight—while the pranging girders of »Constriction« make us think of that 101 version of »Stripped«: propulsive, full of primal energy, and clanging, clipped reverb. »Possessions« ends the album with a passage of bleakly romantic ambience, a judicious emotive counterweight to the preceding gnarl.

**ON LTD SPLATTER VINYL** First time available on vinyl! With bonus tracks and unreleased material! The Sultans formed in 2000 and were John Reis / Slasher and Tony DiPrima and at times also Andy Stamets / Black Flame (Rocket From The Crypt’s ND) and Dean Reis / Black Velvet (Mannequin Piss, Spider Fever, The Heartaches, Los Dug Dugs). Shipwrecked was the bands second album and was released only on CD in 2004.

It was hailed as a “power-pop meets ’70s punk classic” by Virtual Underground Press and “…a masterpiece of the form...essential” by the Cleveland Call And Post. This reissue is a labor of lust with maximum attention to detail in resurrecting these masters from their deteriorated, analog state. The result is a louder, thicker and even more bristling slab of triumphant rock ’n’ roll. Everything on this reissue cuts deeper and breaks the digital glass into razor sharp shards and then shits on the 1s and 0s. Treble Magazine says. “It is the perfect soundtrack to your post-breakup life: fourteen songs about heartache, shame, trying to move on, regrets and just plain old hate. (And by the by, hate has never sounded as good as this)”. Added to the original are four bonus tracks, one being a cover of The Dils “Blow Up” and another the never released “Out Of Focus”. Shipwrecked was the last record at Drag Racist (Hot Snakes, RFTC, etc) before it shuddered its doors for good.

This compilation record, originally released in 1989, includes songs by Scream, Ignition, Shudder To Think, Soulside, Shudder To Think, Fugazi, and more.

Proceeds from the sales of this album go to We Are Family.

Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time is a portal into somatic chiaroscuro, aglow with the embers of imperfect memories and smudged with the plumes of internal echoes, which augment in vast, mercurial dimensions. For his third album on RVNG Intl., the British cellist, composer and producer offers a capsule of personal resonance and remembrance, assembled over the past six years. Throb, shiver, arrow of time traces the familiar metallic anatomy and viscous string modulations of his 2020 release skins n slime, while recentering his inner compulsions following a procession of lauded score writing projects, including the films Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022), The Stranger (Thomas M Wright, 2022) and Occupied City (Steve McQueen, 2023). While working on Aftersun, Wells asked Coates how music could signal that someone is going on a trawl through their memory_a question that has stayed with him ever since and fosters a heartbeat running through the record. Throb, shiver, arrow of time is "all about inaccurate transmissions from our memories, overlaid with emotions from other sources," says Coates. The release is imbued with the ache and glow of recollections mulched together, where the guttural dissonance of misremembering is shrouded by strange orbs of sentiment. At the record's inner core is "Shopping centre curfew," a swift yet cavernous track that emerged five years ago when two real world events, both occurring in South London during the pandemic lockdowns, became fused in a dream: the demolition of Elephant and Castle shopping center, and the discussion of a curfew as a real possibility for all men following a violent crime. A strange simultaneity occurred with this piece of music and Coates built the album out from there, a sense of temporal entropy refracting shimmers of lurking convulsions into lucid sonic topologies. The ten compositions of Throb, shiver, arrow of time find weightless melodies soaring across after-image gradients, magnified and compressed. Misted tones within "Please be normal" and "90" soften drone-soaked shudders of inner acoustics messing up. Vocal invocations appear from long-term collaborators Malibu and chrysanthemum bear, as well as drifting synth radiance from Faten Kanaan. Throb, shiver, arrow of time furthers Coates' reach in collapsing the digital into the analogue and vice versa, allowing serendipity to reorganize the material and push out against the confines of flatness. This sculptural approach to sound is deeply influenced by the intricate installations of artist Sarah Sze, whose permutations of visual matter with its own after-image form kaleidoscopic epitaphs for ephemera and emotion. Coates' thinking about Sze's work and processes flowed together with his own playing and editing techniques, superimposing the textural relief of a live take back into a composition, and allowing the sound to succumb to a dream of itself. As Coates expands, "The cello is a kind of melancholic instrument with a light ethereal spirit. When the sound is flattened into digital processes, with shifted frequencies and time stretching I'm trying to give it even more of those qualities. Sometimes I'm distancing myself from it, so it becomes a piece of discarded debris that has soul in it, a down-sampling. Or other times, it's trying to maximize the present tense in the act of playing, and collapse that vivid color into a burnished, photocopied kind of sound. So the music acts like weather, weathering the listener, or as flames licking at the sides of objects." As the record unfurls, the compositions swell in duration, until the granular glimmers of its finale "Make it happen" persist in almost violent delight. "There's a feeling of not wanting to let this album go, trying to defy the extinguishing sound at the end of the music, trying to push the colors beyond the confines of the structure, to defeat the silence." In the scramble to resist denouement, Coates suspends the arrow of time in its eternal flight, just for a moment, to reveal the solace of the dust settling in the afterglow. Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time will be released on vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on October 18, 2024. On behalf of Oliver and RVNG Intl., a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit The Traditional Music and Song Association of Scotland, an organization fostering opportunities for people of all ages to participate in the traditional music and culture of Scotland.

The long awaited follow up to Osaka's Hibushibire 'Freak Out Orgasm!' debut album from 2017 is almost upon us ...
 
Who are Hibushibire ?
 
821 (Hani) on bass
Ryu Matsumoto on drums
Changchang on guitar and vocals
 
It would be fair to say Hibushibire’s 2017 debut album ‘Freak Out Orgasm!’ went down well with fans of psych-rock (call it what you will). So far it’s had three vinyl pressings, two cassette pressings and a CD run back in Japan. It garnered quite a few influential underground (if not mainstream) reviews and seemed to sell through on word of mouth alone - which in these times seems to be the way things are going: thriving social media groups sharing their love of recent purchases and fellow vinyl lovers going out and scooping them up without the need to buy a magazine or read an online review to make their mind up. My favourite review of ‘Freak Out Orgasm!’ came from UK based music blog Dayz Of Purple And Orange as I think he nailed it perfectly...
 
“Fuck me! I think I've died and gone to psychedelic heaven! If anyone had asked me what I would really want from a freak out, heavy-as-fuck psych band I would have to say I would want the sheer guitar pyrotechnics of Acid Mothers Temple, the hard-as-nails scuzziness of The Heads, the lead heaviness of a fucked-up Blue Cheer and the instrumental dexterity of Hendrix on speed. Guess what, that band exists and they are called HIBUSHIBIRE!"
 
That, to me, said it all. Nail hit hard.
 
But let's get onto 'Turn On, Tune In, Freak Out!'
 
Once again the album is produced by Makoto Kawabata (Acid Mothers Temple, Mainliner) and for me it's the next logical step in the bands sonic development. As with its predecessor, side one consists of three tracks, "Ecstasy Highwaystar / Blow! Blow! Blow! / Overdose, Pussycat! More! More!", (they do like an exclamation mark). Some of these titles will be familiar if you've followed the band's live shows in recent times, and it's pretty much a guitar to the front, full gonzo-style hard-rocking psychedelic freak out from the first blast of Changchang's guitar panning from left to right before the main riff kicks it all off.
 
Again, as with their debut, side two comprises of just one epic length track. 'Rollercoaster Of The Universe' clocks in at seventeen minutes and is, in my humble opinion, the sound of the band moving onto the next level during its journey. It's a shudderingly beautiful piece, with many hypnotic twists and turns. I can't wait to hear how they play this live.
 
The band did initially attempt to produce this album by themselves, but got 'brain fever' in the studio and called their old friend Makoto to come down and help them finish it off. As he had no preparation in advance, he knew nothing about how the recording was going in the studio, and moreover there was little time left for adjustments to be made. But his technique of mixing was, as always, both mighty and almost destructive.

180g schwarzes Vinyl. EXTRACT. TRANSFORM. DEBASE. ..ist das fünfte Album von The Antikaroshi und es benötigte 5 Jahre um das Licht der Welt zu erblicken. Thematisch beschreibt es den Kreislauf unserer derzeitigen Gesellschaft, der vor allem auf Geschwindigkeit setzt und somit Oberflächlichkeit generiert. Eine Metapher, in der letztendlich nur noch Überschriften zählen, die man im Vorbeirauschen wahrnimmt. Dabei liefern The Antikaroshi ein Album ab, das vor allem Dinge in Frage stellt, das sich mit der eigenen Rolle spielerisch ebenso auseinandersetzt wie mit konkreten Dissonanzen unserer Gesellschaft wie Autoritätshörigkeit und Machismo. Musikalische Konfliktverarbeitung. War ihr Sound in den Anfangstagen noch sehr in der Nähe von Bands wie Fugazi, Faraquet oder Shudder To Think - den Protagonisten des DC Undergrounds zu verorten- so hat sich die Band im Laufe der Jahre ihr ganz eigenes Musikuniversum geschaffen! Extract. Transform. Debase. wurde im Herbst 2020 eingespielt und von Nikolaus@Chaos-Audio gemixt und produziert. Artwork: Matt Irwin (A Whisper In The Noise)