Cerca:silver hands

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Over nearly 20 years, Howlin Rain may have become the quintessential independent American rock ’n roll band: a steam-spitting Hydra of cranked guitars, kicking asphalt dust through a kaleidoscoping travelogue of desert motels and dives, volleying forth transmissions of sci-fi poetry from the blacktop veins of this cracked and aching country.

Now, in America 2021, capping these strangest and sorest of times, the band returns with The Dharma Wheel, a six-track, 52-minute dive into a joyous fantasy realm of exaggerated present.

“I wanted The Dharma Wheel to be a portal from our everyday world, the one from which you stand on hard ground and hold the album in your hands and peer into the artwork, and into another universe,” says songwriter, guitarist and vocalist, Ethan Miller. “You enter into that universe with your eyes and ears and mind and take a ride through free-form meditation on these ideas — from big, fundamental concepts about our existence right down to the grease that rolls down the arm of a pulp novel killer as he eats a gas station hot dog in an old Dodge in an alleyway.”

Lyrically, Miller has completed his evolution into a mushroom-plucking Whitman of the West, singing outlandish tales in a topographic blend of Humbead’s Revised Map of the World and an inverted U.S. where downtrodden bodhisattvas roam the back streets and moonless country roads.

“Down in Florida swamps, run by nature’s law, standing in the water, Eden gone. Two men loading rifles, beasts making time, they shot a boy from an orange tree and watched the colored birds take flight, watch the colors as they soar and dive.” — ‘Under the Wheels.’

The band, Jeff McElroy (bass, backing vocals), Justin Smith (drums/percussion, backing vocals) and Dan Cervantes (guitar, backing vocals), again sounds hardwired into Miller’s vision, building tracks that swagger and sway in response to his verse. Lending a hand this time around is the legendary Scarlet Rivera (Bob Dylan’s Rolling Thunder Revue) on violin, and the endlessly inventive Adam MacDougall (Chris Robinson Brotherhood, Circles Around the Sun) on keys.

Songs were shaped via the blast furnace of endless gigs, then recorded often mere hours after the band slipped the stage.

“The captured sonic fact about this record is that it’s the sound of a band that rehearsed this material a lot and put a ton of work into its construction and was on the road a lot and recorded on days off in the tour schedule,” Miller says. “In some cases we were on stage on Saturday night playing these songs at quarter-to-2 in the morning and by Noon the next day we were sipping coffee in the studio playing them for the machine.”

Rivera’s violin is the first sound heard as the album dawns on the instrumental “Prelude.” Soon, the band joins, twirling the theme into a psychedelicized awakening. “Don’t Let the Tears” brings the boogie, with MacDougall’s madcap synth work and wah-wah guitars showering 70’s glitter upon a parquet dance floor of the mind. “Under the Wheels” and “Rotoscope” center the album with taut, compositional epics populated by murdering drifters and fuzz pedal explosions. The blue hour comedown of “Annabelle” meditates upon the weariness of lost love, with Rivera again amping the heartache via her violin strings.

“In the evening the trains go by, and shake the dust from dirty walls, sometimes I feel like a spider in an old mason jar, who threatens only convex light from down the hall. I’ve been lost to the world since the photos of the black hole, landed on my desktop screaming, perhaps the all and nothing all-in-one is just too much to take, for particles and matter that never found their way.” — ‘Annabelle’

The record closes with the 16-minute title track, a multi-movement suite which cycles from Crazy Horse-meets-Traffic jams through colossal, mass-moving funk stomp, eventually cresting and washing into a sing-along gospel lament.

The Dharma Wheel is an album of great depth, and one steeped in good vibes: a rich, glistening world of the ultra-vivid. As illustrated in Arik Roper’s cover art, the grand dharmachakra has been set in motion, churning off the California coast.

“We were trying to build a world big enough that the imagination won’t go soft on you after just a few listens and where our love for this music, and music in general — along with a good dose of audacity — create a magic carpet ride through the world of The Dharma Wheel,” Miller continues. “In pursuing that I think we also managed to make a record that has a lot of joy in it: the joy of playing music, the joy of experiencing music, the joy of storytelling and poetry, the kind of singular joy and extended ecstatic moment that only a real ‘band’ can express in just that way.”

And it’s this joy, this exuberance and dedication to the lines of cosmic expression — all centered in the exalted art of the everyday — that constructs the heart of the record. At its core, The Dharma Wheel is the triumph of a working band, a transmission from a never-paused before arriving for our strange, bruised, spectacular now.”

Every Day is a Day is Cold Hart’s first LP for Epitaph. As a co-founder of
the seminal rap collective GothBoiClique, (along with Lil Peep, Lil Tracy,
YAWNS) Cold Hart has consistently been on the cutting edge of alternative
hip-hop and rock since 2013 as a vocalist, songwriter, and producer.
By pairing components of rap with seemingly unrelated genres like emo and
gothic rock, Cold Hart has become an innovator of genre-defying music.
Cold Hart, has earned the respect of peers and critics alike (his previous LP
Good Morning Cruel World received a 6.9 from Pitchfork). Coming hot on the
heels of the stratospheric success of Cold Hart’s Lil Peep collaboration, “Me &
You,” with over 60 Million global streams to date, his path is well established in
the digital space, with current catalog streams at over 1million/wk.
With his new album Every Day Is A Day, Cold Hart has progressed beyond emo
rap as he developed a newer, fuller sound, that he describes as “hands on guitar stuff with a soulful twist.

Many great singers passed through the hands of late great soul/
R&B producer Jerry Wexler, from Aretha Franklin to Dusty
Springfield, but Etta James was a singer he willingly waited 20
long years to work with. “Etta is a church in herself,” he said in
his autobiography, adding: “Her voice is a mighty influence, her
musical personality able to express an extraordinary range of
moods.” He further described her as “A woman used but not
spent, abused but never defeated, vulnerable but though sheer
strength of will, victorious.” Her legend lives on in her music.
Press play and share her many emotions…

Toronto’s PACKS make music that’s like leafing through a diary entry of a time without visible movement, a subtle beauty that appears only when paying close attention. The band’s debut is a collection of songs that marry the loose but incisive jangle of early Pavement with the barbed sweetness of Sebadoh and the wideeyed wonder of the first Shins LP. Written in two different settings, between the city limits of Toronto where Link was living in 2019, and the Ottawa suburbs where she was quarantined with her parents in the spring 2020, both remain complementary emblems of selfreflection and wry observation of the mundanity of daily life. Packaging: LP Printed Inner Sleeve

Tonnon produced the album with longtime collaborator, and The Beths’ guitarist and producer, Jonathan Pearce. Tonnon wrote the bulk of the songs during an extensive period of touring after the release of Successor - a period where Tonnon performed with Nadia Reid in Europe, The Veils in the USA, and The Chills, The Phoenix Foundation and Don McGlashan in New Zealand. The pair workshopped songs between tours, often recording new parts as the live versions developed.

Tonnon and Pearce recorded between 2017 and 2020, and in that time, Tonnon’s practise evolved heavily. He incorporated new technology into his set, including the Wellington-designed Synthstrom Deluge, which allowed him to adapt his set for new performance environments;Art Galleries, Museums, even New Zealand Fashion Week. He took that technology further when he collaborated with the Otago Museum on the immersive show for Planetariums, A Synthesized Universe, which travelled to Arts Festivals around New Zealand in 2019.

Creating a music video for ‘Old Images,’ which explored a lost passenger train network, Tonnon came to the idea for a new experience-based show called Rail Land. It took audiences on railways to reach distant community halls around Aotearoa. The show saw Tonnon combine historical research and spoken word narrative, with the immersive lighting and musical technology he developed for A Synthesized Universe. In March, Rail Land finished a three-night run at Auckland Arts Festival, cementing Tonnon’s move to the concept show.

Over time, Tonnon and Pearce’s production moved further from the traditional rhythm sections that powered songs like Successor’s ‘Water Underground.’ In their place came off kilter electronic rhythms, like the beat in ‘Two Free Hands,’ and textures that blur lines between organic and synthesized sound. Guitars are set against synthesizers, and drums against drum machines in ‘Entertainment’ and ‘Peacetime Orders,’ which Tonnon also used in his soundtrack for RNZ’s 80s spy-themed podcast The Service. In ‘Leave Love Out Of This,’ a ballad starts with a piano and a string quartet, but ends in a wall of electronic sound.

The constant has been Tonnon’s lyrics. Whether singing about evolution and the future of work in ‘Two Free Hands,’ the television industry in ‘Entertainment,’ or environmental disaster and regulatory failure in ‘Mataura Paper Mill,’ Tonnon has followed a distinct approach to subject matter, description and phrasing that have seen him longlisted for the APRA Silver Scroll three times.

Tonnon’s explorations of local government and civic infrastructure in his work - an unusual preoccupation for a songwriter, have taken new meaning in his adopted home of Whanganui, where last year, he was elected by councillors as Whanganui District Council’s representative for public transport.

After Tonnon moved to Whanganui, and Pearce toured almost constantly after the success of The Beths’ first album, the pair conducted their collaboration over distance, but with key sessions at Pearce’s Karangahape Road studio, including drums and bass with long time band members Stuart Harwood and David Flyger, a string quartet led by Charmian Keay and arranged by Matthew Bodman, and additional drums with The Beths’ Tristan Deck.

As Leave Love Out Of This is released, Tonnon and Pearce find themselves in very different places to where they started, working on Auckland’s Karangahape Road, close to the venues like Wine Cellar and Whammy Bar where they regularly performed. Back in New Zealand since Covid, Pearce has had to adjust to being in one of Aotearoa’s best-known bands, while Tonnon, when not working on conceptual shows, wrestles with how to restore civic infrastructure to a post industrial city in the regions.

Created over a life-altering period of, Leave Love Out Of This is the culmination of years of experimentation and development - with new technology, new sounds, and new ways of creating, and performing music.

Demon Records presents Distortion: 2008-2019, the third in a series of four expansive vinyl box sets chronicling the solo career of legendary American musician Bob Mould.
Bob Mould’s career began in 1979 with the iconic underground punk group Hüsker Dü before forming the beloved alternative rock band Sugar and releasing numerous critically acclaimed solo albums. Volume three in this new series covers the period 2008-2019 and contains many of Bob Mould’s most celebrated recordings including Silver Age (2012), Patch The Sky (2016), and Sunshine Rock (2019).

If Galaxy Lane’s first EP didn’t send the portals of time and space upside down, then the second EP will throw you down a vortex of hypnotic grooves juxtaposed with eerily erratic rhythms built in outer space.
The first of two EP’s to be trusted in the hands of Lone Romantic, ‘Night’ and ‘Later That Night’ will explore the concept of capturing moments in time.
Maybe Galaxy Lane can best summarise…

“I want people to really feel the mistakes in this music, the dirt, the rough and raw approach, the ‘sitting on the floor surrounded by wires at 3am messing with synths’ approach. That to me is the magic of this music, the interaction of man and machine, to hear the nuances, the tweaking of knobs and pushes of faders. I think we have lost that somewhat with digital technology, and have lost a lot of feeling in the process”

‘Night’ will propel the listener into ethereal textures layered over rough and raw beats, as outlined on opening track ‘Deep Space Nine’. If that sets you up for thinking this will be a dreamy ride, ‘Communication’ hits hard at the rear of the spaceship, coming at you with intergalactic bleeps, zaps and back cracking rhythms made for getting down.

Side 2 sets off on an exploration of wild eyed boundary flexing in the shape of ‘Enter The Light’. Pushing the machines to near breaking point whilst just hanging on, it’s a track that shows what can be done when the spaceship is left to drive itself, you can do nothing more than go with it and and see what happens.
‘Snow Day’ is perhaps the perfect way to round us back in. A more calmer, smoother ride, it’s unmistakable polyrhythms soothing the soul and setting us up for the next chapter…

“Having moved forwards emotionally from the wilds of dystopian stalking and associated hobbies, Madonnatron have instead been found frolicking through the green pastures of gangsta pimps, Hindu God wars, Cyber Men invasion, loveless nightclub hook-ups, modern Italian Nabokov, and revered screen goddess Elizabeth Taylor. Think of them as post-punk lab rats in the Secrets Of Nimh, feasting dubiously on back-dated episodes of Top Of The Pops. With notorious roaring guitars, chanting vocals and rabid drums they audibly glow in the dark, are strong-armed, and will probably bite you.”

Like their debut, which was released to much acclaim in July 2017, Musica Alla Puttanesca was produced by Liam D. May at Trashmouth Studios.

Their atmospheric, raw, and confrontational live shows carry a sonic force that by turns will make you weep, cross yourselves, and weep again. In the last couple of years, Madonnatron delivered a successful UK headline tour; supported The Moonlandingz,

Texan / Mexican neighbours, the Silver Rider and the Funk District hold hands in disco diplomacy that will break down any wall.

What a time to be alive: 20 years ago, these would have been buried on the b-side, but in 2019 they rock down the house of the largest of clubs.

Domestic Exile are proud to present the devastatingly deplorable and malevolent recordings (that are sure to corrode yet electrify your ears) by Glasgow's very own KLEFT.

KLEFT aka Vickie McDonald is rooted in and has actively propagated the underground DIY radical queer punk and feminist movement here in Glasgow. Their projects have included the skull crushing sludge doom of Cartilage, the unflinching and infamous multi- membered hard core stars that were DIVORCE and the sacrificial, druid drone glitch of MOURN. Alongside these projects they have uncompromisingly disrupted, motivated and facilitated collective endeavors to take down the capital power structure of the dominant system of patriarchal club venues and abhorrent fuckers in this town.

For this record 'H+ Sexualis', KLEFT explores the neo-modern space where flesh is left behind. Negotiating, analyzing and tearing to shreds the relationship and balance between flesh and technology. KLEFT's expansive and palpable sonic offerings delve into themes of transhumanism and body hacking and seep into our collective skin begging the question; can flesh ever be created digitally. Does a lack of physicality alienate human experience in a post transhumanism society Are we all destined to be skinless yet digitally connected Will the body become superfluous Toward "the utopian dream of the hope for a monstrous world without gender," as stated on Donna Haraway's essay ''A Cyborg Manifesto.'

From the opening track 'Ossein' the listener grasps a foreboding lethargic build up, lurking out of the spatial ritualistic shadows into a sea of suffocating nothingness. A void where there is no gravity. Skeletal and brittle shattering rhythms which echo DMZ / Skull Disco dubstep alongside the more frozen, glacial ominous explorations of grime are often felt proving KLEFT is an artist whose inspirations run deep and wide and generally exist in the darkest recesses of our subconscious. These fearful, disjointed rhythms are set against weightless atmospheric oscillated synths, as if roaming through bleakly opaque, claustrophobic narrow corridors on a first person survival horror video game such as Resident Evil.

Moving through to 'CMBR', KLEFT's dissonant, degrading soundscape ferociously ascends. The resilient kick drum is propulsive and pulverizing akin to 'ardcore tekno - or intense gabba if you have the guts to adjust the tempo up to +8 - aesthetics that overwhelm and agitate finally revealing it's grotesque biological / amorphous bio structure. Elevating the repetitive 4/4 kick to a destructive, distorted banger of a track as layers of converging atonal noise and sound design simultaneously further enhances the sense of imminent radioactive contamination.

Next is 'Writhe, Squirm, Broken' continuing the convulsive, nauseating permutations of the prior track but reconfigured like a mangled, gruesome Cronenberg-esque parasite that has infiltrated an open wound, excruciatingly feeding off of the inner anatomy of it's hosts body from within. Repulsively reformulating the shape and dimension. The intro is akin to a panic stricken bouncy ball contracting and expanding, the spring reverb building momentum and traveling further away in distance and speed.

'Hackfleisch Deluxe' is a muuurrderous stomper and is one of the more grime / bass orientated tracks that deconstructs and disrupts the tempo familiar to sub-low producers on Black Ops / Jon E Cash / DJ Dread D. The crawling, plummeting frequency of the synth is a nauseating rush of coagulating blood to the heed; a deep throbbing sensory depravation in sharp, paradoxical contrast with the driving harmony layered on top which proves to be infectiously addictive. Furthermore are splintering programmed vocal samples that gives a sense of artificial disorientation, mind over matter, a possible hint at our evolving sentient cognition within a nightmarish simulated, augmented reality

Second to last we have 'Keratin' which is filled with the near fatal dissolving thud of Djax-Up acid that gives the impression that you're a biologist peering through a microscope into a petrie dish and witnessing the rapid and furious genetic cellular replication of bacterial and viral organisms.

Culminating in 'Bruised and Bleeding Hands' where the squashed density of a deflated and depressurized helium filled balloon and elastic umbilical cords, barbed wire and copper wires grind n' coil around the lens of a zooming camera. Taking no prisoners, this is a punishing grime weapon. A phat, surgical kick drum bulldozes its way thru causing carnage, syncopated punching snares after every rave stab and dizzying third beat. It won't be long until ye hear this on Silver Drizzle's youtube channel in the near future.

This record transports us to the hyperkinetic mutation scene on the cult cyberpunk film Tetsuo The Iron Man where the organic flesh / mechanical rust of the Iron Man metamorphoses with the Metal Fetishist during the rebirth sequence and we say 'LONG LIVE THE NEW FLESH!''.

O.D.D., Modini and Casio Royale team up to wreck clubs across the galaxy! I glanced at the wrinkles on my hands as they worked the controls on landing pod. I'd aged considerably since we left Earth to track the alien. Taking an extremely dangerous short cut via the rim of a black hole allowed me to get to the outer regions of the universe before I turned geriatric and was too decrepit to navigate the ship. Now, as we approached Planet Simila, excitement burned within me. It wasn't just about meeting an extra-terrestrial, I was lonely. It had been many years since I'd spoken to anyone other than the ship's computer and here I was about to meet the first known life form outside our planet. I bumped the pod down on the terra firma as gracefully as I could. Intel confirmed Simila had an almost identical atmosphere to earth and that I'd be able to breathe on it unaided. However, precautious as always, I put the large dome shaped breathing apparatus over my head and pulled on the silver safety suit. I took my first step out of a spaceship in 14 years and there it was only yards away from me; a small green creature with large white goggle eyes on the end of two spindly antennas. If you'd asked a 5-year-old earthling to draw a spaceman it would have looked exactly like the thing stood before me. I had no idea whether it could comprehend English or not but nerves made me blurt out: 'Greetings from Planet Earth, I have travelled many light years to meet you, I...
'Here, never mind that pish, ya space helmet, you got the new DABJ Allstars Vol 3 on ya, it's got new stoaters fae O.D.D, Modini and Casio Royale. I've heard it's oot o' this world.'

LP with Gatefold Sleeve and silver hotfoil spine. Short info: Nearing its first birthday, Other People is celebrating the only way it knows how: Work. The label has put out new material every Sunday since it launched with last year's Trust compilation, and the culminating Work comp doesn't break that streak-consisting almost entirely of new material from Other People's artist roster, and a few remixes from some special guests. Work is not, however, an uncooked mash of music. It's sequencing is deliberate and its selection purposefully not encompassing. In fact, Work is more an album than anything else. Kicking off the affair is Soul Keita, whose roots run back to the days of Nicolas Jaar's first label, Clown & Sunset. Dave Harrington follows with a cover of the Nick Drake song 'Things Behind The Sun' with the singer Tamara. His amorphous chords flow right into the tight groove of VISUALS' 'A Pixel', produced by Nico and featuring some guitar by Dave. Darkside also pay their dues with two unreleased tracks from their Psychic sessions-'What They Say' and 'Gone Too Soon'. Putting a nail in the coffin, German pyro-techno duo Ancient Astronaut do battle with a troupe of remixers. The first comes in snarling at the hands of Powell. The second builds gently with the subtle touch of Jenilek. And last comes a deadly dub mix by Francis Harris and Gabriel Hedrick. Work paid off.