massive dump // down to the grind

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IF YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO PURCHASE ANY AND ALL OF THESE RECORDS, DO SO. IF YOU ARE IN A BAND WHOSE MUSIC HAS BEEN POSTED BY ME IN MY BLOG AND WANT ME TO REMOVE THE LINK, PLEASE INFORM ME AND I WILL NOT ONLY REMOVE THE LINK BUT GLADLY AND HASTILY DO SO.
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i watched the "intervention"-esque television show "hoarders" for the first time recently. time to do what i said i would: clean house.

the first half of this post includes the full albums from which all old, featured, individual songs were taken (excluding black dahlia murder, pelican's "australasia," explosions in the sky, sweet cobra, and pretty girls make graves; but otherwise...) they're all below. sorry, though, no write-ups. i know how much all those people love wading through my verbal egesta. maybe in the future i'll attach little blurbs to each album. or i just won't sign on for three months.

feast, my jackals. feast. alphabetically, of course.

akimbo


harshing your mellow (2001)


elephantine (2003)


city of the stars (2004)


forging steel & laying stone (2006)


navigating the bronze (2007)


jersey shores (2008)
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amanda woodward


pleine de grâce ep (2002)


la décadence de la décadence (2003)


meurt la soif 7" (2006)
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bison (b.c.)


earthbound (2007)
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bucket full of teeth


i (2002)


ii (2002)


iii (2002)
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cough


kingdom ep (2007)


sigillum luciferi (2008)
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cursed


i (2003)


two (2005)


iii: architects of troubled sleep (2008)
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deadbird


the head and the heart (2005)
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fucked up


the chemistry of common life (2008)
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hot cross


a new set of lungs (2001)


cryonics (2003)
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hot snakes


automatic midnight (2000)


suicide invoice (2002)


audit in progress (2004)
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the jesus lizard


goat (1991)


liar (1992)
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jr ewing


calling in dead (2000)


laughing with daggers ep (2003)


ride paranoia (2003)
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omega massif


kalt (2005)


geisterstadt (2007)
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öroku


living through the end time... (2006)
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pelican


pelican ep (2001)


ephemeral ep (2009)
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premonitions of war


left in kowloon (2004)
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samothrace


demo (2007)


life's trade (2008)
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takaru


there can be only none (2004)
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young widows


settle down city (2006)


old wounds (2009)
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the second half of this post is a tidbit of a normal post.

i never liked magrudergrind. heard a couple of their songs a few years ago. wasn't impressed. a bit heartless, uninspired perhaps. but then my dude guillermo served me up some info. magrudergrind--new album. as per usual, got my nose in it. glad i did. spastic. grind. shreds. sentence. fragments.

seems like magrudergrind found a huge heart and got real inspired. they've definitely discovered their sound on this year's self-titled LP. for fans of shank, iron lung, endless blockade, or any compact crunchy thrash, grind/sludge combo stuff. pretty damn solid. "favorite" track: bridge burner.

magrudergrind


magrudergrind (2009)
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if you need frame of reference peruse the first five posts. info and mumbo-jumbo pertinent to most of the above posted albums to be found there. cheers.

talk to me.

masters of battle

(disclaimer: the day i wrote this post i was rather self-righteously pissed.)

thanks, clearcutters. i'm thrilled all the paper products made from a precious, virtually non-renewable resource--old-growth trees, old trees of any sort--that could be produced several thousand times more cheaply and more "eco"-responsibly with nothing less than fields of weed is worth the extinction of hundreds of known, rare species spanning kingdoms fungal, bacterial, animalian, and plantaen; the elimination of hundreds of undiscovered species in these same kingdoms; and, you know, the overall destruction of our planet's cradle of life. don't forget a top reason the global climate has fluctuated by more than a couple degrees and continues to climb with our ice caps diminishing by the minute.

a day for metal, naturally.

y'all dig goblins? forget all that squawking about our withering globe. we're on to goblins. keep up now, child. goblins. do you like 'em? you best say yes. goblins fucking rule. goblins are fucking sweet. get your shit straight. they're mythological and harbor--at the least, elementary--magical abilities, first off. so, one point right there. they're humanoid in construct yet dwarfed. they get point two for being pygmied. their skin's all shades of brown-green and seemingly amphibian in nature with a hint of reptilian yet they live underground and seem really crusty all the time. an obvious third point. and cool, unpredictably nasty voices. four.

my point is battlemaster slays.

richmond, va is foaming and frothing forth mouthfuls of sickening shit. cough, cannabis corpse, inter arma, parasytic, the catalyst, brainworms to name just some of the punk and metal. and then there's battlemaster. battlemaster fucking brutalize. battlemaster are fucking disgusting. yr about to get yr shit straightened. i have four analogous points to award. their lyrics deal with magic, mead, and your everyday pelt-clad axe-wielder. one point. andy also does vocals for cannabis corpse; vic who i believe is now also in cannabis corpse, plays guitar; bassist pete also plays some black metal for bastard sapling; alex has drummed for withered and arsis among other bands; and second guitarist alex just gets a heap of praise for shredding so fucking well. point two for musical prowess. they play a tight-as-fuck technical brand of blackened thrash metal. obviously getting a third point. and nasty goblin-throated vocals ranging from deep gurgles to shrieking. four.

seriously listen to this one. cover to cover. don't bollocks around. my "favorite" track: intelligencer.


battlemaster - "warthirsting & winterbound" (2007)


i made a new friend. he got me to listen to immortal. oh, of course i'd seen their covers before, immediately identified corpse-paint and costumes, and promptly dismissed them as "some black metal band." never gave black metal its dues, or at least never cared enough to delve into it, to hack away at the mountain of genera engulfed by the simple word METAL and dig out its blackened, boiling spleen. never appealed. until i realized that just like every other "category" of music, what you hear in passing that has been universally tagged and presented as one thing is in fact always only a watered-down version, an absolute shit version, or at best simply a single incarnation of the thing. well, this thing they call black metal is getting to me. i've officially begun my hunt. i shall now scour the earth for styles of black metal that fit me. oldschool, newschool, refreshed, innovated: the near future holds favorites to knight. thank you ben. thank you immortal. much in the way of converts to a faith or those born into it again, i now proclaim "sons of northern darkness" as the first black metal album my once-ignorant ears have heard. making new friends is great, isn't it, kids?

i know tons of people already love immortal or know all about black metal, but tons don't, so here's the fat. apparently their earlier work is more of what people like to call "traditional" black metal--early '90s, Second Wave of black metal-- but 1999 saw immortal fusing this sound with some teutonic thrash elements: an early '80s, First Wave-oriented sound. three years later, the band releases "sons of northern darkness" and it proves to be their third album written in the newfound style. starts off the way i like metal albums to start. punch in the face. no intro. straight into heavy, heavy riffs, blast beats, and--could it be? in black metal?--audible, crushing bass. vocals are definitely black metal, with the raspy grate and slightly higher register, but they don't get to me the way most black metal vocals do. in fact, i like his voice. it's like a more sinister version of a death metal growl. to skip a lot of descriptive language, anyone who likes fast, heavy death or thrash metal would love this. plus, long songs give you the opportunity to hear all the sick riffs more than just once or twice and give the band more playing field for boatloads of transitions. "sons of northern darkness" was the beginning of a new era for me. i don't doubt it could be for someone else. my "favorite" track: one by one.


immortal - "sons of northern darkness" (2002)


this here is norwegian black metal by heavyweights darkthrone. their eleventh album, "the cult is alive," dealt die-hard fans a back-of-the-neck donkey-punch, tossing heads off-kilter with a sudden shift in musical style. i didn't care much for darkthrone, maybe dabbled in "sardonic wrath" for a short while, and cast the band aside as another boring black metal outfit; but after hazily recalling a tip-off concerning overhaul i had overheard years ago, i did some research on the duo. darkthrone has been prevalent in the norwegian metal scene for a couple decades now, starting off as a death metal band, switching to black metal for most of it, and then started playing what i would describe as stripped-down, primitive crust. after having read about the origins and progress of black metal, this style change in darkthrone (and immortal) isn't really much of a genre-busting affair. both bands are just tapping the roots of their true love. the first black metal dudes were pretty much crust dudes anyways: scummy haircuts, bullet-belts, stretch pants, jean vests, studs, patches, and, of course, black clothing. darkthrone just seems to be returning to a fetal version of black metal--dirtier, grittier, more punk. so, by all means guys, carry on.

darkthrone's twelfth full-length, "F.O.A.D." or "Fuck Off And Die," is an awesome record. sound and song structures have been improved upon since their first black/crust/rock album, having had time to hone their newfound style, naturally. the simplistic drumming and forefronted evil leads recorded lo-fi give the listener the illusion of headbanging alone in a consuming void, or revving through cosmic hollowness on a motorcycle, or existing as a mixture of rip van winkel and prometheus. please excuse those inept descriptions of how darkthrone has an oppressive, omnipresent emptiness to their sound. it's probably just the fact that the vocals got an echo on 'em. regardless, front to back: solid raw. my "favorite" track: the church of real metal.


darkthrone - "f.o.a.d." (2007)

remember how i mentioned motorcycles? well, check this shit out while riding a motorcycle. born dead icons: jogging-paced, dark-riffed, motorhead-influenced montreal purveyors of crusty hulking grit. the occasional awesome background thrash lurking behind a curt, scrappy d-beat. a set of rough vocals decry like proclamations up from the pavement. very fine punk album, "work" is. i believe it's their first full-length, and although their other releases i've heard--"salvation on the knees" LP (2001); "modern plague" 7" (2001); "unlearn" 7" (2003); and "ruins" LP (2003)--are solid records, "work" is my most enjoyed to date. i don't have a rant quite like the others for born dead icons, but that should not detract from my praises. they write good punk tunes and deserve all accolades. plus, i figured the first couple sentences would suffice as description of their sound. my "favorite" track: ceremony.


born dead icons - "work" (2000)

all comments welcome. not a d-bag turned away.

mad men

*MAC USERS: freeware that allows you to uncompress .rar files (in other words, click that or this link if you have an apple computer and you were previously unable to download the albums posted below. thanks be to my roommate.)*

to everyone who happens to read this blog/check it to see if i've actually written anything new, i apologize. i know months have passed since my last update, but the only thing left to say is that when the writing bug isn't biting, there's nothing i can do to summon it.

well, the glorious pest is back, and i have the pocks to prove it. hopefully this massive post makes up for my absence. i've also been listening to boatloads of tunes, both new and resurrected. i have decided that whatever website it was that hosted my songs deserves to burn as it rots. i will be revamping thee garbage heap. i will try to repost previously available music. single tracks are a thing of the past. as originally intended upon at my blog's inception, i will begin posting zip files of entire albums. they will be fully downloadable albums produced by bands that utterly slay. keep in mind that these bands spend countless hours of creative energy writing, performing, and recording songs, and these humans deserve compensation for the gifts they've bestowed on our ears.

IF YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO PURCHASE ANY AND ALL OF THESE RECORDS, DO SO. IF YOU ARE IN A BAND WHOSE MUSIC HAS BEEN POSTED BY ME IN MY BLOG AND WANT ME TO REMOVE THE LINK, PLEASE INFORM ME AND I WILL NOT ONLY REMOVE THE LINK BUT GLADLY AND HASTILY DO SO.

and before i truly begin, i’d like to pose a request for those few readers: if you enjoy anything i write, or enjoy any of the music i post, or want to be made aware of other bands, or even if you just plain hate me and my tastes…leave a comment! they’re fun to read, and if i know someone actually gives two shits, i have an incentive to keep writing. it would be much appreciated and enjoyed on my part.

this post is entitled "mad men" because the release that has recently strummed the most striking chord in me is a demo by the canadian one-man band mad men. this one man happens to be the drummer of fucked up and guitar player from career suicide. this one man also happens to be a musical stalwart. it is beyond my comprehension how a single person can so flawlessly execute such driving pieces of idiosyncratic early-80s revivalist hardcore. by himself. the demo features five feverishly angular dozers in which the wheels, gear-shifters, and front-end shovel through yr face with all the agility of a beer-drenched horse-plow. trust me. that's a compliment. it's sometimes funny, too, as in the first track. "toooooooo hot." you'll see. you'll laugh. maybe you won't. my "favorite" track: square glasses.

mad men - "square glasses" demo

all hail canada! another recent record that's been tickling the hairs in my face-cones is "primitive" by the endless blockade. brutal friends from the far north. heavy, metallic, static-laden tundras punctuated by blistering, unrelenting thrash assaults. that's my best attempt at describing the endless blockade. "primitive" makes me feel like a malformed factory employee who has to keep up with multiple production lines of varying speeds, each pumping out different monster-species of mammalian-reptilian hybrids for me to disembowel. have fun trying to nod to these guys. dual vocals, breakdowns devoid of cheese, chaotic math transformed into musical fury. basically, face-peeling sludge/grind combo. it's one enjoyably ghastly amalgam, let me tell you. don't take my (ridiculous) word for it. snatch this shit up and you'll be air-drumming to nightmares in no time. my "favorite" track: death to spies.

the endless blockade - "primitive"

this is an older one, or at least one i've had and liked for a good while; but i busted it out today with satisfying results. schifosi were an australian crust band, and if you know me at all, crust--if done well--is one of my true musical loves. schifosi did crust some fucking justice. (schifosi is also the italian feminine-plural adjective/noun meaning "disgusting" or "loathsome," which i thought i'd mention for two reasons: what a great name for a band, and etymology helps with pronunciation. therefore, it should sound like "skifozi" and not "shifossi.") people always compare crust bands or d-beat hardcore bands to tragedy for some reason. they do not sound like tragedy. schifosi are not tragedy. every crust band is not tragedy. get over it. i mean, don't get me wrong, i hold an especial soft-spot for tragedy. i go on week-long kicks where i only listen to tragedy. if my apartment were in flames, my tragedy records would be on the short list of possessions to save, along with my his hero is gone records. but, schifosi do not sound like tragedy, especially with kate's haunting vocals doing much damage all over the mess. so, anyhow, schifosi released a couple records: a split 7" with slackjaw, the "ill winds from outopia" LP, and a handful of other e.p.'s (self-titled, "half-lit world," and the below-posted "absentium existence"). down-tuned as shit. it sounds like their guitar strings are about to unwind right off the fucking necks. they're certainly a tight band. they have a dirty, raw sound, but that's not to say composition and execution are sloppy. it's just that they were good at sounding like the ruthless downfall of a parasytic empire brought about by the hands of pissed, noble tunnel-dwellers. or something equally as heavy and epic. high-quality crust punk. a+, mates. i can't even decide on a "favorite" track.

schifosi - "absentium existence"

here's another one from the vaults. i picked up sayyadina's "mourning the unknown" more than half a year ago on a whim, and never actually gave it due attention. today i've already listened to the entire LP three times, and it was one of those albums i wish could be broadcast at a glass-shattering volume over the whole block instead of being confined by four walls. single-word description? punishing. from a distance, sayyadina sound like they're comprised of drums, guitar, bass, and chainsaw. i could swear the vocalist is wielding one instead of a guitar, especially on the first track. old-school grindcore with the occasional d-beat breakdown which helps lend the band a bit of a punk aura, in my opinion. i'm not big on grind, but i would still recommend this album to anyone who can handle bullet-train blast-beats and skull-grating chord progressions. i sense a bit of nasum and napalm death, but there's nothing wrong with that. plus, they do their own thing. i only mention fellow grind bands to narrow the field and provide stylistic flags. in short, "mourning the unknown" is an inventive dose of deathgrind, and a damn good one. leave it to the swedes. my "favorite" track: stolen identity.

sayyadina - "mourning the unknown"

burial is a perennial favorite of mine for the simple reason that their album "never give up...never give in" is perfect. i said it. perfect. alright, maybe not perfect, but if i wanted someone to hear stellar guitar work layered over stellar drumming all stuffed into stellar songs that don't drag, wrapped up nicely with reminiscently japanese hardcore vocals ("uuuuuuuwyaaa" and other humorous sounds of disgust), i'd throw this down his/her throat. i can't decide if i'd call them a punk band or an hardcore band, but in the end, does it fucking matter? burial is just four Deutschers tossing out slices of tasty jams that feature morsels of all my favorite styles. i hear early-80s thrashy hardcore, smatterings of d-beat hardcore, heavy protometal down-tuning, and even some retro-era noodling in the twin leads and solos. but this is all somehow delivered in a dark, straight-up punk fashion. oh, and did i mention this LP is perfect? i talk a lot and sound too much like a snob. just listen to it and tell me what you think. my "favorite" track: among the fools.

burial - "never give up...never give in"

another oldie, and especially old if you've previously heard skeletonwitch's sophomore full-length "beyond the permafrost." the two reasons i'm posting this four-song e.p., entitled "worship the witch," is because i maintain that the last track is one of the best metal pieces i've ever heard, and because the first three tracks--although featured on "beyond the permafrost"--sound far better as basement-style recordings (which i undoubtedly prefer to over-mastered metal bullshit). it was self-released, then re-released on prosthetic, and i’m assuming the re-release is a remastered session. i believe i have posted the self-released version. crushing blackened thrash-metal attack from ohio with unique melodic riffage, amazing song-structure, disgusting dual vocals, and vicious drum battery. seriously, even if you have their second LP, swoop down and net this gem if not just for my “favorite” track: forever in the abyss.

skeletonwitch - "worship the witch"

lastly, i have a shining 7” slab of danish punk i stumbled across a few weeks ago. i haven’t the slightest idea what the lyrics are, but that doesn’t seem to stop me from singing along to the title track as if i’m the master-brewer at the carlsberg plant. the vocalist has this certain crooner quality that sets cola freaks apart from other stripped-down punk bands that have been popping up across the globe. the bass lines buoy the songs and make me imagine bouncing on-screen sing-along balls hopping with each haunting, prolonged syllable that oozes from the singer’s mouth. cola freaks have three 7”s out to date, this one being my go-to release. really good catchy music that makes even me want to dance. my “favorite” track: ingenting set.

cola freaks – “ingenting set”

whew. this should be enough to hold you over for a hot minute, hun. hopefully two. y'all come back real soon now, y'hear?

the chemistry of common life

i woke while the sun was still around. she had been long up before i joined her, watching.

why does pigeon do such brown-toned whisperings? whistlings? the greasy preenings? while i sleep must she?

coos from throat? recession-sized dynamo fluffing at her--

puffed, or ruffled and-- and up at her

brickish lectern? coughing pillow-talk in the fashion of gasping? to which audience?

i'm not one to listen. not through a window i won't. i wouldn't have yr answer.

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this morning was gloomy, or probably was, because when i woke up in the afternoon a gloom had already settled to roost. three hours of natural light i received today. three. the past couple of days has served a purpose quite like that of a whirlwind, yet somehow the side of the barn has been replaced, the cow has been dislodged from the tree, and my tractor rides again. this is all considering i'm a farmer, which i most certainly and rather obviously am not. so, you know, in place of "side of the barn...replaced" you are invited to think i meant to write "prospects for the future...brightened." feel free also to assume i was thinking of "self-worth...massaged back to mediocre" when i wrote "cow...dislodged from the tree." figure the tractor part out on yr own. now, all that's left to overhaul is my mood and its nasty dependence on humans.

and moving sideways toward topics more suitable for the interwebs--i forgot about fucked up.

or i forgot about the fact that fucked up was a living entity, an hardcore band, a group of individuals who enjoy making music and continue to make it. well. i remember again. happy day. whoo. py.

in fact, i remembered fucked up was an evolving hardcore band and did so around the time that whirlwind whipped itself into my existence. the whirlwind now has a soundtrack, by the way, and i have a new anthemic, anthem-sounding, anthem-type thing. kind of like an anthem you could say. check this out though: it's catchy and it serves as a fine paragon for a demonstration on how fucked up is pushing people around even outside that ridiculous neolithic/simian circle-formation ritual, fooling people.

well, fool me all you want. although fucked up insists on staying an hardcore band and although their new full-length "the chemistry of common life" strays a little far from the conventions of hardcore (farther even than, say, "hidden world," an album for which i personally was not a giant spokesperson [it was just nice to have innumerable releases compiled on two LPs, even if the tracks were simply re-recorded and sounded less "hardcore" than they had originally]), i'll convince myself fucked up is still an hardcore band.

in case you haven't read any reviews of this record on websites like pitchfork (who, incidentally and following the conventions of tard-faces, has posted a review for "the chemistry of common life" that contains at least three grammatical and typographical errors [first sentence: grammatical error; second paragraph: typo ("arm-swingng"); final paragraph: typo ("Black Albino Blues"), this release has some curves. like those in a road or a pitch, pervert. however, it doesn't feel out-of-sorts. fucked up began as a fairly straight-forward hardcore band and slowly fucked with their sound in a manner similar to the way they fucked with their audience. take it away from what we all know as "hardcore." open the album with a flute. close it with a 7 minute song. use three guitarists. write clean, high-register vocal melodies. the only way to keep a genre from stagnating is to broaden its confines, to include a dynamic band whose music fits just outside of the genre previously; or win an hardcore audience, keep them with you, make changes, and then let them speak up in yr defense when yr definition of hardcore is called in for questioning--an established band needs to revitalize the genre, to push the limits from the inside.

fucked up is fucking up hardcore.

please find and listen to this record from cover to cover.
there are five songs i believe to be the highlights.
songs from other bands you ask?
we'll see.
what's my new anthem-type thing?
aww, you do give two shits.
black albino bones.

on a side note--listen for the sweet fluctuation in the bass note on "no epiphany" around the 2:14 mark. sweet.

less talk.
more rock.

amanda woodward

if you ever find yrself cooking a breakfast of slightly crispy cubed hash-browns and cheesy scrambled eggs with diced kielbasa, onions, and green peppers at noon-thirty on a wednesday, remember yr not alone. if you ever find yrself craving such a meal, remember state meats on state road in parma, ohio for all yr slavic culinary necessities. and don't forget the loaf of rye, chum.

i've just slammed a mug of ginger herbal tea and topped off venae cavae with a delicious treat of grey-green that sidles up sweetly on you like a silver-bearded forest-sage wizard. the day was just peeled like an unwashed orange about fifteen minutes ago and all traces of an inked and stained sky have been swept into a far northern corner. my windows are scaled with white blinds, cutting slits in a soft, quivering sunshaft like a grater shaving rinds. amanda woodward is working perfectly.

let's get me some more tea for this, son. orange herbal sounds appropriate.

from the humid french commune of caen come amanda woodward with hardcore in hand. some would call their music screamo (as one might say of you&i or kodan armada, perhaps), but i see it more as frenchy hardcore. not french. frenchy. all generalizations, stereotypes, and prejudices present, prominent, and paraded, amanda woodward play hardcore like french people. or here's a slightly less depricating manner of stating it: if i requested that my good pal mookie ninjak (man-of-intrigue/maker of frenchy films/musical compatriot) whip up a debord-esque cinematic dime-piece, amanda woodward's music would appear in the movie. because i said so. or if a band had to be french and play hardcore in a movie the music would sound like amanda woodward. there.

gerome's cries sound-out from a distance almost, across a channel, behind the drums, with fervent romantic grit and a bit of spit-flecked dirt. what i hear are beefy bass lines dancing, bouncing alongside angular, aromatic chords--a stinging sweetness that leaves bitemarks. shimmering cymbals sound like someone splashing around in a sugary stream of oiled melodies, breaking the surface of drugged harmonics to reveal bright, ghostly guitar tones swimming fluidly at the unpredictable pace of a human heart.

like biting into an unwashed orange.

quite like it.

i've listened to all that i have by amanda woodward (which i believe is everything) repeatedly, uninterrupted for most of today. for hours, everything else fails to satiate. it sticks in yr ears like pulp on yr tongue. it coats yr cheeks with a sour taste that keeps you from being able to enjoy anything else. and lord knows i like my sour tastes. they have a couple small releases, a full-length that i'd say is the masterpiece of the bunch, a cd that compiles some older or more elusive tracks, and supposedly another LP on the way at long last. a smattering of songs appears below.

additionally, i have listened to cursed at last. i knew of their existence but shied away. i'm a punk guy, i'm a metal guy, yes, but i'm only very selectively a hardcore guy. however, cursed are good at what they do. real. [sic]. good. it's the way straight-forward hardcore should be done. i think they might double-track the bass on certain songs. listen. (sick).

i've been considering putting up more songs by bands that remind me of amanda woodward but i truly believe that i have none. i imagine i could read some reviews and see what dudes have to say about it, but i'd rather sit here and convince myself that all other bands that share amanda woodward's sound are unappetizing and painfully mediocre.

got it! i got it! jr ewing! maybe a bit of their stuff? a little hot cross even? i think i sense some similarities here. (the interplay of the two guitars reminds me a little of the first pretty girls make graves album too, i suppose.) it seems i jumped the gun. good. i'm excited. get excited. amped. turn it up.

scare yr neighbors.

akimbo

rainy days always make superb shower days. rainy days always make superb sipping days. rainy days always make superb slouching days.

i feel clear-headed and cleansed. this does not mean, however, that i am not in the process of baking, steeping, and jamming. rejuvenation does not precipitate a change of habits. it just means i feel refreshed, and thus, resume my daily practices with zest and appreciation anew.

baking: creeping orange.

steeping: arabian mountain spring jasmine blossoms complimenting chinese green tea leaves.

jamming: akimbo.

on an unrelated yet critical point i'd like to mention that the rain has just graduated to a veritable downpour and a hippie-type girl who happened to be passing just across the street lifted her arms and face to the sky as if to acceptingly embrace the helplessness of her situation. i'm going to go ahead and guess she was smiling.

good. good for her. onward. in the time it took me to write what i have so far an entire akimbo album has played through. that album is 2004's "city of the stars"--third LP by the seattle natives. that album is pretty damn good--the third of five pretty damn good LPs by akimbo. "harshing your mellow" in 2001; "elephantine" in 2003; "city of the stars" being quick work's epitome in 2004; a fourth--"forging steel and laying stone"--in 2006; and "navigating the bronze" in 2007. busy little buggers. and whatever should i discover but that akimbo has written, recorded, mixed, mastered, and planned on releasing a sixth full-length entitled "jersey shores." the album was intended for a september 23 drop, but as these things go, it will not be available in stores until october 30. the band is going to be doing quite a bit of road-doggin' with crates of "jersey shores" in a van though (e.g. october tour), so be sure to investigate the situation as well as go to the show (chicago, october 29 @ empty bottle w/sweet cobra & millions) and investigate the new album. you know. investigate. as in buy. you can probably get such information with less hassle and far fewer sassy words, but i thought i'd consolidate yr chores and provide the usual, the expected: the basics. one-stop shop is a phrase i'd advocate if you were looking for one.

i will not outline all of their albums. it's tedious. plus, akimbo seem to have a knack for relative consistency of style and sound. it's full. it's hard. it's heavy. it's rock. it's...shit, well...rock. sometimes bluesy hardcore feel akin to bison. sometimes thrashy and more than sometimes on "harshing your mellow." pretty massive riffage to be found all over. kind of remind me of young widows. sometimes i even feel like i stepped on a jagged, jangly jesus lizard somewhere in the heap. sometimes i feel the dark snare of an hot snakes low and evil riff ringing out. the vocals are certainly this man's unadulterated yells, by the way. no bullshit coating his vocal cords. just like takaru's vocalist (technique not sound). shredding esophagal skin. pure pipes. just throat. he's just doing a bunch of yelling. "wow, he sounds angry." damn yea. it's what i'd call fucking rock.

but. but. akimbo is akimbo. they write like akimbo. they play like akimbo. rock refreshed, clear-headed and cleansed is still rock. but. zest and appreciation anew is what akimbo provides. it's different. it's fucking akimbo.

start wherever you'd like. fuck chronology, dog. or not, you know. go chronologically. whichever. whatever. but listen to it here. or elsewhere. wherever. you know, whoever. akimbo.

below will be the fruits of others' labor--artwork that i often use as a way of defining and describing myself. yea, you do it too, you asshole. i see you. and i then guess you are someone with whom i may get along swimmingly. so yea. whenever.

akimbo will be fully represented. a song from each of akimbo's first five LPs is down yonder. furthermore, a bison song, a young widows song, a jesus lizard song, a song by hot snakes, and a takaru song will all be chilling together below. i think i'll throw a sweet cobra song on for the hell o' it/because they're playing with akimbo in chicago/due to mammoth riffage during the last two minutes of the track i'm posting. milk that money riff. always milk that riff you brought in to practice. the one that had all yr bandmates nodding their heads and mouthing the word "oooooooh" with their eyes closed when you busted it out. always milk that money.

and one last comment, a laudatory postscript--thanks for keepin' it real, akimbo. yr shit's just real. no other way to put it. i find no inklings of disingenuous efforts nor do i sense a recycled sound. how could i summarize? you dudes are original? you seem like scummy punk dudes who would never pass on smoking thai stick, occupying various administration buildings, breaking into the ROTC, or bowling? and i'm all about that? i suppose. but there's something missing in that.

language proves to be a crippled vessel indeed, yr dudeness.

i guess there's only one way to put it, akimbo. yr shit's real.

tune down, smoke up, and go hug a rainy day.

samothrace

when the sun reaches the tops of the shortest trees and yr mind rests in gentle sleep-shapes samothrace picks you up in its palm and presents you to the dying day. like the rumbles and haunting flight of whales' cries soaring high and heavy, these kansas natives weave dark tapestries of melancholic metal one might find trapped in the bowels of a sunken ship. somehow i feel hope in these songs, leaking and swirling like mist from the quiet surface of a bottomless sea. i find comfort in the bone-trembling bass of it all; the pit i find myself staring up from when i catch a glimpse of a passing solo; the low, gruff, inhuman cries buried perfectly in the mix. and did i mention that waiting for upwards of five minutes to hear impressively massive riffage could never be described as waiting? to me samothrace is a stew, a dish labored over by an excellently-skilled chef, the cutting of explosions in the sky into cubes and carefully, slowly stirring the tender pieces into a cauldron in which a heady, musky omega massif broth has already been simmering for months. top that shit off with a dash of cough and a pinch of deadbird.

i must warn you. this shit is bomb.

for the sake of backing my super-cool name-dropping i will include songs by explosions in the sky, omega massif, cough, and deadbird along with a samothrace song. oh, and an öroku song because samothrace includes one or some ex-öroku member(s) i believe. a regular buffet of jams, i must say.

also, samothrace has finished recording a new album and are now on an huge u.s. tour (chicago, october 11 @ TBA, w/lone wolf & cub). look out for that shit. or come back and read me raving about it.