REVIEWS

SCHUSTER

Tue, 9 Feb 2010 19:02:39 +0000

Schuster - Breaking Me Down Into His Own Oblivion
Adeptsound ADSCDR01/ADSDL01
CDR + MP3 download.

The enigmatic Schuster takes a poem by D.H. Lawrence about rebirth and uses it as an anchor around which drones of an empty hanger like ambience emerge.
Breaking Me Down is an epic drift through some seriously barren industrial drone landscapes. The magnificent twenty minutes worth of ‘I Am Living In My Own Corpse’ is a desolate stretch of empty vistas in which the exhaust of a mother ship slowly vents, blocking out the whats left of the grey light. Under each of these five foreboding tracks are pinned familiar industrial motifs; crows disguised as electrical chatter, anguished wails of dying souls [where would we be without the anguished wails of dying souls on material such as this eh?], gongs, industrial rhythmic chatter, fierce winds swept across blasted tundras. Far too many releases going for the post apocalyptic drone dollar litter their work with too many unwanted intrusions but Schuster uses them sparingly and to fitting effect. ‘I Am Living In My Own Corpse’ is the clincher here but all 60 minutes worth is a depressives dream come true. ‘Burdened’ comes with a distressed confession plucked from American TV Sotos style, the opener ‘BD’s Lament’ is a leaky steam trap from which emerges the softly spoken/recited Lawrence poem in question.
Played at heady volumes a limbo like stasis forms, its enveloping swell filling every pore. I played it endlessly as I slumped moribund in my Poang wondering if life were worth living and did they really play this kind of music whilst God made his mind up.
My copy came in a plain paper sleeve with a couple of paper inserts but Adeptsound promise a special hand made packaging deal. This raises further questions; were this to come on Cold Spring or Cold Meat Industries and have lots of bondage and hooked noses adorned on it my feelings may have been compromised. The power of packaging is evident but sometimes it helps to listen to things blindly.
The Perth based label Adeptsound releases a small amount of material much of which seems to emanate from what was once the corpse of England’s Industrial ambientuers Dieter Müh, its affiliates and associated labels. The vast majority of it provides recommended listening and its all done with little fanfare and to good effect. Past releases have been a little hit and miss but that may be just me. Schuster have come up with the goods here though and this is worthy of your overworked pesos.

Contact:

www.adeptsound.net

PO Box 3760
Success
Perth 6164
WA
Australia

SPECIAL INTERESTS

Mon, 1 Feb 2010 19:19:05 +0000

Special Interests

A5 zine. 50 pages

Whilst the noise world holds its breath for the imminent arrival of As Loud As Possible [for whom the word ‘finished’ is an elastic one] Mikko Aspa decided to give us Special Interests. With a projected three issues a year SI fills in the gap between cut and paste zines and pro magazines, the emphasis being on getting it out there rather than ironing out a few wrinkles. Not that you’d think that this first issue was a rush job, it all looks pretty professional to me.
The sub heading is Power Electronics, Industrial, Noise, Experimental, Avant Garde and Ambient which appears to be the pecking order therein. The bulk of SI is given over to interviews: Shift, Wertham, Murderous Vision, Clew of Thesus, Skin Graft, Kadaver and Breathing Problem whilst the rest is split between sound reviews and what I found most interesting, interviews with people who have taken on tape as an inspiration and creative tool. So you get Eric Lunde, Mike Connelly and Lasse Marhaug replying to the same set questions the result being an illuminating insight into what makes these people tick creative wise. Also of interest is ‘The Essentials’ in which Marhuag, Lunde, Tommy Keränen and most passionately Chris Goudreau, extol the virtues of the works which most inspired them. Chuck in the obligatory disturbing artwork from Martin Bladh and you have a regularly occurring winner.
Issue 2 is imminent if not out already and contains interviews with Smell & Quim amongst others. Long may it run.

Special Interests

KYLIE MINOISE / GRIMALKIN555

Sun, 31 Jan 2010 14:45:00 +0000

Grimalkin 555 - Super Spermatorrhea Bukkake Dance Party!!!
Kovorox Sound, Kovo-043 CDR

Kylie Minoise and Grimalkin555 - Kill Baby Kill!
Kovorox Sound, Kovo-044 CDR

It’s not often I find myself all on my lonesome on a Saturday night so the only thing to do of course is throw some coal on the fire and stock the fridge with some of Belgium’s finest. And while the beer is chilling you stick on the latest Kovorox Sound and find out whats happening in the noise world. Lea Cummings, the man behind KS and Kylie Minoise has been a busy man since his return from Japan, all that fish and fine beer must have stimulated his noise gland because since then there’s been a slew of releases, with these being but the latest.
First out of the fridge is a Duvel. An oft overlooked beer, it sits on the supermarket shelf [if you’re lucky] an unassuming character. Not for Duvel the shame of a tinned version, the cardboard four pack, the BOGOF offer or the point of sale grab you by throat buy me prostitution. The label is enough and so it should be. The smell of it hits you first. It even smells like good beer. The head is always generous and thick enough to stand on and then that first clear amber mouthful rinsing your tongue with fine Belgian craft. As it hits your stomach a warm glow works its way back up your throat until it meets the back of your tongue with a zing and the cycle is complete. By now I understand that Grimalkin555 is of the same mold [mould?] as Andy Bolus or DK720 with which it shares many characteristics; cheap horror flick samples, noise junk, Lightning Bolt speeded up, cod reggae slowed down, Melt Banana minced through a galaxy of distortion. There’s some power electronics like screaming and a track called EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE which wouldn’t look out of place on an old TG platter. Rather whimsically the whole thing is split into two sides. I know not why. Even the artwork seems Bolus inspired. Super Spermatorrhea is a peacocks feather of a release built around all the things you’d find in a Japanese teenagers bedroom edited together in a too many blue Smarties fashion.
But then the N’Ice Chouffe had achieved its desired temperature. A 750ml bottle of N’Ice Chouffe is a thing of beauty. Unfiltered, re-fermented in the bottle and at 10% ABV not something to be taken lightly. The addition of thyme and Curacao [orange peel to you] give this dark brew a distinctly winter warmer feel and with the mercury dropping off the scale these last few days this seemed like the ideal time to try it. The head’s a little disappointing but the punch in flavour makes up for it. Half way down the bottle I’d played these two discs twice over and my head was in a swirl of degenerate noise. The coals glowed, my head swam, the beer slowly disappeared. N’Ice Chouffe makes for good noise accompaniment, I can recommend it. Kill Baby Kill! is one track Grimalkin555 then one track of Kylie Minoise, seven tracks each. All the KM tracks are in caps; GROPEFEST SOCIETY!, MUCH TO THE CROWDS DISTASTE!, ESP ORGY! and are [barring the last track at eleven minutes] rabbit punches to the kidneys. Kylie goes in for short killer stabs of death noise some of which seem to be live cuts and other clear as a bell studio material. The last track is actually the best with its undulating motorbike growling building to a fine noise drone. Not much in the way of Bennet like screaming from KM but these outings are pretty good as they stand. Grimalkin 555 you know all about and heres no different. Graft on some cult horror imagery and away you go.
The beer went down well, I found myself staring at the TV watching car chases, crisp debris everywhere. I still have a Duvel in the fridge. All is not lost.

Contact: www.kovoroxsound.com

WHERE IS THIS

Thu, 28 Jan 2010 19:59:52 +0000

Where is this - In The Privacy Of Your Own Home
Bored Bear Recordings. C41. 33 Copies

Noise can be an invigorating influence on the creative mind. Its very nature assumes that you’re already aware that music doesn’t begin and end with whatever’s getting pushed at you via iTunes, through the racks or on radio shows crippled by sanctioned playlists. Taking on a noise record and wallowing in it is still one of the best thrills to be had with your clothes on.
I’m sure that most people who appreciate noise ‘music’ will be able to recall with great clarity the record that did it for them, the one that took them by the lapels, shoved its dirty face into theirs and said now this is what noise is all about. I had mine and it inspired me to go out and buy first, a small portable tape recorder and then a Fostex 4-track with which I made all kinds of glorious crap. I spent many a week fuelled on whisky and beer making what I thought to be pretty good noise. Someone even put out a cassette of it but I soon began to realise that what I was doing was messing about. I had no real talent for noise and what I was making was a mess fit only for the ears of a dog. I gave up and started writing a zine instead.
Where Is This reminds me of my own dabblings. It was fun for a while and then it had to stop. Hopefully Where is This will realise one day that their talent lies in other areas and that they will stop too for it certainly doesn’t lay in the noise/experimental scene. This is as directionless as it gets. An aimless mish mash of someone trying to do something but not knowing how to do it. I could go on but this kind person sent me a CDR of the same work so I didn’t even have to trouble my cassette deck and they seem like a genuinely nice person who likes reading my reviews [but maybe not this one] which makes doling out criticism like this even harder to bear. But it has to be done. There’s already enough noise bands, there must be one for every noise fan. With a world forever filling up with an ever larger pool of crud the last thing it needs is this.

www.virb.com/whereisthismusicyouspeakof

DEWSBURY SOCIALIST CLUB

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 20:13:24 +0000

Darryl Fantastic, Ashtray Navigations, Early Hominids

Dewsbury Socialists Club, 23rd January 2010.

I’ve been to some strange venues in my time but seeing what is essentially a noise gig at what is essentially a working mens club in what is probably not thee most salubrious town in England takes some beating.
Working mens club, especially those in the North, have a reputation for dourness, cheap frills and an ability for making people unwelcome. Its not all unfounded, I’ve been in a few and many’s the time I’ve been asked by the jobs-worth committee man on the door [usually ex-service] as to whether I’m a member and when eventually seated with drink after signing my name three times in a huge ledger and crossing my heart promising to vote Labour until I die I sit down only to be told by the same person that thats so-and-so’s seat and he’ll be in half an hour and can you sit somewhere else preferably over there out of the way. But its not all doom and gloom, the beer is usually cheap and if you can avoid the domino card and raffle ticket sellers you can have yourself a thrifty night out. Putting this lot on at the Dewsbury Socialist Club though was a little like going to the Wheel Tappers and Shunters Club and finding a Herman Nitsch blood play in mid session or, for those of more tender years discovering Brian Potter had booked Whitehouse into the Phoenix Club.
The DSC is a small place directly off Bradford Road, made up of one room, two pool tables and a sea of sixties aluminum fluted floor buffets. After fortifying myself earlier in the evening with several pints of Taylors Landlord at the West Riding it was a joy to enter the portals of the DSC to find Kelham Island’s Easy Rider standing proud at bar full of tap lager and insipid ales. The PA was pumping out dub reggae to a small gathering of locals sat chatting amicably away and taking the dub in their stride. The odd punter who’d actually heard of this gig and had come from out of town stood with pints in hand, the frequent sideways glances giving away their nervousness. Maybe some of them were wondering if they’d got the right venue, the right town? There was no entrance fee [someone later came round with a bucket for change - a cleaned out urinal cube bucket which I thought was a nice touch].
With no fanfare what-so-ever a stout punter moved from the bar, strapped on a bass guitar and started thrashing it. Loops of God knows what emanated from someone bent over a table full of gadgets and it all sounded very Astral Social Clubby. The locals carried on chatting although now leaning more into each other to counteract the volume but they still seeming unperturbed. Darryl Fantastic [I think thats what they were called] played for what seemed like half an hour and nobody left the room. It got louder, it got quieter, it rose and it fell like solo sessions in a jazz whig-out and it wasn’t half bad at all. Maybe they’re all secret ASC fans? Had I stumbled upon a nest of underground dub noise drone fans, a sub-culture of sound freaks who for years have been holding clandestine meetings in Northern working mens clubs, zoning in on the most recent releases before slinking off to their mill flat conversions to snack on pies?
The more beer I had the more surreal things became. The bar staff were really friendly, the beer was really good [and cheap] there were people out back smoking like chimneys, snaffled in whisky was getting passed round, Ashtray Navigations were steaming into a number that began as a disco track and mutated its way into a hydra headed monster of wailing guitar noise. As the beer kicks in so do the Early Hominids who manage to do what neither of the preceding could and empty the place. The Campbell/Walsh axis has noise at its heart but its posh noise with oscillating frequency envelope generators or somesuch with strobe lighting chucked in for good measure. Its too much for some and off they head for the Big F in Batley or the curry shop across the road. The set is cut short by what could be equipment failure or drunkenness. Someone shouted ‘do you do requests?’ I think it was me. As I stumble through the door to look for a taxi it looks like the stragglers are gearing up for a late night session. What time do you shut asks someone, the obvious reply being ‘How much money have you got left?’
I’ll be going back to the Dewsbury Soicialist Club and I hope that you, dear reader, will join me.

EARLY HOMINIDS YOU TUBE CLIP

GODSPUNK VOLUME 8

Wed, 6 Jan 2010 20:40:34 +0000

Godspunk Volume 8
Various Artists. Pumf CD. PUMF630

Stan Batcow’s continued mapping of England’s underground lunatic fringe reaches volume 8 and brings with it the usual bunch of anti-establishment, off their heads, jokey named, lets-hope-they-don’t-move-in-next-door oddities. And very good it is too.
I enjoyed huge swathes of Volume 7 and even found it within myself to start liking UNIT and their Chas ‘n’ Dave angst Londoner poppets of verite rap but maybe I’m tiring of them, or life. Its hard to tell.
Lots of new faces on volume 8 with some Orb like ethnic trance via the Balkan ‘ oiks and some experimental wanderings on a track called Ixx Perra Mental by D.I.M.M. in which D.I.M.M. go for the unashamed Andrew Liles/Nurse With Wound dollar with five minutes worth of treated vocals and loops. Maybe Stan puts these on just for me? I’d like to think he does. Nothing hangs around for long so you have to be on your toes: sampled mania in the style of Mixed Band Philanthropist and The Broken Penis Orchestra are the preserve of The Melodramatic Monkey, The Cockfield Two are Bob Log III with a synth instead of a slide guitar, Boxhead play around with the kind of crap you hear blaring out of the windows of a souped up Saxo’s driven by open mouthed 17 year olds with socks tucked into their kecks but maybe I’m being unkind, maybe this is The Art of Noise brought back to life and then again maybe no. Evil Jack McDeath pull into the car park of an all night American diner order two cups of Joe, everything over easy and greasy and then write a song about it. Taurus Board, one of the few surviving outfits from Volume 7, float about in some kind of drum n synth heaven and Stan’s own Howl in the Typewriter book end things, as is custom, with his own take on pumped up bass driven 80’s pop anthems washed up on Blackpool beach with one hand holding a day-glo head band and the other Carter USM’s Surfin USM single which is apt as the last track is called Beach Bum. I’m saving the best for last though, Heffalump Trap’s ‘Bus Shelter’ is six minutes of Boris meets a six string Ramleh. A slow melting, slack rimmed beat that comes with squally guitars and a series of slow chord changes designed to make driving with one arm out of the window whilst slowly nodding your head compulsory.
Stan’s Godspunk comps contain the coloured drawing pins that litter the UK map of musical oddity. They’re the home for those who react to psychiatrists as much a vampire would garlic. This one has 23 tracks on it, runs to well over an hour and has music by 11 bands on it and I bet you your last fiver it still costs less than a back street blow job by a Blackpool tart.

Those artists again in case I missed any:

Howl in the Typewriter
Boxhead
UNIT
The Taurus Board
The Melodramatic Monkey
Balkan’ oiks
Evil Jack McDeath
D.I.M.M.
The Shi-ites
Heffalump Trap
The Cockfield Two

Pumf

END OF YEAR LIST

Sun, 3 Jan 2010 16:02:41 +0000

Most of the longest and coldest Christmas break in living memory has either been spent scraping frost off the car or sat three feet from the fire roasting in front of some glowing coals. The urge to hit the keys has not been with me. Apart from these few words my sum total of communication these last ten days or more has been within a few desperate emails. But lets not leave 2009 without making one of those ridiculous lists that seem to be so popular these days. The following items are those that have stuck in the memory and have proved to be those most beneficial when procuring honest to goodness hearing entertainment. Lets hope that 2010 brings with it something to match them.

Emeralds - Allegory of Allergies [Weird Forest 2XLP]
Emeralds - Solar Bridge [Hanson CD]
Emeralds - What Happened [No Fun CD]
Kommissar Hjuler & Mama Bär - Asylum Lunaticum [Intransitive Recordings CD]
Dieter Müh - The Call [Haemoccult Recordings LP]
Smell & Quim - Powerfuck [L. White CD]
Family Battle Snake - Optimistic Suburbia [Chocolate Monk CDR]
Airway - Live at LACE [Harbinger Sound LP]
Astral Social Club - Plug Music Ramoon [Dancing Wayang LP]
History of The Units - The Early Years 1977 - 1983 [Community Library CD]
MPO/LERM - OZ OZ Alice 1 [Total Vermin cassette]
Ghedalia Tazartes - Repas Froid [Tanz Procesz CD]
Eliane Radigue Vice Versa, etc … [Important Records 2CD]
Country Teasers/Ezee Tiger [Holy Mountain split LP]
Trup, Trup, A Chapaillin [Gaelic Language children’s LP from 1968 - Gael Linn]

INTERVIEW WITH MILOVAN SRDENOIVC

Tue, 8 Dec 2009 20:24:11 +0000

In an era where noise releases appear with all the regularity of sliced salami, its refreshing to have a new Smell & Quim release around. Powerfuck is seminal S&Q and a massive return to form. Original and surviving member Milovan Srdenovic has put together a band that has already caused controversy by getting the 2007 Deaf Forever all day noise festival in Leeds abandoned after complaints about misuse of a pigs head [this in a venue only a couple of hundred yards away from a mosque] they were the first and last act.
I’ve been a fan ever since I saw them play the Bradford 1 in 12 Club back in the mid 90’s. An epiphany for me and a loss of hearing for many. Couple the noise with a sense of humour that is British postcard surreal dipped in shit and you have one of THE great English noise bands and one that I hope is around for a while longer yet.

Tracking Srdenovic down to his West Yorks bolt hole I asked him about what inspired Powerfuck and to how big a debt it owed to an ancient 72 year old mad cap English comic called Ken Dodd.

IT WAS THE COMING TOGETHER OF THE CURRENT SMELL & QUIM LINE-UP IN 2007, AND THE SUBSEQUENT LIVE OUTINGS IN THAT YEAR THAT PLANTED THE SEEDS OF DESIRE TO RECORD NEW MATERIAL. THE ENSUING NOISE THAT WE MADE WHEN WE CAME TOGETHER IS "POWERFUCK" THE CULMINATION OF OUR UNION THUS FAR.

THE FIRST TRACK ON THE ALBUM IS TITLED "DODDY'S COCK" AND IT WAS INDEED INSPIRED BY A DREAM I HAD, WHEREIN I REALISED THE TRUE MEANING OF THE KEN DODD HIT FROM THE 1960's "HAPPINESS". DODD (HE IS ACTUALLY 81 YEARS OLD) IS PROBABLY OUR ONLY REMAINING LIVING CONNECTION TO THE BRITISH MUSIC-HALL TRADITION, AND THE USE OF THE DOUBLE ENTENDRE IS LEGENDARY IN THAT TRADITION.

The recent Smell & Quim live shows have been pretty spectacular, even by Smell & Quim standards. Everybody goes on about the pigs head at Deaf Forever but for me the sight of Gillham swinging a ten pound lump hammer in a confined space was equally as disquieting. Then there was the fish incident supporting Citizen Fish and the last time I saw you Gillham cut himself quite badly and managed to spray blood everywhere via his drums. Is the live craft still important to Smell & Quim and how hard is it to get gigs with the reputation Smell & Quim have - I’m reminded of the time you were booked to play in Belgium as a duo and about twelve people turned up.

INDEED. I COULDNT SEE WHAT ALL THE HOOHAR WAS ABOUT THE FUCKING PIGS HEAD.

WE JUST HAD A PIG THEME GOING ON. WE WERE WEARING PIG MASKS AND WE HAD A PIGS HEAD THERE.

GILLHAM WITH A SLEDGE-HAMMER IS FAR MORE DANGEROUS THAN ANY DEAD PIG-PART THAT YOURE GONNA ENCOUNTER, BUT HIS BLOOD IS GOOD.

WE ARE ENTERTAINERS FOR GODS SAKE.

THE PERFORMANCE ASPECT OF A SMELL & QUIM GIG IS INTRINSIC TO THE WHOLE. HOW LONG CAN PEOPLE ACCEPT SOME GADGER SAT INPUTTING DATA INTO A LAPTOP AS PERFORMANCE. PEDALS AND LAPTOPS ARE USEFUL TOOLS, BUT TWIDDLING ALONE DOESNT MAKE A SHOW. COME ON. WE ALL KNOW THIS!

IT IS TRUE THAT IN THE PAST PEOPLE BOOKING SMELL AND QUIM LIVE HAVE EXPECTED A DUO TO TURN UP, ONLY TO FIND 15 PEOPLE ON THEIR DOORSTEP. THIS IS NO LONGER THE CASE. S&Q ARE CURRENTLY A MERE 5 PIECE OUTFIT, AND WE COME CHEAP. WE SEEK ONLY EXPENSES AND A BIT OF HOSPITALITY FOR THE MOST PART. WE ARE FRIENDLY AND EASY TO GET ON WITH. ENTERTAINING TO HAVE AROUND EVEN. PROBABLY BETTER THAN YOUR REGULAR MATES.

BUT YES, PEOPLE SEEM RETICENT TO BOOK US.

IT IS A BIG WORRY. WE REALLY WANT TO PLAY SOME FUCKING GIGS, BECAUSE WE'RE DOING THE BEST SHIT THAT WE'VE EVER DONE, AND THERES CRAP LOADS OF NEW STUFF IN THE PIPELINE MAN.

Along with Whitehouse, Smell & Quim are creating work which is instantly recognisable and has song like structure to it. Would it be fair to say you draw inspiration from Whitehouse and would that explain the appearance of Sweet Tooth and Fuckseed on the new album?

EMBARKING ON THE NEW RECORDINGS WE DECIDED THAT WE WANTED TO REALLY GET BACK TO SMELL & QUIM BASICS. WE WANTED FULL-ON BRUTAL NOISE, POWER-ELECTRONICS, AND THE ELEMENTS OF VARIATION AND HUMOUR THAT ARE UNIQUE TO OUR BEST WORK. YOU ARE CORRECT TO PERCEIVE SONG-LIKE STRUCTURES, AND EVEN IN THE TRACKS WITHOUT WORDS, THERE IS ALWAYS A DYNAMIC AND A DEVELOPMENT ALONG THESE LINES. OFTEN A THEME, OR A BEGINNING, MIDDLE, AND AN END.
I THINK PRETTY MUCH EVERY BAND WORKING IN THE NOISE AREA HAS GAINED AT LEAST SOME INSPIRATION FROM WHITEHOUSE. THEIR BEST STUFF IS SO ARCHETYPAL. IN RECORDING "POWERFUCK" AND THE MATERIAL THAT IS TO FOLLOW WE JUST SET OUT TO PRODUCE THE BEST THAT WE COULD COME UP WITH, AND WE'RE VERY PLEASED WITH THE RESULTS.

Do you draw any inspiration from the current noise scene?

I DO PERCEIVE A RESURGENCE IN THE NOISE GENRE, AND THIS IN ITSELF IS INSPIRATIONAL, BUT I'D HAVE TO ADMIT QUITE A LEVEL OF IGNORANCE AS TO WHAT EXACTLY IS OUT THERE, AND WHY IT IS RISING AGAIN. THERES A WHOLE NEW GENERATION OF ACTS THAT I KNOW NEXT TO NOTHING ABOUT.

NOISE IS A THING BEST EXPERIENCED IN THE LIVE ARENA, AND ONE OF THE GREAT THINGS ABOUT PLAYING ON A LIVE NOISE BILL IS THAT YOU GET TO SEE OTHER PROJECTS, AND I GUESS S&Q DONT REALLY GET TO PLAY ENOUGH SHOWS, SO OUR INSPIRATION IS LARGELY SELF GENERATED.

There seems to be a lot of interest in re-issuing cassette material from the mid 90’s and beyond. I have here Goldenrod; a collaboration between Smell & Quim and Streicher which has appeared on the Freak Animal spin off Industrial Recollections and captures perfectly that fertile mid 90’s industrial noise period. Is there any other S&Q back catalogue material destined for re-issue?

INDEED THERE IS, AND UNDERSTANDABLY SO. IT WAS REFRESHING TO LEARN THAT THE THREE GOLDENROD CASSETTES WERE GOING TO BE RE-ISSUED ON INDUSTRIAL RECOLLECTIONS. I MUST SAY THAT I LIKED THE STREICHER/MACRONYMPHA ONE BEST OUT OF THE THREE.
THERE ISNT ANYTHING FIRMLY ARRANGED AS REGARDS S&Q RE-ISSUES, BUT I THINK IT COULD WELL BE OVERDUE. IF NOT RE-ISSUES OF WHOLE ALBUMS, THEN MAYBE AT LEAST SOME KIND OF BEST OF COMPENDIUM, AS A SORT OF RETROSPECTIVE. MEANWHILE WE ARE REALLY CONCENTRATING ON THE NEW STUFF.

When relaxing in my Shackletons high seat chair on a night, I like to slip on a Smell & Quim platter and pour myself a drink. I find digestifs such as Unicum or Jagermiester a fine post prandial snifter when soaking up the vibes and if its earlier in the day then a fine Belgian ale such as Westmalle or Kwak always hits the spot. I wondered if you favoured any particular form of John Barleycorn and whether alcohol plays a major part in the recording or live Smell & Quim situation?

I'VE TRIED THE SHACKLETON MYSELF, BUT FOUND THAT IT GAVE ME KNOTS IN THE TRAPESIUS, SO NOWADAYS I FAVOUR A CHAISE LONGUE WHILST QUAFFING DIGESTIFS IN MY NEGLIGEE.

ALCOHOL HAS INDEED PLAYED AN INTRINSIC PART IN THE SMELL & QUIM HISTORY. INFACT BOTH LIVE, AND RECORDING ASPECTS OF THE BAND ONCE VERITABLY SWAM IN THE STUFF. NOWADAYS JOHN BARLEYCORN STILL PLAYS AN IMPORTANT PART IN ACTIVITIES, BUT IS USUALLY ADMINISTERED IN A MORE CONTROLLED MANNER. I MYSELF FOR EXAMPLE, WHEN PLAYING LIVE, LIKE TO GET MY MISE EN PLACE FULLY ORGANISED BEFORE HITTING THE STAGE, SO WILL ONLY HAVE A FEW GRAILFULS OF ESSENCE WHILST ACHIEVING THIS. WHEN THE SHOW HAS BEGUN, THE PROCEEDINGS CAN BE URGED ALONG FURTHER BY VARIOUS OTHER STIFFENERS AND REFRESHMENTS. AFTERWARDS IT IS ALWAYS NICE TO RELAX WITH A FEW POST-GIG WIND-DOWN BEVERAGES WHILST SOCIALISING AND SCHMOOZING WITH WHOEVER IS AVAILABLE FOR THIS PURPOSE.

RECORDING.
THESE DAYS IT IS A MUCH MORE GENTEEL PROCESS, WITH ONLY CIVILISED LIBATION BEING EMPLOYED AT THE CAPTURE STAGES, AND COMPLETE SOBRIETY AT THE MIXING STAGE.

RECENTLY I WAS INFORMED THAT THERE EXISTS SOME KIND OF FORUM ON THE INTERNET WHERE A FEW TALES OF MY DRINKING ESCAPADES HAVE BEEN POSTED. IF I MANAGE TO FIND THIS RESOURCE I MAY AT LAST MANAGE TO PIECE TOGETHER SOME MISSING CHUNKS OF MY PAST.

FAVOURITE DRINKS.
ANYONE WHO KNOWS ME WILL CONFIRM MY LOVE AFFAIR WITH TEQUILA AND MEZCAL. AS APERTIFS I FAVOUR ANY PASTIS, ABSINTHE, OR BECHEROVKA. GOOD RED WINE IS AN EVERYDAY STAPLE, AND WILD TURKEY, AND WRAY AND NEPHEWS RUM ARE FINE POST PRANDIALS. AS TO BEER, MY PREFERENCE IS FOR THE FINE BELGIAN ALES, ESPECIALLY THE TRAPPIST ONES. IN MY ESTIMATION WESTMALLE TRIPEL IS THE FINEST BEER IN THE WORLD. RECENTLY I HAVE ALSO BEEN ENJOYING LA TRAPPE DUBBEL
(NETHERLANDS TRAPPIST ALE) ON DRAUGHT.

There are rumoured sightings of you having been spotted propping the bar up in the Grove at Huddersfield. Has The Duncan [once favoured haunt of Smell & Quim in nearby Leeds] been shut down or has the smell of stale ale and pie farts driven you away?

IN RECENT YEARS PUBS IN THE UK HAVE BEEN CLOSING AT A RAPID RATE. THE GROVE IS A PRIME EXAMPLE OF HOW TO MAKE A PUB A SUCCESS. THAT IS, HAVE LOTS OF DIFFERENT DRINK. YOU COULD GO IN THERE EVERY DAY FOR A YEAR AND HAVE A DIFFERENT BEER EACH TIME WITHOUT EXHAUSTING THE MENU. THERES NOTHING SPECIAL ABOUT THE AMBIENCE OF THE PLACE, INFACT ITS QUITE NAFF IN MANY RESPECTS, ITS JUST THE QUALITY AND RANGE OF GOODS ON OFFER THAT PUT IT IN SPOT NUMERO UNO (PERHAPS IN THE ENTIRE COUNTRY) FOR A SWALLY. THE RANGE OF BEERS MEANS THAT YOU GET BORING CAMRA FUCKERS TALKING INCESSANT SHITE ABOUT BEER TRAINSPOTTING, BUT YOU ALSO GET THE ODD INTERESTING CHARACTER IN THERE FROM TIME TO TIME.
AS FOR THE DUNCAN, I DO NOT KNOW. I SELDOM GET TO LEEDS ANYMORE AS IT SEEMS TO BE A PLACE DEVOID OF ANY SOUL AT ALL. IN GENERAL SAM SMITHS (THE DUNCAN IS/WAS OF COURSE A SAM SMITHS HOUSE) PUBS ARE WORTH LOOKING OUT FOR DUE TO THE SENSIBLE PRICING. IF YOURE EVER IN LONDON CHECK OUT THE PRINCESS LOUISE IN HOLBORN WHICH IS A WONDERFULLY UNSPOILED ARCHITECTURAL GEM.

Anything else you’d like to add before I copy and paste all this into the websphere? Favourite grapes? Cities? West Yorkshire towns? [I always favour Batley due to the bat sculpture - I’m a sucker for modern gargoyles].

ALL FRUIT IS REPUGNANT UNTIL FERMENTED OR DISTILLED. ALL WEST YORKSHIRE TOWNS SHOULD ALSO BE FERMENTED OR DISTILLED. AS FOR CITIES, GENERALLY THEY ARE PRETTY GOOD IF THEY ARE, OR THEIR ORIGINS WERE, AS PORTS. A RIVER FLOWING THROUGH A CITY IS USUALLY A GOOD SIGN FOR ME, AS I HAVE A THING FOR RUNNING WATER.

VARIOUS MUSINGS ON NOVEMBER’S LIVE SHOWS

Sat, 5 Dec 2009 14:21:37 +0000

Grunt
Slogun
Sickness
Con-Dom
Ashtray Navigations
Putrefier
Lash Frenzy vs Mort the Sonic
Iron Fist of the Sun
Cities Prepare for Attack

Wagon and Horses, Birmingham, Saturday 28th 2009

Noise and Power Electronics gigs aren’t normally known for their back slapping bon-honomie so the sight of a packed room singing ‘Happy Birthday’ at the conclusion of Saturday nights Con-Dom set was slightly surreal. It also gladdened the heart and will no doubt never be repeated. Saturday nights gig at the Wagon and Horses may have been organised to celebrate Wrasse Productions 15th ‘unbirthday’ but to all intents and purpose the reason why so many people travelled such great distances was to celebrate Mike Dando’s 50th. The man behind Con-Dom reaches the half century mark and people have turned out in numbers to pay their respects.
The venue is a stand alone glowing oasis of warmth and light in the wet and dark industrial fag end of Digbeth, a less than salubrious smear of run down businesses and garages on the outskirts of Birmingham where passers by were few and far between. The downstairs bar is lit by a roaring wood fire, the Guinness is on form and the punters are already piling in. A bent old man in a camel hair coat and flat cap arrives carrying two battered 1950’s suitcases. By now its chucking it down and he’s pissed wet through. He orders a half of bitter and stands drinking it at the bar, slowly drying out in front of the fire. Next to him are two six foot bald headed power electronic freaks covered in black ink and black clothes talking Genocide Organ and the merits [or lack of them] of CDR. Upstairs there’s so much equipment that its actually impinging on the floor space and its going to be eight hours before it all ends. It’s 6.30 and I’m probably drunk already.
Now I’m not going to give a detailed and individual account of who did what to whom and where but let me just say this; in all my years of going to these kinds of shows this was the first where I saw every act, heard every sound and most importantly, enjoyed every minute of it. From the moment that Cities Prepare for Attack laid an electric toothbrush onto a horizontal guitar and layered lots of Non like loops around it to the impromptu Grunt performance at the death I had a sloppy grin on my face thats taken two days to wipe off. Of course there was plenty of pushing and shoving and some folks did get upset during the Slogun and Con-Dom sets, I even saw a beer glass get chucked but it was all in good humour. Yes. I think you can chuck a beer glass in good humour. So long as its not aimed at someones head. Lash Frenzy and Mort the Sonic laid on a heavy bass guitar led noise drone rumble that was even more impressive once they’d completely filled the venue with dry ice and two flashing strobe lights. Other highlights were a noise based set from Ashtray Navigations [who were pumped up to a threesome for tonight], Putrefier gave his usual solid set with the noise guitar getting plenty of abuse, Sickness are as solid as it gets, floor clearing from Slogun, bodies everywhere and then a bare chested Con-Dom with Genocide Organ and Anti Child League support getting everyone jacked up. Grunt rounded things off using borrowed equipment but things were hazy by then, the Guinness had taken a hold. But I definitely did see someone strip off naked and dance about. If you weren’t there then you’ll just have to make do with the second hand stories that’ll no doubt be doing the rounds for years to come.

The previous night it was MEV playing their part in the Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival. I’ve been going the last three years to at least one night of the HCMF as there’s usually something worth catching. Last year it was Dror Fieler’s one hour blast-a-thon, the year before that, Cut and Splice with Randy Yau, Sudden Infant and The Vienna Vegetable Orchestra. And if you thought making music with vegetabkles was boring then you need educating. The VVO made cabbage noise, played a Kraftwerk cover [Radiation] and a version of Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring that was both bold in execution, remarkable to watch and highly entertaining. The prices are a tad steep when you’re used to paying a tenner to see five bands in a small room above a pub but the venues are top notch and the sound reproduction is incredible. MEV were Alvin Curran, Fredric Rzewski and Richard Teitelbaum and it was a rare pleasure to witness a group performing improvised music with such lightness of hand. They played for an hour utilising three open topped grand piano’s, samples from lap-tops, oranges bounced on piano strings, voice, bizarre flute like things all of it coalescing into one organic mass of flowing delight. About three minutes in what sounded like a mobile phone rang but of course it was them. Two minutes later a voice was heard saying ‘oh lets just start again’ but that was to fool you too. Three way hammered atonal piano work gave way to sublime passages of melancholy, noise, flies zapped in humane killers. At one point Rzewski stunned a female punter in the front row when he left his piano and asked her if he could have a drink from her flask. Whatever it was he liked it. They even came back for an enlightening Q&A session where Cage was quoted liberally and someone asked if there was a difference between sound and music. Curran said he preferred the sounds he heard outside his house to those played by people calling it ‘free music’.

November began with Colour Out of Space in Brighton. Getting shunted back from its September slot proved to be blessing when the Indian Summer arrived. The sight of people sat outside pubs in t-shirts at the beginning of November was a bizarre one but a welcome one at that. After getting solidly drenched last year it made a decent change to be able to socialise in a climate that didn’t resemble Tierra Del Fuego. Colour Out Of Space is the best event of its kind in Britain. Not that I’ve been to them all. Maybe its a mixture of the venue [a student theatre of a goodly size complete with decent PA], or the abundance of real ale pubs but those three days pass in a mixture of great music and good company. Thanks to curator Dylan Nyoukis there’s always a healthy mix of styles and genres ranging from vocal works to full on noise and with 33 acts covering two stages over three nights there’s going to be a bit of something for everyone and lets not forget the film screenings and galleries too. And at only £25 for a weekends worth of entertainment it has to be the best deal going. The down side to all this socialising is the inevitability of missing something. There you are deep in a drunken conversation when people start exiting the theatre to tell you you just missed the best set of the night. On the Saturday, so drunk and sociable was I that I only saw one act. It was though, the seriously deranged and highly entertaining Kommissar Hjuler and Mama Baer. The Kommissar and his missus divided opinion with a set in which they dressed in khaki jungle fatigues, complete with pith helemts whilst singing the refrain from The Lion Sleep Tonight. For about 40 minutes I think. The back drop screened a film they’d made of a man [I’m guessing the Kommissar] dressed in a pantomime lions outfit wandering about on a deserted lake edge staring into the horizon looking lost and mournful. As their demented vocals became ever more incoherent they sank first to their knees and then to the floor. It was exhausting just to watch.
Morphogenesis, Trevor Wishart, Damion Romero, Logos Women, Phil Minton and Isabelle Duthoit, Karen Constance and John Wiese, Sten Hanson, Joseph Hammers and probably lots of bits of others were seen, half remembered and enjoyed but the biggest cheer of the entire weekend and the one that brought the house down was Ju Suk Reet Meate and Oblivia who for a good thirty minutes entranced us with an improv ride through an array of vinyl samples. toy trumpet parps, noises, scrapes, out there sounds and kitchen sinks played against a huge screen of boiling tar pits and star fish. An unforgettable evening.

After being cosseted by Brighton the following weekend was akin to trip into the seventh ciicle of hell ... Stockwell. A place so lacking in cheer it makes Dewsbury look like Rio de Janero. Exiting at the fag end of the Northern line into a steady stream of early winter drizzle didn’t exactly fill me with the joys of spring but at least the Grosvenor isn’t too far of a walk and theres’ only half a dozen gangs of hooded youths to negotiate - each one of them looking you up and down and assessing your mugging potential. Tonight’s trip is to see Mikawa and Nihilist Assault Group but there’s John Weise and the Putrefier/Romance collab which gets off the ground about five minutes after Dean Romance gets to the venue. Unable to get the day off work the poor bugger has got on the earliest available train and within minutes is hastily plugging in his gear and away we go. The Grosvenor isn’t the best pub in the world and neither is it the worst. It just looks a little unloved and with me feeling damp at the corners and with one eye on the clock [last tube around midnight and you just don’t want to get stuck in Stockwell on a wet and windy Friday do you?] I just can’t get in to the swing of things. NAG, I feel are slightly let down by the lack of volume. Middle NAG is drilling a hole into a cymbal with a power drill when he gets it stuck which sends him into a rage and equipment is sent flying. He’s sent flying, he falls over and loses it and charges out of the venue. Left and right NAG stand there in silence in front of baffled audience. I leave, missing Mikawa. Unforgivable I know but it has to be done.

Somewhere in the middle of all this there was a brief Hair Police tour with a stop over in Leeds. The last time they played Leeds the venue was double booked and they ended up playing the shittest venue in town; the upstairs of The Vine. The upstairs room of The Vine looks like its been boarded up since 1983. You could hardly see through the windows for grime, beermats were literally glued to the formica table tops, there was a gents toilet that hadn’t had water run through it for years [but that didn’t stop us using it], buffets with legs missing, a total dump. Tonight though, they’re at the much improved Brudenell. When I first stared visiting the Brudenell it was more Pheonix Nights than respected venue. After a close scrape with the local authorities in which they nearly lost their entertainment license due to complaints about the noise, they’ve beefed up the soundproofing, beefed up the PA and even had the decency to stock some Chimay [whilst I’m at the bar two young lads appear and spying the Chimay ask the barman what it is ‘oh its some really strong Belgian stuff’ he says you wont like it and he’d be right - best stick to the WKD]. The PA is the envy of The Grosvenor. If NAG had had this PA then they’d have floored the place. As it is even the support acts are sounding impressive. A collaboration between Mutant George and Lee Culver going by the name Inseminoid delivers some of those great rumbling noise bass drop outs. They trail off into a tinny recording of a bog standard pop tune that goes on so long the audience wander away bemused and befuddled. Astral Social Club’s stuttering set seems to be some kind of Abba tribute. Latest ASC insert Paul Walsh layers on all kinds of sonic abuse as compliment to Campbell’s guitar frills, pumping beats and obscure Abba loop. There’s some kind of equipment failure mid set but the pair recover with a monstrous drum driven Krautrock/Faust-like wig out. Hair Police play the floor in front of the stage, all dark glasses, drunken equipment thrash and beery bass riffs. After soaking up their No Fun LP Certainty of Swarms this last week I revel in the combination of gadget led noise meets flat out rock throb meets disjointed fucked up stop start hit it miss it sprawl. Hair Police are no Wolf Eyes-lite they are the halfway house between what the indie kids want and what the noise crowd will give them. Its a short set, maybe twenty minutes but its still a visceral thrill.

THE ALISON PROJECT

Sat, 5 Dec 2009 13:44:02 +0000

The Alison Project - Sequence to my Nightmare
Seasonal Affect. SA002. CDR

Jase Williams sent me one of his famous tapes recently and in and amongst the Hindi pop songs, obscene thrash and disembodied trash there was a brief snippet of Jean Michelle Jarre’s Oxygene 2 and for a moment I was transported back to the time when all my music came out of one small speaker on a portable Hitachi radio cassette player. Hearing Jarre in those days was like being transported to new worlds. At a time when chart music was clogged with glam rock and novelty songs it was like hearing music from Mars. I never did buy the record though, never did have the money or even knew where the record shops were. It was a long time ago. Jarre has since been deemed to be rather naff with his spacy toons, flapping white shirts and ridiculous outdoor concerts but I still rather liked the earlier stuff. So to come across a copy of Oxygene in the chazza that same week seemed like destiny. I took it home and played it and that one play was enough. Whatever it was that was in my system Jarre wise had left me. I’ve moved on. I have Emeralds now and the Schulze and Froese back catalogue and thats enough for me. The love of synth had been planted though which is why, when material from modular synth outfits like The Alison Project comes along, I still get that little tingle of excitement.
And after numerous spins of this little black disc I’m still no nearer to deciding as to whether this is a work of understated ambient brilliance or something rather mundane. I even dug out old Schulze records for comparison, played Emeralds stunning double LP Allegory of Allergies for the umpteenth time, I even debated as to whether to play Oxygene again. Maybe its that unless you have some kind of focused direction you’re liable to let your mind wander. When faced with banks of flashing lights, knobs and dials, keyboards for six I guess it can become quite easy. If you mix drugs into the equation I suppose you could be there for weeks.
Each of these nine tracks has some great modular synth hallmarks; outer space loneliness, reverbed two note depth charges, drifting and soaring moans and burbles but all of it washes over me leaving little trace of ever having been there.
I have other problems too, the CD scans as nine tracks, the inlay states ten including a 24 minute sixth track and there in a font so small I had trouble reading it with a magnifying glass is the information that you need to go to the artists web site to download it.
Rarely have I struggled to come to terms with a release but yet again a synth work has proved my undoing.

Contact:

The Alison Project

zach [at] seasonalaffect.com

SMELL & QUIM LIVE AT THE COMMON PLACE LEEDS 2007

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 19:47:26 +0000

An extract from Sweet Tooth made its way on to Powerfuck,

This is the full 30 minutes.

here

SMELL & QUIM

Thu, 26 Nov 2009 19:24:29 +0000

Smell & Quim - Powerfuck
White CD LW - 056

Streicher + Smell & Quim - Korova Scumhaters
Industrial Recollections CD

I don’t think I’ve ever had to review the same material twice but seeing as how my original summation of these two recent Smell & Quim editions are both lost in the bowels of Steve Underwood’s soon to be released noise mag ‘As Loud As Possible’ it now seems the right time to do so. Elsewhere on this hard drive there is also the beginnings of an email interview with Smell & Quim mainman Milovan Srdenovic which will hopefully appear sooner rather than later and to add to the joilities a link to a download of Smell & Quim’s version of Sweet Tooth as performed at the Common Place Leeds in 2007. All insane 30 minutes of it.

But back to those two releases: ‘Powerfuck’ the first new S&Q material in ten years or so is a return to their best form and a sonically devastating punch in the floating rib area the other ‘Korova Scumhaters’ is a reissue of a split between S&Q and Streicher that first appeared in 1995 on Ulex Xane’s own Zero Cabal label and is two thirty minute pieces of prime industrial noise muck.

Smell & Quim, whilst forever involved in the noise scene, have always been a step apart from just about everybody else working within that field, mainly due to a particularly English sense of humour, an appetite to shock and a series of controversial live shows. The ability to shock comes from surreal sexual wordplay, explicit artwork, scared cows shot down, hence for example Sucking a Dead Man’s Cock, the cover art to Jesus Christ and the LP Stephen Hawkins Butt-Plug. The sacred cow on Powerfuck is Ken Dodd, the last link to the British Music Hall tradition of entertainment, all wild hair, goggle eyes and tickling stick. Smell & Quim pay tribute with Doddy’s Cock; a rising chorus of noise dementia complete with the squawking mantra ‘sucking on Doddy’s cock’. The Smell & Quim staples are there in abundance and with an array of looped porno samples, caterwauling cacophony and some blistering live noise work its going to take a seriously worn out noise fan who doesn't take anything from this. What particularly appeals to me is the fact that Smell & Quim are still treading some of the same sort of turf ventured into on their first album [18 years since] whilst still coming out sounding remarkable fresh. There’s been a number of lineup changes but with Milovan being the sole surviving member and constant driving force, the link back to that first album is intact and with it a lineage that is pure industrial noise heritage in itself.
New recruit Michael Gillham digs into his own industrial/power electronics roots on Fuckseed. In true power electronics style Gillham outdoes Phillip Best and in a heavy north east brogue sets about putting his missus right. Emerging from a wall of whining feedback and distinct Whitehouse squealing S&Q erase any remaining doubts as to whether they’ll ever get invited on to Woman's Hour.
Shakespeare Cockroach finds long time S&Q collaborator Simon Harris intoning ‘I’m a dirty twat’. Harris also appears on a live version of Sweet Tooth this time doing his best histrionic William Bennet impersonation. Between them Gillham and Harris could quite easily corner the Whitehouse parody market. Nacht Der Felherhaften Hymen creates the kind of havoc that is a mixture of low frequency mulch fed into junkyard scrap and scrape the result of which is a formidable hypnotic trance. Towards the very last seconds of Hymen comes the slowed down and reversed spoken words that could be the answer to the meaning of life, or as is more likely, the sound of Smell & Quim buggering about. By the mere title alone Piper at the Flaps of Dawn could only ever be a Smell & Quim track, as could My Cock Smells Like Shit and Have You Fucked Her Up The Arse Then Or What. Oh what playful ditties.

Back in the mid 90’s it seemed as if there was a never ending supply of noise tapes. Cassette tape became the medium of transgression mainly due to being incredibly cheap and easy to customise. Anybody who bought cassettes in the mid 90’s will no doubt have a collection of odd shaped objects pass through their hands most of which will by now have either been lost, stolen, broken or chucked [I still can’t get over the fact that I binned the take-away tray and boiled sweets that came with Betley’s ‘Cosmic Incapacitants’, come to think of it I haven’t seen the actual cassette for a while either]. Throw in a photocopier and arm yourself with some porn cum atrocity photos and you were halfway to forming your own industrial noise label.
Seeking out like minded folks was a tad harder in those nascent internet days but that didn’t stop Australian outfit Streicher and Smell & Quim crossing paths. Zero Cabal was the label run by Streicher’s front man Ulex Xane. A series of three collaborations with Streicher came under the Goldenrod banner [the other two being with Odal and Macronympha]. Industrial Recollections is the Freak Animal sub label specialising in releasing music from that period and Korova Scumhaters is the result. Two sides of a C60 onto CD with no editing or other trickery means that you have a decent representation of that fertile period where a sample of someone evacuating their bowels sat neatly alongside some putrid industrial noise ambience. As you’d expect, some of the work on here is pretty rudimentary but taken as a whole it is possible to enter some kind of ‘other world state’ wherein TV static, gay porn samples, pink noise, stick rattled tin buckets and short circuit abuse all gloop into the black mass of stinking industrial fertilizer that this so obviously is.

Contact:

L White

Industrial Recollections

Smell & Quim

As Loud As Possible

FILTHY SOCIAL CLUB ASTRAL TURD/ ANDY JARVIS / EE / SNOTNOSED / KYLIE MINOISE / ASTRAL SOCIAL CLUB

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 16:36:06 +0000

A piece I originally wrote for inclusion in the forthcoming noise journal As Loud As Possible but which has now been replaced by a more recent offering.

In which the hirsute Stewart Walden sits on a freezing bus with broken windscreen wipers on the hard shoulder of the M1 on a wet Saturday night in January in the midst of a 600 mile round trip just for the brief delight to be had in throwing Smell & Quim audience members around a tatty room smelling of spilt beer and brought in kebabs. Walden is one of the true unsung heroes of the UK noise underground. So far off the radar as to be seemingly on a different planet but appearing Gandalf like at S&Q gigs, gigging with Neil Campbell and drinking cloudy cider in real ale bars. Because it is to the West we must look first. West Yorkshire and two fine West Yorkshire residents going by the name of Astral Social Club and Filthy Turd rolling around a mucky pub in Leeds like a pair of drunk Injuns after necking a bottle of the white mans firewater. The Turdster, last seen in Dortmund Square 9 o’clock Friday night stripped to the waist, beer belly to the fore, singing songs about his dirty snake, wearing a skull mask, keeping a maddening beat with an empty baked bean tin and a stick. ASC mainman Neil Campbell, last seen hot footing it back from some chic euro hotspot electro love in after wowing the denizens with his sun melting beats and drones. But on this [probably] wet July night they pull together as Filthy Social Club/Astral Turd, a sea of feedback and Red Indian holler. The Turdster cracking his whip, espousing gibberish spoken words, the pair of them howling like they’re trapped on a plane that’s losing height and the sea’s coming at them at zillion miles an hour. Crashed cymbals and the Astral Social Club beat box breaking up and sounding like a cheap disco through plasterboard walls. Needless to say the whole thing builds into an uncontrollable monster that no doubt had the lights flickering and the punters downstairs wondering what the fuck was going on.
EE’s broken analogue noise dump cassette ‘Ceramics’ is fine wonderment to my shell-likes. Taking apart the back of an old CRT TV and sticking your fingers where you shouldn’t, putting a metal bar across the circuitry of an old reel to reel computer main frame or just plain old guitar effects boxes. I don’t know how they make this shit and I prefer not to know. It spoils the effect. If I found out it was really easy then I might go and do it and form a noise band and see the world and get to sleep on peoples floors and not shower for days and get bitten by things that live in carpets and drink too much alcohol and eat too much of the wrong foods and forget what country I was in or what day it was and when I got back home I’d make some noises like this and send them to Sound Holes who’d spray paint the cassette and put it in a box and make 68 copies so that 68 people could have one each and listen to its churning noise and feedback. Except for the bit towards the end of side two where it all goes a bit pear shaped. I wouldn’t do that bit because it was a bit crap really.
Snotnosed – Live Shit Action 2003-2006 - utter madness - listen to the sound of a big bald bloke fly head first into a dustbin full of broken crockery. Gasp in amazement at the sight of a big bald bloke smashing the shit out of pokey venues with a sledgehammer. Be amazed at stories of how big bald bloke breaks bones and bleeds everywhere. Because if you’re going to do a Hanatarash tribute act you might as well do it right. And then there’s the machete and the Peter Sutcliffe mask and the broken records … lots of things broken of course.
But first you need your big baldy scary bloke, that’s Michael Gillham [Cock Combat], on some outings he’s joined by Cock Victory [on metal and drills] and there’s ‘Censored’ too but mainly its Cock Combat going for head bleeding glory in a series of mental outings where audiences scream and shout encouragement as the debris from a Dansette record player mingle with the spilt beer and the blood. Cock Combat screams too, galvanized dustbins are destroyed, cymbals hurled with gusto. Lots of things get broken including Cock Combat’s bones. Three gigs in a row he breaks foot, knuckles and wrist. Some people would have given up but this just spurs him on.
I once saw Snotnosed play the Royal Park Cellars in Leeds. Cock Combat wore a Yorkshire Ripper mask and waved a sledgehammer at the audience before doing back flips onto broken cymbals. He destroyed a galvanized dustbin by repeatedly swinging it into the floor as Cock Victory hid behind a box of tricks keeping the noise levels up. That gig isn’t here sadly but there are six other tracks of equally enjoyable mayhem, including Live Actions 0, 1, 4 and 5 to keep the English noise obsessed fan happy. From such mayhem comes a surprisingly good listen. In between breaking records over his head and waving fire extinguishers at the audience the Cocks cook up some decent ear bleed. The Bloodcurdling screams, the sounds of things being busted, it’s enough to bring a tear to your eye.
Snotnosed activity is now suspended, presumably so Gillham can get his breath back, but this here document [which even copies the first Hanatarash sleeve and logo and comes with pin badge and booklet] is all you need to re-live those extra special demented moments. Just insert disc and hit yourself over the head with your sister’s records.
Under his Kylie Minoise moniker Lea Cummings gave us one of the best noise releases of 2008 with Spank Magic Lodge, an utterly magnificent noise breach which will surely one day receive its heroes welcome. It had zany track titles too like ‘The Last Survivors of a Band of Nude and Long Haired Freaks’ and I loved it.. Then comes ‘You Suffer’ a CD of seemingly endless maximalism and unwavering dullness that would be better employed as a beer mat. Maybe it was just something he had to get out of his system? Maximalist noise has its fans but its safe to say that I’m not one of them. Lock yourself in, turn up the stereo and kick four of your senses good bye for an hour … err no thanks. Coming after the sheer joy of Spank Magic Lodge it’s hard to bear.
Fortunately for us Cummings also appears in Opaque. A twin headed guitar beast who ditched their drummer years ago when they developed a penchant for avant guitar noise. Opaque don’t just do neck ringing head down mindless noise though. On the four disc set ‘The Cult of Survivors - Unreleased Tracks 1997-2007’ there’s plenty of honest to goodness noise of course but within these forty odd tracks of live and studio detritus lives pulverizing drones, struck strings and deathly frottage.
Seems Opaque live shows have the habit of polarizing the audiences though, half of them bottling them off and unplugging their guitars while the other half try plugging them back in again. As far as noise goes they sure don’t sound or look pretty; track one, disc one, a two minute blast-a-thon that must have rattled the rafters in Utrecht. It’s brutal unapologetic ear wax dislodging material and if anything nearer to prime Jap noise circa mid 90’s than two guys with guitars in Europe in 2004. But they can do ambient too and if Buddhist temple like chilled out ambience with dying amp warmth is your bag then there’s some of that on here too. TNB clang isn’t far away as are gloriously built up overdriven motordrones and echoing dead factory ambience.
They also have the sense to jumble the styles too so that each disc runs its own stylistic gamut. Something to be welcomed when faced with so much material in one package in these days of ever dwindling attention spans. Of course, four discs is always going to carry unnecessary baggage and I reckon that this could have easily been slimmed down to two hour long discs or, if I’m being brutally honest, maybe just the one.
Andy Jarvis floats around the UK underground noise scene like a traffic warden – only friendlier. Sticking 3 inch CDR’s from his own First Person label under windscreen wipers and taking notes of how long you’ve been parked he drifts along invading Stoke on Trent’s pubs with a variety of fellow bong merchants laying down everything from ether pluck to vibrant noise drone. When not running his own label he appears from nowhere on obscure outposts espousing drone and strum. On the four unnamed tracks on Aghast/Agape Jarvis layers jumbled guitar chords over shimmering electronics, lays down orgasmic Tangerine Dream like synth washes over a Robert Fripp guitar run and on one track sounds like Manhattan Research era Raymond Scott after a good session. The first track is sub sub sub guitar riffage played with the fattest plectrum in the box reverberating back to you until it morphs into mangled vocal mantras that come in half way between Tuvan throat singing and a moaning mystic at a lively seance.
But back to Walden who this time turns up in London at the Old Blue Last with Neil Campbell [or should that be Procrane Split?] a gig seeing the light of day on Campbell’s own Astral Social Club CDR run, this being number 16. Procrane and Stool Man go where no dronester has ever gone before; a deranged, monged out, head nodding cess pit of mutated beats, held down synth keys, wild Theremins and shortwave radios. Its 25 minutes of batting each others senses up hill and down dale. It runs beautifully, taking in Pan Sonic like bass spasms, spaced out Theremin walks and one finger snyth jabs. They climax in a cumulative splatter, knee trembling and with the walls shaking - one half of them heads for the North leaving the London punters with only their flat ale and bleeding ears to contemplate. The other goes back to the bar. Bad news is this though … there’s only 24 copies to go round.

Filthy Social Club/Astral Turd - www.777was666.com [cassette]
A Jarvis- www.beyondrepairrecords.com [cassette – 50 copies]
EE - www.sndhls.com [cassette]
Snotnosed - www.atwarwithfalsenoise.com [CD]
Kylie Monoise/Opaque www.korvoroxsound.com
ASC - http://www.myspace.com/astral_social_club
As Loud As Possible http://www.asloudaspossible.org/

HYSTER / TOTAL VERMIN

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 16:08:02 +0000

Culver - They Killed Suzie Carter
Hyster. Hyster 07. Cassette

Re-Clip - Notes
Hyster. Hyster 08. Cassette.

Smear Campaign - Constipated Albion.
Total Vermin #26 cassette. C26

A Jarvis / Moral Holiday.
Total Vermin #27 cassette. C20

Bad Orb / Plum State
Total Vermin #28 cassette. C20

MPO/LERM - OZ OZ Alice 1
Total Vermin #29 cassette. C43

Servants Of Culture, Drinkers of Pearls Volume 1
Total Vermin #30 cassette. C40

Total Vermin’s unstoppable, drone, fluxus, nether regions UK underground documentation process shows no sign of abating and with this batch proves that if you need to know whats happening beneath the Wire radar you need to be getting in touch. Total immersion over the last few days coupled with a real under the skin session on a wet and dank November Saturday afternoon had all the benefits of drug overdose without any of the side effects. Listening to whats left of the Ceramic Hobs in their MPO/LERM guise is a startling experience and fills me with the kind of hope for music I once had back in ’78. Leaving Stan Batcow to his own devices the drink seems to have taken hold of the rest of them and in OZ OZ Alice 1 they carve out a rock seam that fits in somewhere between the Velvet’s The Gift and Nurse With Wound circa A Sucked Orange. Morris’s spoken word delivery makes Charles Manson sound about as scary as a the speaking clock, add in juxtaposed and ill fitting samples [cheerily sung Christmas carols and Wurlitzer organs?] and you have probably the only group in the UK worth following. There are songs on here the spines of which are a thudding bass plod or a chugging riff but each becomes buried under some detritus or other whilst Morris sings/talks through a series of diatribes that coalesce into something that could be termed a ranting manifesto against normality. They left the cake out in the rain. Maybe the drugs are stronger in Blackpool or the beer is cheaper or they have too much time on their hands but something is definitely happening on the Fylde coast and it needs to be heard. This is the first in a series of 11 OZ OZ Alice release, the rest are eagerly awaited.
Dragging myself away from such dementia is hard but the drone must go on. Phil Todd’s solo project Moral Holiday sounds like Popol Vuh meets Smell & Quim. Andy Jarvis, a long time favourite here reappears for the first time in a long time and comes over all wailing electronica built around a hacking guitar refrain. Smear Campaign as you would surmise is a collaboration twixt Filthy Turd and Smear Campaign resulting in the soundtrack to a Friday night kicking on the hard, damp streets of Stoke. Imagine you just spent fifty quid getting pissed in the worst bars in Stoke and you wake up in the morning with a two day hangover and your jeans are stained with piss and you have bruises on your face that you don’t remember receiving and you’re bent over the toilet bowl retching green bile into the abyss, well thats Filthy Smear. About as ugly and deformed as its possible to get inside a plastic shell. Bad Orb is looped mumbled vocals, whiny squeal, tinkly toy piano creating a spacious drone. Plum State is a hum of sorts in which a vibrating string hits the rim in spaghetti western Morricone style. The Vermin comp Servants Of Culture, Drinkers of Pearls finds Littlecreature Courses Thorough Content in Ribald Constance rubbing shoulders with easier gobfulls such as DK720, Dead Labour Process, Shareholder, Plum State and Sindre Bjerga. DK720 fill the room with emetic bass end noise farts the rest lies somewhere between leaning on a keyboard with your forearms and radio signals picked up by orbiting manned space modules.
After the day-glo shells and colour sleeves of Total Vermin its back to Hyster’s monochrome vision and recycled cassettes. Culver fit in to the monochrome ideal well seeing as how Culver’s main home is Matching Head, another tape label with a black and white philosophy. Culver fans wont be disappointed with these two tracks; one a murky trudge round an underwater cement factory, the other an ohm drone, a burbling range of notes that if stretched across a hundred years would be worthy of Cage.
Re-Clip’s Notes is a 16 track comp spanning the last ten years of their existence. It’s a slightly trippy slip and slide mix of hypnotic broken analogue beats, field recordings and spacey ambience thats hardly original but still listenable. I’m not averse to such working but on recycled cassette the finished product is lost in a midden of muddy mid range.
All the above are cheap, welcome and come in editions of 50.

Contact:

Hyster

Total Vermin:

CKDH / HOCKYFRILLA

Sun, 15 Nov 2009 14:54:49 +0000

CKDH - Feld Mose
CDR

Hockyfrilla - Vulpes Vulpes
CDR

I was listening to WFMU the other night when they played a Blood Stereo track and then Brighton came flooding back to me all unseasonably warm and good ale. Colour Out of Space disappeared in its usual all too quick fashion but the burned into the brain memories of Kommissar Hjuler, Mama Baer, Ju Suk Reet Meate and Oblivia [to name but a goodly few] were there again in the Sally Bennis Theatre tickling my shell likes like no other. As usual it was the best weekend of the year.
I have to admit to a great ignorance for much of what happens in Brighton though. A few Chocolate Monk releases have happened my way but no Blood Stereo, or Hockyfrilla or the offshoots, in this case CKDH. The scrape of Mr Nyoukis’s work has been there in the background seeping its way into the grey matter almost by osmosis but as for hard matter then no, none. At least now I have these two to go on. Hockyfrilla being Nyouki’s sister Dora Doll ably abetted by sole other female companion Rhian. A female duo then and how short are we of them? The more females inhabiting the male dominated experimental, noise drone arena the happier I am. Thus I am now in a state of half lidded, all knowing bliss having bathed the ears first in the twenty minutes or so of Vulpes Vulpes and then Feld Mose.
Catching up is never a chore and discovering that Dora Doll and Rhian make a kind of dying equipment, all falling apart, scuzzy, no-fi drone in which everything disintegrates into its constituent parts [at least on here it does] fills me the kind of joy equalled to that of discovering that your digs in Brighton has a quirky Belgian restaurant across the road that sells Bruges Zot. Three tracks and twenty minutes that scour the drone landscape with an array of dry joints, feedback, rustling and general murkiness all of which produces some kind of altered consciousness in those od-ing on Sussex ale. It must be the pebble beaches or the genial atmosphere that contributes to it all but I’m a fan.
CKDH is Rhian delivering up waves of shingle shimmer, sine wave float and hard beans slowly rolling around a large drum. The longest track on here, the opener, dissolves into silence for the best part of five minutes only to emerge on the second track in the kind of high pitched whistles that bemuse dogs. For the most part, the rest of Feld Mose consists of barely heard sine waves in to which the mandible chatter of insects is folded, factory hum and the drilling of sensitive teeth. It’s a winning combination.

Contact:
www.myspace.com/hockyfrilla
ckdh101 [at] yahoo.com