The Renderers - A Dream of the Sea

The Renderers are a kickass psychedelic/dark country act from New Zealand, and are associated with the legendary Flying Nun scene, sharing members with The Terminals (quite possibly the greatest rock band of all time) and have been putting out fantastic records since the early 90's. This is their best work in my opinion, 1998's A Dream of the Sea. 

Fucking brilliant. Songs about the human relationship with sea and our failure to understand it, and our attempts to connect with it via leviathans, storms, shipwrecks and even the surrender of oneself to the water - ultimately signalling that there is something exceptionally serene and enigmatic about the darker depths; how we long for catharsis from things that are larger than our lives. Painted with the velvet brush of The Terminals' legacy of noise, every track tells a tale while the guitars lick their wounds and occasionally lash back and forth; and husband-wife duo Brian and Maryrose Crook are your northern stars, your only guides in these treacherous waters. 

I have been looking for the way back
I have been lost on dry land
my body walks away from me
since the river beneath 
the river broke its banks

Have I spoken about the songwriting yet? It's flawless.


low to the ground

The Weeknd - House of Balloons

Mysterious, Toronto-based R&B project The Weeknd (Abel Tesfaye) dropped his debut mixtape, House of Balloons, earlier this week.

Late nights. Sleazy hookups. Drugs. Libido. Sound familiar? Well also featuring post punk samples and smoky, heady beats. I hope this is the shape of R&B to come. 


Free download from his website

Mercury Rev - Yerself is Steam

One of America's best psychedelic acts; Mercury Rev formed in the late 80's. They're closely associated with the Lips, both in style and sound. But I don't believe the Lips got as spaced out as Rev did on their debut here, Yerself is Steam. 

Mercury Rev's psychedelic miracle may be incomprehensible at first. One may think, "What the hell is Yerself Is Steam?" It's your self-esteem. And like steam, once it's gone, it will vanish forever. 

The album itself is a beautiful cacophony of noise. We have two tracks which begin as light acoustic riffs and progress to epic proportions (Chasing A Bee, Frittering). Syringe Mouth and Blue and Black hook us with maniacal, demented lyrics. The former complemented with brutal guitar feedback while the latter with a lighter meandering piano. Coney Island Cyclone demonstrates their appreciation for melody but not without a chaotic climax. Conversely, Very Sleeping Rivers is a whirring disturbed track of much greater length and ambience.

This is Mercury Rev at their most weird and whimsical, and above all the most wonderful thing they have ever accomplished. (*)


What once was lost will never be found/Keep spinning in circles until you break new ground.

Tindersticks - Live at the Bloomsbury Theatre 12/3/95

One of the best live albums ever from one of my favourite bands. 'Jism' and 'Raindrops' in particular are heartbreaking; genius arrangements guided to Stuart Staples' deep, resigned vocals; formed the template for scores of other bands. Have you ever had too much to drink and been left staggering to your own thoughts and regrets the day after? Try this on for intoxication then, just might be up your alley, you damn masochist. Plus look, there's a cat on the cover.

If there's ever anyone else, I'll understand
and kill him

Sweet Burning - Cry of the Shinigami

Ok, so you're thinking, who? Well, when I'm not rolling canonical or esoteric, I'm rolling with friends. Here's a Bleach inspired guitar theme from some good buddies of mine, brother duo Ali and Omar Khan. Yeah, they're still unsigned. I doubt there are any people in the business that happen to come by this blog, but if so, fix that please. Check this out and geek the fuck out, as you feel the reaitsu seeping through your soul. Someone, somewhere, there's a kickass AMV waiting to be made out of this. 


Cry of the Shinigami

The Field - From Here We Go Sublime

The Field is the recording moniker of one Axel Wilner, an electronic producer from Sweden. His debut effort, From Here We Go Sublime, is easily one of my favourite electronic records of all time.

There is very little else out there that parallels the mood set by this one. It's not trance in the literal sense - microsamples, cut up vocals, icy, polished soundscapes, a sense of complete isolation and longing for times gone hardly make for dancefloors for the regular ravers. But what this is probably what 'trance' has been trying to achieve in its aesthetic, that unabashed bliss/aural ecstasy hybrid. This is minimal at its finest, this is hypnosis at its finest. As someone once said - "The sound of God's walkman skipping" 

Sun & Ice 

This Heat - Deceit

This Heat are one of my all time favourite bands. So far ahead of their time that even today, most people are only just beginning to catch up. This is music at its most progressive, make no mistake, yet completely post-punk in spirit; it defies most musical conventions and feels like it could have been recorded tomorrow. There's no categorising this. Their 1981 album Deceit is one of the most intelligent albums in musical scope, and thematically - one of the most powerful political albums you'll ever hear. And it was recorded in a meat locker. Charles Hayward speaks of the making of the album: 


"The whole speak, 'Little Boy', 'Big Boy' [sic], calling missiles cute little names. The whole period was mad! We had a firm belief that we were going to die and the record was made on those terms.… The whole thing was designed to express this sort of fear, angst, which the group was all about really."

A wonderful article from Drownedinsound:

 Judged by its cover alone, Deceit (1981) is the great prophetic record of the era – the front depicts a scream beneath a mask that is a collage of: Mushroom-Cloud between-the-eyes; JFK & Khruschev shaking hands; Stars & Stripes across the tongue; Ron & Nancy on the forehead. These are the images still familiar in 2008. The lyric-sheet is scattered with the same clippings, and some more helpful captions. Much of this is identical to the collage ingredients for OK Computer (1997) and its singles: what to do in the event of a bomb, or when the siren sounds; where tactical nukes are deployed, worldwide; those oddly dehumanizing line-drawings of how to prepare your fall-out shelter. Deceit came out in 1981, though – a couple of years before Star Wars (the Strategic Defense Initiative); before Donald Rumsfeld shaking hands with Saddam Hussein; before the first massacre of the Kurds. Ten years later, GW1; ten years further on, 9/11; then the War for Oil, then the Credit Crunch; and only this week can we see real hope of a decline in Republican war-mongering and financial mismanagement (the legacy of Milton Friedman, via Reagan & Thatcher). You know most of this; the point is, to get a sense of history… but also a sense of "prophecy" as a meaningful term in the context of avant-garde music.

Back in 1979, punk in the sense of scuzzed-up glam or sped-up blues had already exhausted its capacity for subversion. Nonetheless, a door had clearly been opened for the experimentalism of post-punk (in a loose sense), and within that (or overlapping), a kind of proto-industrial music that has little to do with Ministry, NIN, or Front 242. Alongside Lydon's definitive nail-in-the-coffin of the Pistols – Metal Box (1979) – This Heat's debut was the sound of re-invention and refutation, both musical and ideological. Heavier than Throbbing Gristle or Cabaret Voltaire, the industrial analogies (at the time) require some contextualizing: industrial as a simile (metal on metal), industrial as a reflection of process (customized machines), industrial as an allusion to critiques of the "military industrial complex". The best (or worst) was yet to come, however…


Deceit (1981) is prophetic, for a start, in that it's glossolalic – it's gibberish, it's speaking in tongues, it's too many ideas at once, and if you throw them at the wall, some of them are bound to stick, and look like a warning three decades later, if not like Revelations. Thing is, prophecy often attracts the wrong people, and gets ignored by the rest, when they assume it must refer to some specific event in the future (i.e. Kabbalism), rather than referring to the horror here and now, but visibly imminent to those who can see the historic patterns (…which is one aspect of Gnosticism). Track 5, 'Cenotaph' spells this out: "his-tory / his-tory / repeats itself / repeats itself / Poppy Day – remember poppies are red / and the fields are full of poppies" – it's literally a song about decoding symbols, and not letting the signal become noise; it's not a Fuck You to the jingoism and self-righteousness of the generation who "served" (as Sid, Siouxsie, and others claimed their Nazi regalia was meant to suggest), nor does this song disrespect the dead, but it does demand that we re-consider our values. The most recognizably "punk" track on the album, 'SPQR' (Track 4), identifies another repetition, and how we're taught by rote to repeat the values, and sometimes the mistakes, of our parents – right back to the imperialism and centralized government of 2,000 years ago:


 "we're all Romans / unconscious collective / We are all romans / we live to regret it / We organize via property and power / Slavehood and freedom, imperial purple. Pax Romana!"


The devastating industrial freak-out, 'Makeshift Swahili' (Track 8), condenses most of these ideas into one song, although you wouldn't know it at first from the Dalek-voice: "…makeshift she sings / in her native German / you try to understand / what she's trying to say / she says 'You're only as good / as the words you understand / and you, you don't understand / the words.' / CHORUS: Tower of Babel!!! / Swaaaaaaahili!!! / It's all Greek to me!" The middle-eight introduces a pretty guitar figure, and a second voice relates a fragment of history that might have been dropped in as a sample, years later: " 'we give you firewater / you give us your land' / 'white-man speak with forked tongues / but it's too late now / to start complaining…'" The sinister drones resume almost immediately, and then the song explodes with an intensity surpassing punk at its most violent – Charles Hayward shrieking "Rhubarb! Rhubarb! Rhubarb!" Granted, this track may not be the most obvious demonstration of the genius of This Heat – Yes, Babel remains the best-known parable of the dangers of imperialism (if not globalization) collapsing under the weight of its ambition; there are also hints that language is power, and literacy was an instrument of subjugation, in the case of the Native Americans, rather than being the gift of enlightenment (see also, Gang of Four's contemporaneous Entertainment!).  If 1970s English Progressive Rock was a debased surrealism in the service of trippiness, This Heat brought the revolutionary spirit back.


What of the rest of the album? It's a complex beast, whose intra-textualities are as numerous as the inter-textualities. The use of loops, drones, found-sounds, and unusual percussion (girders, dummy-heads) was so elaborate that you have to look to The Beatles' 'Tomorrow Never Knows' for a precursor, and as far ahead as Aphex Twin when describing the more danceable and abrasive tracks. A guitarist as evil – but subtle – as Charles Bullen wouldn't be found until Dave Pajo (of Slint), and if you want a comparison for the first album, only Liars have come close, with Drum's not Dead (2006). Personally, I can hear the ghost of Nico channelled into This Heat's weird mix of fucked-up lullabies (Track 1: 'Sleep'), and drone-based proto-industrial nightmares. The drawing of parallels between the End of Rome & the Cold War Era is also very Nico, and the phrase "the sound of explosions" on 'A New Kind of Water' (Track 10) feels like a reference to Eno's "bomb-noises" for Nico's The End. (Eno also recorded Manzanera's pre-Roxy band, Quiet Sun, who included one Charles Hayward, later of This Heat. Rhubarb Rhubarb.)


Opening track 'Sleep' tells us we're all unconscious, lulled by commercials (hence "softness is a thing called Comfort"), and these operate on us like Pavlov's dogs (CHORUS: "stimulus and response"). 'Triumph' might be suggesting a parallel between Neighbourhood Watch (imported from the US in 1982 – a landmark in the history of surveillance), and the early years of Nazism, when Riefenstahl assembled her filmic montage Triumph of the Will. 'SPQR' is sung in the first person plural and refers to the supposedly democratic electorate as "unconscious collective" – Cold War propaganda and sci-fi alike often fantasized the enemy as an insectile hive-mind, but this song isn't about an external enemy: the enemy is now internal. 'Independence' (Track 9) is, quite literally, the Declaration of Independence. Ask yourself, as a UK-citizen, have you ever read it? Do you know what it says? Could you imagine trying to implement its ideals now? Doesn't its endorsement of revolution sound – well, "un-American" (as the Patriot Act defines "American")? The climax is post-punk masterpiece and personal favourite, 'A New Kind of Water', which layers un-synchronized drums, bass, and a chiming guitar line – a distant siren that hasn't yet been recognized as a warning signal. As the parts cycle, and change in volume, the notes interact differently. The initial chorus vocals are those of impotent, infantilized consumers ("we were told to expect more / and now that we've got more / we want more"). After that, the vocal delivery is soulless and hollow – Winston Smith at the end of 1984 – we have hope, it says: 'a cure for cancer / we've got men on the job.' Urgency increases… the drums begin to pound… you realize the apocalypse is here and you wish you were in Neverland ("fly away Peter / hideaway Paul…"). The title of the final track is written in Japanese characters, transliterated into Romaji ('Hi Baku Shyo'), and then translated into English ('Suffer Bomb Disease'). There are no words in this murky, marshy soundscape – maybe this is the world in which only cockroaches have survived. Maybe English-speakers are only tolerated as slaves of the victorious "Yellow Peril" (hence the Romaji-script). Then again, maybe the bomb has already dropped, and we became insects without realizing it."


So this is what forward thinking music is all about. The very spirit you can hear flowing in and out of these songs is equaled by only the most groundbreaking and thoughtful bands. What a clusterfuck of noise, chaos, atonal melody, pulsating tribal rythym, chords that cut across your face like freshly sharpened blades, sounds whizzing in and out, abrupt changes, a message as dark as that ominous record cover...this band was in total control of what they were doing and what they wanted this mass of angst to sound like. So unbelievably essential in an industry (and blog) that probably uses that word too much. Though made in a different time, it sounds as fresh and urgent as any band still trying to push the proverbial envelope. You need this.


A New Kind of Water