LITURGY - Aesthethica (Thrill Jockey)

“High Gold,” the lead track off Liturgy’s new album “Aesthethica,” begins with the sort of sound experimentation that has marked black metal ever since Burzum started making albums. The weird pitter patter of tones that trickle out of the speakers is nothing new to the genre. Neither are the blast beats, banshee shrieks and tremolo-picked guitar squalls that follow. What is new to the genre is that the progressions and snatches of melody that spill out of the track sound nothing like black metal. It’s off putting at first, until you start to analyze the song through the lens of free jazz, or even math rock and screamo, then it begins to make sense. Replace the guitars with saxophones and you could have a latter day John Coltrane track on your hands. Or don’t, and you have something that rubs elbows with Lightening Bolt on its way to Ulver’s “Nattens Madrigal - Aatte Hymne Til Ulven I Manden.” In other words, don’t go into this expecting a typical black metal record, even by USBM standards, instead prepare yourself for a hodgepodge of noise that blends musical strains as variant as classical, jazz, drone, minimalism, sludge rock, prog, IDM and chant. Do that and you will be ready to take on the bacchanalian tour de force that is “Aesthethica.”

I have honestly never heard an album quite like this. It is marked by climaxes of unbridled joy and high drama, in between valleys of hypnotic pummeling, yet it never sounds forced or too disparate, as it blends together so many divergent influences and emotions. It’s sort of like the rantings of an unmedicated bi-polar schizophrenic that actually not only makes sense, but is enlightening even.

Liturgy began making a name for themselves a couple of years ago in the wake of their incredible debut album "Renihilation." The Brooklyn quartet seemingly came out of nowhere and created one of the most successful boundary-pushing black metal albums in the genre's history. I say successful, because rather than add strings and synthesizers like Emperor did to create "symphonic black metal" or graft tremolo guitar and blast beats onto post-rock song structures as many USBM bands have (causing some to purists to cry foul), or add industrial and psych-rock influences to create a hybrid form of heavy music via Nachtmystium and Twilight, Liturgy have remained fairly true to the traditional black metal template. What they did within that template was something else entirely. In reviewing "Renihilation" I wrote that "with a compositional style more suited to Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, modal jazz and 20th Century minimalism, than black metal, Liturgy astonishes. The band provokes intellectually, plays with an emotional intensity that an emo kid would cut himself for, and blasts grim with the full frosty fury of the most blacked metal." The same could be said for "Anesthethica," but as one would hope, there is an evolution in sound and a honing of skills present that makes this record superior, which is no small feat.

What Liturgy does better than anyone else, and I mean anyone, is maintain absolute control over what sounds like an eschatological whirlwind. These guys play so intensely - so entirely unhinged - while sustaining an air-tight precision throughout that they seem to defy the laws of physics. Even after listening to this record repeatedly, I still half expect some of these tracks to collapse under the weight of themselves into a muddled mess, but they never do. Listen to "Glory Bronze" with all it's ascending and descending themes whipping by you at a million miles an hour and you will be transformed, as if you just stared into the abyss at the end of all things and lived to tell. It is almost too intense, both physically and emotionally. It's also played with a skill far beyond most musicians' pay grade, yet it never sounds clinical, as so many gifted technical players do, rather the opposite is the case; it sounds like these guys are playing as if their very lives depended on it.

The only real breather comes with the group's welcome forays into math and sludge rock on instrumentals "Generation" and "Veins Of God." Initially both songs seem like a curve balls, but in time they reveal themselves as the record's anchors, grounding it in light of the unbound nature of the rest of the album. And, because I can't resist mentioning all of these bands in the same breath, imagine what it would sound like if "Spine Of God"-era Monster Magnet, High On Fire and Slint got together and formed a supergroup to record a 12", and it was a supergroup effort that actually exceeded its expectations for once. Such a flight of fancy will give you an idea of how incredible each of these songs are.

The rest of the album could easily be mistaken for the work of an ecstatic. Not surprisingly, Liturgy has been described as transcendental, but their music somehow makes the word transcendental impotent. The Master Musicians of Jourjouka and the Whirling Dervishes have nothing on these guys. This is extreme transcendentalism, and the word "extreme" is a necessary qualifier. This is simply unlike anything you have ever heard. That isn't hyperbole. Sonically this band is as extreme as it gets, yet it is far removed from the brutality or ugliness that is often associated with extreme music, instead it is, well, kind of beautiful. Listen to "Sun Of Light," with it's minimalist refrain that wouldn't sound alien to a Steve Reich or Philip Glass composition that suddenly explodes like a supernova into a cacophony of snare rolls, blast beats and screeches while the same refrain plays over and over and you cannot help but find yourself far removed from your mundane surroundings.

Ultimately, as with all truly transcendental experiences, words fail and this review is nothing but a pale approximation to this record, more so than what is typically inherent in the relationship between the written word and music itself. This an album unlike any other, and I know I have said that in various ways throughout this review, but it is true as this is utterly alien, utterly beautiful and utterly brilliant. From a purely musical standpoint this is the best goddamned thing I have heard all year, and I highly doubt that will change over the next seven months. "Aesthethica" is a landmark album that defies categorization and will reward serious listeners of all stripes willing to explore its heights and depths. And frankly everything I just said doesn't quite do it justice.

"Returner"

LITURGY // RETURNER from Thrill Jockey Records on Vimeo.

"Veins Of God"


"Glory Bronze"

XANDER HARRIS - Urban Gothic (Not Not Fun)

When I was growing up no other soundtracks captured my imagination quit like those to the films of John Carpenter. John Williams’ Star Wars grabbed mine and everyone else’s attention more, how could they not with all their Wagnerian bombast, but in terms of losing myself and letting my mind run wild, nothing was better than the scores to Carpenter’s films. I was utterly captivated by Ennio Morricone’s soundtrack to “The Thing,” and Carpenter’s own synth-horror compositions for “Halloween,” “Escape From New York,” and “Prince of Darkness.” What made each of these records so remarkable was their use of minimalism, space and tension to up the terror and dread inherent in each respective films’ story lines. They were characterized by a sort of zen-like calm in the face of certain doom, as well as subtle, and sometimes not so subtle, emotional arcs. As a result, I have always felt that Carpenter’s soundtracks were early precursors to post-rock and even the minimalistic doom of bands like Sunn 0))). This belief has consistently left me wondering if Carpenter, and frequent collaborator Alan Howarth, would ever get their proper due as composers. In the past decade people have been tripping over themselves to cite Italian horror soundtrack mavens Goblin as an influence, but Carpenter and Howarth’s names have been mostly absent.

That has been slowly, but surely, changing over the past couple of years as a whole new batch of electronic artists inspired by 70s and 80s soundtracks have emerged, bringing Carpenter’s name, even peripherally, with them. Last year’s “Prophesy Of The Black Widow” by Umberto and “Psychical” by Ensemble Economique both contained a healthy dose of Carpenter mixed in with a litany of other horror soundtrack influences. Now Not Not Fun label-mate Xander Harris has released “Urban Gothic,” the most overtly Carpenter-influenced modern electronic album to date. While Harris cites a laundry list of influences, new and old, it is Carpenter’s distinctly chilly synth-based sound that is most evident here. Although just as Umberto and Ensemble Economique mixed an array of genres ranging from African tribal music to disco into their reimagining of the horror soundtrack, Harris also draws inspiration from 80s synth pop and dance music to round out his own unique vision.

Complete with “Opening” and “End Credit” pieces, Harris’ “Urban Gothic” is the most linear of the modern faux-horror soundtracks that I have heard. Each piece is part of a larger, more terrorific, whole, inspired by writer Brian Keene’s book of the same name. Admittedly I haven’t read Keene’s work (although Harris’ album makes me want to), but a sampling of the book’s reviews all describe the gruesome detail that characterizes Keene’s writing. That emphasis on gore is appropriate as one can’t help but imagine buckets of blood and human viscus painting the floors and walls of “Urban Gothic’s” soundscape. But like all great horror movies from the 70s and 80s, it’s a hell of a lot of fun, even if you have to shield your eyes every now and then.

Scares notwithstanding, Harris never loses his sense of humor throughout this record. Songs like “I Want More Than Just Blood” and “Tanned Skin Dress” are certainly menacing enough, both in title and sound, thanks to the chilly synths that comprise their melodies, but they also groove like dance tracks, giving them each a knowingly playful vibe. In fact a large portion of this record could easily find its way into a club DJ’s catalog, regardless of the record’s macabre origins. On the other hand, the first time I listened to this record it was as a substitute soundtrack to the genre-mashup “Red Dead Redemption: Undead Nightmare.” As would be expected, this album was the absolute perfect record to spin while gunning down zombies and searching for unicorns in the old west. That many of these songs can stand alone in such diverse settings, while still comprising a consistent and thorough horror narrative makes this a particularly strong album and certainly the best among like-minded releases to date. I’ve had this on repeat since first listen, and for fans of horror, dance, synth-pop or the new breed of retro-electronica, I couldn’t recommend it more, particularly if you are drawn to things that go bump in the night.

"Tanned Skin Dress"

Xander Harris - Tanned Skin Dress from Not Not Fun on Vimeo.

"When The Hammer Starts To Swing"

KRALLICE - Diotima (Profound Lore)

I’ve always liked the idea of Krallice, more than I have actually liked Krallice. Held in suspicion by purists as hipster “boutique” black metal from Brooklyn, the band found more favor among alt-celebrities like Ryan Adams and the members of My Morning Jacket than they did the insular and often overly-judgmental metal underground. As a metalhead who has always had mixed feelings about other metalheads, I loved that Krallice’s debut album made it onto Adam’s Top Ten List in 2008, further pissing off purists, more than I actually liked that record. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a solid record with some incredible tracks, but there is a certain monotony that eats away at the overall quality of the album. More than anything, their debut stoked the fires of anticipation for their sophomore release “Dimensional Bleedthrough.” Unfortunately, for me, that record ended up being the biggest musical disappointment of 2009. The album was marred by an over-emphasis on the band’s extreme technical prowess, which completely overshadowed everything else. In the end, it sounded like the black metal equivalent of Yngwie Malmsteen; all chops and no soul. It was bad enough that for me Krallice quickly went from being ‘the next big thing’ to an ‘also ran’ in my book.

When the track “The Clearing,” from the band’s third album “Diotima,” debuted on Stereogum in January it was with reluctance that I clicked the play button. Surprisingly the piece was more focused and more vicious than anything the group had previously produced, enough so to reignite the flames of interest in me. As the late April date of the album’s release drew closer, early positive buzz was building, almost to heights that I thought would be impossible for the band to meet, particularly given my spotty history with the group’s catalog. My skepticism was unfounded though, because this time around Krallice the band is even better than Krallice the idea.

“Diotima” is the most purposeful record that Krallice has ever made. As noted earlier, the band’s immense technical skills have come off as wankery in the past, but no longer. When the band does show off its abilities it is in the service of a larger whole, and not just to showcase individual members’ chops. As a result the group has never sounded as emotive or as intense as they do here. This is black metal exploded to cinematic heights and it is deliriously glorious.

Take “The Clearing," after tearing through six minutes of brutal ascension, the track starts to break down into a martial rhythm pattern that most bands would choose to end on, but not Krallice, with Krallice the battle has only reached its half-way point, and what goes up must come down. The latter half of the song sounds like buildings toppling in on themselves and castles burning to the ground, even as the band turns in one of its most melodic chord progressions to date. It’s an insanely tight epic that never wears out its welcome and could probably play on into eternity without slack. It is also the first of four back-to-back tracks that break the twelve minute mark.

The album’s titular track is one of those mammoth numbers, and easily one of the most intense mid-tempo metal songs ever recorded. Foregoing blast beats for most of the song, the band instead focuses on crafting a seething atmosphere fronted by bassist/vocalist Nick McMaster. In the past guitarist Mick Barr’s black metal banshee screech has tracked most Krallice numbers, but “Diotima” features McMaster’s death growl to greater effect. The end result is a more muscular sound, and on tracks like “Diotima” his vocal contributions are downright devastating.

It isn’t just McMaster’s vocals that add a tougher feel to “Diotima,” the band’s jettison of extraneous individual instrumentation in exchange for a more unified and cohesive approach makes for a deeper and darker record, as on the face-melting “Litany or Regrets.” If anyone doubted these guys' authenticity, one listen to the crushingly brutal “Litany” will set them straight once and for all. The track’s concussive blast beat sucks the air right out of the song, making for a relentlessly heavy listen. It’s like listening to the nastiest and most degraded Paysage D’Hiver tape ever made, where everything is in the red and completely disorienting, except it’s way heavier than any of Paysage D’Hiver’s experiments in black metal.

With "Diotima" Krallice have not only made up for past transgressions, but they have established themselves as one of the elite among the current metal horde, and not just for black metal, but metal in general. Being one of the few groups that truly transcends metal's many subgenres by incorporating elements of thrash, death and grindcore into their particular brand of experimental black metal, Krallice have created something that should appeal to fans of all things heavy. Furthermore, their willingness to disregard boundaries while crafting such an intensely visceral record, easily makes "Diotima" a serious contender for metal album of the year, as well as one of the top albums of the year in general. Highest recommendation possible.

"The Clearing"


"Litany Of Regrets"

TYLER, THE CREATOR - Goblin (XL)

“KILL PEOPLE, BURN SHIT, FUCK SCHOOL!” goes the chorus of “Radicals,” one of the many highlights on Tyler, The Creator’s brilliant, and likely polarizing, “Goblin.” Never mind that the song kicks off with a “random disclaimer” telling listeners what follows is fiction, so let's not anybody try this at home, some people are going to be turned off by Tyler’s ultra-dark and ultra-violent lyrics. Never mind as well that in that “random disclaimer,” Tyler pointedly tells “white American, “ in particular Bill O’Reilly (whose jihad against rap over the years has been little more than coded racism), not to scapegoat him or his art if some idiot actually does kill people, burn shit and fuck school as a result of “Radicals,” because if Bill O’ gets wind of “Goblin,” you can believe it will only add fuel to the fire of the culture wars.

As I write this, I am sure that there are countless others preparing reviews with critical justifications for Tyler’s lyrics seated in the grim realities of certain socio-economic sectors of our population, and they would be right, but I’ll let someone else write that apologia. What is often missed, or simply ignored, in debates over controversial art is not so much its reflection of grim realities, but its value as catharsis, and catharsis is what I feel when I scream the chorus of “Radicals” along with Tyler and various other members of the much hyped Odd Future collective, of which he has become the de facto head.

Sometimes I think we forget that rock and roll is built on such catharsis. It is rebellion, a middle finger in the eye of the man, and the more transgressive the better. Take, for example, the Sex Pistols. In 1977 England was celebrating the Silver Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II. To mark the occasion the Pistols released “God Save The Queen” a not so rosy indictment of Parliament, England’s future, and, of course, the Queen. Despite the single being banned from airplay, it ended up at #1 on the top of the charts during Jubilee Week. While certainly it is full of social and political commentary, the real appeal of the song was, and is, singing the blasphemous lyrics snarled by Johnny Rotten, particularly “God save the Queen, she ain’t no human being” and the nihilistic refrain of “no future, no future for you.” The song gave voice to a rebellion festering in the heart of staid British society, and for all of its insight, it was the catharsis of apostasy that made “God Save The Queen” the classic that it is, as well as the most popular song in the land the very week England was supposed to be celebrating the monarchy. High ideals and political protest aside, sometimes what one really needs is to channel all of the anger, depression and futility of the world through the venomous lyrics of a song, which was exactly the appeal of Johnny Rotten and the Pistols.

Even when politics are entirely absent, and emotions are more generalized, there is something to be said for giving the Id its due. Surely we can all agree that sometimes it just feels damn good to let rip a big middle finger toward the sky while shouting out profanities, whether it be via something as vacuous as Soundgarden’s “Big Dumb Sex,” or N.W.A.’s all too real “Fuck Tha Police.” The Id feeds on sex and violence, and it needs to roam free once in a while. History, after all, is littered with the tragic byproducts of individual and collective repression.

Enter Tyler, the Creator. If there was ever a modern album more Id satiating, more cathartic, than “Goblin,” I certainly don’t know it. I’m sure someone would say the same for the rankest death metal, or the stupidest Insane Clown Posse song (a group that Tyler is sometimes unfairly compared to), the difference is that for all of its psychopathic violence, there is a self-awareness, an honesty and a vulnerability that beats at the heart of “Goblin," elevating it from the gutter and putting it on par with Kanye West, who also seamlessly mixes confessionals with fantasy. The end result is something more poignant than simple shock schlock, and something much more cathartic because it channels real human emotions, not just the cartoonish.

“Goblin” begins with Tyler continuing the conversation he began with an imaginary therapist on his debut album “Bastard.” The song’s heart-on-the-sleeve stream of consciousness allows him to set up the emotional parameters of the record, which are sometimes amusing, sometimes depressing, sometimes terrifying and sometimes humane. In other words, exactly what you should expect from an increasingly self-aware fatherless 19-year-old who is trying to find his way in the world, which is exactly who Tyler Okanma, a/k/a Tyler, The Creator, actually is. Tyler’s confessional is told over the sparest of instrumentation consisting of little more than a muted drum roll, sporadic lush strings, downtuned guitar notes and an occasional minor key piano motif. It’s minimalistic and dark, recalling the production of early Anticon and Def Jux more than it does Tyler’s hero Pharrell Williams. The net result is a track that maintains its sinister edge throughout, even as Tyler rolls out lyrics that are far more human and introspective than hip hop is typically known for.

“Yonkers” follows sounding like a cross between an old school Wu-Tang Clan track and Bernard Herrmann’s “Psycho” score. The imaginary conversation continues and gets more heated as Tyler rages about Jesus, Bruno Mars and hipster bloggers, in between dropping grin-inducing absurdities about popping "pink xannies" and dancing around his house in his “all over print panties.” It’s telling that this is the single for “Goblin.” It’s catchy as hell, but also entirely anti-pop. Its skeletal beat couldn’t be any less radio-friendly, and it's highly unlikely that "Yonkers" will find its way onto Clear Channel playlists around the country, which is partly why it is exactly the shot in the arm that hip hop needs. Musically and lyrically Tyler is more forward-thinking than his peers. He is too raw for Anticon, too weird and progressive for Roc-A-Fella, and too thoughtful for horrorcore. Instead, he capitalizes on elements from each and creates something wholly unique.

Creativity aside, “Goblin” is also a great listen that is as enjoyable as it is challenging. Yes, the album’s love song “She” ends up being about a murderous stalker, but you’d be hard pressed to stop yourself from bobbing your head to the ultra-silky vibe of the number. The same could be said for what is lyrically the heaviest song on the album, “Nightmare.” Tyler deftly blurs the line between fantasy and reality, dividing his lyrics between his rawest emotional lines like “my father called me to tell me he loved me, I have a better chance of getting Taylor Swift to fuck me,” and some of his most violent; “the knives get thrown, and hit her in her fucking neck, now her throat’s all gone, looking like a fucking monster from the Twilight Zone.” All the while a hooky beat plays underneath a mellow jazz piano progression, giving it a chilled-out feel in direct opposition to the piece's lyrical content. These sort of juxtapositions between music and lyrics add to the perversity of “Goblin,” while also making it a record that you can access even when you aren’t in the mood for this kind of heaviness.

Not every song is an example of dichotomy. “Tron Cat” is as dark musically as it is lyrically, but it bounces like the best hip hop. The song sounds like an early EL-P track, but contains much rawer lyrics than ever appeared on a Def Jux album, such as this gem: "rape a pregnant bitch and tell my friends I had a threesome." I'm sure that line is going to get plenty of attention sooner or later, but anyone who takes something like this seriously should probably never leave the house. It's a fucking joke. Yes, it's pitch black humor, but it's humor nonetheless, and placed next to the more serious lines on "Goblin," it's absurd grin-inducing levity, and actually a welcome break from the more gut-wrenching lyrics arising out of Tyler's real life.

At times the album does descend into what will easily be dismissed as misogyny, but it would be a mistake to take any of it too seriously. Just as Tyler, who neither does drugs or drinks in real life, raps about smoking weed and drinking, it's easy to view the traditional gangsta posturings that appear sporadically throughout the record as yet another joke born of the kind of hip hop stereotypes that Tyler is all too aware of, as well as the Ids of the young kids who make up Odd Future, and comprise "Goblin's" supporting cast. It's also telling that Tyler ends up killing off Odd Future members Jasper Dolphin and Taco at the end of "Bitch Suck Dick" after they turn in what are easily the most misogynistic lyrics on the record. Admittedly though, Tyler's lyrics succeed best when he combines both real emotion and fantasy, crafting such chilling lines as "let's buy guns and kill those kids with dads and moms, with nice homes, 401ks and nice ass lawns" on the phenomenal Wu-Tang influenced "Sandwitches." Anyone that writes lyrics like that (of which there are plenty on the album) off is frankly an asshole, completely ignoring the righteous rage that burns at the heart of "Goblin."

In many ways "Goblin" is the musical equivalent of the film "Gummo," which examined life in a small Ohio town devastated by tornadoes that killed all of the young resident's fathers. It may be ugly, it may be disturbing, but it's nevertheless art and a brilliant meditation from the mind of a fatherless young man making his way in the world, trying to find humor amongst its horrors. It's also as entertaining as it is thought-provoking, a rare feat for confessional hip hop. In fact, its blasphemies and atrocity exhibitions are downright fun at times, particularly for listeners in a society that increasingly resembles a fatherless child itself. Granted, haters are going to hate, and cultural warriors are going to flat line, but for my money Tyler, The Creator is exactly what the world needs right now. He is our punk rock. He is our catharsis. God save the Queen.

"Yonkers" (edit)


"Sandwitches" live on Fallon


"Radicals"

TRUE WIDOW - As High As the Highest Heavens and From the Center to the Circumference of the Earth (Kemado)

On the recommendation of Dan, the man who sets me up with so much of the material I review, I brought home True Widow's "As High As the Highest Heavens and From the Center to the Circumference of the Earth" a couple of weeks ago and threw it on the stereo. Wheeler, my gadfly girlfriend, was in typical form, ready to toss in her two cents within seconds of opener "Jackyl." "Is This Grouper?" she asked with more than a bit of sarcasm. "No," I replied. "Is it Zola Jesus?," her snark growing. "No," I responded, growing increasingly annoyed. "Is it Earth?" At this point, smartassness aside, I realized Wheeler was kind of on to something; True Widow is some seriously dark and heavy shit that deftly tows the line between dreampop/slowcore/shoegaze and doom, never tipping too far in one direction or the other. It's also rather good too, making it more than worthy of her esteemed comparisons, even if they were made to get on my last nerve.

Ridiculously long album title aside, this album lacks buoyancy, but it absolutely rocks. It rocks like Codeine rocked, or Spacemen 3 when they weren't tripping balls, or The Jesus & Mary Chain when they weren't writing pop songs. To give you an idea of the sonic universe that the Dallas trio are exploring (as if the above references haven't already), "NH" starts out like a Melvins' song, before invoking Low for inspiration. It's a slow and crushing piece that enjoys only a slight uptick in mood when guitarist/vocalist Dan Phillips and bassist/vocalist Nicole Estill harmonize on the track's vocals, similar in the manner of Alan Sparhawk and Mimi Parker. The band allows the track's mid-section to breath, introducing enough space into the number that it moves from sludge rock to slowcore without missing a beat. The song illustrates how effortlessly the band navigates between poles, creating a sound more muscular than slowcore and more hazy and hallucinatory than metal. Certainly other bands have attempted this sort of thing before, but True Widow nails it.

Other tracks flirt with melody and mid-tempo speeds like "Skull Eyes" and "Wither," adding dynamics to the record that may not be evident initially, since everything is filtered through a distorted early-90s fog that paints the band's sound in the red, blue and yellow lights of a smoky club where leather is prevalent. "Night Witches" is the closest thing here to a high intensity rock song. It recalls the more dangerous side of Spacemen 3, and proves that the band can up the tempo without losing their sense of dread.

If there is a single drawback to True Widow it is that they are the sum of their influences. I typically loath comparing bands to other bands, but in this case the comparisons are unavoidable. True Widow are certainly not the most original group in the world, but they don't need to be. It has been so long since someone has mined these sounds so well that they benefit from making a record like this amidst the remnants of chillwave and lo-fi. There is something so purely rock about "A.H.A.T.H.H.A.F.T.C.T.T.C.O.T.E." that it sounds like a breath of fresh air, or rather a welcome blast of oppressively dark and musty haze. Recommended.

"Skull Eyes"


"Night Witches"


"Jackyl"