#of holes music. which is good and significant and interesting and not singularly hers or the only music which speaks to her experiences too

[sendmyresignation]

ok one thing that's been pissing me off lately is the way. in both positive and negative opinions holder's estimations. hole is completely reduced to courtney love's band. in ways that completely ofuscate the conributions of the other members. this is very typical in music generally in a way i already find frustrating but it's especially egregious in the case of all-female or mostly female bands where each member had entire histories completely just removed from the discussion outside of the frontwoman. how many female drummers do you know list them top 5 lets go. ok now how about female drummers NOT in all female bands do you take the time to discover these women to listen to them to track the different bands and projects they're in do you CARE outside the list-ification of "diverse bands" about these artists as creative contributors who have tangible effects on music at large. <- guy listening to a lot of shift rn voice

[dustedmagazine]

Dust Volume Five, Number 11

Cold rain, dead leaves, political corruption, diplomatic betrayal…it’s been a bleak couple of weeks on the home front, but at least the music is good. This time out, we check in with the estimable Ezra Furman (pictured above) and his blistering punk rock album, as well as a smattering of shoegaze, a low frequency trio, a black metal endurance test, acoustic entropy and the sound of black holes colliding.  You know, same old, same old.  Our contributors include Andrew Forell, Bill Meyer, Jennifer Kelly, Jonathan Shaw and Ian Mathers.

Blushing — Blushing (Wallflower Records)

Blushing by Blushing

Blasting out of Austin, Texas come Blushing (married couples Michelle and Jacob Soto on guitar/vocals and drums, Christina and Noe Carmona on vocals/bass and guitar) with their self-titled debut album, an impressively sophisticated addition to the shoegaze landscape. Blushing displays finely tuned dynamics, a keen sense of melody and joyous rushes of controlled noise. The interplay of twin vocals adds an ethereal Cocteau Twins sheen to the songs but Blushing aren’t afraid to let rip with layers of guitar. Producer Elliott Frazier of Ringo Deathstarr achieves space and separation in the mix that elevates this album above the basic quiet-loud-quiet formula. Underpinning all this is simply terrific songwriting and musicianship. Opener “So Many” starts with whispered vocals over strums and washes of guitar before the rhythm section enters, there’s a slow build before the track blossoms into a widescreen squall of almost psychedelic guitars and pounding drums then wanes into a feedback outro. Highlights “Dream Merchants” and “The Truth” bring classic shoegaze tropes and add a dreamy panoramic depth. Blushing is a band to watch and this is a gem of a debut.

Andrew Forell

 CARL — Solid Bottom (Astral Spirits)

Solid Bottom by CARL

“Bass, how low can you go?” CARL’s flow differs drastically from Mike D’s, but the question is undeniably pertinent. The Houston-based trio comprises three low end instruments — Damon Smith (since departed) on double bass, Andrew Durham on electric bass and radio, and bandleader Danny Kamins on baritone saxophone — hitting sonorities that range from ankle high to sub-sub-basement. But bulbous pitches can still be nimble, and so it is here. The interaction pits genre against genre, bow thrust against amp buzz, melancholy phrase against floor-rattling rumble, resulting in music that never feels at ease. Hey, Texas needs some opposition, and these folks are ready to show the way.

Bill Meyer

 Ezra Furman—Twelve Nudes (Bella Union)

Twelve Nudes by Ezra Furman

It was about the time that Ezra Furman started expressing his distinct identity—queer, cross-dressed, devoutly Jewish—that he turned into one of rock’s great songwriters. Today, freed of the need for self-abnegation, his songs balance a razor-stropped wit with sharp, assaultive hooks; he is not afraid to tell you his story, though he’s too literate and clever to deliver it unadulterated. His songs have a shape and a sting at the end like a good short story, but a punch that is considerably more visceral. “The kids are just getting started/they’ve only just learned to howl, and most of them throw in the towel/by the time that they turn 23,” he shouts raspily in “Evening Prayer aka Justice” and it leads into the kind of stirring, anthemic chorus that Titus Andronicus used to be so good at. “What Can You Do But Rock and Roll” rampages in a short-circuiting stop-start attack, like Green Day before they got so serious about themselves. In short, it’s a rock and roll of the sort that the culture has mostly abandoned, the kind that large men push to the front of Hold Steady concerts for, that causes Japandroids fans to punch the air. And yet it is not wholly of this man-centric tradition, simply because of who Ezra Furman is – lipsticked, cocktail dressed, smarter than you and willing to talk Torah. In short, here is a songwriter who has been killing it since Day of the Dog and Twelve Nudes, his latest, punk-est album (inspired equally by Jay Reatard and the Canadian poet Anne Carson) may just be his best. He is of the zeitgeist and also not, and you kind of wish more people were paying attention.

Jennifer Kelly

 Great Grandpa—Four of Arrows (Double Double Whammy)

Four of Arrows by Great Grandpa

“That’s why I hate you-ou,” cries Alex Menne in “Digger,” their voice catching in a hiccupping way that invites intimacy even at high volume. Her confidences are couched in an explosive swirl of country rocking countercurrents, concocted by the band’s two main songwriters, bassist and singer Carrie Goodwin and guitarist Pat Goodwin and executed alongside Dylan Hanwright (also guitar) and Cam LaFlam (drummer). The Seattle band’s second full-length is less brash and rock-centric than the 2017 debut Plastic Cough, which, perhaps because of their northwestern roots, elicited the term “grunge” from critics. This one is fuller, more elaborate and entirely devoid of Soundgarden references. It is decorated with lush, multi-voiced singing and baroque instrumental counterparts, and critically, uses a warmer more organic palette of instruments. That’s a violin and a banjo building out “English Garden,” not the buzz saw guitars of “Teen Challenge.” This rich, tuneful, grounded experiment might remind you of Ohmme, Hop Along or the Moondoggies, sleek but vulnerable, blown out but in control.

Jennifer Kelly

  Hatchie — Keepsake (Double Double Whammy/Ivy League/Heavenly Recordings)

Could it somehow be the fact that Harriette Pilbeam (late of Aussie indie rock band Babaganouj and here aka Hatchie, a family nickname) plays bass instead of the more standard frontwoman guitar that makes the singer-songwriter’s debut LP of new wave dream pop confections so singularly striking? Probably not, but Keepsake is assured and ingratiating enough it does leave one looking for the secret ingredient. Whether it’s the swooning likes of “Without a Blush” or “Secret” or the rougher emotional and sonic texture of “Unwanted Guest,” whether it’s playing against a sampled loop of her own voice on the chorus of “Obsessed” or achieving a particular kind of downward gazing transcendence through drum machine and synthesizer on “Stay With Me,” all of the songs here manage to hit on just the right combination of genre-appropriate beauty in texture with genuinely impressive melodic songcraft that whether Pilbeam sticks with this sound or not, she’s one to watch.  

Ian Mathers  

 Imperial Cult — Spasm of Light (Amor Fati/Sentient Ruin Laboratories)

Spasm of Light by Imperial Cult

This record consists of a single, 34-minute, largely improvised track, captured live in the studio. It’s all about endurance: the band’s, who must gamely thrash and bash at their instruments, with all of black metal’s requisite speed and intensity; and the listener’s, who has to commit a fairly significant amount of attention to the thing. Hailing from Holland, Imperial Cult are a new band, subscribing to the minimal web-presence policy of some other hyper-obscure acts, so it’s tough to say if they are of the “Satanists-and-we-really-mean-it” variety of continental black metal. If they are, the record’s grandiose gesture makes a certain sense. “Spasm of Light” may thematize the notion of eternal hellfire and torment. That, in turn, would raise other theological questions (do these guys imagine that declaring themselves devil worshippers and making this sort of music is their ticket out of forever in Bedlam? or are they looking forward to it?) that this reviewer isn’t all that interested in. More immediately concerning is the music. It’s pretty good, though to these ears, it’s more evocative of the epically inclined USBM bands of the Cascadian school — especially the early records of Ash Borer — than purposefully underground European occult acts like Novae Militiae (yes please) or Deathspell Omega (no thanks). Musically, that’s a good thing. Ideologically, who knows? Do these dudes wear cowls and sacrifice small mammals? Do you really want to know? Jonathan Shaw

  Minor Pieces — The Heavy Steps of Dreaming (FatCat)

Just gorgeous. Tape hiss master Ian William Craig and a Vancouver-based songwriter named Missy Donaldson join forces in an album that hangs right in the spectral other-space between conventional song and ambient soundscape. Craig, who is a classically-trained singer, sings lead most of the time. His clear, vibrato-laced tones with clouds and miasmas of electronic wash, mass-y harmonies and fragmented bits of guitar and piano. The effect in opener “Rothko” is both luminously polished and dream-like. “Bravagallata” reaches further up the register, twining Craig’s androgynous, unearthly tenor with the warmth of nestling, caressing harmonies; it shimmers in the interstices between icy modernity and comforting folk song. “The Way We Are in Song,” arises out of glowing, shifting electronic tones, yet feels wholly natural and unaffected. The way we are in this song is beautiful, touchingly human, but more so.

Jennifer Kelly

 The Pheromoans — County Lines (ALTER)

County Lines by The Pheromoans

The Pheromoans look at the world sideways, buttressing a workman-like rock and roll sound with murky embellishments of violin and synths. With a wobbly, wavery flavor of post-punk that might remind you, a little, of Blue Orchids, they match up dense woozy riffs with literate mumbles. They are the sort of band to ask “Sharia or Sheeran” and leave you shrugging, what’s the difference? This is the Pheromoans’ fifth full-length; their diaspora previously landed them on Upset! The Rhythm; but here the edges aren’t sharp enough, the punches not hard enough to evoke that label’s other bands. Yet there’s a disconsolate appeal to these wandering tracks. “Troll Attack” eviscerates electronic interaction against a Casio beat; both the music and the lyrics poke at unsatisfactory surfaces to find darker, truer muck underneath.

Jennifer Kelly

 Matthew Revert — The Inpatient (Round Bale)

The Inpatient by Matthew Revert

Some people get ready for surgery by making a bowl of Jell-o and making sure that the Hulu bill is paid up. Not Matthew Revert. His preparation for a date with the surgeon involved pitching himself into a new creative endeavor. None of his recordings to date, which have mostly involved acoustic entropy and electro-acoustic construction, will prepare you for The Inpatient. The album comprises ten improvised but structurally sound songs, all sung in nakedly emotional Spanish. Imagine Alan Bishop adopting a persona that is not immune to shame, and you’ve got an idea where this stuff goes. Prepare to be bemused.

Bill Meyer                        

 Marcus Schmickler — Particle/Matter–Wave/Energy (Kompakt)

Space is a place that has been exercising the minds of composers of late with recent releases by William Basinski (On Time Out of Time) and The Kronos Quartet (Terry Riley: Sun Rings) being two examples that use recordings from the deep cosmos. German experimental producer Marcus Schmickler, best known for his work as Pluramon, imagines the sound of galaxies colliding on his new piece Particle/Matter-Wave/Energy, a 37-minute block of immersive ambience based on Schmickler’s use of an algorithm to model gravitational data as a tool for sonification, a process that translates information into sound. The result is huge waves of tones that rumble, whistle and bleep like a swarm fleeing a storm. Through headphones this is an almost vertigo inducing experience as Schmickler evokes the sense of plummeting through a vast endless expanse of darkness. A fascinating and often unsettling piece, Particle/Matter-Wave/Energy works as a soundscape experiment rather than a casual listen, perhaps more to admire than enjoy, but it has a fluid physicality that rescues it from mere abstraction.

Andrew Forell

 Stein Urheim — Simple Pieces & Paper Cut-outs (Hubro)

Simple Pieces & Paper Cut-Outs by Stein Urheim

John Fahey barely made it into the 21st century, but his influence looms as large as ever. Stein Urheim, a guitarist from Bergen, Norway, is merely the latest to commit his confrontation with Fahey’s legacy to wax. He tips his hat to The Yellow Princess and other recordings of that vintage in this album’s accompanying book of tablature, but even if he hadn’t put it down in writing, you could hear it in his playing. Urhein is no rooky. He’s been recording with various bands since around 2004, working with singers and playing jazz, but this is the first time he’s anything quite like this. Urheim seems to be drawn to Fahey’s most virtuosic and lyrical work, and he has the chops to back it up, but also the performative confidence to let the music develop in its own time rather than chase after it. One has to put a bit of yourself into the music if you want to transcend the “sounds like Fahey” blanket that covers so many American Primitive guitar LPs. Urheim gets this, and he doesn’t take the easy way out by, say, applying his bluesy, acoustic picking to rustic themes or folkloric sources. Nor does he go for Fahey-esque textual obfuscation or faux-mythologizing. Instead he incorporates some samba gestures into the tunes, keeps them pithy and presses them on vinyl (by no means an assured thing on Hubro, which usually markets music via CDs and the internet). The album title proclaims this music’s simplicity, but Urheim’s is not simplistic so much as clear.

Bill Meyer