New York Music Daily

Global Music With a New York Edge

Month: October, 2019

Relentless Sinister Sounds From Swedish Metal Band Firebreather

Don’t let the half-belched, guttural vocals of Swedish black metal band Firebreather’s new album Under a Blood Moon – streaming at Bandcamp – put you off. Their songs have an intensity that’s sometimes ornate and classically-inspired, at other times falls into the hallowed Sleep-like canon of post-Sabbath bands, and also has a hypnotic postrock sensibility. There are echoes of vintage Iron Maiden as much as Mastodon but also, maybe, Russian Circles at their most expansive. This band loves long songs: pretty much everything here is in the eight minutes-plus area. Yet guitarist Mattias Nööjd’s solos are shockingly brief and concise: imagine, an epic guitar band that actually likes to make their notes count for something.

The first track, Dancing Flames is a web of enveloping, sinister chromatic chords that go on for almost eight minutes before a haphazardly bluesy guitar solo. A sludgy one-chord intro to the second cut, Our Souls They Burn, morphs into a dense, almost-galloping, menacingly hypnotic theme fueled by bassist Kyle Hagman and drummer Axel Wittbeck. If you can’t get enough of chromatics, this song is for you.

Closed Gate is built around a deliciously slinking, syncopated minor-key bluesmetal riff. The album’s fourth track, titled Firebreather, comes across as a haphazardly Nordic mashup of Iron Man and Iron Maiden.

It’s on We Bleed, which could be a a Thee Oh Sees garage-psych number with tighter instrumentation, that the vocals become impossible to ignore: let’s get real, beyond the music, can anybody actually take this shit seriously? The final cut, The Siren is the closest thing to Mastodon here: it ends as it comes in, with a shriek. Happy early Hallowen, everybody

Arctic Surrealism From Christine Ott and Torsten Bottcher

The 1922 silent film Nanook of the North was a  patronizing noble-savage docudrama that foreshadowed similarly dubious explorations of indigenous cultures by the BBC and PBS. Christine Ott and Torsten Bottcher’s pointillistic, keyboard-based new soundtrack – streaming at Spotify – seems to closely follow the original narrative  This music is much more surreal than you would expect. Digeridoo, tabla and steel pan in a story about Eskimos? Fans of both Philip Glass and Terry Riley ought to enjoy it.

The soundtrack begins with gongs and then whistling bowed bells, a surreal Asian snowscape particularly appropriate for its milieu. The protagonist’s theme is hypnotically circling, minimalist piano over white-noise washes, followed by a lively if repetitive, surrealistically tiptoeing electric keyboard melody.

A rippling open-water kayak tableau and a return to echoey, distantly uneasy electronic piano, with what sounds like a muted ukulele, provide a brief beach scene. Bells and delicate upper-register piano underscore the fragility of Eskimo infant life, followed by muted steel pan alongside bell-like, stealthy, jazz-tinged piano.

From there the score segues into Walrus Hunting – yeah, those adorable creatures are food, that far north – with its grim crescendos over a loopy tabla pulse. The onset of winter signals a hypnotically oscillating, increasingly agitated piece with toy piano and that digeridoo.

The score’s most epic theme, part Fender Rhodes soul, part Japanese temple bell music, concerns igloos. A fateful morning comes tiptoeing in with an eerie, Satie-esque minor-key vamp, then the piano spins around with an elegant, precisely articulated angst. The score closes with the big blizzard portrayed via Satoko Fujii-esque extended-technique piano variations. Of all this year’s movie soundtracks, this has to be one of the most original.

A Searing Live Album From Heavy Psych Band Holy Grove Disappears Without a Trace

Holy Grove‘s Live from the World Famous Kenton Club is the latest example of why more great bands should make live albums. Who wouldn’t want to see these heavy psychedelic monsters after hearing it? Live, they’ve got one of the slinkiest rhythm sections of anybody in the heavy arena, and they sound a lot bigger than a mere four-piece. Frontwoman Andrea Vidal’s darkly bluesy vocals instantly give this band one of the most distinctive sounds in metal and heavy psych.

Drummer Eben Travis’ flurries add cynical energy to the first track, Blade Born, a slowly swaying early 70s-style riff-rocker. Bassist Gregg Emley holds the song together with a slow boom as guitarist Trent Jacobs sears through a thicket of triplets, then takes a turn toward Sabbath menace and finally a hallucinatory nitrous hailstorm.

Death of Magic is more of an early Led Zep style number, Vidal’s resonantly ominous vocals emerging above the circling, growling riffage. Jacobs finally hits his wah and shreds; this band sounds much larger than a mere four-piece.

Caravan has a galloping, chromatically evil Sabbath groove, phaser guitar and an unhinged, squirrelly solo out. “All right, guys, we’re gonna do a Grateful Dead cover,” Vidal deadpans, cutting loose with a raw, sustained, wailing intensity over the band’s slow, twistedly crescendoing chromatic drive in the eight-minute Nix. They close the album with the even more epic Cosmos, Emley finally turning off the fuzz. “Nothingness again,” Vidalwails, Jacobs careening with his wah and heavy vibrato over the steady, menacing bassline.

There’s a mystery here as well. As recently as a couple of months ago, this album was up at Holy Grove’s Bandcamp page as a name-your-price download but has since disappeared. Bring it back, guys!

 

 

The Latest Evil, Psychedelic Chapter in the Skull Practitioners’ Brilliantly Noisy Career

Power trio the Skull Practitioners have been one of New York’s most assaultively excellent bands for several years, and have played a lot of seemingly impromptu show in between bandleader and lead guitarist Jason Victor’s gigs with Steve Wynn and the Dream Syndicate. It’s not an overstatement to say that at the top of their unhinged game, the Skull Practitioners are just as dark and intense. Their latest ep, Death Buy is streaming at Spotify.

They open the album with the instrumental title track, a slowly swaying, ominous groove with layers of reverb and evil sheets of sustain that Victor finally turns into chords – for awhile, anyway, until the trails of sparks and fumes return. Kenneth Levine’s gritty bass emerges from the toxic puddles, drummer Alex Baker flurrying like Dennis Thompson would do to pull the MC5 out of the murk.

Grey No More is one of the band’s most straight-ahead punk songs: you can hear echoes of the Cramps, the Damned and the Stooges over late 70s/early 80s SoCal drive. The epic instrumental jam Miami is a real departure for the band, the rhythm section more or less looping a quasi-funk fuzztone bass groove, Victor adding spacious, spacy sheets overhead, finally shrieking his way to the top of the fretboard. It gets a lot tripper from there.

The album’s last track is The Beacon, a growling gutter blues tune that sounds a lot like the early Gun Club with a better singer. Look for this on the Best Albums of 2019 page here at the ehd of the year

Cutting-Edge, Diverse Sonics and a Williamsburg Album Release Gig From the Dither Guitar Quartet

The big news about the Dither Guitar Quartet is that Gyan Riley is in the band. He’s the rare scion of a famous western musical legacy (son of iconic minimalist composer Terry Riley) who’s an individualistic artist in his own right. On the ensemble’s new album Potential Differences – streaming at Bandcamp – he makes a good fit with returning members Taylor Levine, Joshua Lopes and James Moore. This is the band’s most accessible record to date: fans of psychedelic rock and metal who can handle strange and often troubling tonalies should check it out. Dither are playing the release show at the Frost Theatre at 17 Frost St. in Williamsburg on Oct 27 on a bill that starts at 2 in the afternoon and continues into the night. It’s not clear who’s playing when, but there are a bunch of interesting, individualistic acts on the bill including but not limited to singer Alicia Hall Moran and the Mivos Quartet, sort of a reprise of the New Music Bake Sales in Fort Greene and then Roulette a few years back.

The album’s first track is The Garden of Cyrus, by Eve Beglarian, a 1985 piece pulsing with steady, emphatic echo chords, the group quickly adding polyrhythms that shift in and out of the mix. The variety of timbres, the mix of familiar and odder harmonies and the reverb in the room give it a Sonic Youth vibe.

Riley’s The Tar of Gyu is a strangely shifting blend of buzzy volume-knob swells, delicate toy piano-like phrasing and hardbop. The gently ringing harmonics and rising chromatic menace of Paula Matthusen‘s But Because Without This provide considerable contrast.

The album’s centerpiece, the four-part Ones, by Jascha Narveson, offers comic relief. The opening segment, The Wah One, is a playfully hypnotic mashup of the intros from the Theme From Shaft and Pink Floyd’s One of These Days. Then there’s the distortedly circling The Driving One, The Warped One with its down-and-up tuning-peg goofiness and finally the clock-chime harmonics of The Floaty One.

The group shift from gritty late 70s Robert Fripp-style riffage to eerie spacerock bubbles, austere resonance, wry hints of Eddie Van Halen and back in Lopes’ Mi-Go. Moore’s Mannequin is a desolate, morosely howling soundscape. Candy, by Ted Hearne, takes awhile to get going but eventually develops coy humor and incisively paired harmonies between the guitars.

Renegade, a Levine composition, sets growling, increasingly dissociative menace and shred over a piledriver beat. The quartet wind up the album with James Tenney’s 1967 dronescsape Swell Piece. Many different flavors; this group rock harder than just about anyone in the avant garde.

A Haunting, Politically Fearless Solo Acoustic Album From Folk Noir Supergroup Bobtown’s Karen Dahlstrom

Karen Dahlstrom may be best known as one of the trio of brilliant songwriters in the three-woman frontline of folk noir supergroup Bobtown, but she’s no less haunting as a solo artist. Her 2011 debut solo release, Gem State is a concept album set in frontier Idaho – and may be the only record of its kind. Dahlstron’s long-awaited follow-up, No Man’s Land – streaming at her music page – is the best short album of 2019 by a country mile. Dahlstrom’s vocals, sometimes stark, sometimes plaintive, sometimes completely devastated, are nothing short of shattering. If anything, they’re even more nuanced than the harmonies and gale-force gospel wail she’ll cut loose with Bobtown from time to time (for a serious thrill, dial up Dahlstrom’s gospel noir tour de force Battle Creek). Likewise, she paints a relentlessly dark series of tableaux equally informed by oldtime blues, gospel and bluegrass. But this is a distinctly 21st century record, relentlessly bleak yet defiant. Dahlstrom’s next New York gig is. Nov 15 at 5:30 PM at the American Folk Art Museum.

Although the record is just guitar and vocals, that’s all these songs need. Dahlstrom’s imagery in the first track, After the Flood packs a potent a political message as a personal one. Set in a post-Katrina New Orleans, Dahlstrom sets the scene at an old cathedral that managed to survive, then she shifts to the old quarter:

Over a bottle of Four Roses in a bar on Saint-Louis
We trade our stories and compare our scars
The deepest wounds will never show
Wonder if we’ll ever know
If our disasters are written in the stars
He shows me the numbers tattoed on his chest
With a look he meant to bring me to my knees
But he don’t know the half of it
More than I would dare admit
I’ve weathered storms worse than these

Cottonmouth Blues, a muted minor-key sway with more than a hint of St. James Infirmary doesn’t seem to be about the aftereffects of smoking weed; it’s a metaphor for shyness. It’s classic Dahlstrom, deviously working an oldtime sex-and-drugs vernacular in the here and now.

The delicately fingerpicked Goodbye, Espanola is a more pastorally bluesy tale of hope from escape from a dead end-southern town where pollution hangs in the air and “The hot rod kids keep low to the ground, never seem to go anywhere.”

The sleepless, despondent narrator of the gentle, mournfully waltzing final number, Broken Golden pleads for the nameless tunesmith she’s stuck on to give her

…something I can cling to when night gets cold
Put words in my mouth and thoughts in my head
Paint me a picture and send me to bed

But it’s the album’s gospel-tinged title track that’s the best of all of them here – and might be the single best song of 2019. The album version on Bobtown’s latest release has mighty harmonies from Dahlstrom’s bandmates Katherine Etzel and Jen McDearman. But there’s more seething anger and resolute determination in this spare, all-acoustic take of Dahlstrom’s fearless feminist anthem. In the year of Metoo, it transcends gender boundaries:

No man’s words can still my voice
No man can tell me where I stand
No man’s will can take my choice
I am no man’s land

You’ll see this ep on the best albums of 2019 page here, too.

Lea Bertucci Brings Her Otherworldly Sonic Cocoon to Downtown Brooklyn

Sound artist Lea Bertucci‘s magically enveloping ep Resonant Field materialized here back in May and is streaming at Bandcamp. She’s playing on a great twinbill on Oct 22 at 8:30 PM at Issue Project Room in a duo set with alternately feral and meticulous singer Amirtha Kidambi  opening for improvisational Japanese noise band Asa-Chang & Junray in their US debut. Cover is $15/$12 stud/srs.

The first track on the album is Wind Piece, a desolately drifting tableau with creepy microtones, close-harmonied resonances and stealthy, squiggly accents filtering through the mix. Finally, at the end, Robbie Lee fires off (or more likely, loops) a series of triumphant riffs on baroque flute.

The second track, Warp & Weft comes across as what might happen if the reeds around the low A key on an accordion decided to all meditate themselves into a vast poppy field populated by the occasional slug or wandering bee, eventually taking shelter as a gentle rain moves in. Bassist James Ilgenfritz’s increasingly unhinged, tremoloing, heavily processed lines as the piece winds out raises the adrenaline factor exponentially.

Bertucci layers drones, slowly rising sheets of sound and uneasy, wavering phrases in the even more epic, practically eighteen-minute title track. A multi-layered, ghostly, gently echoing, dynamically shifting, Pink Floydian rainscape ensues.

Bertucci closes the recording with Deliquescence, its flickers and then eerie, concentric upper-register circles over omious brown noise wafting in the background, You are returning to the primordial ooze that spawned you and still loves you after many thousands of years, so dive in.

Things Go Bump in the Night With the Momenta Quartet

It’s extremely rare that an artist or group make the front page here more than once in a single week. But today, because the Momenta Quartet play such stylistically diverse, consistently interesting music, they’ve earned that distinction – just like the Kronos Quartet have, on two separate occasions, since New York Music Daily went live in 2011. Some people are just a lot more interesting than others.

This year’s annual Momenta Festival is in full swing, with its usual moments of transcendence and blissful adrenaline. The Momenta Quartet’s violist Stephanie Griffin programmed night one; night two, violinist Emilie-Anne Gendron took charge. As she put it, the theme was “Lively things that happen at night.” She wasn’t kidding.

Maybe, to provide a little break for her bandmates – who also include violinist Alex Shiozaki and cellist Michael Haas – Gendron supplied a major portion of the adrenaline with an irresistible romp through Erwin Schulhoff’s rarely performed Sonata For Violin Solo. Throughout its eclectic shifts from evocations of Appalachian, Middle Eastern, Asian and rustic Romany music, she swayed and practically clogdanced at one point, and that vivacity was contagious.

The high point of the night was one of the group’s innumerable world premieres, Roberto Sierra‘s sublimely shapeshifting, relentlessly bustling Cuarteto Para Cuerdas No. 3. Flurrying, almost frantic interludes juxtaposed with brief, uneasily still moments and all sorts of similarly bracing challenges for the group: slithery harmonics, microtonal haze spiced with fleeting poltergeist accents, finally a wry series of oscillations from Haas and a savagely insistent coda. Distant references to boleros, and a less distant resemblance to restless, late 50s Charles Mingus urban noir drove a relentless tension forward through a rollercoaster of sudden dynamic changes. There were cameras all over the room: somebody please put this up on youtube where it will blow people’s minds!

There was even more on Gendron’s bill, too. The hypnotic horizontality and subtle development of playful minimalist riffs of Mario Lavista’s String Quartet No. 2 were no less difficult to play for their gauzy microtonality and almost total reliance on harmonics. Harry Partch’s Two Studies on Ancient Greek Scales have a colorful history: originally written for the composer’s own 88-string twin-box invention, the Harmonic Canon II, the Momentas played the string quartet arrangement by the great microtonal composer Ben Johnston, a Partch protege. Part quasi Balkan dance, part proto horror film score, the group made the diptych’s knotty syncopation seem effortless.

They closed with Gyorgy Ligeti’s String Quartet No.1, subtitled “Metamorphoses Nocturnes.” The ensemble left no doubt that this heavily Bartokian 1953 piece was all about war, and its terror and lingering aftershock (Ligeti survived a Nazi death camp where two of his family were murdered). The similarities with Shostakovich’s harrowing String Quartet No. 8 – which it predated by six years – were crushingly vivid. If anything, Ligeti’s quartet is tonally even harsher. In the same vein as the Sierra premiere, these dozen movements required daunting extended technique. Which in this case meant shrieking intensity, frantic evasion of the gestapo, (musical and otherwise) and deadpan command of withering sarcasm and parodies of martial themes. All that, and a crushing, ever-present sense of absence.

The 2019 Momenta Festival winds up tonight, Oct 19 at 7 PM at the Tenri Institute, 43A W 13th St., with a playful program assembled by Shiozaki, including works by Mozart, toy pianist Phyllis Chen (who joins the ensemble), glass harmonica wizard Stefano Gervasoni and an excerpt from Griffin’s delightfully adult-friendly children’s suite, The Lost String Quartet. Admission is free but you should rsvp if you’re going.

A Purist Retro Rock Record and a Bushwick Release Show From New York Noir Icon Julia Haltigan

These days Julia Haltigan may be best known for her work as an actress in Sleep No More, the gothic Macbeth. But she’s never let the demands of her stage career derail her role as one of New York’s most torchily captivating singers and bandleaders. She can be lurid, seducive and downright macabre, frequently in the same song. Her lyrics paint uneasy urban tableaux, usually set somewhere on the Lower East Side where she was born and raised. She’s alaso a hell of a tunesmith, with a taste for retro sounds. Her latest and hardest-rocking album, Trouble, isnt up at her at Bandcamp page yet, but a bunch of the singles from it are. She’s playing the album release show at around 11 on Oct 24 at the Sultan Room (the old Starr Barr space at 234 Starrr St. in Bushwick). Cover is $10.

The core of the band this time out is longtime Jessie Kilguss sideman John Kengla on lead guitar, Andrew Raposo (who also produced) on bass, Morgan Wiley on B3 organ and  Caito Sanchez on drums. Haltigan opens the record with Earthquake, a Manhattan rooftop party senario set to a chugging Nick Lowe-style pub rock tune. “I don’t give a fuck, I’m tired of being hustled – is it something in the air or is it that we’re jaded?” she ponders. “if we don’t do it, who’s gonna run this city?”

The oldschool soul anthem You Don’t Even Know It is soberingly set in the here and now: “They raised your rent, but the neighborhood’s the same….You don’t even kow that they follow your feet, you don’t even know that the temperature’s rising”

Wool is a hazy. slowly swaying, noir-tinged nocturne where you can “Lose your mind in the summer heat, waltz yourself down the broken street…passing through scenes that I know too well.” Then Haltigan gets even more cynical, mashing up Blondie with Rockpile and some tasty, swirly organ in Debris of Love

With its layers of icy electronic keys and Wiley’s epic Jungleland piano at the end, Thunder is a surreal mix of third-gen Casket Girls new wave and imagistic Lynchian torch song.“You can watch me walk away, I’ll even let you hold the door,” Haltigan announces in Walk Away, another late 70s-style pub rock/new wave hybrid.

With Kengla’s spaghetti western guitars and the starry constellation of keys and percussion, Bad Habit is a noir soul tableau, Haltigan at her Lynchian best; Amy Winehouse’s shadow hangs over this one. Skeleton Dance is a spare, soul-infused requiem that wouldn’t be out of place in the Nicole Atkins catalog.

“I don’t even wanna stay connected,” Haltigan sings in Mind Eater, the most new wave of all the songs here, a relentlessly troubled look at a world on the express track to self-destruction. “Just like that, it’s gone,” she half-whispers in the synthy, Cure-influenced nightscape Be With You: from a heartbroken perspective, the personal really is political these days. There’s also a bonus track, Cindy, a wickedly catchy, sympathetic powerpop shout-out to a girl from out of town struggling to keep herself together in a new metropolis. Not a single weak track on this album: you’ll see it on the best records of 2019 page if we make it that far.

A Killer Heavy Psychedelic Triplebill in Greenpoint on the 23rd

Melodic metal band The Well‘s impressingly eclectic debut album Death and Consolation is streaming at Bandcamp. Much as they send a slow, smoky salute to the gods of doom, Black Sabbath, they alsso bring to mind bands as diverse as the Stooges and Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats. The Austin power trio keep their songs tight and their solos to to a finely sharpened point. They’re playing St. Vitus on Oct 23 at around 10 PM. Stoogoid stoner boogie band Sun Voyager open the night at 8, followed by the aptly named Heavy Temple; cover is $10

The album’s opening track, Sabbah begins with a sitar-like drone and then hits a stomping drive and a doomy, catchy chromatic theme. There’s a little Ozzy in the doubletracked vocals of frontman/guitarist Ian Graham and bassist Lisa Alley, and some unhinged Ron Asheton proto-punk in the tantalizingly short guitar solos.

The tersely twisting riffage of Raven also brings to mind Raw Power-era Stooges. Death Song kicks off with a reverb-drenched, spacy intro and the hits a ponderous, vintage Sabbath sway. The band build Cup of Peace around a simple, macabre fuzztone riff, while Eyes of a God has an enigmatic, futuristic intro and more than a hint of Hendrix.

They go back to evil chromatics and swirly film score sonics for Act 1, picking up with drummer Jason Sullivan’s stoner boogie bounce at the end. “Lead me toward an endless high,” Graham sings over the fuzz bass and spare, gloomy blend of guitar and piano as Freedom Above gets underway. “Please don’t take my high away.”

This Is How has a gritty,clenched-teeth tension; the album’s final cut, Endless Night, is the most trad, 70s style track here. Happy early Halloween, everybody.