Added Dimensions Time Suck / Hellbent 7″ (Domestic Departure)
Fresh seven-inch EP here from Portland’s Domestic Departure, which of course means more cool homespun post-punk with risographed packaging. I appreciate the misleading title from Added Dimensions, as neither Time Suck nor Hellbent are song titles here. It’s a poetic little way of describing our daily trajectories, and fits these five tracks of scrappy, poppy post-punk in the vein of Tyvek and labelmates such as Collate and Divorcer. If Sweeping Promises aren’t bringing one or all of these bands on tour with them, something is wrong with society! It’s my understanding though that Added Dimensions is more or less the solo project of Richmond’s Sarah Everton (of Blowdryer and Telepathic) with Rob Garcia helping out on the recorded drums, so I’m not sure if this Added Dimensions exists in the realm of live acts or simply the recorded, uh, dimension. Either way, if I heard the catchy bop of “In The System” on a radio show like Don’t Back The Front on WPRB (which certainly seems like a possibility), I’d eager await the break between tunes to find out who it was I had just enjoyed.

Battlebeats Meet Your Maker LP (Sweet Time)
Extremely generic garage-punk coming to you straight from… Bandung, Indonesia! That certainly puts an interesting spin on what is otherwise severely paint-by-numbers “hi-octane rock n’ roll”. It’s truly a global phenomenon, this leather-jacket, black sunglasses, Stooges- / The Damned- / Dead Boys- / Back From The Grave-inspired aesthetic, now claiming Indonesia’s Andresa Nugraha and his one-man-band Battlebeats among its ranks. When performed adequately, there’s really no telling if the group is from Tampere, São Paulo or Sioux Falls, or apparently if it’s even actually a group and not just one person playing all the instruments one track at a time. Meet Your Maker is as satisfying as the previous or next traditional garage-punk record coming down the chute and as distinct as any two Twinkies in their plastic packaging, for better or worse. I can completely see the appeal – this form of music absolutely does rule, and is timelessly cooler than most other popular styles of the last two centuries – but it’s the unabashed tribute-act vibe that leaves me looking for a spark of unique inspiration, or any sort of identifiable characteristic to grasp onto. Of course, here I am in a big stupid American metropolis full of the stuff, not Bandung, a beautiful, volcano-flanked city I wish Battlebeats would’ve told me at least a little something about.

British Murder Boys Active Agents And House Boys 2×12″ (Downwards)
It’s impossible to write the story of British industrial-techno without Surgeon and Regis; among their myriad pivotal releases, the two of whom have collaborated as British Murder Boys since the early aughts. Active Agents And Murder Boys is their first studio full-length, and it confirms that if these guys actually have a prime, they certainly haven’t passed it yet. Previous British Murder Boys records were co-productions between Regis and Surgeon, whereas Regis is credited with vocals here, leaving the beats to Surgeon. Interesting choice, seeing as post-punk vocals are usually a techno rarity, but the combination of Surgeon’s overactive hardware and heavy kicks alongside Regis’s aggro, echoed sneer is a smashing success. Regis tends to chant his lines in synchronicity with the repetitive techno grooves, mantras more akin to the vocal delivery of Whitehouse or Golden Teacher than any sort of verse-chorus industrial music. It’s a sonic combination that can easily succumb to mediocrity in lesser hands, but Surgeon’s production pulses with lucid, visceral activity, clearly the work of a deft master, and Regis’s bark delivers a salty dash of human chaos to the mix. These aren’t the British Pickpocket Boys, after all: they’re here to kill you!

Candy It’s Inside You LP (Relapse)
Damn right it’s inside me! I consume Snickers and Twixes like ER nurses smoke cigarettes and I’m not shy about it. Anyway, the band called Candy have been making a name for themselves in today’s capital-H hardcore scene as brutal coremen with a taste for devious sonic exploration. Alongside Vein, Code Orange and other bands excavating Y2K alt-industrial styles, Candy are playing beatdown hardcore with a pronounced death-metal influence, but they’re clearly into nostalgic bad-kid stuff like Twisted Metal, the Judgment Night soundtrack and Cronenberg (directly referenced on album opener “eXistenZ”) as well. If he wasn’t rightfully cancelled, I’d expect to see a member of Candy sporting a vintage Marilyn Manson shirt in one of their promo pics. It could go either way for me, but this new album was clearly labored over, and I think it paid off. They’re like the “Enhanced CD” version of contemporaries such as Knocked Loose and Pain Of Truth, integrating industrial-rave electronics, breakbeats, synthetic turntable scratching, abrupt digital edits and freaky Trent Reznorisms alongside their heavy-as-lead breakdowns, grinding metallic riffing and half-time mosh-pit slugfests. They got Trapped Under Ice’s Justice Tripp to contribute vocals to a track, though I wish Al Jourgensen was on here to balance it out with his authentic industrial-metal seal of approval. Maybe Candy don’t have enough eyebrow piercings for his taste, or at least not yet.

Carrier In Spectra 12″ (Carrier)
I’m still feeling the aftershocks of Carrier’s impressive Fathom EP, so why not snag a copy of this new self-released, bare-bones twelve-inch EP while my hands are still shaking? Sometimes all you need is a black inner sleeve and a stamped white label; I suppose artist name and track titles would be nice, but Carrier rightfully assumed I had the internet access necessary to piece it all together. As expected, his productions are in the deepest darkest realms of post-dubstep ritualistic minimalism, in line with the most ominous sides from T++ and Shackleton. These three tracks reduce the overall ballistic approach of Fathom but are no less impactful from the tempo reduction. “Coastal” feels like some sort of early Burial / Raime collab, stripped of echo and vocals right down to its skeletal remains. “Wood Over Plastic” is full of bass-blows and crackle, calling to mind Emptyset on an organic macrobiotic diet, or Autechre if they were commissioned to write some WWE entrance music. “Locus” wraps it in similar fashion, rapid-fire face-slaps kept in place by rich, syrupy low-end and more of those pugilistic bass jabs. Reminds me of my favorite ’10s abstract techno cuts, foreboding and oppressive-sounding without any cheesy goth signifiers, given a fresh coat of paint and a couple scoops of creatine for added muscle. I’m sure Carrier was sitting comfortably at his computer making these tracks, yet I’m certain he must’ve been covered in sweat by the time they were completed.

Lyckle de Jong Pof / Patria 7″ (South Of North)
Lyckle de Jong’s Bij Annie Op Bezoek was reviewed in these pages back when it came out in 2020, and it was kind of the perfect record for that year: screwy, homespun synth-wave music that seemed to take umbrage with both synths and waves. Now I’m checking out this new two-song single, and it sounds totally different, and even more screwy! Goddess bless this freaky dutchman. “Pof” is a slippery little guitar-strum thing that appears on its face to be sped-up in some part. Maybe it’s the vocal that gives it that feel, a wordless staccato bop in the vein of Alvin & The Chipmunks that refuses to quit even as the music around it is melted, malformed and discarded. If Swell Maps started in 2024 instead of 1978, I suspect their debut single would sound like “Pof”. “Patria” takes an entirely different route, joining a piano on a slow walk down the esplanade as G.C. Heemskerk provides a spoken vocal with light electronic futzing, not unlike those newish spoken-word Torn Hawk tracks (the main contrast being that I do not understand the language spoken by G.C. Heemskerk). It’s playful and friendly, like a house party that ends up being a funny time even though you realized the one person you actually knew left before you arrived. Each of these tracks is six minutes too, which feels like another terrible idea for a seven-inch, yet they somehow sound great. More proof of the offbeat magic happening here!

Demdike Stare x Dolo Percussion Dolo DS 12″ (DDS)
Here are three dudes with absolutely nothing to prove in the world of electronic music. As Demdike Stare, Sean Canty and Miles Whittaker more or less defined occult techno in the ’10s before restlessly shifting through new styles; Dolo Percussion is one of Andrew Field-Pickering’s monikers, otherwise best known as Max D, lynchpin of DC’s forward-thinking dance scene and head of the Future Times label. Here they come together over three hardcore breakbeat workouts, sparring in a friendly yet aggressive manner across the Atlantic. Had they thrown in some samples of vomit noises or horror-movie screams, “DS Dolo Edit 1” could’ve found there was onto Doormouse’s Addict label in the early ’00s, such is their relentlessly cut-up break style and vitality. Lord knows there are people out there who can dance to this stuff, but I find myself overheating from the barrage of breaks, twisting like waterslides at the behest of these three gents. “Dolo DS 2” offers a chance to catch my breath, reclining into a half-step slink that could properly support some g-funk bars if it wasn’t so panicky and twitchy. Seems more like a fun exercise than a concerted new direction for Demdike and AFP, but that’s cool with me – it’s like watching a pro baller show up at a township playground court to wreck some local amateurs.

Demeters Döttrar Søndag I Spejlet LP (Discreet Music)
Discreet Music isn’t peddling underground sounds, but rather the sounds of the tiny rivulets and streams deep in the dirt below the underground. If you dig it, surely this new trio featuring Charlott Malmenholt of Treasury Of Puppies and Astrid Øster Mortensen (with someone else named Ida Skibsted Cramer) will raise a brow or two. I dug right in, and while I knew I was in for the sound of detritus’s detritus, the scarce and fragile noise of S​ø​ndag I Spejlet is particularly inconsequential. Of course, “consequential” isn’t what I expect or desire from the Gothenburg experimental scene, so much as strange arrays of crude and rustic sounds that haven’t previously existed – certain records by Neutral, Treasury Of Puppies, Arv & Miljö and Leda already feel like they’ll stand the test of time in their own unique ways. Demeters Döttrar push things further into the cracks around regular songs, those tiny, creaky spaces between floorboards where their music softly grows. Dust-covered harmonicas, voices recorded direct from the air, ancient cassette tapes and a guitar with filthy strings all settle together like an old house into its foundation. It sounds like Loren Mazzacane Connors asleep and snoring with his guitar on his lap, or the ghosts of Charalambides haunting an empty mansion. Real distant, barely-there stuff, the sort of music that won’t register as music to ninety-nine percent of the global population but will captivate the remaining one percent that can’t live without it. Don’t ask for cited sources, I’m positive my numbers are accurate.

Extortion Threats 7″ (Iron Lung)
Perth’s Extortion, now many years into the game, are still fine-tuning their sound, which leads us to Threats. It’s one of those grind-core records that makes anything less sound redundant and pointless, so precise and savage is this collection of fifteen tracks. You’d think they’re from Japan the way that they deliver such a fine-tuned selection of memorable and raging ‘core, a true commitment to quality over quantity, with any imperfections, dalliances or unnecessary steps sliced off and discarded. The manic delivery, guitar crunch and manner in which technicality does not inhibit brutality reminds me a lot of No Man’s Slave or the Manpig LP. As a listener, it’s overwhelmingly fast and full of unexpected changes, yet the group is tighter than the US’s funding of the arts, without a single shot of feedback or cymbal wash left to float in the atmosphere. Extortion’s world of sound is airtight and explosive, and I’m not sure it’s ever been better capsulated than this very EP. Also cool is the fact that they made a video for “Turn It Off”, which somehow looks totally pro without sacrificing the energy or precious hardcore cred. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Extortion are peerless in the genre (just look at who released the record, for starters), but they’re operating at the highest caliber here, nearly twenty years in the game.

Fen Fen National Threat LP (Sweet Time)
You got a singer laid out flat on the stage, mic cord across the face and a fellow band member’s Vans low-tops stepping on him… can any album with that cover image be bad? I love and respect dirtbag punk bands who fall on each other and fudge their performance in service to wild behavior, and while I haven’t seen Fen Fen live, National Threat certainly sounds like the band I’m seeing in their pics. The album has a very Total Punk energy, though it sounds more like a bad-news ’90s punk band than the more modern strains I’m used to hearing, your blown-out garage, egg-punk or pogo-core variants. Fen Fen slam n’ worm like a more garage-y Quincy Punx, or Oblivians if they covered Feederz (which they very well may have). No slow tunes, no moments of contemplation, just song after song of quick, easy-to-play progressions, adequate drumming and campy punk vocals with a brief sample of some old square worried about Satanism to kick it off. I’m not sure National Threat merits a national audience, but neither did the majority of Mutha’s discography and I love all of that stuff too. A lot of ’90s punk can be defined by its refusal to aspire to greatness, and while Fen Fen are here with us right now, I’m happy that they’re giving me a similar sensation.

K. Freund Trash Can Lamb LP (Soda Gong)
Lots of crews out there making domestic ambient music sourced from synths, horns and field recordings, as ardent readers of these pages certainly know. On one hand, I’m (still) getting a little sick of it, but then on the other I’ll fire up something like this new one from K. Freund and it’ll feel like the most fresh and appealing form of music a modern person could create. 2022’s Hunter On The Wing was a delightful transmission from Freund care of his Last Resort crew over there in Ohio, and Trash Can Lamb is right on par, the same but different, also with contributions from friends like G.S. Schray, Steve Clements and Linda Lejsovka. It feels like he’s tugged at the ends of his music here, making the noises noisier, his keys and brass more sumptuous and soothing, his edits more unexpected and rich in contrast. Check “Aire 4”, a brief piano sketch littered with the buzzing chatter of a Star Wars droid, or opener “A Tarp, Billowing”, which saunters in on some marshmallow-soft Chet Baker-styled horns only for a rising tide of Macronympha-esque tape-noise to incongruously gurgle along. It’s these simple juxtapositions that shouldn’t work but do, the sort of thing that can feel on the surface as though “anyone could do it” but in reality, no, anyone can’t. The playing is exquisite, the noise is anomalous and the tracks always find some sort of flow, not unlike my favorite material from O$VMV$M. Not a cheap record to purchase here in the States but worth every penny.

Goldblum Tears In Limbo 12″ (Bergpolder)
Fresh vinyl issue of some Goldblum material from the reliably-strange Bergpolder label over in the Netherlands. Goldblum’s Of Feathers And Bones was one of my favorite releases from 2021, a novel collage of loops molded into attention-grabbing songs; very The Quietus-friendly music if that means anything to you. Tears In Limbo collects three digital tracks from 2020 alongside three new ones, and it behaves in a similarly unruly manner. Part of the fun is not knowing if these loops are found elsewhere (probably?) or Goldblum’s own original doing (maybe?), though the final product consistently transcends its parts. Proceed directly to “Strings Attached”, which takes a pitched-down rhythm-n-blues measure through a haunted house of harmonicas, feedback and other punishing sound effects. It’s kinda like if Seymour Glass decided he wanted to fabricate a rock band through his samples, though I’d say that Goldblum’s music is very much song-based as opposed to open-ended – vocals even appear in conjunction with the songs on occasion, though those are probably samples too? It’s like if The Avalanches were a secret side-project of The 49 Americans, if you’d be willing to imagine such a thing; the music of Goldblum has clearly given me plenty to imagine.

Brezel Göring / Anton Garber Brezel Und Anton Spielen Pisse 7″ (Phantom)
Sometimes I forget just how zany some early NDW post-punk records are, your Die Tödliche Dorises and Aus Lauter Liebes, but a single like this wacky split from “Brezel und Anton” reminds me that German punks are, at their core, a deeply eccentric people. Herr Göring offers us “Fahrradsattel”, a sample-laden Casio-punk fiesta that plays with the idea of country-western motifs (complete with sampled whip-snaps). Alongside sampled screams, laser-beams and disco-punk bass/drums, it’s either Göring or guest associate Lilith Stangenberg responsible for the irritating lead vocal. Let’s flip it over for Anton Garber, who reimagines Blixa Bargeld as some sort of Austin Powers character with the loungey synth number titled “Marlboromann”. It’s a tongue-in-cheek electro-croon, the sort of track that were I to go through the full list of contacts in my phone, I could probably count on no more than two people that would allow me to play the whole thing for them from start to finish. Perpetual jokers, Göring and Garber seem to be having more fun being ridiculous musicians than the rest of the world would ever allow, wearing silly matching jackets as if they were the first to ever come up with the idea. They’re like the diametric opposite of the super-attractive personal wellness influencers out there who wake up every morning passionately hating themselves, so I say we need more Brezels among us, and maybe more Antons too.

Invertebrates Sick To Survive LP (Beach Impediment)
Who better to release the vinyl debut of Richmond hardcore unit Invertebrates than Richmond hardcore lynchpin Beach Impediment Records? Invertebrates feature at least two members of Public Acid, and they leave PA’s metallic European influences behind, crafting a front-to-back rager in Sick To Survive. Early Poison Idea is either a significant influence or a massive coincidence in sound, and there’s certainly no shame in taking notes from Pick Your King. No mosh breakdowns, no melodic harmonies or flanger effects, just full-throttle hardcore-punk with a bottle of Jameson in one hand and a Koro seven-inch in the other, like a souped-up version of how Career Suicide used to do it. Reminds me a bit of Pittsburgh’s recent-ish crop of unrelenting, snarky hardcore-punk in the way that Sick To Survive is impenetrable and devoid of extemporaneous parts. I feel like Richmond and Pittsburgh’s scenes cooperate rather than compete with each other, a couple cities where you can still stick out a little for being a spike-belted weirdo loading your gear into the back door of a working-class pub. “Bated Breath” might be my favorite cut, what with its brief Dead Kennedys-ish interlude and manic thrash akin to the last Code 13 EP, but there’s no wrong place to drop the needle on this one.

Kirkwood Uruk-Hai LP (Out Of Season / Hosianna Mantra)
Out Of Season and Hosianna Mantra set the record straight, simultaneously reissuing three full-lengths from none other than “Kirkwood”. No, he’s not a lost Meat Puppet, Jim Kirkwood was out there in the early ’90s releasing cassettes of fantasy/occult-styled synth music, what could be described as dungeon-synth decades before the term existed. I assume the loose mail-based networks were in place to form some semblance of a scene back then, but Kirkwood’s sound and aesthetic were clearly ahead of their time as far as any sort of significant underground popularity is concerned. Alongside handsome vinyl reissues of Where Shadows Lie and King Of The Golden Hall, Uruk-Hai is probably my favorite, though the quality remains impressively high throughout all three. Each full-length is packed with mist-shrouded dirges, Middle Earth synth-pop and imaginary Legend Of Zelda soundtracks as composed by John Carpenter. The full-lengths swirl with melodic and textural variation, even if the Dungeons & Dragons themes remain constant. I’m tipping my hat to Uruk-Hai for the incredible eight-minutes of “Nirnaeth Arnoediad”, a chugging epic that shifts seamlessly from harsh terrain to lush jungles. Countless music directors of VHS sleaze could’ve benefitted from one call to Mr. Kirkwood, no doubt. Maybe they did? I’m only learning about this guy now, and relieved to learn that not only does he look like The Undertaker, he’s still putting out new music, a discography as ominously deep as the Eye Of Sauron. New jacks, pay respect!

L Marilyn Monroe – All Of Us LP (Radical Documents)
Radical Documents is out here getting more and more radical by the moment, most recently having released this consistently outrageous album by Glasgow’s L. It’s like they took great care to make sure every detail is loony, unapproachable and over the top, from the barely-existent name of their group to the album title and, most certainly, the music within. Much of the material here operates closer to experimental theater than a band, with characters reciting dialogue and the music responding in manners redolent of Frank Zappa, Prehensile Monkey-Tailed Skink and The Muppet Show. Somewhere within these wacky, Shel Silverstein-esque pieces, L manages to fit in chaotic noise-punk, either as part of the show or as unrelated interludes. It leads to an intentionally jarring experience… a segment of fall-on-the-floor screamo is as likely as a pitch-altered voice talking about a visit to the dentist. While the realm of the unlistenable is generally a place I like to inhabit, L go to great lengths to test their listeners’ mettle, particularly with the constant barrage of exuberant theater-kid energy. I suppose I thought I was a freak, but I’m realizing that there are people out there who can comfortably listen to Marilyn Monroe – All Of Us end to end in a single sitting, whereas after a few minutes of this myself, I need a shot of some Sex Pistols or AC/DC to keep my eyes from fully dilating.

Okkyung Lee & Bill Orcutt Play Paris And Glasgow LP (Palilalia)
Bill Orcutt has been a record-releasing fiend over the last decade or so, mostly his own music but plenty of friends and co-conspirators, and I couldn’t be happier. This is a guy worth hearing, and in a delightfully unusual move, he recently released five new LPs for ten bucks a pop (plus shipping). If he lost his mind, I hope he never finds it! I couldn’t resist grabbing this new one featuring live sets from frequent collaborator Okkyung Lee and himself, whose cello improvisations are well suited to Orcutt’s unholy twang. I’m gonna guess the first side is Paris, and they take a full tour of their respective instruments, from piercing tone-float to mournful elegies and free-handed blowouts. There’s one point where Lee slowly descends in pitch as Orcutt picks at chord-clusters like scabs and if anyone in the crowd passed out, the recording sadly didn’t pick it up. The second side opens softly, Lee settling into some seasick tones over Orcutt’s brittle string-work, like a lone rusted pinwheel picking up wind in a dusty canyon. Of course, they never stay in one place too long; the duo are constantly in communication no matter the volume, the constant threat of harsh-noise freak-outs and full-blast drones a guaranteed yet jarring event. Two killer sets by these vets on one LP – an archival release, for sure, but these are precisely the people who need to be getting archived! Praise to Bill Orcutt for doing it himself. Kinda wishing I went wild and grabbed the other four…

Mattin Expanding Concert (Lisboa 2019 – 2023) 2xLP (Galerias Municipais / EGEAC)
The ever-restless Mattin is full of ideas, one of which being his “Expanding Concert” series of events, taking place over multiple years with various collaborators and audiences. It’s highly conceptual, of course, the sort of art event that is more about its own conception and execution than the resulting product (in this case, audio and video footage). The hefty accompanying booklet does a masterful job of explaining the concept, one that I will dumbly summarize as an extended series of interactions between Mattin, other artists and his audience, building and shifting throughout its full duration. The two LPs in this well-designed package are almost secondary, as the erratic sounds of warbling drones, footsteps, quiet conversation, electronic loops, synths and noise are not particularly compelling on their own. The point seems to be the full package, however, more in the spirit of vinyl records by Joseph Beuys and Henning Christiansen, artists for whom sound was merely one of many mediums worth engaging. At this point, can we just get an exhaustive Mattin book instead? I know I’m a record guy, but this deep into his career I’d rather have a bespoke collection of texts and images regarding his work, at least until Billy Bao puts out another punk rock record.

Military Shadow / Kuebiko split 7″ (Gonzosonic / Believe In Punk)
Tokyo’s Military Shadow meets Weymouth, MA’s Kuebiko in a metallic hardcore duel. It’s amusing to me that the one label’s name is Believe In Punk, because who is gonna buy this record that isn’t already a firm believer? You’re preaching to the choir! Anyway, I had zero familiarity with either group, though the artwork of evil army-helmeted zombies provided some reasonable context clues. Military Shadow charge forward with metallic riffing delivered in a mid-paced hardcore style, not unlike The Clay and Mobs if we’re keeping comparisons domestic. Kuebiko brings twice as many tracks to their side (four), with respectfully traditional d-beat music and vocals that take the whole “noise-not-music” thing to a whole new level. It sounds like they’re distorted, then echoed, then distorted again, coming across more like a sound-effect than actual vocalizing, which is a cool thing to do. No one can understand the words anyway, so why not blow the whole thing to smithereens? For my money, Kuebiko come out on top here, but the combination offers strong evidence that split EPs can still be an energizing force in the hardcore-punk underworld. When Bandcamp inevitably goes down for good someday, records like this will remain!

Montel Palmer Love Getaway LP (South Of North)
Killer new full-length outing from unique German quartet Montel Palmer. Their ranks are a confusing mystery – you’re telling me “TBZ”, “Tulips” and “Peter Graf York” are current members? – but this is a mystery I have no desire to unravel. Their music, a downtempo blend of post-punk, digital-debris, lo-fi house and whatever the Wah Wah Wino crew could be described as, is ripe for a lack of firm understanding or clarification. These beat-driven tracks are as active as an over-night security guard, contentedly wasting time as analog-sourced electronics provide bass, treble, kicks and effects. More often than not, someone sings, though certainly through a chain of modifications, pitching them up, down or sideways, layered or distorted. I feel like if Can got started in a Berlin loft in 2020, they might’ve produced a similar result, full of weird little ditties and warped experiments. “Talk To Me” feels like Beau Wanzer under the tutelage of Ween; “Can’t Walk Straight” is like if Jandek did an album for L.I.E.S.; “Mermaid Wolf Whistle” is Mike Cooper washing up on Blues Control’s shore. It’s unserious, sometimes funny music, but Montel Palmer’s unique style and peculiar perspective reveals a group that’s serious about their craft, unwilling to slap together anything typical, obvious or heard-before. An exceptionally strong month for the freaks at South Of North!

Multiples Two Hours Or Something 2xLP (Stoor)
Love a good techno-veteran collab – chances are, they’ve got nothing to prove, only fun to be had. Multiples is a studio pairing of Surgeon and Speedy J, two names that have been looking towards the future since the ’90s, and they struck gold here on Two Hours Or Something. This collection of unedited single-takes is adventurous and lively, flipping through various modes, from raw techno trax to pasteurized experimentalism. Usually, every cut has a little bit of both, as it seems that Surgeon and Speedy J brought out some new and unexpected sound-banks and effects for the session, trying to impress each other as much as us, the fortunate listeners. It’s too colorful to quality as industrial music, but also too fried and hostile to conform to standard techno regulations… if anything, it feels like a late ’80s Esplendor Geometrico album rendered with today’s state-of-the-art gear, though of course multiple tracks (or moments of tracks) immediately contradict that description. How does one describe “Coffee Nerd”… ants playing paintball? Is “Spirit” the sound of Regis kidnapping Kyle Hall as Gene Hunt pens the ransom note? All I know is Two Hours Or Something is one of the most engaging techno full-lengths I’ve heard this year.

Petrified Max The Cup’s Run Over / She Draws Eyes 7″ (Spacecase)
Weren’t expecting any Trotsky Icepick content this month, were you? Surprise! Petrified Max doesn’t contain any guys actually named Max, but it does contain Vitus Mataré and John Rosewall, both formerly of Trotsky Icepick (as well as late ’70s LA power-poppers The Last) and Danny Frankel of Urban Verbs. It’s a veritable summit of guys who get mentioned in passing in regional first-wave punk oral histories, and as you may have expected, they’ve calmed down quite a bit in their advanced ages. “The Cup’s Run Over” is a dandy pop-rock number, the sort of song that would sound like Death Cab For Cutie if Ben Gibbard played it, but instead sounds like Dire Straits or Traveling Wilburys, complete with Bud Light-sounding electric guitar leads, keys and touches of what their generation considers to be psych-flavored garage. “She Draws Eyes” is AARP power-pop, played by lifelong professionals who aren’t afraid to get a little bit funky over at Buffalo Wild Wings. It’s like a paisley-pop take on G.E. Smith’s SNL band, the sort of thing that your neighbors wouldn’t yell at you to turn down even if cranked, so pleasantly innocuous is its disposition. I’m not sure what any of this means except that playing in bands can be a magnificent lifelong pursuit, and Petrified Max is most certainly a band.

Bruno Pronsato Rare Normal LP (Foom)
Having come up in the style and indirect authority of Luciano and Ricardo Villalobos, American-born, Berlin-stationed minimal-techno producer Bruno Pronsato stays the course on his newest full-length, Rare Normal. For such a singles-based genre, I’ve generally really enjoyed Pronsato’s full-lengths, and as he continues to work within a style of music that is far from today’s techno tastemaker spotlight, his music has only grown more appealing. This new one is in line with what we’ve come to expect from Pronsato – skittering percussion sketching out elastic grooves in the open air – but he’s slower and sleepier than ever here, and I love it. Whereas you could usually dance to his music, Rare Normal sounds like the best part of late ’00s Villalobos cut at half-speed, slinking around the house late at night and avoiding human contact. His productions still bear the bones of Perlon-styled minimal tech-house, but they’re deployed in subtle and understated ways, barely reaching the pace of a casual strut and trading in low-end or 4/4 kicks for tiny ASMR-ish clicks and buzzes. If you’re looking for the hot new techno trend, this ain’t it, but I applaud Bruno Pronsato for following his muse regardless of marketability. Once slow-core minimalist IDM takes hold, I hope that Pronsato is rightly given his roses for Rare Normal.

Quid Quo Circle Walks In Circles LP (Glass Key Productions)
Quid Quo are a trio of Arkansas natives who relocated to Seattle, and I hate to inform them that they’re about thirty years late if they were hoping to get discovered by a major label scooping up all the grunge-adjacent rockers of the day. Circle Walk In Circles is their debut, and it’s a jumpy, chunky strain of indie-rock that would’ve been considered discordant and maybe even weird decades ago but now just sounds comforting and familiar. In a good way! Their songs move quickly; no riff outstays its welcome, though there are some particularly cool parts here and there that I wish lasted longer, which is the way to do it. Quid Quo actually sound more Chicago than Seattle to me, the sort of scrappy-yet-tight sound with feet in both post-hardcore and garage-punk that I’d associate with Touch & Go a smidge more than Sub Pop. Anyway, that era is a bittersweet memory, but Quid Quo’s spin on things feels very much alive and thriving, what with both guitarist and bassist singing their guts out over twisty, tumbling riffs. Seattle should send one of their bands to live in Arkansas, just to keep it fair – hey The Briefs, pack your bags!

The Sheaves A Salve For Institution LP (Dot Dash Sounds / SDZ)
Much like the yearly median temperature, each Sheaves album is hotter than the last! This Phoenix post-punk group came to my attention care of a fine Minimum Table Stacks vinyl release, and I’m glad to see that they’re working hard over there, offering up A Salve For Institution, their second full-length vinyl record. The quintet’s general formula remains the same: informal guitar scrum that falls in and out of traditional song-form with a Mark E. Smith-indebted vocalist who doesn’t shut up for one second. His vocals are often double (and triple?) tracked, as if the singer and his clones have cornered you in a bathroom stall, unwilling to let you pass until they say what they need to say. If it was me in there, I’d be happy to wait, as The Sheaves have a great thing going, this brittle jangle redolent of the group’s arid homeland and a vocalist with a freaky rasp. It’s desert-rock but not in the Kyuss sense of the term, which seems to glorify the sun’s scorch. The Sheaves are more like the lizards that hide under rocks until the sun goes down, and it’s in their presentation, too – the singer sounds like his face is covered in scales, evolutionarily angled so that every last drop of moisture rolls into his mouth, while the rest of the band plays as if they had already baked in the heat all day, exhausted in the evening shade. If a record could give me painful tan-lines, this might be the one.

Shop Regulars Shop Regulars LP (Merrie Melodies)
Absolutely stellar debut vinyl outing for Portland, OR’s Shop Regulars. I hadn’t heard any of their cassettes prior to this record, and now I feel it’s my duty to make sure that some (if not all!) of you loyal readers go and check out this long-player, because it absolutely rules. They basically take the extended interlocking groove formula of Natural Information Society or 75 Dollar Bill and apply it to roughed-up K Records-ish indie-pop, full of repetitive, hypnotic patterns and enough space within to fully jam out. It’s like if you took the full ten minutes of “Marquee Moon”, sent it to Columbus Discount Records for a proper lo-fi rinsing, installed a couple of oddball Beefheartian riffs and let it rip on down the road, merrily melodizing all the way. The guitar-bass-drums interplay reminds me of some of my favorite Deerhoof moments (think all of Reveille), this joyous wild bashing that is also fully under control somehow and extremely pleasant to listen to. The vocals are unusual too, the singer’s syllables extended in slow-motion over the hectic riffing, resulting in one of the most interesting and exciting new rock bands I’ve heard in a while. If it wasn’t already clear: highly recommended!

Stacks Want LP (Knekelhuis)
Knekelhuis has yet to do me wrong, so why not peep their newest, another album from Antwerp’s Stacks. They’re a duo with some cool matching names, Jan Matthé and Sis Matthé, and I’m not sure if they’re brothers or married or what but it sets the stage nicely for their subdued electronica. Immediately the sound and style of M83 come to mind, a bedroom fantasy of fleece-soft Depeche Mode synths and tear-stained notebooks, and that sense remains in place throughout the extent of Want. By coincidence or on purpose, I can’t shake the thought of M83, but Stacks kind of condenses what I enjoy most about M83 into their songs: wistful emotions, overly processed vocals, nostalgic synths that glow like frosted pastel bulbs, richly dramatic melodies that make mountains out of molehills… all of that’s in these songs. If the two Matthés didn’t hold each other’s hands for at least some portion of the writing and recording process, these songs could’ve fooled me. When they eventually remake Stranger Things into a Gen Z rom-com, Want will be an appropriate soundtrack, though it works nicely for me now, singing along to “Run Away” in my bedroom with the blinds shut in the middle of the day, A/C window unit pushed far beyond its limits.

Still House Plants If I Don’t Make It, I Love U LP (Bison)
Pass the experimental spotlight to London’s Still House Plants, their new album receiving plenty of the most precious of resources: being talked-about. Wire isn’t putting just anybody on their cover, and If I Don’t Make It, I Love U feels perfectly ripe for this moment, whatever this moment may be. The guitar/vocals/drums trio nudge Chicago-style jazzy post-rock into a modern post-R&B direction, resulting in a truly unique sound. It’s a firm handshake for Kelela and Black Midi fans, Still House Plants’ Londonized combination of stylish experimental musics into a fairly novel sound. Guitarist Finlay Clark and drummer David Kennedy are as locked-in as Orthrelm, though they sound more like Jeff Parker and Valentina Magaletti, working in odd timings, or odd transitions, or at least some element skewed from typical 4/4 behavior at all times. Vocalist Jess Hickie-Kallenbach almost seems to ignore her bandmates entirely, singing repeated phrases with a deep and earthy voice, somewhere between Sade and Mary Jane Dunphe. I read that she patterned her delivery after a sampler, and it makes sense, given the atypical way she clips and duplicates her lines. The combination of vocals and music can clash so drastically that it’s bound to upset the ears of people who seek the comfort of familiarity, but Still House Plants are so clearly dedicated to working out their own unique sound that, if it’s for you, you’ll wonder how you ever did without it.

Swan Wash Shadow Shadow LP (Sister Cylinder)
Finally, it’s here: the debut collaboration between Michael Gira and power-rock duo Pink Wash! Just kidding, Swan Wash are a death-rock group from Bloomington, but wouldn’t that be something? Shadow Shadow/ is Swan Wash’s first proper album following a few EPs, and as far as Midwestern goth goes, I find it perfectly palatable. Swan Wash’s songs are forceful and even downright energetic, but they don’t seem beholden to any musical sense of punk rock, which works to their advantage. They plunge deep into flashy, dramatic goth-rock with full commitment – guitars flailing, clear-and-present bass-guitar and a singer who drips eyeliner and cursed libido. Reminds me a whole lot of Balaclavas, if anyone remembers them, that great Texas goth unit who shaped the manic energy of At The Drive-In and the relentless churn of Public Image Ltd. into their own pained visage. The same goes for Swan Wash to a degree, though they’re a little more lace and a little less leather, if you catch my drift. Either way, Swan Wash is a formidable new entity on the scene, ripe for one of those Los Angeles fests called “Dark Tremors” or “Blue Monday Evenings” if those bookers ever decide to acknowledge the existence of what’s happening in the fly-over states.

Tramuntanas Tramuntanas LP (no label)
Lungfish is one of those bands with an extremely dedicated sect of fans, and rightfully so. We’re not talking about people who simply own all the albums, we’re talking those who follow all the side projects, interpret lyrics, gather up all the related books and writings, get prints (and tattoos!) of Dan Higgs’ art… Lungfish have inspired a decades-long devotion, the opposite of flavor-of-the-month trends. Thusly, I’m hoping that any Lungfish super-fans reading this check out Asa Osborne’s new duo with Shan Collis, Tramuntanas, who self-released their first LP. Don’t expect any immediate sonic similarities – Tramuntanas are an instrumental synth duo, for starters – but that same silver thread of devotional mysticism is evident throughout their debut. These songs are patient, cyclical and space-aged, sounding like Dopplereffekt’s electro at less than half-speed. The lightweight boom-tsch of a drum machine sputters prudently while heavenly synths layer chords and patterns over top, as if Jason Pierce reconfigured Kraftwerk’s Computer World for acid-trip meditations. At first, these songs can feel overly simplistic, but settle into them and their beauty starts to reveal itself, even as they maintain the air of passive electronic vignettes.

UF Unknown Fate LP (Kick To Kill)
Really been loving it as many of the UK’s heavyweight industrial-techno merchants start integrating the heaviness, approach and feel of hardcore, metal and doom into their productions. UF is the duo of Kerridge and Oake, two Downwards label alumni who look cool as hell shirtless, tattooed and distraught on the cover of Unknown Fate, their debut. It’s definitely not metal – I can’t rightly spot a single guitar, for starters – but I’ll be damned if it isn’t the most brutal digital music I’ve heard since that Persher record from earlier this year. Utilizing their rich pool of production knowledge, UF push their riotous grayscale techno into darker, harsher realms where the ghosts of industrial post-punk and blackened metal growl and howl. It’s similar to Ben Frost, Vessel and Emptyset (as well as their respective solo works), but the way in which they combine chest-vibrating bass, unhinged vocals, oppressive percussion and mechanical clangor feels like something exciting and fresh if not entirely without precedent. I love that they both provide vocals and seem willing to take risks – Unknown Fate really feels like a record that pushed its creators to the brink. “Dalston Bubble” is eight active minutes of pain and torture, for example, and I can imagine Prurient pinching his nose and tweaking his ears like Rumpelstiltskin while hearing it, furious that Hospital Productions didn’t get to release it.

Writhing Squares Mythology LP (Trouble In Mind)
Writing Squares have been doing their part to keep Philly weird for nearly a decade now, Mythology being their fourth full-length (and third with Trouble In Mind). Their budget space-rock has always been a good time, though I feel like I haven’t checked in recently – let’s blame Covid – so it’s nice to see where they’re currently at. To my surprise, Mythology is less of a tweaked procession into the stratosphere than I am used to from the duo, probably because they’re no longer a duo here, now with full-time drummer John Schoemaker in their ranks. It results in somewhat of a more traditional rock affair on many of these tracks, a vibe not unlike Hawkwind covering “TV Eye”. Whereas I enjoyed them untethered from human percussion in the past, I’ve already come to appreciate what they sound like in this more traditional rock trio assemblage, chooglin’ through one of Blue Öyster Cult’s geometric shapes and popping out the other end upside-down. The neon digital-clock font has me thinking of late ’80s sci-fi thrillers, even if the sounds of Mythology veer towards early ’80s dirtbag fantasy rock, songs that sound like they should be performed by the band in Stunt Rock. There are still some outsider moves, tracks that eschew rocking for freaky delay-pedal horn explorations, and while I probably prefer Writhing Squares at their weirdest, I’d say “Chromatophage” is the best of both worlds – imagine Laddio Bolocko with Bootsy Collins.