My friends have a record out!

Just as a preface, I never post a record if I don't think it's killer regardless of who made it. This blog has always been and always will be reserved for the purpose of presenting people with records that I believe have a lot of value musically and emotionally. Posts will never, ever be intended to massage someone's ego. As such, it's testament to the quality of a friend's work if it finds its way onto this blog.

All the Empires of the World - Last Rites EP

All the Empires of the World is a three-man project based in Nottingham. Last Rites is the latest release of theirs and their first 'official' release through a label. It's always easiest to define a band like this by the heavier parts of their sound, but Last Rites has as much light in its sound as dark. It is not a "post-metal" record. There is way more going on here than Isis/Neurosis/Pelican [delete as appropriate] worship - as much attention is given to the properties of each sound and how it resonates as is given to the riffs themselves. These explorations of ambience give the record a cavernous sense of space that makes it sound freaking huge. 'Prophecy at the Ruins', as the title suggests, sets an apocalyptic tone, starting with the slow pounding of a bass drum that is met by long peals of rumbling guitar that sound like a call to prayer from deep within some enormous temple. Instead of the release of tension that we'd expect, the rumbling gives way to a sequence of subdued fingerpicked chords that make the eventual release of tension even more worthwhile. These quieter passages on Last Rites have a considered, dreamy quality to them that reminds me a lot of the calmer moments of maudlin of the Well's music. After the long build of 'Prophecy at the Ruins', the music finally erupts in 'Simon Helen Elizabeth (The Gate)' with the kind of music that Pelican should be writing these days - proudly triumphant riffs shrouded in enormous swathes of ambience. At the climax of the song the addition of some deeply buried vocals within the wall of sound works as a really great finishing touch. These two songs work as a kind of suite, but are followed by a similarly great reinterpretation of one of their older songs '...Will be Laid to Waste' which manages to sound strikingly different from the original version and yet still as great.

In terms of the actual meaning behind the record it might be best to quote Mark directly:

"This record is a testament to finding the best in everything - it was influenced by my brother and two sisters and their complex and wonderful lives. Denial of the spirit is denial of the self."

I'm not in the position to extrapolate further about the emotional content of Last Rites but one thing that is obvious is that it is clearly a very personal record. This, combined with the attention to detail in the writing, recording and mixing makes it a very rewarding listen, and I will recommend it to anyone who is interested in records that explore the possibilities within the outer fringes of heavy music.

It can be downloaded for free from Records on Ribs, a great Nottingham-based record label run by a bunch of lovely people who release high-quality music for free online under Creative Commons licensing. While you're downloading this record, check out the rest of the acts on their site too, there's some great stuff there - some of my favourites include EL Heath's ambient work and the Talk Talk-esque melancholy of Les Étoiles.

All The Empires of the World - Last Rites

2008: Asva - What You Don't Know Is Frontier

Now for something on the other end of the spectrum. Asva's debut album Futurists Against The Ocean fascinated me back when I first heard it, being one of the most creative and emotionally resonant drone/doom metal albums that I had ever heard. The band, featuring alumni of Sunn O))) and Burning Witch among others , for once created an album that, thanks to its experimentation in different instrumentation and even operatic female vocals (the idea of which I would have barfed at on paper but, upon hearing them, was mesmerised by), actually managed to be pretty beautiful instead of being one of those run-of-the-mill drone albums that tries and fails to sound as evil as it possibly can.

Sometime inbetween Futurists' recording and the recording of the latest album, What You Don't Know Is Frontier, guitarist and bassist Stuart Dahlquist's brother died. Understandably, Dahlquist has mentioned that the loss has directly influenced his work ever since, and even if it wasn't a conscious effort, this feeling shows in What You Don't Know Is Frontier. The album is an absolute tour de force: only such a horrible loss could provide the catalyst for such terrifyingly dark and vast soundscapes. The album is structured in a very similar way to Futurists Against The Ocean: four long tracks, the first two almost serving as harbingers of the second two. However, this album feels infinitely darker and deeper, and where 'Zaum, Beyonsense' on Futurists seemed more like an interlude or an introduction for 'Fortune', 'Christopher Columbus' on WYDKIF is interesting - and terrifying - enough to prove itself as a great track in its own right. The title track sets the stage, like a Morricone theme as interpreted by Satan himself - enormous twangs of spaghetti western guitar resonating against thunderous drums, humming organs and vast bursts of guitar noise. 'Christopher Columbus' is very abrasive indeed, starting off with an ominous bassline that slowly builds with lots of other stuff like bizarre electronics going on towards its ungodly conclusion. Randall Dunn (responsible for the latest offerings from Earth, Kayo Dot and Wolves in the Throne Room) has done an incredible production job on this album: it really feels implausible that something this huge could have been recorded in a mere studio.

Just as you're feeling suffocated by the unrelenting heaviness of the first two tracks, 'A Game In Hell, Hard Work In Heaven' arrives to blow you away. Certainly the album highlight, the piece is a lot more meditative and graceful, featuring a woman singing beautiful eastern-style vocals on top of the ever-present organs, punctuated by mournful guitar melodies. The song picks up in intensity as it goes on, the coda picking up the pace dramatically as the track races towards its astounding conclusion. At this point in the album, the all-consuming feeling of remorse and solemnity is overwhelming.

A Trap For Judges is by far the longest and most testing track on the album at 24 minutes. A gargantuan beast of a track, it is almost impossibly heavy - sort of like an 80s sci-fi flick soundtrack on a downer overdose, with gargantuan drum/guitar attacks pounding steadily accompanied by enormous sweeps of synth. The track marches steadily on, constantly descending further and further into its sonic bludgeoning, subtly changing throughout. After 20+ minutes of this exploration of the abyss, we are finally treated to a glorious release. A triumphant church organ pierces the darkness, resonating until it's all you can hear. It's like the light at the end of a long and tortuous tunnel. In a way, the album seems, intentionally or unintentionally, to perfectly mirror the process of grievance: shock, denial, anger, bargaining, depression, testing and, finally, acceptance - it's like the musical representation of a person mourning a loss and eventually finding a way to move on, and it's unbelievably powerful. Its testing and abrasive darkness has a cathartic nature too - after listening to it from start to finish, as that church organ fades, the colours of the world will seem brighter. Never has a drone album seemed quite so emotionally powerful and exhausting as this one: it's the album that Sunn O))) wish they could have made. For that alone, it deserves a standing ovation.

Asva - What You Don't Know Is Frontier

The Cold Return

As another hectic semester draws to an end I find myself with a little more time on my hands than usual. Or, rather, I'm decidedly ignoring the fact that i have two essays due and four exams to take after the Christmas holidays. I'll be taking this opportunity to get back to updating this blog hopefully a little more frequently, with plenty of music for you to feast your ears on, as well as providing the obligatory rundown of my favourite records from 2008. Watch this space.

The record I've been listening to the by far the most recently is Gospel's The Moon is a Dead World. Produced by Kurt "Midas Touch" Ballou of Converge, the record is, sadly, the only studio output the band have ever released. The band sound like what you would expect City of Caterpillar, perhaps, to sound like if they were closet Yes fans. In other words, Gospel play intense hardcore with massive prog leanings - insane drumming, psychedelic riffage, keyboard solos and nine-minute epics. This might sound absurd on paper, but The Moon is a Dead World is one of the most visceral, compelling and straight up awesome records ever to grace my ears. Its dense and dark racket will overwhelm on the first couple of listens, but every subsequent listen will reveal new nuances and amaze even more than the last time. Your ears will start to isolate awesome moments: be it the blinding riffage in 'Yr Electric Surge is Sweet', the superb melodic and dynamic changes of the epic 'A Golden Dawn', the stuttering rhythmic breakdown in 'And Redemption Fills The Emptiest of Hearts', the build and climax of 'What Means of Witchery' or the furious keyboards of 'As Far As You Can Throw Me'. Before long, you'll not only realise how tight and damn-near perfect this album is - you'll find that you're addicted to its propulsive dynamics and practically flawless instrumentation. In the realm of emo, The Moon Is a Dead World has little or no match in terms of how inventive and cohesive it is - fans of Circle Takes The Square and their ilk should probably download this. Right now.


I've also been listening to quite a lot of Harvey Milk. One of the more underrated bands in the field of sludge, it's suprising that, given their eccentric approach to the genre, more fans of bands such as Kayo Dot or Boris haven't picked up on them - or, rather, their early releases, which are particularly spectacular. They have admittedly received a bit of a buzz recently due to their most recent release Life... The Best Game in Town, touted by the likes of Pitchfork as a return to form. As entertaining as that album is, it seems to lack the extremity and astounding sense of experimentation that one finds in the band's early work, and thus comes off as comparatively lacklustre. My Love is Higher Than Your Assessment of What My Love Could Be, the band's debut, is a perfect place to start with Harvey Milk. The opening track 'A Small Turn of Human Kindness' throws you into experimental territory straight away: as an ominous cymbal counts the song in, one expects to be bombarded with sludge filth straight away. But Harvey Milk don't work that way: they choose, instead, to mess with their listeners' heads - playing around with keyboard noodling for a bit before reverting to cymbal counts, and then messing about a little more with some creepy strings. and then about three and a half minutes in, the real onslaught starts: one of the most vile, evil riffs you're ever likely to hear, backed by thunderous drums and horrible bass, rears its ungodly head. The band uses extended periods of (near-)silence, carefully controlled tempos and unconventional instrumentation (including the odd folk ballad) to contribute to the general disorienting effect of the album, along with the employment of a singer who could just as easily be a pissed-off walrus as be a human being. All of this leaves you wondering what you've just been hit by, but knowing one thing for sure: you've just heard one of the best experimental sludge albums you're ever likely to hear.

The follow-up to My Love..., the ironically titled Courtesy and Good Will Toward Men, dives into an even more serious - and sometimes surprisingly emotional - side of Harvey Milk's sound, while still retaining the experimental edge of their debut that makes the band so special and rewarding. One might argue that Courtesy is a bit more cohesive as an album than its predecessor, as it retains a constant feeling of utter gloom and misery throughout, while the predecessor tends to inject the band's bizarre sense of humour into tracks that otherwise might be more depressing, as well as having a few more particularly upbeat tracks among its numbers. The negativity of Courtesy and Good Will Toward Men is not necessarily to its detriment, but it certainly means that the album tends to lend itself a lot more towards moods where the listener is feeling a lot more, say, despondent. It has some disarmingly poignant moments: particularly the emotional climax of the album, a straightforward acoustic cover of Leonard Cohen's 'One of Us Cannot Be Wrong', a song that lends itself rather well to the singer's bizarre voice and is a surprisingly effecting respite in what is mostly a crushingly heavy sludge album. On an album full of highlights, one song to watch out for is the marvellously tense and evil opener 'Pinocchio's Example' which features - get this - a hoover. Yep, seriously. Also listen out for the interestingly structured and at times downright vile 'Sunshine (No Sun) Into the Sun', a great centrepiece - it starts with thirty seconds of a misleadingly charming ballad before propelling you straight into a black hole of downtuned bass and absurd guitar noise that lasts for the rest of the song. Nice. Courtesy and Good Will Toward Men may not be the most chirpy or upbeat of albums but it is certainly a powerful listen, and is one of the best sludge albums I've heard in a long time.


I'm also throwing in the new Glassjaw song as a bonus because, well, it fucking shreds.

Gospel - The Moon is a Dead World
Harvey Milk - My Love Is Higher Than Your Assessment Of What My Love Could Be
Harvey Milk - Courtesy and Good Will Toward Men
Glassjaw - You Think You're John (Fucking) Lennon