noise rock

Cats & Dogs

gwen — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 16:00:00 +0000

I did not see Star Wars until I was nineteen years old. I was even older the first time I saw Steven Spielberg's Poltergeist. In both cases, I hated them. And in both cases, I was told by the films' loyal fans that, when they'd watched these movies at X years old, the scares or the special effects “were really great for their time.” To which I would invariably respond, “I did not experience them at said age in 'their time'; I did so now, as a discerning adult—and I didn't like them. So there.”

Coming of age as a curious young lady during the era of grunge and heroin chic meant that music doubled as both a skeleton key and a gateway drug. With one artist, I could unlock a multitude of doors. Through those doors I found (and get hooked to) progressively grittier, more ferocious music. It's odd, then, that all of those never led me to the sloppy smack-soaked noise rock of Royal Trux. Oh sure, I was aware of them then, but I'm always aware of something; I've got my feelers out in all sorts of directions at all times. But awareness is not the same as appreciation, and it is certainly not the same as fandom.

Had I fully immersed myself in Royal Trux back then, in the same way that I did with other bands of that time, I might get a nice, warm, tingly, nostalgic feeling in my chest when cranking up this year's re-issue of their 1993 album, Cats & Dogs. As it is, though, I just feel kinda bummed.

Please don't misunderstand me. It's not that Royal Trux didn't make worthwhile music; they did. In fact, the eleven tracks that comprise Cats & Dogs embody the many qualities I value in music: swirling screechy guitars, passion that's at once bratty and indolent, and a well-honed messy agility that could easily be confused with slapdash noise.

Royal Trux was formed in Washington, D.C., by Neil Michael Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema, shortly before the demise of their previous group, the Jon Spencer-fronted noise punk band Pussy Galore. In 1989 the duo's first single, “Hero Zero,” was also the first release from notorious Chicago experimental indie label Drag City. In his AllMusic.com biography of Royal Trux, writer John Dougan aptly characterized the duo as a “dissonant junkie nightmare.”

Cats & Dogs was the turning point from extreme to, if not sonorous, at least more tolerable. It's loud and scratchy and, as stated previously, was first released in 1993. But see, there's the rub. Unfortunately for Royal Trux, it sounds like it was released in 1993—at the height of heroin chic. It's kind of a soundtrack to smack. Both Hagerty and Herrema were unabashed junkies. Vocally, they remind me of two very drunk people who have decided to sing a duet together, but the booze is slowing down their response times so that one voice is always lagging behind the other.

Unless your idea of a good time is fully immersing yourself in waves of sound that could only stem from an early '90s heroin high, this is pretty much nostalgia listening only.

Written by: M. Brianna Stallings, October 18th 2010

Get Color

admin — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 01:01:00 +0000

By Health

Lovepump United

In today’s huge hype musical landscape, it can be near impossible for a band with a successful first album to parlay that success into a long career. Health seem ready to beat the odds. Their sophomore album Get Color starts out with a bang: huge guitar riffs, whirring electronics, and almost shoegazey, wall of sound vocals coat “In Heat,” the album’s opener, in sound from top to bottom. This is a perfect album-opener: a great song that really paves the way for the next eight.

“Die Slow,” the next song and first single from the LA noise band’s follow-up to 2007’s breakthrough self-titled album, is equally engrossing. The song combines danceable drumbeats with the band’s signature monotone, evocative vocal style to create something both contemporary and new, but not gimmicky.

“Before Tigers,” my favorite track on the album, is almost unsettling, as it builds its non-melody around an insistent, persistent drumbeat that keeps the song on track, while the purposefully vague vocals and distorted guitar effects float in and out. That a song can seem so haphazard (in the best way possible) but clearly be so perfectly structured is a real testament to the band members’ talent.

If you like your noise rock a little less, um, noisy and a little more ethereal—but in a somehow danceable way—check out Get Color. Don’t let this intensely interesting, surprisingly listenable (for noise rock, that is) album fly under your radar.

Written by: Dana Reinoos, December 16th 2009

Red Rainbows

admin — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 01:00:00 +0000

By Noveller

No Fun Productions

Sarah Lipstate has all the makings of a feminist noise fan’s dream. At twenty-five, she plays in ensembles with now-graying heroes of New York’s avant garde scene, like Glenn Branca and Rhys Chatham. She recently joined new wave band Cold Cave after a stint in Parts & Labor. And solo, under the name Noveller, she coaxes ambient drone from a double-necked guitar.

Red Rainbows follows debut album Paint on the Shadows, which was released in a tiny batch of vinyl in April, and its centerpiece “St. Powers” appears on both. “St. Powers” both anchors and overshadows the rest of Red Rainbows, as its pipe organ-like throb and finger-picked chime exudes an Arthur Russell-like resolve that dissonant above-the-frets scratching can’t dampen. Eleven minutes in, what sounds like a thumb piano begins to skid atop the bowed guitar, and the song neatly closes with a gorgeous melody that seems borrowed from Tortoise.

Lipstate constructs a grandiose, Chatham-like lake of guitar fuzz with “Rainbows,” but the tones fade out just as they begin to coalesce into something unsettling. The meandering, metallic chill of “Brilliant Colors” might befit a night flight over a canyon, but sounds aimless on the heels of “Rainbows” and is at its best when its twiddled knobs and sawed strings give way to an irregular beat and occasional silence. On “Bends,” with the help of collaborator (and No Fun founder) Carlos Giffoni, Lipstate mines a repeated shift between a simple rhythm and a cicada-like din. Two repeated notes suggest a table saw whirring under-load. A sing-songy guitar line tantalizingly suggests a broken punk rock record that, with a push of the needle, will break out of its hiccuping sterility.

But the music on Red Rainbows seldom does break out. By far the album’s most patient, evocative, and ambitious piece, “St. Powers” is the only one that doesn’t sound safe in its obtuseness, and is the only piece that routinely threatens to collapse on itself. Red Rainbows might as well be Noveller’s debut to a wider audience, thanks to the minuscule pressing of her first LP, and it makes sense that Lipstate would want that wider audience to hear a standout song—but the album remains perplexing in its structure.

The noise and drone scene has long since been canonized by a cultural patriarchy of aging, ego-laden, middle- to high-brow males; its heroes alternately conduct orchestras at public monuments and rock out to corporate sponsorships. So what is the role of young female musicians?

At times on Red Rainbows Lipstate begins to dismantle her own genre assumptions, many of which rely heavily on masculine codes, but at others she adheres to them to generate barren soundscapes that pass without leaving much of an impression. It’s clear from the album that Noveller is capable of creating discomfiting, urgent, and beautiful music that may be more relevant and inspired than its influences.

Written by: Sam Schulz, December 11th 2009

Prince of Truth

admin — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 01:04:00 +0000

Evangelista

Constellation

Considering Evangelista is side project of musician Carla Bozulich—a rather unstable project at that—it is hard to imagine that a work of quality would be produced by a band that seems to be a metaphorical revolving door. However, despite the constant entering and exiting of band members, Evangelista released the solid Prince of Truth.

This album is a living testament to Bozulich’s ongoing fascination with noise and its role in the creative realm, particularly in music. Each track seems to be more in the vein of a soundscape than of an actual song. They supplement the lyrics with the vivid images they bring to mind. There is no doubt that the sounds were placed very cleverly, as they always fit in well with the song itself. The myriad of instruments combined with various noises form a distinct impression for each individual track. Without a doubt, it’s the album’s instrumentals that really push the envelope and make this a distinct piece, for better or for worse.

Lyrically, Prince of Truth could not get any better. Every song is both music and poem. They are all emotions frozen in time, preserving the feeling in the song. As one listens from track to track, one is taken on an emotional rollercoaster that is no doubt a reflection of what Bolzulich was feeling when writing them. She covers a variety of topics, all discussing truth, and many of them touching on the hopelessness of life. It is in the haunting details, like the song that seems to be suggesting that cats bet on when their humans will die, that the point is driven home. With her cathartic and eloquently written lyrics, Bolzulich forces listeners to face ignored truths that permeate life, even going as far as questioning whether there is any truth at all.

Though there is arguably a commonality between tracks in their overarching theme of nihilism, overall they seem to be arranged a bit randomly. One goes from the intense, sound-heavy “The Slayer” to the mellow, shanty-esque “Captain’s Side”. Though all albums contain such a progression of feeling, there seems to be no progression at all, but rather a jarring arrangement of hot and cold, hot and cold. The album’s disjointed nature is its only major flaw. Prince of Truth is for any listener who can appreciate the complexities of life, human emotion, and sound-play.

Written by: Jacquelyn White, December 6th 2009

Hope Freaks

admin — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 00:59:00 +0000

By Pre

Skin Graft Records

I realize I spend many of my reviews describing what bands sound like, but hear me out. I frequently haven’t heard the bands I’m reviewing before, and I kind of figure most people reading Elevate Difference probably haven’t either (many times to their detriment, may I add). So anyway, on to my review why Pre are another one of those acts I think people should pay attention to, even if they aren’t into noise rock.

Pre, like Finnish salty licorice and IPA beers, is indeed an acquired taste. Pre is a noise band in the vein of bands like Aids Wolf and Melt Banana. Like those other bands, Pre doesn’t take much time to ponder or dwell in any single place (although there is a rather long repetitive moment in “Not Necessary” that is pretty much a noise version of the intermission music in Monty Python and the Holy Grail).

There is no need to feel introspective or lift a cigarette lighter during the long guitar solo. This is music dedicated to fast satisfaction; it is the fizz and the caffeine of a thirty-two ounce energy drink. In fact, Hope Freaks propelled me on my last run far and beyond my typical three miles, and into the outer limits of an eight-mile excursion that I thought was really only possible by statuesque people who wear those hydration fanny-packs. (Of course, I am now nursing shin splints, which I fully blame Pre for.)

Despite all of the speed and dissonance, however, Hope Freaks still feels more listenable than some of their other noise-band peers. Amid the mishmash of squealing guitar and effects pedals, there is some semblance of a more “typical” verse-chorus-verse structure, and just a bit of the catchiness that bands like Wolf Eyes thumb their noses at.

Mixing noise with catchy is a delicate business, as is making noise listenable beyond the middle of a late-night live show (where, of course, it is best appreciated). Pre isn’t exactly the kind of music I would bring with me on a road trip with my mother, but it is perfect for a listen after a rough day at work when all you want to do is beat the snot out of a pillow like you used to do when you were fourteen. Also, weirdly, it sounds a little like music that would be perfect for cartoons. Maybe this is because I can’t help but think of Melt Banana, wrote the theme song to the Adult Swim cartoon Perfect Hair Forever (titled “Hair-Cat,” in case you were interested), when I listen to Pre.

So maybe they’re a little Melt Banana—but they’re also a little Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Pre managed, after all, to do something that not many noise acts are capable of: they’re stuck in my head, even as I sit on the couch and ice my shin splints. Maybe next week I should be listening to Joanna Newsom as I run. Sigh.

Written by: Emily S. Dunster, December 3rd 2009

Balf Quarry

admin — Wed, 07 Oct 2009 08:23:00 +0000

By Magik Markers

Drag City

Magik Markers will never have the fame to reflect their talent, which is a shame and says more about the music industry than their ability to create fine music. One could classify Magik Markers’ sound as noise rock, but only a few tracks on their latest album Balf Quarry would live up to that label.

Influence from Sonic Youth and other No Wave bands are apparent on tracks like “Risperdal” and “State Numbers,” where it sounds more like spoken word poetry over a cornucopia of sounds created both instrumentally and experimentally. Other tracks, however, show that the duo doesn’t limit themselves to such abstractness, but rather have the ability to create complex melodies, some more apparent than others. “Don’t Talk in Your Sleep,” for example, pairs hearty blues chords, drum machine beats and a slight echoing funk vamp all working together to accompany strong female vocals delivering a warning to all potential cheaters out there. Later in the album, as Elisa Ambrogio’s voice softens from the beginning of the album’s more raucous tracks, a downright twang can be detected in the guitars in “Ohio R./Live/Hoosier.”

The album is nicely capped off with “Shells,” a ten minute strain of dark yet harmoniously hymnal-like sounds eventually evolving into lyric support after the four minute mark. What follows is a true testament to Ambrogio’s vocal ability perfectly paired with Pete Nolan’s mastery of making experimental sounds pleasing to the ear. The track is an adequate representation of the album because of its sonar spectrum. Many songs lack traditional structure, making listening more of a challenge, but one thing Magik Markers have is the power to keep you engaged.

This isn’t an album to play while you’re cleaning the bathroom. You’d be ruining a perfect opportunity to give the album the attention it demands. Rather, put it on, sit down, and let yourself be guided. Balf Quarry is a fully complete album demonstrating that sometimes good music is hard to listen to, but the reward at the end is twice as much. It turns listening from passive to active in one tickle of the distortion key.

Written by: Sara Custer, October 7th 2009

At Home We Are Tourists

admin — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 21:07:00 +0000

By Settle

Epitaph

At Home We Are Tourists is the first full length album from this eastern Pennsylvania band. These four guys have been together for a while though and have a fair amount of experience, including winning MTVU’s “Best Band on Campus” competition in 2006. From the opening track of this album Settle establishes themselves as a band with a knack for creating fun, danceable pop tunes.

A quick look at Settle’s MySpace page reveals a die hard fan base, which isn’t too surprising as their music has that “my favorite little garage band” feel. Pop-punk influences like Alkaline Trio or Jimmy Eat World are clear in their music, but Settle’s sound manages to set them apart from the other dozens of bands that fall into this genre. Indeed, the combination of clear musical talent on their strings and percussion with solid vocals (yes layered, but layered well) creates a tight sound normally earned by more seasoned musicians who have been playing together for years. Some songs even boast their willingness to play with more electronic sounds, most obviously in “ISO: 49yr old M W/ Kids seeks 26 yr old F W/O Kids.”

Settle also escapes the often trite adolescent tones that one might expect from the first album from a band with such obvious pop punk sounds. The lyrics and themes are curiously insightful. In one of two slower songs on the album, “Sunday, Morning After,” lead singer Dave Goletz’s deep, full voice appropriately croaks “I used to think I’d have to stay a while, but I don’t think you know who I am.” A nice whistling accompaniment follows and completes the nonchalant sentiments of the morning after a one night stand: emotions relatable and not often discussed in music without heavy brokenheartedness.

One can also catch glimpses of softer, echoed vocals more associated with good '80s pop in “On the Prowl,” and they dabble with noise rock chaos in the track “Dance Rock is the New Pasture” just to shake off, or beat off, any accusations of easy pop melodies. Check out their MySpace page to get a better sample of the songs from their current album, which establishes them as a band whose ability to write good pop songs matches their clear musical talent.

Written by: Sara Custer, October 5th 2009

Secret Cog

admin — Tue, 23 Jun 2009 09:40:00 +0000

By Talk Normal

Talk Normal’s Secret Cog, a five song EP, begins with a noise sample that is not quickly placed—a curious noise that immediately demands attention and perks the listener’s ear. This theme lasts throughout the album as the Brooklyn duo plays dissonant and provocative songs that defy any one genre.

At times they are clearly noisy with Sarah Register’s distorted and wandering guitar; at other times they border on a mathematical sound with Andrya Ambro’s drumming and the call and response timing of the guitar and bass in the song “33,” and they ultimately fit into the no-wave category, which is a description they receive often. The guitar playing is reminiscent of early Erase Errata and even a bit of Fugazi, like the bright lead riff in “Lemonade.”

The five songs weave into each other so that the album becomes something of a larger whole. True, the songs can most definitely be enjoyed by themselves, but it is a different experience to listen to the album in its entirety. Talk Normal are successful at simultaneously creating songs that can hold a careful ear but also allow the listener to unfocus and feel the effects that the songs generate.

I always appreciate a lyrics sheet, but one is not supplied with the album. I suspect it is because the words are not as important of a contribution to the record as are the sounds that the singing makes, which adds to the music like its own instrument. The singing waxes and wanes much like the music, and the drums are carefully aligned to build the crescendos of the songs. While listening to Secret Cog I imagine that these songs would have yet another powerful effect while played live, which is something I’m very curious to see. Being able to pull off a variety of effects with five songs is quite admirable, and these women do it well.

Written by: Krista Ciminera, June 23rd 2009

It’s Blitz!

admin — Mon, 15 Jun 2009 23:20:00 +0000

By Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Interscope

Karen O. is back, and she’s dancing—or so she makes us think. The original hipster band from New York released their third album and it’s a love letter—it’s my love letter and yours, read aloud under the scattered light of a disco ball. This album combines the sensibility of MGMT’s enthusiasm, along with Karen O.’s personal finesse and emotional depth and a spot of New Wave. She is this generation’s Hope Sandoval and Beth Gibbons combined, without affectation, without orchestra, and with a lot of attitude. Karen O.’s voice simultaneously kisses you, fucks you, and kicks you out on your ass. This album is ballsy, blessed, and painful.

Amazon has a fantastic description of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs: “At the turn of the twenty-first century, the New York City music scene floated in a surfaceless orbit of samplers, shoegazers, and delay pedals. The city's guitars lay choked by a digital fog, or else they lay dustily forgotten. Then, in 2002, an unbridled five-song EP by an unknown band brought noise, sex, passion, and mayhem back to the stage and to the stereo. The band's name evoked the kid who knows that whoever's in charge is full of shit—"yeah, yeah, yeah"—but it also rang with the affirmation of pure rock and roll: Fuck yeah! The Yeah Yeah Yeahs' first full-length album, Fever to Tell, was simultaneously filthy, infectious, sloppy, and brilliant. You could dance to it, and you could probably die to it. "Maps" was nominated for a Grammy, and the record went gold in the UK.

That isn’t too far off from their latest album. On the deluxe version (which is the one you should get) of It's Blitz!, the first track, “Zero” might convince you that the rest of the album will follow suite, with pounding lines like “Shake it like a ladder in the sun/Makes me feel like a madman on the run/Find me never never far gone/so get your leather, leather, leather on.” But it doesn’t.

The acoustic versions of “Little Shadow,” “Hysteric,” “Soft Shock,” and “Skeletons” torch emotion into you like an erupting volcano. “Hysteric” lights you up—but the acoustic version digs you down. With lyrics like “flow sweetly, hang heavy, you suddenly complete me, you suddenly complete me” show that the Yeah Yeah Yeahs haven’t forgotten to keep life simple.

This album became my personal anthem in April, the cruelest month. Eliot was a prophet. Karen O. and the Yeah Yeah Yeah’s are just musicians. But It's Blitz! does something T.S. could never do—and that’s make you dance and cry at the same time.

Written by: Mónica Teresa Ortiz, June 15th 2009

Live Session EP

admin — Fri, 15 May 2009 23:33:00 +0000

By Deerhoof

Kill Rock Stars

You either have that friend, or are that friend: the friend who tells people about obscure artists that seem weird or off-putting, but always become familiar with time. These bands usually rise from unknown to an only quasi-obscure status within about six months of your introduction, making your friend appear to have some magical intuition or inside information. For me, that friend is Israel.

We were in Israel’s green Subaru in Lincoln, Nebraska when I first heard the child-like Japanese/English ramblings of a mystery band, and I asked who it was. He said it was Deerhoof.

Drums are thrashing, guitars are humming and squealing, Satomi Matsuzaki is singing like a six-year-old in the bath. From the Live Session EP, the fifth song, "Basketball, Get Your Groove Back," seems like the zenith of the album’s fitful and fanciful lyrics. Reminiscent of stumbling into an Asian clothing store to find t-shirts that exclaim, “I’m If!” or “Boy girl smile love,” Satomi’s insistent and staccato, “Basketball, basketball, basket--b-ball, b-ball, b-ball/Escape!/Bunny jump, bunny jump, bunny, bunny, bunny jump” is both funny and awkwardly endearing.

While many of the compositions give a sense of being erratic, and jerk like a rusty skeleton, they hold a mysterious and driving beat that makes them incredibly catchy nevertheless. A great set of six songs to flail, clean, or mutter incoherently along with, Deerhoof’s Live Session EP is oddly enjoyable and comes with a four-star rating from yours truly.

Written by: Tatiana Ryckman, May 15th 2009