Links:
The Appleseed Cast

Volume II begins with a reprise of "View of a Burning City," which is where Volume I ended. Bass and drums slowly pound like a storm against the seashore while guitars tap out an amplified S.O.S. But before the song pulls you under, the sound gets swept up and wrung dry, leaving the sparse opening guitar lines of "Strings" to show you the way. The guitars throughout Volume II sing like chimes that cascade out of the speakers, and Crisci's vocals are mixed back alongside the rest of the instrumentation so that his words don't color the songs so much lyrically as they do musically, which is something of an art I've always enjoyed.

The purpose of the lyrics on the album is to give one a sense of time, a knowing place where you can check your compass before continuing on, because the instrumental songs and passages here are so gorgeous in scope and depth (like "Ring Out a Warning Bell") that you lose sense of where you're at on the album, thinking maybe you've reached some kind of finality, only to find you've simply reached the end of side one. And craftily placing several instrumentals alongside each other ("Ring Out a Warning Bell," "Sunset Drama King," and "The Last In a Line") only heightens the effect.

This is not to say that lyrically The Appleseed Cast falls short. Take "Decline" for instance: "Face yourself / Let it go / Turn away / Watch it grow / You never had the time." With those five lines Crisci creates a somber feeling of melancholy that reflects equally as much as what has being created with the music.

The band, along with engineer Ed Rose, have painstakingly pieced together a collage of music where organ and piano seamlessly bleed into the middle of a song while ghost-like cymbals ring out in a crescendo that propels the listener in and out of bridges. They make great use of a variety of effects (both with the instruments and with how they set about recording them) to create an ambiance rarely achieved by bands inside the indie circles The Appleseed Cast grew out of. And while the band state that "it is recommended and preferred that you listen to these recordings with dynamic monitor, gimbal suspension headphones" (which, sadly, they forgot to include with the advance they sent me) the album still sounds gorgeous regardless of whether it's played on the high end stereophonic equipment of every audiophile's wet dream, or on your crappy Discman.

Visceral, melancholic, autumnal, enigmatically sublime, Low Level Owl, volumes I and II, are an amazingly rich pièce de résistance which, like all good art, invites you in without revealing its true self. You will definitely find these two albums on my year end list, and, for the curious, reviews of both Volume I and Little Eyes can be found in previous issues of eP.

-Craig Young
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The Brought Low
The Brought Low
Tee Pee Records

Links:
The Brought Low

If you enjoy bands like The Hellacopters, Gluecifer, T. Rex or are old enough to remember Little Bob Story then you need to go to Tee Pee's site right now and order Free and Easy which oddly enough will not be free, but will be fairly easy. The standout tracks are "Lay Your Love On Me," "Barefootin' Man," "Keep High/Stay Low" and "Tiger Tooth." There's a heavy dose of psychedelia and stoner rock in the titles and the layout, more than in the music which doesn't let up for a stoned second. Supposedly this was New York's best kept secret. Whoops.

The Brought Low remind me of a mutant mix of the Rolling Stones (in the '60s) and the Black Crows. There's a touch of Deeeee-troit in this disc and lot of those stoned-out bass-heavy riffs that will remind you of those righteous soul and blues bands way back when things were simple. The Brought Low update all those old sounds into a new concoction that is tighter than a duck's rump and wilder than Stiv Bators (Dead Boys). Benjamin Howard Smith is a killer vocalist that manages to steal Jagger's vocal inflection, Stiv's snotty delivery and Chris Robinson's vocal chords.

The sound on this self-titled debut is a little raw which only adds to the gritty ambience. The Brought Low are a band that wields their power like a chainsaw--there isn't subtlety here, it's pure rock charisma. Tracks like "Goddamn God Bless," "Motherless Sons" (the song Jagger/Richards would have given Keith's right vein to write), "Outer Borough Dust Run" and "Deathbed" will invigorate your worn-out rock 'n' roll soul. Ben's going places and he's bringing his low-down power trio along for the joyride.

-Sabrina Haines
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Links:
Banabila

Michael Banabila has an ear for sound and a pulse which runs through his fingers. Taking a nearly limitless number of samples, he finds a common pulse that they gravitate towards, and produces groovy--nearly trip-hop style--songs. There are no voices other than the stolen ghosts which become halting, tripping verse-chorus-verse arrangements under his skillful manipulation.

"Voiz IX" is a wheezing street orchestra, a tiny marching band made up of two kids banging on trash cans, one over the hill tuba (worked over by a much younger player with a decent set of lungs), a couple of single-stringed guitars, a kid with an old radio sporting exposed wiring, and a drum major with a three-dollar megaphone. Banabila reworks all these elements (and the echoes which their street performance leave rattling down the long alleys) into something else, something a little less than a recognizable tune and more into a musique concrete abstraction.

At the other end of the spectrum is the following track, "Speak," which hums along at 144bpm, hammering and jabbering beneath a cut-up vocal track that speaks in starts and stutters. Like all good pastiches, you find comfort in the recognizable elements and thrill in their unexpected juxtaposition. Banabila's work on VoizNoiz II is a soundtrack to the urban chaos which is the overwhelming reality of city living.

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
Beachwood Sparks

The Sparks put a premium on atmosphere, and here the lilting, weeping strains of pedal steel don't so much signal a country song as contribute to the glorious atmosphere. Harmonica wheezes like a train announcing its passage on a far hill. Piano tinkles and plunks like the ghost of Nicky Hopkins reliving the Exile on Main Street sessions. Sweet voices swell together in a kind of country gospel ecstasy. Psychedelia dwells on the fringes without collapsing the whole affair in too much trippyness. In fact, I want to live in this world, a world where Chris Hillman is in his Twenties again and young men with long hair, corduroys and western shirts sing a lullaby to the western sky.

The Beachwood Sparks, while bearing a healthy set of influences are revivalists, iconoclasts and originators. If you don't believe it, just listen to the group swing through Sade's "By Your Side," evoking the ghosts of Gram (particularly with the shaky, fragile vocals) and the Velvets, yet also simultaneously crushing your heart and bringing a smile to your lips.

-Erik Hage
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Links:
Beulah

The Coast Is Never Clear, the third full-length from Beulah, follows in the wake of the highly acclaimed sophomore release When Your Heartstrings Break (Sugar Free, 1999). And it is a difficult act to follow. Heartstrings was an indie success that sadly lacked the essential X, that magic variable, to make it a classic that endures long after its debut. But it came close. On the other hand, The Coast Is Never Clear lacks more than just that simple ingredient. Most of the songs disappear from memory before they have even ended.

Beach Boys comparisons are easy, though inevitable, and I'm caught between guilt and self-justification for putting them to task. Beulah certainly has a grasp of the vocal harmonies, clever hooks, varied musical arrangements and advantages offered by studio recording, but the band has not yet shown a true mastery of this combined art, as did Brian Wilson in his saner years. The instrumentation that distinguished Heartstrings appears here in a more sparing form, the ensemble of 18-plus having dropped by 67 percent.

"A Good Man Is Easy to Kill" brings together keys, (synthesized) strings and brass on a track that has chord changes as rich and quirky as its lyrical imagery: "When you flew through that windshield / and your life passed reel-to-reel / was there a bit part for me? / ...When they drilled holes in your skull / and screwed that halo to your head / did you think you could fly?" On "Gene Autry," front man Miles Kurosky sings, "Everybody drowns sad and lonely" with such cheer that it's impossible to think such morbid sentiment could actually leave a toe-tapping pop tune unblemished. "Popular Mechanics for Lovers," previously released on an eponymous UK-only single, is thankfully included. On the whole, however, this is more like a compilation of pleasant filler. The Coast Is Never Clear is not a particularly bad album; it isn't particularly unique or noteworthy, either.

With Heartstrings, Beulah set the standard by which it would be measured in the future. And that, perhaps, will highlight the shortcomings of the latest album more than anything else. There is a bit more musical diversity on The Coast Is Never Clear than on the two previous LPs. Yet it fails to meet the benchmarks set by the standouts on Heartstrings. It's a basic artistic principle: Once you've shown you're capable of more, you have to keep doing it.

-Eric J. Iannelli
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Links:
Emperor

In the past they have produced fantastic discs like Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk, IX Equilibrium, and In the Nightside Eclipse, and each one has raised the bar for the rest of the black metal world. Prometheus roars out of the gate with "The Eruption" (the names suffices as description) then builds the tension and atmosphere with "Depraved" and "Empty." It then proceeds to annihilate your puny, pantywaist existence with "The Prophet," "The Tongue of Fire," "In the Wordless Chamber," "He Who Sought the Fire" and finally, the thunderous "Thorns on My Grave."

Ihsahn wrote all of Prometheus and that explains why this is more like Peccatum (his other band) in some places than Emperor. Emperor usually has more of a metal sound than Peccatum and still does for most of the recording, but the quieter moments and the more symphonic elements remind me of Peccatum. Trym's drumming is awesome and literally provides the fire for Ihsahn's disciplined din. This is a monument to Emperor. It is the last recording from a band that can never be replaced. As you listen to Prometheus you will realize that much of the album is a parallel to Emperor's career. The lyrics describe the life of Prometheus and his eternal damnation for bringing fire to man. You can draw the parallels to Emperor and Ihsahn--with all their power and all the great music they have brought to mankind, there has also been pain, damnation, violence and the education of discipline.

Emperor, like Prometheus, has been on a course to destruction since day one. All this leads to the demise of both Prometheus and Emperor. Nothing could have saved either one. It was destiny and magic as much as Emperor have exhausted their talents and allowed their own demise. Sometimes you just reach the end of the road and you know it's time to call it a day. More bands should follow suit, but how many of us are wise enough to know when it's over? Discipline is forged in the fire of pain. No one knows pain quite the same as Emperor. Ihsahn, Samoth and Trym will be missed, but never forgotten, and never duplicated.

-Sabrina Haines
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Trüby Trio
DJ-Kicks
K7 Records

DJ discs fall into two categories: the aforementioned mix tape--the kind that circulate among friends--and the collection which represents a time and space. Kenny Glasgow has been DJing in the Toronto circuit for nearly a decade now, the "K" in the JMK trio who burned up the warehouse parties under the "Family Tree Parties" moniker through 1994. Since then Kenny has been perfecting his style, still funky, still minimal, still a steady pulse till dawn.

It's been a few years since I've been to Toronto and, from the mailing lists that flicker past my eyes, I can see that the music scene there has gotten even better. Turbo Records has been sharing the dance floor love with the Toronto Mix Sessions CDs and Kenny Glasgow's contribution is another solid disc to come out of the series. From the vocoder intro of Si Begg's "Welcome to the Discotheque" to the pleasant surprise of Señor Coconut's "Showroom Dummies" to the pumping finale of Night On Earth's "Simple Short Cut," Kenny mixes together a flush hour that passes way too quickly and makes me long to get back to the Toronto clubs.

K7 Records have put quite a stamp on the mix disc concept with their DJ-Kicks series, setting high standards with their eclectic blend of house, downtempo, drum 'n' bass, nu-jazz, dance and techno artists who spin together their favorites into one sublime mix. Trüby Trio are Rainer Trüby, Christian Prommer, and Roland Appel--three lads who storm the clubs in Germany with regular precision. Trüby has been draped with the laurel wreath of "Favorite DJ" from Gilles Peterson while Prommer and Appel have been working as Fauna Flash and Voom Voom (a wet dream collaboration with Peter Kruder). But that's all going on somewhere else.

What's coming out of your speakers right now with the Trüby Trio DJ-Kicks album is a late-night aeroplane ride down to Rio De Janeiro--just you, a few friends, and this most excellent live band that croons, swings, boogies, and bossas you along the jet stream. There's the breathy beat of Trüby Trio's newest track, "High Jazz," the hot-to-trot Voom Voom giving up "Ginger & Fred"--which is almost enough to make you go out and buy the sleekest, sexiest red dress you can find, just to run your hands across the fabric and hear it rustle across your lady's body as you two take the dance floor--while Matthaus delivers an earthshaking rhythm beneath his wordless voice in "Scat Box" and Lehner & Bibel take me to Canada with "Toronto."

As the adoration of DJs continues the press, we have to be careful to remember that there is a definite distinction between the two. But it really comes down to two single things: are you going to a concert or are you going to a party? If the rousing answer is the second, then you don't need a stage full of guys and their equipment, you just need one person with a crate of records. Or, if you're really streamlining the process, you just need a couple of CDs. Kenny Glasgow and the Trüby Trio have some recommendations.

-Mark Teppo
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Links:
Leechmilk
Sofa King Killer

Maybe that's a slug, but it's still slimy, dirty and disgusting and therefore fits like a glove to this hate-filled dirgefest. I hate to say this, but I hear just a touch of A.C. (Anal Cunt) in these leechtracks. This isn't pretty, but it is abrasive and sludgey and some folks just can't get enough of abrasive noises in daily life and need this noise to cope.

Leechmilk's partners in crime are the wannabe-southerners Sofa King Killer named after a bad joke (just say it fast) from Ohio. Sofa King Killer, how modest of them, say they play "Southern Salvation." I say they play crusty-sludgedoom. They are not as sludgey or raw as Leechmilk, but they are a bit abrasive and really, really heavy. In fact, I do believe I've been paralyzed by the odd almost crusty doom of Sofa King Killer. Truly if you crossbred Eyehategod, Black Sabbath and Crass, the offspring might parallel Sofa King Killer. I definitely preferred the Sofa King Killer side to Leechmilk; but, unless you like it really heavy, dirty and crusty, you might want to avoid it like the plague.

-Sabrina Haines
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Death
Live in L.A. (Death & Raw)
Nuclear Blast

Links:
Mayhem
Death

I don't care if you need a live CD of Death or not. Go and purchase this disc (better yet, get the DVD) to support Chuck Schuldinger. If you go to the above "empty words" website you will find a plethora of prayers, pleas and well-wishes for the man who named a genre of metal...yep, death metal. Ironically, he is fighting death tooth and claw. After one brain surgery a year or so ago, he needs more surgery to stop the infernal cancer slowly killing him. Musicians live by the seat of their pants. Rarely are they the wealthy rock stars, but more often constantly-touring, penny-pinching minstrels. Chuck doesn't have insurance to cover his surgeries and needs help. Sure you could donate to the American Red Cross (who have plenty of dough now) or you could reap a really cool CD (or video or DVD) of a killer band in their prime laying it all out on the line live and help someone who really needs your assistance. Yeah, I know you've witnessed Death in concert a hundred times, but now when your memory goes you'll be able to relive the glory days. So now, dash out the door and help Chuck. Heck, really help him and buy the entire back catalog of Death and Control Denied releases. Then you'll feel good about yourself and maybe someday you'll get to witness the spectacle which is Death, again, live. I'm keeping my fingers crossed and my wallet open for Chuck.

-Sabrina Haines
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Links:
Pain

Rebirth reworks the whole concept of metal within technology. Tagtgren adds touches from techno and metal to the industrial mix. His version of metal is considerably harder than your average industrial band--crunchy guitars perfectly aligned with melodic keyboards, samples and rhythms. Pain also includes a former member of Marduk on guitar and Horge from Immortal bashing the skins at live shows.

Rebirth is the perfect soundtrack to this difficult year. America is certainly undergoing a "rebirth." Rebirth could be a soundtrack for the rebuilding and destruction process. Tracks like "Supersonic Bitch," "Breathing In, Breathing Out," "Suicide Machine," "12:42" and the piece de resistance "End of the Line" will not only inspire you lyrically, but make your feet have a conniption as well. Tagtgren even includes the uncut video to "End of the Line" on Rebirth as a special treat.

If you thought Ministry or Pitchshifter were the pinnacles of industrial metal, Pain will change your mind. There is no better showman, lyricist, front man or vocalist than Tagtgren and he proves once again that he is on top of the game. Give Tagtgren a challenge and he will succeed. Survivors in New York and Washington, D.C., will revel in Rebirth. "End of the Line" is the ultimate song to sing along with as you fantasize about killing bin Laden while driving ever faster and faster to your final destination. Believe me, you will repeat this Rebirth in your CD player ad nauseam.

-Sabrina Haines
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