Review of Rodenticide’s Debut Album By Bleg

RODENTICIDE-S/T LP:

Oh wonderful! No! Truly! Sophisticated garbage core, prose in putrefaction. sounds like Shitnoise come cruddy Noisecore with improvised Jazz conjunction (blasty, random, tangential drums from Chris Pitsiokos), bad Albert Ayler antiphonics (cheap reads abuse from Isaiah Richardson ) & scratty ill-incongruence discord on guitar & bass courtesy of a Mr. Richard Lenz (reminiscent of Sharrock shred in some instances). Insalubrious, unpalatable, perturbed, unstable, badly besmirched. & the poisoned cherry on the fatal compound – vocalist Samantha Riot- dishing dollops of hyper-cynical emesis, rye, expecting the worst & plastered in cicatrix tissue from stewing in New Yorx multi-dimensional feculence over years. Pretty impressive- wracked, on the verge, melting-down, wearing away. Well-articulated, greatly acerbic & in a dramatic twist of juxtaposition – well composed & placid- despite the hysterical sentiments, subject & contrasting to the clarion from the three musicians quarter. It chimes as an abrasively emphatic renouncing & disparagement of NY, but also of the modern urban environ – it’s a somewhat blistering tirade & veteran vituperation. Funny yet again, cos’ the chick rends into the soft under-belly of the city with such savagery & disdain, but with the geographical distinction & unique lingo that only a native New Yorker could exhibit. So the city can take great pride in the manner it’s daughter goes about clawing it’s innards out in some kind of perverse circle of love hate. Honestly, to have someone so astutely talking about how much these great urban epicenters fucking suck & prey on their inhabitants is very pertinent. The assault & loss our cities inflict rarely permeates the gloss & pretense (certainly to this level) despite it’s expanse, volume & toll. Certainly a fine piece of work from this four-piece. Vocals aside, it’s residing destination is something like a strand of Noisecore (foreseeably bracketed as “Post Punk”) but I expect the crew have arrived at this mannerism without any exposure to the latter. A welcome objurgation of metropolitan malaise, dusted with sass, served on a fracas blatter of fighting stray-dogs.

Rekd: 2017?

Label: Self Sabotage Records

The Sludge Lord Reviews Marriage + Cancer Self-Titled Album

ALBUM REVIEW: Marriage + Cancer – “Marriage + Cancer”

By: Charlie Butler


Album Type: Full Length

Date Released: 09/02/2018
Label:  Self Sabotage Records

Jagged shards of searing guitar coupled with pleasantly deranged vocals, makes for an album full of obnoxious noise and simmering potential.
“Marriage + Cancer” DD//LP track listing:
 

01. Command + Comply

02. God is Tan
03. Honor, On Our Knees
04. Headache
05. Six Feet + a Box
06. Flora + Fauna
07. Gound
08. Thirteen Stairs
09. View From a Cross
 

The Review: 

 

Right from the opening seconds of Marriage + Cancer’s debut LP it seems that the band are no strangers to the Jesus Lizard’s back catalogue. While the Portland quartet may not be breaking any musical boundaries their distinct take on the noise rock giants of the past is a compelling racket.

“Command And Comply” begins with the bands rock-solid rhythm section laying down the kind of insistent rumble that invites carnage to follow. Jagged shards of searing guitar soon join the fray along with pleasantly deranged vocals riddled with an off-kilter queasiness. Marriage + Cancer’ssound is classic noise rock infused with the breathless post-hardcore of Drive Like Jehu but delivered in a sludgy, nasty style all of their own. “Headache” finds the band at their heaviest and most pummelling while “Gound” is like a twisted fusion of Hot Snakes and Sonic Youth.

The highlight of the album comes when Marriage + Cancer move away from driving punk rock territory and explore slower tempos. “God Is Tan” begins as a sickly, drunken lurch that steadily builds in spite and intensity into a furious cacophony of serrated guitar squall. The second half of album closer “View from a Cross” also benefits from a similar shift in volume and dynamics when it drops down to taut, spacious chords before launching into a raging climax. These passages of brooding menace heighten the impact of the glorious mayhem that surrounds them and it would be interesting to see the band develop this aspect of their sound on future releases.

Marriage + Cancer’s self-titled debut captures the raw power of a band in its formative stages, full of obnoxious noise and simmering potential.

“Marriage + Cancer” is available here

Band info: bandcamp || facebook

Sean Morales’ Call It In Reviewed by Austin Chronicle

Sean Morales

Call It In (Super Secret)

Texas Platters

Fresh off the homegrown James Arthur’s Manhunt, Virginia-bred multi-instrumentalist Sean Morales’ solo debut prioritizes the right feel over high definition. The album’s rough veneer is indicative of its single-occupancy origins, but Morales’ rich songcraft and compelling arrangements exude a warm human scale that never veers into obscurity for its own sake. Leading with a cover burns in the less-traveled road at the outset, Chris Spedding’s “Video Life” crackling with heady effervescence. The title track flips the mood to dark noir with growling, flanged vocals and a menacing riff, and multiple songs start with acoustic blues before leaping in different directions. The contemplative country-blues of “Bring Me Home” evokes the troubled soul of Skip Spence. Utility guitarist and saxman Jonathan Horne of Young Mothers makes over Faust instrumental “Party 1” as a slow-building traffic jam to close.

***.5

Austin Chronicle Review of Terminal Mind’s Recordings

Terminal Mind

Recordings (Sonic Surgery)

Texas Platters

All so-called “art-rock” should have actually rocked. Like Terminal Mind in 1979. Prior to reincarnating as a psychedelic shaman in noisy freak-out specialists Miracle Room and, more recently, Evil Triplet, Steve Marsh was a wired and gangly punk bassist with a heartful of artful angst. Alongside future Skunks/Big Boys twins Greg and Doug Murray manning drums and guitar, Marsh – looking like David Byrne’s titular psycho killer brought to life – howled nihilist anthems like “I Want to Die Young” while adding his thrum to a sound comparable to how the Ramones might have sounded had their biggest influences been Roxy Music and Can. For proof, look no further than this first-ever compilation of just a four-song 1979 EP, some cuts on Live at Raul’s, then a brief incorporation of keyboardist Jack Crow. Done by 1981! A sackful of unreleased demos and live tapes moldering in Marsh’s dresser drawer sweeten the deal. Modern technology strips away the grime, letting pristine blasts of sonic neurosis like “Black,” “Obsessed With Crime,” and “Bridges Are for Burning” call us all to arms anew.

****

New Noise Magazine Review of Sean Morales’ ‘Call It In’

Out of Austin, Texas underground by way of Norfolk, Virginia, Sean Morales offers a refreshingly breezy mix of lo-fi rock on Call It In, his newest record.

Morales’ debut began its life as an inauspicious series of bedroom compositions, which only became fully fledged when he brought his wife on board, drummer Erica Barton. Once Morales hit Austin though, momentum took over and he ended up bringing a whole series of musicians to work on his collection of songs, giving the record its present form.

As fully-fledged as the sound on Call It In is, one can almost hear the raw matter, strummed to the night sky through an open window. What strikes me first as most unique here is how Morales utilizes the lo-fi aesthetic without delving into the noise realm, which has for a while felt like the trend. This isn’t a Ty Segall record. Rather it feels like an offshoot of Sonny And The Sunsets, airy and wide open in places. “Slummertime” is a quintessential back porch song, a blast of alt-rock bliss, all ruffled denim cut offs and cold cans of Lone Star Beer. I’m fond of the sparse, creeping guitars featured on “Bring Me Home” which plays well with Morales’ hushed, shamanic vocal style, as does “Been Apart” which is the singer/songwriter stripped almost to the bone. On “Problems” and “Whispertime” Morales tries his blues hat on, traveling the swamp-tromping road with broke down lyrics sung like Velvet-era Lou Reed on the latter track.

While Morales largely eschews noise rock on Call It In, that does not mean all of his songs are soft. “Call It In” is a loosely produced mess of guttural wails, instrumental noise and sludgy guitars. If you’re looking for a new direction song, as in where Morales could expand his sound, this is that track. It is rich in ideas and, at less than three minutes, he leaves the surface barely scratched. Most of the record strikes you like that though, like this is more sketchbook than etching.

For a record as diverse (and as short) as this, Morales does a nice job of keeping his persona out in front. This is his record and his voice the lead character. I would have liked a longer record, maybe more toward the optimism of “Slummertime” but that’s OK. At twenty-seven minutes, it’s a lot to enjoy with little to explore. Still, Call It In begs for the back porch and should be a breath of fresh air to anyone amid winter rest in need of that particular change of scenery.

Purchase the album here.

Ink 19 Review of Adam Ostrar’s ‘Brawls In The Briar’

Adam Ostrar

Adam Ostrar

Adam Ostrar

Brawls In The Briar

Super Secret Records

Ok, bear with me here, because this might get confusing. Adam Ostrar – nee Adam Busch when he headed up bands such as The Curious Digit and Manishevitz – has a made a record that at first glance looks like a folk release. From the title Brawls in the Briar, to the rustic, wood-grained cover and the delightful hand-drawn images of dogs, ghosts and a tea service on the liner notes, you might think this was a strum-strum record of fireside singalongs.

Well, until you played it, that is. The opening cut, “Enemy” establishes the mood of the record with a low-key, Lou Reed-ish guitar pattern atop an insistent piano figure that lets Ostrar’s somewhat unsettling vocals to pull you along. The entire record never raises above a whisper, and becomes ever more ominous as it goes. Imagine putting the original line-up of the Velvet Underground in a cabin along with Young Marble Giants and making them share an amp. (Told ya it might get confusing). Now, at times Ostrar unleashes some Frippish guitar histrionics, but they are masterfully subdued. The record reminds at points of English art rock, such as Roy Harper on Bullinamingvase or perhaps more sedate Julian Cope, and the record ends with a cover of Eno’s “Cindy Tells Me” from his 1973 masterwork Here Come The Warm Jets.

Brawls in the Briar isn’t what you’d expect at first glance, but as someone wise once told me, you can’t judge a book by looking at the cover. This is a stunning work of low-key drama and mystery, full of hidden places and surprising touches. I can’t wait to hear more from Adam Ostrar – or whatever he goes by the next time out, because this music is damn near flawless.

supersecretrecords.com