The Moles’ ‘Code Word’ Reviewed By Dagger Zine

The Moles- CODE WORD (SUPER SECRET RECORDS)

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Wow, Aussie expat Richard Davies (who’s been living in Massachusetts for years) is back with a new Moles record.  The Moles fabulous debut, Untune the Sky was a revelation for me when I heard it back in the mid-90’s as was his next project, the great Cardinal (with Eric Matthews). This time he’s back with a record as varied and disparate as anything he’s ever done. However despite having several different Moles lines up (Austin, NYC, Detroit, Mexico City and two in Massachusetts, Somerville and Easthampton, for all of the different lineups that recorded the record). Honestly, he doesn’t sound like he’s lost a step as the songs are rough and nimble, bumping up against each other  and then waltzing down the aisle (don’t mind if I do).  Opening cut “Moon in the Daytime” chugs along with some real panache while “Delicate,” despite its title, shows a more garagey side of the band with a rawer sound and “Queen Anne” is as off-kilter as anything Davies has ever done (as is the title track). Elsewhere don’t miss the uke-soaked “Riptide” or the odd, choppier “Punk On All Four Tracks” and the Soft Boys-esque “Prison Girls” as well.  There’s even a song called “Richard Davies 6.0”) and that final song “Gudbuy T’ Jane” which is just awesome. I’m not sure if Davies has been working on these songs since the last Moles record or if he whipped this batch in the past year or so but it’s a mostly terrific batch of songs birthed as only they could be by their enigmatic creator. Hail Sir Richard (or at least buy him a coffee the next time you happen to see him). www.supersecretrecords.com

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Austin Chronicle Review New Crack Pipes Album

The Crack Pipes

Fake Eyelashes (Super Secret Records)

Texas Platters

Much has changed since the Crack Pipes’ previous release, 2005’s Beauty School. First and foremost, extraordinary guitarist Billysteve Korpi beat cancer, but at the same time, recording home Sweatbox Studios ceased. And if a 2005 rocked by the Iraq War, Hurricane Katrina, and the American political pendulum swinging hard right doesn’t seem chaotic enough, 2018 feels suitably PTSD-riddled for all.

With Beauty School, vinylized last year by Super Secret Records’ reissue subsidiary Sonic Surgery, singer Ray Colgan, Korpi, drummer Mike Corwin, bass plucker Nick Moulos, and keyboardist Coby Cardosa proved that the locals possessed a huge, wide-ranging musical scholarship and they were gonna use it. The resultant art-garage squall took in a broad stylistic sweep. As Colgan says, “Yes, I love Captain Beefheart, but I also love Louis Armstrong.” Songwriting became the focus, and the album showed the Crack Pipes to be the true sons of the Lord High Fixers, Austin’s previous garage rock kings.

Thirteen years later – and 23 into their career – the group retains the same quintet that crafted its four previous studio full-lengths. Songs begun in 2007 remained, joined by fresh material from Estuary Recording Facility, and now Fake Eyelashes picks up where its predecessor left off – highlighting both song craft and genre hopping. Special guests aid the sonic expansion: Enduro/the Damn Times/Transgressors guitarist Chad Nichols drops in on the opening jangle-pop title track, the überfunky “Sha-Zam” features Riley Osbourne’s thick Hammond organ, a Funkadelic-tinged “Giraffe” boasts remarkable free jazz sax skronk from Gospel Truth/Art Acevedo’s Mark Tonucci, and the Fifties-flavored “Sea of Beverly” lilts behind Ro-Tel & the Hot Tomatoes’ Milaka Falk’s oohs and aahs.

The remaining seven titles veer all over the art-garage firmament. Frat rock riffer “Lil’ Cheetah,” soul clapper “Bang Bang Bangs,” and statement of purpose “My Underground” all move and groove. Yet it’s that interplay between the core Crack Pipes instrumentalist – especially Korpi’s articulate, inventive six-stringing – and Colgan’s sanctified church vocalising that remains the front-and-center of Fake Eyelashes.

Alongside fellow Aughties garage-punk heroes the White Stripes, the Crack Pipes continue to prove this music needn’t stay stuck in 1965. Fake Eyelashes continues pouring and mixing new and exciting hues on garage punk’s palette. We’re the better for it.

****

Austin Chronicle Review of Nervous Exits ‘Get Out’ Reissue

Nervous Exits

Get Out (Sonic Surgery)

Texas Platters

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Nervous Exits burned long and hot enough to squeeze out this 2006 CD finally seeing vinylization, then flamed out, casting ashes amongst local music scenesters the Golden Boys and Gospel Truth (guitarist Patrick Travis), the Ripe (drummer Nick Yaklin), Adam & the Figurines (bassist Adam Amparan), and the Dresses (singer John Yaklin). With second guitarist A.J. Sandoval (the Dazzling King Solomon Band), the Austin fivepiece fused MC5 garage power-drive and Gang of Four-like post-punk. Get Out thus sustains a relentless spasm that begins on opener “It’s a Flash,” the instrument-wrecking intro cohering into a rampaging riff rocker. Eight further furors range from dirty R&B (“Sidewalk Blues”) and avant jazz freak-out (“Two-Headed Monster”) to the second side’s extended rave-up of the Del-Vetts’ Sixties fuzzbox killer “Last Time Around.” John Yaklin’s larynx-busting vocals never lose melodic sense, and the band plays with all the abandon of kids just discovering the joy of playing rock & roll. Bet they were awesome live.

****

Salt Peanuts Praises The Young Mothers’ ‘Morose’

THE YOUNG MOTHERS

«Morose»
SELF SABOTAGE RECORDS, SS23

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Norwegian bassist Ingebrigt Håker Flaten, co-founder of seminal Scandinavian groups as The Thing and Atomic, formed The Young Mothers after relocating to Austin, Texas. This Texan sextet was titled after after a Houston community project for teen mothers that Flaten’s then-partner worked with. This title captures the spirit of this group that embraces and nurtures a hyperactive fusion of sonic approaches – free-improv that meets tough hip-hop lyrics, Tejano-inspired horn lines mixed with soul jazz and Ethio-jazz quotes and surf rock that collides with metal.

«Morose» is the sophomore album of The Young Mothers, following the self-released «A Mothers’ Work Is Never Done» (2014). This album was recorded in the middle of 2016 and early 2017 after the group completed few tours in United States and Europe, solidifying its explosive interplay. The line-up remains the same – Flaten on acoustic and electric basses; drummer Frank Rosaly, the only non-Texan player, a Chicagoan now based in Amsterdam who has played in Flaten’s defunct Chicago Sextet; Dallas-based, vibes player-drummer Stefan González, known from the Yells At Eels; Houston-based sax player Jason Jackson; Austin-based guitarist Jonathan F. Horne, known from the group Plutonium Farmers; and Houston-based hip-hop artist, trumpeter, electronics player (and social activist) Jawwaad Taylor.

The distinct sonic approaches keep crisscrossing and merging into each other constantly in the most natural manner, offering a peaceful co-existence. The Young Mothers simply claim that superficial genre labels don’t mean much anymore and even in the volatile, urgent microcosm of The Young mother there is enough room for all. This sextet does not leave you any choice but to surrender totally to the infectious, groove of «Attica Black». Before realizing it you may find yourself dancing or moving your limbs involuntary to its fierce and intense free-jazz freak out. «Black Tar Caviar» blends Gato Barbieri-like soulful jazz blows with death metal growls and Ethio-jazz à la Gétatchèw Mèkurya and «Bodiless Arms» suggest a folk theme from the school of Don Cherry. «Jazz Oppression» summarizes what The Young Mothers thinks of purists or authoritative protagonists of any genre, especially jazz, provoking these neo-cons jazz advocates to stand against the tidal waves of this omnivorous sextet. «Shanghai» concludes this intense journey with an optimist-dreamy invitation to a better, more welcoming world.

Eyal Hareuveni

Jawwaad Taylor (rhymes, tp, elec), Jason Jackson (ts, bs, v), Stefan González (vib, dr, v, grindalonium); Jonathan F. Horne (g, v); Ingebrigt Håker Flaten (el.b, acc.b), Francisco Rosaly (dr, perc)


ST 37 Album Review At Austin Chronicle

ST 37

ST 37 (Super Secret)

Texas Platters

Austin space/psych institution ST 37 celebrated its 30th anniversary last year and follows it up with a double-length state of the union address. Longtime leaders Joel Crutcher (guitar), Lisa Cameron (drums), and Scott Telles (bass/vox), joined by axe wielders Bobby Baker and Matt Turner and electronics gremlin Bob Bechtol, reach a new peak. “KBDP” and a remake of “Grey Area” from Telles’ pre-ST band Elegant Doormats dive into a psychedelic sea, riding waves of pedal-damaged guitars and oscillator atmosphere into the deepest trench. The snarling “Boss” and blasting “Hollywood Cemetery,” plucked from the obscure catalog of Telles’ old Houston hardcore band Vast Majority, hit an opposite note, rocking hard enough to dispel Mary Jane’s thickest clouds. “Shadesty” and redos of old standards “Snootle y Choobs,” featuring harmonicat Walter Daniel, and “Rooster Feather Paycheck” find the median, balancing black-light tripping with brute force. From wide-eyed chemical pilgrimages to balls-out punk pound, the album sums up ST 37’s strengths.

***.5

No Echo Reviews New Skeleton EP ‘Pyramid of Skull’

Skeleton, Pyramid of Skull (Super Secret Records, 2018)

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As recently as last year, Austin was still an untapped resource for me. Long heralded as the music city for normal folk, it wasn’t until Noble Brown of the crucial Save It for the Breakdown podcast and Black Mercy fame tipped me to the punk and hardcore scene that has long flourished behind the veil.

Members from celebrated Austin crushers including Nosferatu, Recide, Plax, The Real Cost, Enemy One, Residual Kid, and Witewash have been lovingly restitched into the monster that is Skeleton. Set to drop an absolutely pummeling EP on June 30th via Super Secret Records, the blistering assault marks the end of a sound developed, explored, and promptly conquered.

As they’ve made no secret of their intention to pursue a more metallic, riff-dependent sound informed by stoner, sludge, and the bleakness underpinning the salad days of 90’s black metal, the future is as yet unwritten. Today, though, I’m left to contend with an absolute rager of an EP, lovingly recorded and mastered by Orville Neeley and Seth Gibbs, respectively.

From the scorched Earth policy of the cover art to the opening D-Beat salvo of “War,” Skeleton’s mastery of blown-out hardcore is immediately evident (Side-note: never google “blown-out hardcore”). Fittingly, they’ve name checked Total Abuse as both an influence and peer.

It’d be easy to see Skeleton sitting as comfortably in the stable of Deranged Records as they would in the late ’90s/early oughts Havoc Records lineup, a mélange of cerebral punk fury and hardcore speaker fuzz.

One can’t help but find branches of their family tree leaning into frame, but the breadth of influence across the EP is vast and self-aware enough to incorporate more outsider leanings. Though guitar-based, there’s a cold and unsettling industrial edge, an almost subsonic hum running beneath every track. There’s a hint of The Holy Mountain, long forgotten Crust titans from Florida, on “Dystroy”, a blackened alchemy of pace and furious squealing guitar leads. Third track “Burning Flame” is perhaps the truest distillation of their menace and potential. With an opening riff and DIS-gallop every band with a butt flap/back patch would gladly endorse, there’s a barked “OOH” at the :23 second mark that will awaken horseshoe pits in squats the world over.

The closer, “Killing/Locked Up,” may indeed be our first glimpse into the world they’re intent on building: one where Kyuss, Dystopia, and Bolt Thrower all shop at the same grocery store, which just so happens to be staffed by the grimmest painted of corpses. Though still ferociously backloaded, the finale finds Skeleton seeking space and nuance, a defiantly “other” idea amidst the suffocation of the previous three tracks. Again, the surgical blade of industrial music returns to the canvas. This time, though, as the clock ticks away into silence, they seem to be leading us into the oblivion of whatever bludgeoning awaits on the upcoming LP.

Wherever they’re headed, I’m prepared to follow… blindly and willingly.

Get It