Deeply underground hasheeshian communal exploration from the newest cosmic nugget in the Hare Akedod roster by the Antwerp psychedelic duo Gripgevest & Kling. The cassette is a recording of several live improvisations played during concerts and festivals in Antwerp and it seems that the live setting suits them: the paganic explorations filled with lazy synths and ritualistic flutes and drums propel forward the sloppy, molasses-like atmosphere steeped in druggy mist and the tropical fog. Let the magic work for you.
One of the more frenetic and open-structured statements of the free improv movement, this three personnel album is a rollercoaster-like ride through jagged stabs of fractured pseudo-melody, percussion kling-klang and analog synthesizer circuitry fuckery. Abstract, aggressive, mind-boggling, transforming at a blinding, heart stopping rate. No wonder the synth somewhere on side A sounds like an ambulance taking you to the hospital. For the improverished ones. HA, get it?
It’s time to celebrate our 1000th follower with a debut album by a freewheeling Chicagoan free rock team Crown Larks. Offering a healthy dosage of calm, melodic psychedelic rock with a slightly experimental edge, this album is an answer to the growing need for string-based blissfullness after a winter of electronic, synthesized drones and ambient soundscapes. Under a modest cover hides an explosion of Technicolor colors. Kinda reminds me of an LSD-soaked version of Polish band Myslovitz.
Deep, psychedelic four-track attack from northern Poland, where dense post-rock atmospheres meet the kaleidoscopic, shimmering classic acid rock and krautrock influences to create an ambient-infused, sprawling narcotic vista for the endless summer evenings. Some of the strongest trippy music from this country since Same Road’s stoner journey “Sensem przekaźnika jest przekaz”. While waiting for the new Ścianka album (which is taking forever), check out this third eye, mind-opening free download offering from Toruń’s Innercity Ensemble. Highly recommended!
It seems that we’ve got some friendly rivalry to the already pretty well-known Sangoplasmo label on our small, yet fertile Polish experimental scene. This time it’s the Warsaw based imprint Wounded Knife, beginning modestly (like almost every brand new label), yet impressively with two hazy, drone-laden cassettes with some very nice packaging.
The very first release is a solo recording by Artur Rumiński, a guitarist from Sosnowiec – that’s in Silesia, a part of Poland known for its numerous coal mines. It’s actually a really lovely area with some rich nature, but some people tend to think it’s a bleak industrial wasteland where not a single sunray touches the earth, unable to penetrate through thick smog and soot. And Rumiński’s untitled tape makes us think so. He plays the guitar in experimental black metal/noise unit THAW, so his solo work won’t fall that far from that, except with a far more drony edge. The two side-long compositions, “Allen K. Drone” and “KBOw” are dark, atmosphere-heavy excursions through thick, cold guitar sludge, looped and ambientalized with some paganistic drumming scattered all over the place. It’s a bit like a darker, more pessimistic version of High Aura’d. Listening to this tape is like crawling through a seemingly endless tunnel filled with cold muck with just a tiny spot of light at the end. You just keep crawling toward the light, because the tunnel is so tiny that you just can’t turn around. You feel that the light won’t bring the escape; even worse – that the light is something evil, malignant. But you have no choice. The ordeal just goes on and on.
Echoes of Sunn O))) strike all over the album, setting the frozen guitar ambience against sparse, yet powerful guitar strums, almost tectonic in nature. Cymbals crash in the darkness, giving an illusion of rhythm once in a while, only to dissolve in the fog. Just like the mysterious light keep drawing you in, despite you knowing the consequences very well, “Untitled” will keep you listening, despite the unwelcoming, unhuman environment. Recommended.