Ex Con

Ex Con

[7-inch; Bon Voyage]

I miss the days of drugs and booze inching into lower class noise. The sound of people sleeping on sticky floors, pub crawling for a cigarette butt and day old dumpster dives. This is the world of Ex Con–three songs of wino wails from Joanna Nilson surround her in musical desperation. And that’s just “Cuda ‘82,” though the other two tracks fail to deviate from the same urgency. And for that, we should hail Ex Con as the fifth coming of brash trash. A band that is figuring out how to play as it tours the dirty circuit for bacchanal pleasure. Glory holes and acid washed glory all unfurled on life’s stage. Cozy up to Ex Con like your empty gin bottle. Hold it tight. Never let it go.

Links: Bon Voyage

The Movies

In One Era, Out the Other

[CS; Spring Break Tapes]

JSpice dropped the hammer in our super-secret Cerberus message group the other day. “NO MORE 2012 reviews,” says he, King Editor. Good thing this album came out in 2003, HA! No, but seriously, tape reissues? I’m incredibly into it, especially since a band like The Movies feels so integral to tape culture with the way things are going these days. This is a real indie rock band type of deal here; we have a guitar, a bass, some drums, keyboards, and a vocalist. A band, guys… is it me, or are there just not that many of them these days? Is that a cliché thing to say? At least it’s a nice respite from the typically weird ambient, drone, or noise stuff I have been covering. So I’m very intrigued and elated to be hearing a real quartet on a cassette, especially since they’re so on point, musically speaking. Riffs are locked in, rhythm is deep in the pocket, dynamic, a wide range of tempos… just a talented and versatile group. Many of the tunes on In One Era, Out the Other have a very smooth driving groove to them, definitely reminding me of a lot of my favorite stuff by the Sea & Cake (circa Nassau, say). The vocals are really what sets things apart. This guy Timothy James, who seems super collected at times and at others totally unhinged like the way Sam Herrington can get, barking and gnashing his syllables in the peppier numbers while dead-pan-crooning his way through some deeply emotional lyrics for the ballads. Of course, it’s dangerous to compare The Movies to Future Islands seeing as how this album happened a good three years prior to the formation of said mentioned comparators. But if it gives you some kind of a listening reference point, then so be it. Either way, anyone who digs tunefulness, tight playing, playful arrangements, energy, and additionally, if anyone would like to see some boobs and male nipples inside the tape’s booklet, they might want to seek this one out for themselves.

Links: Spring Break Tapes

Lichen Gumbo

Zoom Zoom Ohm Umpha

[CS; Full of Nothing]

Lichen Gumbo, out to save the lo-fi world, one quirky melody at a time. Old Ariel Pink sounds like Siamese Dream compared to Zoom Zoom Ohm Umpha, and I’m not fucking with you here; wear your coal-miner helmet and shit, brotha. What I can hear, however, is tight and catchier than Dwight Clark, just the brand of guitar pop that feels good right now. A thimble-full of Bobby Trimble, a dash of Unicorns, and E6 will never die, apparently? This is like the next-level answer to the super-crusty Olivia Tremor Control stuff, with a weird Deerhunter twist when the bass choo-choo’s along and the voices crowd the mix. I want more indie-rock like this in my ear; let them sort out the mix later. The post-psych-era-Bee Gees album name is a definite plus, too.

Links: Full of Nothing

Moloch / Closure


[7-inch; King of the Monsters / Feast of Tentacles]

Ever since I finally heard those thunder-fucking Hell records (I and II) I’ve realized how little Boris really did to further the mission of the band whose album they were named after; there’s so much more work to do, and while Moloch would not be categorized directly with Melvins or Hell, there’s that slow, mud-thirsty grind in the guitars that charts a similar path through the guts of its enemies. It’s like I was telling my wife the other night, at 4 a.m.: You can’t listen to this stuff unless it’s fucking loud; I’m not going to make sacrifices, and you shouldn’t either, so have your woofers ready. Like Doom Snake Cult’s slow-grinds amped up a few notches, with a singer from the Anselmo school of hard knocks. Closure won’t let you have it because you’ve experienced too much. When they jump into their devilish, Tony Danza TDE, double-blast-beat phase it feels like the world is going to crack open like an egg and spill its yolk onto our melting faces; when they break it down it feels more old-school like maybe Morgoth or Entombed are forging steel in the depths of Mount Doom. Jesus I’m pretty fucking in awe of what these guys can do. Total sonic carnage with no limit to how fast or slow they can go, and packing four songs to one side of a 7-inch is sooo power-violence. Maybe it’s time we acknowledged that never went away, at least in the hearts of the extreme.

Links: Moloch / Closure - King of the Monsters / Feast of Tentacles

Loren Connors / Chris Forsyth


[CS; Preservation]

Is there even a reason to write this review? It seems if you’re not on board with legend Loren Connors and emerging legend Chris Forsyth, I don’t have the time for you. You’re likely a flamingo with your head in the pop culture sands and though there’s always time to glare at a Kardashian or hug a Bieber, there’s equal time to expand your horizons. Connor’s side to this marvelous split is as supple as Kim’s ass and as crazed as the aging pop star. It’s bending strings of light reflect gammas of spatial echo across the quiet desert night. Considering this is a Preservation list, the case could be made for Connors channeling the vast Outback; the unencumber, pulsating wind slowly eroding the majestic wonders of the inland. Forsyth engages in Connors timbre, playing with space and timing, creating a stronger rhythm but one more in tune to the nightlife of the coastal cities. Where Connors is the nighttime (and when he is never?), Forsyth is the day. Beyond the obvious pairing of guys with guitars at opposite ends of the enlightened spectrum (this is a series titled Contrasts after all), it’s a matter of kismet souls cosmically linking their own brands into a complete story. Tabloids divide and conquer; Connors and Forsyth unite and defend. We will not be victims to vanity, but victors on the battlefield of imagination and fulfillment. Get your head of the out the sand and see what lives above it.

Links: Preservation

Les Cousins Dangereux


[CS; They Live We Sleep]

This project is named after a fake movie from TV’s “Arrested Development,” and the song titles, and also the title of this tape, Jacks, are all “Twin Peaks” references. I guess I just thought I should make sure everyone realized that, although I’m not exactly sure how the information relates to the music of Les Cousins Dangereux, which is… well, it’s a bit hard to define. In fact, there’s no real definite genre for what’s going on here. They Live We Sleep calls it “ambient-electronic,” and for as broad a descriptor as that is, I guess Jacks fits in there somewhere. The label also attributes the “Twin Peaks” references to “the duality of LCD’s procedure and final product. The dread of a nightmare you will never awaken from, and the serenity of Love Theme.” Yeah, that’ll work for now.

A couple of elements we can examine at the very least: beats ‘n’ synths. Lots of both of those things are to be found on the tape, although more of the former on side A, and the latter on side B. And each occupies a space on the crunchier end of the sonic spectrum with the synths often sounding like they’re ripping their way through a paper barrier to get through to your ears, while the bass seems like it’s vibrating the paper cones of a hundred torn woofers. Underneath it all is something hot and volcanic that gives the entire tape an air of nervous tension… like the whole damn thing could boil over at any minute. But it never does — Jacks remains wound tight to its center, totally indebted to either the groove or the atmosphere. And the groove stomps and the atmosphere floats, and altogether it’s really quite the lovely excursion. Les Cousins Dangereux, despite having created something that’s pretty hard to pin down, manages to tickle those basic listening pleasure centers anyway, all the while being insatiably mysterious.

Links: Les Cousins Dangereux - They Live We Sleep

Luca Sigurtà / Panicsville


[One-sided 12-inch; Kinky Gabber]

As big a fan as I am of Andy Ortmann’s Panicsville projects, Luca Sigurta comports himself equally well on this luscious one-sided 12-inch. He snarls at us through his keyboards and raves with us through his rhythms, pulled from a minimalist beatbox. The intersection between noise and darkwave could easily be plopped down right here. It takes guts to tangle with the devil, and Sigurta is up to the task. So what does Ortmann do? He smacks that motherfuckin’ bitch up. Within “Paura Nella Città Dei Morti Viventi” I hear a woman screaming and a killer calmly plotting his getaway then droning his car down a black highway. Soon, it’s all twisted metal and corroded cries. Fuck, Panicsville can do no wrong. At times this is the most minimal synth-noise stuff you can imagine, sometimes barely warbling along before being picked up by a gust of wind or a faux-cheesy synth burp or maybe even a crow throwing out a coldwave CAW-CAW. Then the bottom drops out and we lurch to the finish line under the bated breath of a raging Rancor. YESSS. There are 100 copies of this and it’s somehow not sold out yet, but time is not your friend.

Links: Luca Sigurtà / Panicsville - Kinky Gabber



[7-inch; Black Lake]

Ooooooooh YEAUHHHH: If Unsane were heavy, Dirtdrinker are heavy+2, like Get Fucked used to be or Drunkdriver are, bass-drum and tom bombardments a constant source of adrenaline. They’ve got a sound and they stick to it over three hardcore joints, never offering a break or even a passage wherein the guitars aren’t drubbing the ears (save a quick build-up break on Side B; this one hits hard too). As with a lot of metal-related acts, it’s not about the skills, which are obviously there and exist in thousands of like-minded bands, but the manner of delivery. Do Dirtdrinker really chug soil or are they just out there fakin’ it? To me they seem pretty intense and intent, a lot more interesting than a lot of bands that have attracted more attention in the past (Knut, etc.). This self-titled 7-inch was limited to 100 and is long sold out; yeeeeaaaah.

Links: Dirtdrinker - Black Lake


Beauty in Belief

[CS; Ginjoha]

I have little idea if Logan Jackson is truly from Logansport (consider it your idea of Pawnee if you must, though geographically that’s more akin to Bedford if you want a lesson in Indiana) but its certainly draped within Beauty in Belief. Not because of any supposed wholesomeness within a Butternut state but because of the simple, idyllic ruminations of Jackson’s sweet ambient swing. This is why I turn to Ginjoha batch after batch–a manner of drone both contemplative and salubrious. This is a palette cleanser for big city living and current transgressions (however defined). Logansport is angelic, uplifting without the booming prophetic doomsday voyeurism of preachers invading small campuses (I can’t count how many times I encountered this during my days at generic state Indiana college). We are all absolved in Jackson’s confessional booth, without prejudice or judgment. Hell, there is no sin to be found no matter your home. We’re all just trying to do the best we can for ourselves, our loved ones, and the community. At least Logansport would have you believe, and it’s worth believing in.

Links: Ginjoha


Glare Luring Yo

[LP; Feeding Tube]

Holy lord, a goddess and two of the greats, together on a limited-edish LP that sounds so fucking ripe when you turn it up way past the breaking point. Body/Gate/Head is, of course, Kim Gordon and Bill Nace’s Body/Head augmented by Dead C dude Michael Morley, nee Gate (so the name makes sense now)… But you already knew that right? Haha, right, sure fucko; I KNOW you were sleeping on this one because I used to get the feeling of overload on a lot of the Sonic Youth pig-vomit side projects too, but no more; over the last decade there’s been a maturity in the post-SY work that has kept the brand alive. Glare Luring Yo is dark and dreary, but a searchlight pokes through the clouds and you just know you’re going to make it home safe. In fact I’ll promise you won’t be noise-fucked by this record unless you want to be. There are only 300 of these, so gird yourself for battle if you find some poor sap on the other end of the last copy…

Links: Feeding Tube


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Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d'art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.