Halloween Album Special: Butthole Surfers - Locust Abortion Technician

If Hell has a house band, I like to think that it is the Butthole Surfers.  The Surfers built a career out of making music that at its friendliest is just plain weird, but more often than not is threatening, abrasive, and legitimately frightening.  On their 1996 album Locust Abortion Technician in particular, they have an undeniable knack of putting on tape the mentally unhinged type of sounds that exist in the darkest corners of our psyche, only brought fourth in the unstable mind or to soundtrack tormented fever dreams.  I will go through with the agonizing task of picking one song from Locust Abortion to represent The Surfers on the final Halloween mixtape, but for now it feels necessary to address the entirety of an album that for my money is the most deranged, maniacally twisted collection of songs ever set to tape.

"Daddy?…What does 'regret' mean?"  

"Well son, the funny thing about regret is- it's better to regret something that you have done than to regret something you haven't done.  

And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend, be sure and tell her:

SATAN SATAN SATAN SATAN!"

And with that, the Butthole Surfers launch headfirst into 33 minutes of utter nightmare.  The opening track that contains this delightfully haunting intro is Sweet Loaf, a cover/parody of sorts of Black Sabbath's Sweet Leaf.  The hook is a warped version of Tony Iommi's classic original riff, accompanied by effects-laden inhuman shouts and screams.  The vocal effects in question have come to be called "Gibbytronix" after frontman Gibby Haynes, who processes his vocals in various demented ways throughout the album.  It does an admirable job of introducing the general approach of the Surfers:  weird and even disturbing, but at the end of the day still flat-out rocks and is delivered with a sly wink. 

The next few tracks dwell in the deepness of this atmosphere.  Graveyard is rooted in a distorted, downtuned guitar riff that seems to grind its way through it's own sludge, with brief piercing leads occasionally slicing through the mix.  The Gibbytronix makes its presence felt, as the vocals are heavily down-pitched to provide a suffocated, guttural quality as if they are excruciatingly making their way up through six feet of earth.  Following Graveyard is Pittsburgh to Lebanon, a down-and-dirty blues straight from the depths of hell.  It plods along to a lunatic groove as Gibby howls distortedly about such things as buying "(his) first shotgun at the age of three".  

Just as you begin to get used to the downtempo weirdness thus far, The Surfers throw in a subconsciously dreaded monkey wrench, confirming your fears that this rabbit hole does indeed deepen.  The brief instrumental Weber sloppily establishes riffs and motives that are never expanded upon, and leads directly into the farm animal sounds.  The moo's and baa's that carry throughout Hay are soon accompanied by stuttered, disorienting tape loops that flap and reverse over themselves as the animals continue their yelling and are joined late in the track by faint high-pitched human chanting and devilish growls.  At the albums halfway point the relatively straightforward Human Cannonball is a welcome intermission.  More importantly however, it is a very strong stand-alone garage rock song.  Albeit on the terms of the Butthole Surfers; the riffs drone along, the vocals are manic and the lyrics are cryptic; it adds a new level of musical sensibility that will be necessary to carry this album through its home stretch.  

U.S.S.A. shoves us back into nightmareland with a terribly distorted drumroll, or march, or…something.  The brief fade-out provides a teasingly false sense of security right before the grinding guitar noise stutters its way to the front of the mix.  Gibby spends the next couple minutes half-screaming (through filters that give even more edges to his delivery) incoherently over the now familiar, yet no less threatening, chopped up tape loops.  Much to everyone's demented joy, as soon as this madness ends The O-Men pick it right back up.  The rhythm pounds in double-time now, and once the rapid-fire vocals come in spewing nonsense it's obvious there is no turning back.  In what I suppose could be called a chorus, there is a call-and-response from the many schizophrenic voices of Gibby Haynes, as his high pitched worm-voice gives que to his Darth Vader-on-acid voice, which is followed by an unhinged, hyperactive guitar lead before it starts all over again.  The tempo is taken down briefly with Kuntz, but the insanity very much remains.  The song is a remixed version of what seems like an old-time traditional Indian or Middle-Eastern song edited just right (and with extra voices added) so it sounds like the word cunts is repeated as the etherial rhythm drones on.  After that we are treated to another version of Graveyard, this time without any downpitching effects.  Somehow it is even more maddening this way, as the guitar plucks and screams while the Gibbytronix take the vocals to new depths of delirium.  

The darkness all comes to a head with troubling album closer 22 Going on 23.  In audio taken from an actual radio broadcast, a young woman details with disturbing tranquility her "sleep problems" stemming from a sexual assault.  In the background a feral, lumbering riff rises and swells with pure evil as the radio host analyses her issues with echoing terms like "anxiety…sleep programming…conselling…medicine…depression…etc".  After a slowed down, otherworldly guitar solo the same woman resurfaces, complaining of an entirely different set of problems.  The album then fades out into familiar farm-animal noises, and comes to a disturbing halt with crickets and slow-motion "moo"ing.  Upon further inspection, not only are these slowed down versions of the same sample heard in Hay, but the woman's voice had previously been sped up and distorted and used throughout the album, subconsciously tying all of the madness together.  

As you're dropped into silence and left wondering exactly what the hell it is that you've just listened to, the album continues to work its magic as the aural journey through hell sticks vaguely in your mind like the aforementioned fever dreams.  After a little time to readjust to normalcy the appreciation grows for the way Locust Abortion Technician maintains an enjoyable, momentous listen even as it sinks to new depths of psychosis.  The overall haunting atmosphere and gleeful embrace of everything creepy and darkly experimental make this as good of an album as any to give a spin during Halloween. 

ALBUM REVIEW: My Bloody Valentine - m b v

You know those weird dreams where you feel like you are free-falling into a terrifying abyss, only to come to a sudden "landing" when you jolt awake in bed?  In a certain way, m b v feels like that moment of weightlessness, only it takes that split second of subconscious panic and stretches it out into 46 minutes of beautiful yet tense submission.   

In 1991, My Bloody Valentine shook the world with Loveless; an album that not only altered the course of indie rock, but brought a new perspective to what music itself could be.  Loveless put a backdrop of sheer noise and distortion to the band's beautiful pop melodies in an absolutely sublime meshing of style and mood, and in the process nearly bankrupt their record label.  In the following decades frontman Kevin Shields would go on to record numerous incarnations of the followup- all of which would be subsequently shelved out of his fear of not living up to the timeless release of Loveless.  That is, until now.

In January, Kevin Shields mentioned during a London concert that the new album will be released in "maybe two or three days"; the type of flaky response that had become typical of one of rock's greatest perfectionists.  This time, however, the promise held true.  On February 2, 2013, the new My Bloody Valentine album was released.  The band's official site crashed immediately, leaving an untold number of fans (including your's truly) staring at error messages for hours on end.  

Such a turbulent release, after two decades of buildup, would be more than enough to cripple any other band.  Of course, in a way that only they could manage, My Bloody Valentine fed off of the hype.  This is an album that was mythical for over two decades before its actual release; it and now that it actually exists, it certainly delivers on its monolithic stature.  Beginning with the artwork, the surreal pink hue of Loveless' cover has given way to ever-darkening shades of blue for m b v.  After being wrapped up in the warmth and surreal comfort of loveless we find ourselves in confrontation of the other side of the spectrum.  Subtle as it may be, it is an effective first-impression to the album.  This is not the smothering euphoria we all fell head-over-heels with in '91.  This is the claustrophobic struggle of a genius haunted by his own legacy.  While Loveless wrapped us in a blanket of bliss that felt as natural as breathing, m b v challenges us to find it within ourselves to embrace the free-fall.  

This is definitely an album that picks up momentum as it goes.  The first half or so operates on relatively the same plain that Loveless did over two decades ago.  This is by no means a negative though; Loveless was far ahead of it's time, and frankly, I think it could come out today and the world still wouldn't be ready for it.  m b v begins with a wall of sound fading in in as if the old machine is warming up to pick up right where it left off.  Upon reaching operating temperature, the band continues in a warm, comfortingly familiar drone for the duration of opener she found now.  only Tomorrow to me, was an early classic upon first listen.  In Bilinda's first appearance she coos sleepily, just as we remember her and hear her in our dreams (or is that just me?).  Meanwhile, the guitars smolder and swirl, but show hints of welcomed modernization with crunchy, start/stop dynamics.  

As the album nears its midpoint, any concern of it simply being rehash gets debunked in the best possible way.  The most assertive change on display is the prominence of the rhythm section.  The drums and bass really make themselves known this time around, especially on new you, which thumps and pulsates behind echoing guitars like a hazy dance song.  Fittingly, this is the point where things early kick into high gear for m b v.  in Another way opens with an alien-sounding burst of manipulated feedback, which jolts into a grinding, uptempo guitar groove.  Bilinda even puts a twist on her signature vocal style, singing with a more staccato, articulate approach that hadn't been seen since the band's early EPs.  For much of the song the guitars stutter and screech with controlled feedback, but it is much faster and more upbeat than what we have come to know.  During the bridge sections there is a ringing drone that sounds like bagpipes.  By the time you get used to all of it, the song segues into nothing is.  For the following three and a half minutes  the noise machine chugs along, building and building tension like some sort of psychedelic snowball.  In true My Bloody Valentine fashion however, the payoff never comes.  Instead you immersed in this turbulent sea of noise and perpetual sonic momentum.  Just when it becomes unbearable, the album drops you back into the abyss with wonder 2.  As the hazy phantom melodies, wall of noise, flanging drums, and overall comforting chaos disappears into flowing waves of feedback, you find yourself in a disorienting yet incredibly satisfying state of sedation.  The final deafening silence leaves you to reflect on the experience, and to realize that it was everything you could hope for in a My Bloody Valentine album.  

For 22 years it seemed impossible, but m b v has proven itself to be a worthy followup to Loveless, and addition to the sublime discography of My Bloody Valentine.  Whether m b v will reach the legendary status of its predecessor is something that only time will tell.  As it stands though, it is an incredibly satisfying outing from one of indie rock's greatest bands.  

Track of the Day: Wavves - Demon to Lean On

San Diego's Nathan Williams, AKA Wavves, has been an interesting artist to follow over the years.  The project was conceived in 2008, when Williams self-recorded his first album using Garage Band and a 1980's cassette recorder, and began sharing the songs online.  Chock full of irreverent lyrics and buzzing (literally) with the unintentional distortion if clipped inputs, his debut and its followup were carried to prominence by widespread praise within the blogosphere.  In a strange way, the proudly amateur quality of the recordings complimented his summery melodies and snotty, self-deprecating sense of humor very well, and thus his signature aesthetic was born.  In 2010 Wavves brought this aesthetic into an actual recording studio for the first time,  and came out with his best album yet- the Fat Possum release and instant summer classic collection of slacker anthems known as King of the Beach.

Almost exactly two years later, Wavves is poised to strike once again with another step forward.  Earlier this week Williams released details on his upcoming album Afraid of Heights, due out March 26 on Mom + Pop Music.  He suggests that the album will move away from the sunburnt psychedelia of his previous work, instead turning his irreverence inward with darker and much more "real" musical and lyrical themes.  The noise and snotty delivery is still there, but the past couple years has clearly brought his cockiness down to earth somewhat, despite his obvious growth as a songwriter.  This is on high display on the brand new track Demon to Lean On, which embraces a a more straight-forward grungey sound and great pop sensibility.  

"The general theme of the record is depression and anxiety, being death-obsessed and paranoid of impending doom.  I feel like the narration is almost schizophrenic if you listen front to back; every word is important, even the constant contradictions and lack of self-worth.  That's all a part of this record- questioning everything not because I'm curious, but because I'm paranoid."  (Nathan Williams)

http://wavves.net/

Mom + Pop Music

Afraid of Heights preorder 

Track of the Day: Metz - Wet Blanket

Home recording is a beautiful thing.  Even if it the mix isn't just right, or if the processing is bad, here is a certain urgency and authenticity about a record made entirely out of one's own pocket.  Toronto trio Metz is a band that embraces that quality, but teamed up with a record label that knows a thing or two about optimizing it in Sub Pop Records.  The result is 29 minutes of artfully organized chaos known as their self-titled 2012 LP, spearheaded by standout track Wet Blanket.  Metz channels the spirit of Sub Pop's early grunge acts, particularly Mudhoney, and ups the ferocity with buzzsaw guitars that power along with overdriven feedback noise and frantic vocals delivered with manic recklessness.  

Sub Pop - Buy the Album

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What do you think, is grunge back?