Twin Stumps - Seedbed

The Ridgewood neighborhood of New York is a barren slum nestled between Brooklyn and Queens. It has been described an American version of some dilapidated, forgotten Eastern-European factory town. It is also the home of Twin Stumps; a raucous, grimy collection of fuckers who play mid-tempo, post-hardcore-influenced, noisy, dread-loving hate mantras that should scare the shit out of you if you aren’t a total sociopath. Their recent full-length, Seedbed, is a more focused offering of their 2009 self-titled 12” that juggles the hardcore-punk of the later years of Black Flag, that being nightmarish noise squalls and sheer, relentless sonic filth. Songs like “Missing Persons” and “Child Republic” play like a cranked Amphetamine Reptile record blasted through severely damaged speakers while tracks like “Lungs” and “Business Class” crackle forth like a punk rock Wolf Eyes. Noise and (brave) hardcore fans should take note of things to come from Twin Stumps. They show promise to become an even bigger and gangrenous itch to scratch as they continue to hone their dreadful hate-fuck fests.

Black To Comm - Alphabet 1968

Black To Comm is the avant-guard, audio-experimental outlet of Dekorder label owner Marc Richter. BTC exists somewhere between minimal techno (like Gas or The Sight Below), noise, and ambient music by way of electro-acoustic field and studio recordings, traditional acoustic, and electric instrumentation, looped-damaged vinyl, as well as something that Richter refers to as “kitchen gamelan.” Alphabet 1968 is the latest 45-minute journey to BTC’s ever-growing discography and is a gentle trip to places both afar and in your mind. “Jonathan” starts off the album with field recordings of rain and distant children and slowly oscillates into a submarine drone before slipping into a dark-colored piano passage that is complimented by tape hiss and playful loops of unrecognizable instruments. “Forst” is the album's longest (and strongest) track, which is fortunate given the piece’s sprawling build of, looped, backwards guitar. The track melts into a muffled 4/4 kick underneath a wash of swirling melodies and vinyl crackles. The album's center tracks mostly play with looped arpeggios while “Houdini Rites” is a cacophony of percussion on household objects. Alphabet 1968 finishes with two tracks: “Void” with its drone feast of heavy bass and background free-jazz skronk, and the deep and sweet “Hotel Freund,“which drifts off into the far reaches of some past pleasure made possible by the warm hiss of old, looped vaudeville orchestration. Alphabet is all over the map, but never fails to sound like one cohesive collection. It is a fine record that serves as a happy medium between rich sound collages and ambient minimalism.

Growing - PUMPS!

For most of its life, Growing has been Joe Denardo and Kevin Doria — two guys with loud amps and a pile of looper and fuzz pedals blasting blissed-out pysch drones to infinity. Across a myriad of impressive recordings, the Brooklyn pair has covered a wide pallet of sounds ranging from the metal-influenced drone worship of The Sky Returns Into the Sea to the psych-glitch mantras of Color Wheel and All the Way. Implementing ambient, drone-based slabs of guitar, fogged landscapes, and as of late, rhythmic, beat-laden jams, the group has steadily morphed their sound without alienating their core base. With the addition of samplist Sadie Laska, Growing has again upped the bar on their latest effort PUMPS! by adding a multitude of new layers to its thickly woven sonic blanket. Manipulated vocals, programmed beats, and other non-guitar effects are present and pushing the three-piece closer to the likes of Black Dice and Fuck Buttons with the album oscillating from active listen to total zone-out without ever tiring. Songs such as “Massive Dropout” and “Camera 84” plod along playfully like a jazzercise workout tape set to glitch overload, while “Highlight” and “Mind Eraser” unfurl in a more Kraftwerk-ish semblance. The album’s eight songs are unassuming and carefree and can be interpreted however the listener feels it needs to be at that moment. This has always been true of most of Growing’s work, but PUMPS! takes that notion to a higher plane.

Radian - Chimeric

Labeling Radian as an instrumental rock band may be true, but also sells the Austrian-based outfit short of an honorable description. Fusing elements of post-rock, jazz, and dub, the trio stitches together traditional sounds taken from acoustic and electric rock that adds bits of rhythmic noise and even chopped-up sections of their own recordings. They could almost be compared to their American counterparts and labelmates in Tortoise, but only in a sense that's very difficult to put a finger on Radian's exact direction (and in a very good way). In the past, albums such as rec.extern (2002) and Juxtaposition (2004) have been filled with incredible pieces that begin slowly, usually incorporating one or two droning/repeating elements that take each song to new places so you never end up exactly where you started. After a five-year break, the band delivers Chimeric via Thrill Jockey, and as the title suggests, the six-track LP is a mythical creature comprised of terrifying sonic beasts. "Git Cut Noise" starts the album off with a playful, and almost boneheaded, distorted, percussive phase offset by the sound of a guitar switching pickups, and eventually evolves into a dark, noisy stomp. One practice that seems to be the key to the group's sound (and extremely relevant on a nice surround stereo or pair of headphones) is the use of space — both in recording and song structure. "Kinetakt" is a restless track in which sounds could be perceived as if each member were clawing for the use of one microphone to capture their own coveted found sound or chord phrase. Chimeric is their most spacious and raw album, but no single song ever drifts so far out that interest is lost. Each piece is calculative, and never comes off cold, and Radian has managed to craft music that is multifaceted, yet familiar in a déja vu sort of way.

Quest For Fire - (Self-Titled)

Although they haven't been around for very long, Montreal's Quest For Fire plays like they've been together for years. The band’s self-titled debut for Tee Pee is a flavorful trip through psychedelic garage rock, and the first thing that one might notice is the attention to detail with regards to its tone. The guitars are overdriven, but in more of a classic sense, which provides for a warm feeling throughout the album. You could almost feel the heat of the tube amps if you were to put your hand up to your speakers, while patient drumming and angelic-yet-masculine vocals also work to comfort like a toasty campfire. QFF covers a wide spectrum of nostalgic-sounding riffs, while still coming off as fresh and relevant rock by avoiding the tired stoner rock thumbprint through excellent songwriting and a keen sense of their own sound. From the album's straight-up rocker, “Bison Eyes,” to the steady THC-saturated stomp of “The Hawk That Hunts the Walking,” the four-piece never stops pleasing, and all the while, keep you guessing as to when the next technicolored, smokey turn might hit you full on. They take their time with each song, fleshing out each feeling and note and rock heartily, while staying mysterious and stoic.

Jon Hassell - Last Night The Moon Came Dropping Its Clothes In The Street

For over thirty-three years, trumpet player and composer Jon Hassell has been creating a world that has yet to exist. With his latest, Last Night The Moon Came Dropping Its Clothes In The Street, Hassell brings the listener even closer to this alternate reality of a "Forth World," which is a blend of the traditional music of third-world countries, Western Jazz, and electronics.  Hassell plays his trumpet in long strides that paint a landscape of some familiar, yet out-of-reach places. Many times, his instrument is filtered through electronics and effects that change the timbre in a way that evoke feelings and memories of places that are simultaneously distant and regionally familiar without actually being a real place that can be found on any map. Hassell's composition exhibits a strong sense of restraint and patience, and although it can be considered minimalism, it is extremely rich music with an unfathomable depth of layers. Listening to Last Night is kind of like being on the verge of sleep while Miles Davis' In A Silent Way plays from another room. "Time And Place" lumbers forward with electric bass modes piled underneath swirls of stringed instruments and Hassell's trumpet voicings. The title track is the strongest piece on the album: a yawning string section undulates between two chords as occasional, glitchy melodies wash in and out between harmonized trumpet phrases (think a jazzier Stars Of The Lid). Last Night makes for a truly lush and beautiful listening experience that will take you all over a world that has yet to come.

Jodis - Secret House

Jodis is a weird band. Not in the sense that the music is weird, but in the way that it is not what you would expect from its members.  James Plotkin and Tim Wyskida (OLD, Blind Idiot God and the serial-killer-doom outfit, Khanate) have been longtime collaborators. They are joined by Aaron Turner (ISIS, Old Man Gloom, House of Low Culture, Lotus Eaters, Grey Machine, etc).  Already, most would expect a painful, glacially-slow and experimental take on low-tuned, heavy metal dirge-scapes, but Secret House destroys any of these preconceived expectations from the start.  Make no mistake - Secret House is as heavy as a dump truck full of anvils made out of collapsed stars, but the heaviness is not derived from Sunn amps cranked to eleven or bombastic drums. It is achieved by the use of slow-moving textures of clean, full bass, prickly, barely over-driven guitar and pitter-patter drums that phase in and out of each piece like a lonely ghost that yearns not to be forgotten, but is barely there.  Through most of the tracks, Aaron Turner's vocals are almost Gregorian chanting monk-like, which makes Secret House feel more meditative than metal (save the title track which features the growl that Turner is known for). Sound, ambience, and timbre, rather than composition and structure are the band's strong points.  Turner and Plotkin hang on to notes on "Ascent" so long, that they almost dissipate completely, only to drift back into focus though the drowsy meter as Turner croons into the void. The melody of "Continents" moves as slowly as the name suggests; slabs of monolithic bass drift under waves of trebly guitar and the sparse drumming of Tim Wyskida, that colors rather than pendulates. The album ends with the smokey finish of "Slivers," which is a soulful drone seance that displays both bluesy falsetto vocals and ISIS-style yells in the distance. With most songs on Secret House hitting the six-plus minute mark, it allows Jodis the space it needs to stretch their barren-wasteland metal out as they see fit. It requires your time and attention, but is entirely rewarding once you are caught by its inescapable gravity.