Sleep Forever - Crocodiles

Sleep Forever

Crocodiles
Fat Possum Records.

SCQ Rating: 80%

If rock and roll got its start as the heartbeat of youth and aggression, psych-rock’s origin stemmed from marijuana roaches and comfy couches. A different sort of rebellion, then; one that welcomed grooves and tempos that Elvis Presley and Chuck Berry used, not for the purpose of dancing or flaunting their conservative parents, but as a means to surrender their understandings of a genre that had hardly woken up and become self-aware. As a child of the 80s who missed the mainstream peaks of both genres, I hear psych-rock as rock and roll surviving its adolescence and realizing an enormous world of influences and possibilities. Incorporate some eastern raga influences into your guitar-work, grab some dewy mysticism in the form of blown-out reverb, or maybe just act out by playing tapes backwards and singing far-out lyrics. My generation laughed at typecast hippies talking about mind-expansion but that’s because many of us grew up in a time of corporate radio. The tenets of psychedelic rock are all too real.

September saw the release of two prominent psych-rock outfits, Crocodiles and The Black Angels, harnessing similar strains of psych-rock into very separate end results. And although I initially envisioned penning a psych-rock duel contrasting the two, I’ve since resigned myself not to delve into the latter band’s work. Not to say Phosphene Dream isn’t without its merits; actually, The Black Angels hone a very faithful delineation of psych-rock’s roots, from Alex Maas’ vocal-take on Jim Morrison to the rhythm-section’s early-70s swagger. Yet occasionally punching your guitars out of the mix as the 90s saw fit doesn’t equal the progressive scope that a band like Crocodiles are taking on their spellbinding Sleep Forever.

Inaudible strands of heady loops unfurl from speakers into a chugging roar of distortion that sets the groundwork for ‘Mirrors’. And although that roar may not sound so far-removed from the guitar squalls conducted by The Black Angels or their colleagues, it’s just steadying the foundation for Sleep Forever’s coming permutations. Guitar-fuzz merges to haunted-house organs on the raucous ‘Hollow Hollow Eyes’ yet that fuzz develops an anemic sheen over ‘Girl In Black’ and ‘All My Hate and My Hexes Are For You’, as if their testosterone has been drained in favour of quieter reflections. Such meditative songwriting still presents a watershed moment for the band some publications considered a weak link in 2009’s lo-fi explosion, and Sleep Forever’s eight tracks show that Crocodiles aren’t content to simply rehash psych-rock’s greatest trademarks. Split between distorted aggression and hypnotic soundscapes, this record all but refutes the notion that Crocodiles have any contemporaries at present. Far-out, indeed.

Out At Sea EP - Magnetic Island

Out At Sea EP

Magnetic Island
Disregard Records.

SCQ Rating: 65%

The lead track off Out of Sea EP, ‘End In Bender’, blasts into climax with the shoegaze guitar washes and blistering drum explosions that most indie outfits would deem fit to close a record on. Not Magnetic Island, the new project of former-Renminbi members Lisa Liu and SMV, who add some descending “ooohs” in the distance as if to mark their chorus amid the song’s five-minute summit. Such a slice of post-rock isn’t terribly unexpected from the Renminbi (R.I.P.) duo, but ‘End In Bender’ does feel fuller, less angular and increasingly chaotic. Give due credit to TJ Richards and Nikkie McLeod for putting some added distortion in Magnetic Island’s ear, then, as Out At Sea EP looks to make an immediate impression on Brooklyn’s indie-scene.

Part of this impression will be crafted from this release’s diversity, introducing lyrical verses in the twisted maelstrom ‘Sung (Not Said)’ and a heart-on-sleeve plea on the stripped-back (but, you know, still noisy) ‘Summer Phase’. And while ‘Let It Lie’ properly combines the respective fury and melody of those previous two tracks in what is likely the best track here, the EP feels like a teaser of directions Magnetic Island may explore on a full-length down the road. Will they follow the path ‘Sung (Not Said)’ anticipates, reminiscent of Asobi Seksu before they torn off their love of distortion? Or will they dive further into the pool of layered vocals and tender guitar that define ‘Let it Lie’? None of this material really sticks with you, but how they deliver components of their overall sound through different songwriting lens effectively keeps listeners on their toes.

Because Magnetic Island seem too in-the-moment to know what comes next, Out At Sea EP’s sequencing ends up being one of the best indicators for the band’s future mentality. Terrifically raw and pounding to begin with, then slowly unveiling more sentimental layers, Out At Sea’s ass-backward introduction suggests a band unafraid of finding themselves in the spotlight.

Skit I Allt - Dungen

Skit I Allt

Dungen
Mexican Summer Records.

SCQ Rating: 85%

It’s one thing to throw up your hands and surrender your obliviousness to what genres Dungen are working within, but another thing entirely to get over it. Transforming from an electronic-minded post-rock record to a psychedelic jazz collection upon early listens, Skit I Allt now seems poised to rest as a cosmic-lounge album with the occasional psych explosion. At least that’s what I’m willing to hold with right now, until this concise ten-song set opens another rabbit hole to become swallowed in. Touching upon everything from retroist stoner rock to innocuous elevator music, Skit I Allt isn’t fascinating for where it wades in the genre-pool so much as how its gears turn musical tastes inside out and backwards, injecting meaning into the superficial.

Once you’ve listened beyond the sugary surface of ‘Vara Snabb’’s woodwind lead or the faceless rhythm guitar that makes ‘Soda’ sound unabashedly trite, Skit I Allt’s pastiche evaporates into an honest key to Dungen’s transcendence. The gluttonous ‘Hogdalstoppen’, which inverts an acid-rock jam into a sleek, jazz-bound triptych, soon becomes an important centerpiece, whereas the opener’s muzak-inspired flute sets the tone of a haunted establishing shot. That’s right; despite many songs actively rewriting the tenets of dissimilar musical styles, Skit I Allt carries an elusive but equally inviting narrative, one that requires careful listening and a lively imagination to sprout from. So, yeah, it’s a stoner record through and through, but not one that necessitates the presence of narcotics to move you someplace new.

A particular joy with Skit I Allt is its getting-to-know-you stage, as each track contains such unique personality. Mindbending instrumental moments develop into quick identifiers distinguishing songs, as how a solid guitar line wobbles and descends in ‘Barnen Undrar’ or the unexpected female vocals that swell in on ‘Brallor’. They may sound like slight details on paper but Dungen disguise them into mood-changing touchstones that could only seem trivial compared to Skit I Allt’s greater stylistic departures; ones that should keep listeners fastened in thirty or forty listens later. This album has crossover potential all over it, for prog-rock fans who’d never liked jazz and lounge-pop fans who’d never liked noise records. Approach Skit I Allt with an open mind and it’ll reward well beyond your expectations, even if you still aren't sure how to describe it.

Beast Rest Forth Mouth - Bear In Heaven

Beast Rest Forth Mouth

Bear In Heaven
Hometapes Records.

SCQ Rating: 79%

Despite Beast Rest Forth Mouth being released to American shores last fall, Bear In Heaven’s successful run is still just catching stride. With another massive tour underway, the Brooklyn-based quartet has also just unveiled a remix album that Hometapes is claiming as “worthy of both headphones and dancefloors”. Featuring contributions from the likes of Studio, The Field and Justin K. Broadrick, the currently untitled companion disc holds considerable promise for a project of this nature. In other words, this project might avert the usual fate of remix records in that it might serve as something better than a beer coaster.

Still, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Their breakthrough is finally getting settled in the UK and, at the risk of negating that remix album’s intentions, Beast Rest Forth Mouth seems worthy of headphones and dancefloors in its natural incarnation. Granted, a gently warped jam like ‘Dust Cloud’ doesn’t scream dancefloor but it is pure euphoria, all fragmented vocals and sleepy synths tumbling over bedsheets before a sweeping climax of psych percussion shakes you from the dream. Cathartic and expansive, I would happily stake a tile of the dancefloor for Beast Rest Forth Mouth. That same scope - think New Wave via 70’s Prog – informs a bevy of early highlights; ‘Beast In Peace’ chugs to life as an exotic lullaby before its mountainous chorus erupts while ‘Wholehearted Mess’ and ‘Lovesick Teenagers’ embrace more hook-oriented synth-pop without abandoning their penchant for bulging compositions. Besides their infectious no-man’s land approach to rock and electronic subgenres, much of Bear In Heaven’s mystique can be pinpointed to Jon Philpot’s vocals, which are androgynous and curiously layered into even the band’s more robust moments.

The spacious quality that permeates Bear In Heaven’s latest album is so convincing, with their ability to throw impossible-to-unravel chords of guitar and keys into echoed chasms, it seems unbelievable that Beast Rest Forth Mouth barely breaches the forty-minute mark. Not because it feels overlong and not because it’s difficult to digest in one sitting; quite the opposite. These ten songs are accessible and yet so warmly intimidating, it’s surprising how a journey this massive can run its course so concisely. So when does this remix album come out?

Wife Of God - Starring

Wife Of God

Starring
Death By Audio Records.

SCQ Rating: 63%

There’s an id invested in noisy psych records that I respect but rarely enjoy. A compulsion to raucous disharmony that amplifies and distorts all emotion with adrenaline-pumped authority. For me, this aesthetic has always seemed a one-way street, with a current that’s easy to follow but unwilling to impart many subtleties along the way. Wife Of God, the debut release by Brooklyn-based quintet Starring, feels gridlocked between bouts of unwavering catharsis but occasionally swindles a muddled side of arty ambition into the roar.

What’s challenging about a record this combustible is that the shift between promising and pulverizing can happen rather suddenly. The title track hammers this point home by turning an alluring lead of fluttering farfisa and looped guitar into a smattering of claustrophobic psych riffs and light vocoder-dusted vocals. ‘She’s Extended’ offers another provocative opening with a collage of voice and static that trembles between left and right speaker. Problem in this case is that the song never arrives; its experimental come-hithers merely act as a segue to bridge the frenzied assaults. Of these pulse-quickening jams, ‘Get Over Here, Disco!’ and ‘Sonnenbrille’ offer the most nuances; the former a tribal blast of hippie chorals occasionally interrupted by some biting distortion, the latter building into a warm apex of farfisa and horns. Sure, you have to really listen to discern these embellishments beneath the crashing urgency of Starring’s basic guitar-and-percussion strategy, but these efforts hold more psychedelic connotations than revved up garage-rock, no matter how ferocious.

Even though these structured freak-outs steer a given song onto autopilot, it’s worth noting that these jams never sound uninspired. Matt Marlin’s drumming is thunderous throughout and the vocals (shared, I believe, by all members of the band) manage to meet the force of these compositions without resorting to a scream-fest. Mixing no-frills psych with a touch of Akron/Family’s far-out mysticism, Wife Of God warrants attention from out-there purists. Lucky for Starring, I don’t think this genre attracts any other kind.