As general strikes abound and Kapitalism teeters still further, the Black Sheep have spent the past coupla weeks slowly getting ready for our forthcoming 4-hour summer radio special on Biker FM. It should be a blast if I can only stay up long enough, ho hum, but as Big Nige still regularly does the full 24-hours in one stretch and David Wrench never goes to bed before sundown, both Sheep AND audience should all be in capable hands. By the way, while we’re keeping the radio playlist as current as possible (see poster), the barfing forth of a crucial few arcane items of rareness is sure to occur, so all of you jonesing for overlooked Krautrock and No Wave should also most serpently drop by. Also, as Dorian’s first year of On This Deity is about to conclude come August 1st, we invited her in to make a coupla feisty declarations.
YOUNG LOVE by Sunflare
Right, over in the Reviews Section, let me direct you first to the awe-inspiring axe wielding of Portuguese power trio Sunflare, whose debut 12” EP YOUNG LOVE teems with frenzied wa-everything from the moment your needle drops, barbaric displays that resound with a similar sonic yawp as Asahito Nanjo and Kawabata Makoto’s legendary HIGH RISE 2, i.e.: always embedded in the garage and never knowingly informed by the metal, the no wave or the jazz. So despite the perpetually-guitar-soloing Sunflare’s somewhat disingenuous claim to be a punk band – tell that to Johnny Ramone – their mental workouts may indeed just about qualify them if only as claimants to be distant ancestors of the Mystic Tide. Yeah man. The brevity of YOUNG LOVE might also play a part in its charm; at just 26 minutes in length, this 12” EP seeps into your walls and engages the entire environment to such an extent that even the silence at song’s end seems ‘too loud’. Released on Cubic Pyramid Records, you should grab this limited vinyl while you can, by contacting the band at www.myspace.com/sunflarefuzz
, or write to them via email@example.com
BAAL by Orthodox
Whoa, from the arid Mithraic sundaes blasting my ears, sounds like the Spanish Gods of Orthodox must have a new album available. Yup, those bound ones of Seville are back with the superb BAAL, though sadly clocking in at just 40 too-short minutes, I’ve already wore out three copies already. ‘Alto Padre’ opens onto a scorched Granada plain with one of T H O S E chords, I dunno, maybe eternity dwells encoded in certain configurations of notes; if so, here’s one of them. Then we’re off into the rawest Sabbath-plays-VDGG Riff Fest in a God’s age. Zeuhl me undies! At times, the flapping MASTER OF REALITY bass mung diverts your ears from everything else, perhaps because it’s like there are ten orcs parping baritone saxes along in bass unison, or imagine the Sonics at 33 aping St. Vitus. And as experimental and off-the-wall as Orthodox albums can be, so this new disc adheres at all times to the traditions of the Riff. Only on the final epic near-quarter-hour of ‘Abrasa La Tierra’ do Orthodox step off their current fascination with the traditional, herein vaulting right over into accelerating a-rhythmical amp overload of the most glorious variety. Too short perhaps, but this is my favourite Orthodox LP since their blissful debut GRAN PODER. Seize your own copy from Alone Records (www.alonerecs.com
), or check them out at www.the-stone-circle.com/store
Self-titled by LAS KELLIES
Okay, now I gotta clue y’all to my favourite summer album thus far, the highly novel and infectious ramalama of LAS KELLIES. Released on Fire Records (www.firerecords.com
), this album showcases just over a half-hour of scratchy pop clatter from the all-female Argentinian trio of the same name; that’s right: Ceci Kelly on guitar, Betty Kelly on bass and Sil Kelly on drums. I don’t think. Better still, this lot appear to employ their own glossary and don’t clue listeners so as to guarantee we pay special attention. And fuck me, how very memorable this is, so simple, so inventive… especially when these ladies occasionally abandon any pretences of orthodox song structure and flail off into remedial dub stylings: zap, the bass goes AWOL into post-punk-land, the guitarist suddenly suffers one-chord-seizure, it’s like ESG never split up. And as for those catchy bastard choruses all-replete with mucho oi’s, oohs and eeks that stick in your head like Kleenex or early Slits, well, I require its palette-cleansing kwoll in a very big way. So coppeth LAS KELLIES or access them at www.myspace.com/laskellies
TWO COUPLES by Hjuler, Baer, Morgia & Kastel
Finally, I gots to tell you about the TWO COUPLES LP, UltraMarine Records’ highly unlikely but truly superb split vinyl LP (www.ultramarinerecords.com
) on which two genuine musical couples rage it out a side apiece. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, but each side is a compelling and thorough trip. Side one belongs to the screeching Nordic volva Mama Baer and her impressively named guitarist Kommissar Hjuler. And what a fucking superb Ur-racket this record is! Mama Baer, you shake me cold, ye stir me up, madam. Like Freyja Aswynn before her, Mama Baer rages far beyond her companion; indeed, part of the music’s charm is the way her inexorable inhaling of her partner’s vibe draws him on, even sometimes reluctantly. Urging urging she’s an Ur-pest worthy of a fucking Norse Myth is Mama Baer. I damn well adores it, motherfuckers. Over on side two, the slightly less deranged side two, Italians Ninni Morgia and producer Silvia Kastel nevertheless still give it a good seeing to by deploying the kind of arsenal of wild sounds and musique-concrète that woulda cropped up on some 1960 Group Ongaku LP. And when the droning and drenching, wrenching and heaving multiple violins kick into the wah-fray, Silvia could challenge Amon Düül’s Renate Knaup for World’s Krautest Yoko, if she weren’t Italian. Hey, and the front sleeve painted by Mama Baer is also a total vibe, brothers’n’sisters. So get this above everything if you just get the one.
Right, I shall now fuck the fuck off for anutha month. But not before announcing this: look out for something interesting for sale coming soon on our eBay site, something way fucking weird and compelling if you like that sort of thing. Cryptic or what?
Right, I love ya,
JULIAN (Lord Yatesbury)