MASTER MUSICIANS OF BUKKAKE "TOTEM ONE" (Conspiracy)

Fairly ecstatic and ritualized forms of musical worship dedicated to the Sun City Girls, coming off as a more electrified version of the same without ripping them off. Not easy to do! MMB go off the deep end here, more than surpassing their expansive and exploratory debut. The group benefits immensely from choosing to focus in on one particular sound and mine its every vein rather than going out in all directions and creating a resultant mess of world-music glop and avant-drone posturing. Everything on "Totem One" sounds pure and real, the music imbued with a sort of buzzing and blissful zen transcendence that lets you get in and float away within minutes.
There is a heavy emphasis on nature throughout the proceedings, as many of the tracks have a sort of "campfire/gamelan" feel. The whole album sounds more like a field recording than a studio effort; such an organic approach to the sound and construction of this record produces an intimacy necessary for deeper communication (communion?) and engagement with its audience. While SCG always maintained a sort of humorous and detached distance, even at their most sun-drenched and devotionally fervent moments, MMB are looking to connect with something. There is an understanding in this band of what SCG were always truly reaching for, what they were so easily able to find and tap into. Maybe the detachment came from its effortlessness; it wasn't jadedness so much as it was existence in that realm. Ambrosia was really only meant for the gods.
So this is heaven, then. Or maybe some other plane or dimension. Maybe another sort of consciousness only reachable through deconstruction of self and the use of other forms of communication as doorways. If you can crack the sky open you can bask in the primordial wisdom of the godhead. If you can pry open the third eye you can bear witness to the exaltant majesty of the true endless, the widening void of all that is and all that can possibly be. This is the sound of constant sunlight, the sweat and the din and the buzz, the chimes and the voices rising up in choir to join with all the sounds you're incapable of hearing in your impoverished state of diminshed perception. Modernity and technology work in tandem to obliterate the purity of the astral. Master Musicians of Bukkake, like the Sun City Girls before them, are one of very emsembles (especially outside of the Indian masters) capable of prying open the door and letting you peer inside. Hopefully that small peek is enough to whet the imagination and encourage a more thorough exploration of what lies beyond.

VARIOUS ARTISTS "THIS COMP KILLS FASCISTS VOL. 2" (Relapse)

Latest installment in this hopefully ongoing series of Scott Hull-curated explorations of extreme music, shedding light on some of the further corners of grindcore, hardcore and hyperthrash. Compilations are usually troublesome because there's always going to be some shit you don't like or some bands that you think are terrible but Relapse have done an outstanding job on both volumes of this series, mostly due to their choice of Hull to ferret out the best shit and commit it to record. Hull knows this world better than almost anyone (if you don't know, he's the guitarist in the mighty Pig Destroyer and the equally mighty Agoraphobic Nosebleed, as well as the go-to mastering engineer for John Zorn's Tzadik label) and the music he's able to unearth is pretty emblematic of the coolest stuff happening in the grind universe. At a length of 74 tracks spread across 19 bands the compilation can get a little wearying, but if you're looking to be absolutely wiped out by your listening material then this record is more than up to task.
I could go band by band, but i'll just hit the highlights. My guess is you're already sold on this or you aren't-i've discovered that this style of music leaves little room for the middle ground-so let's just focus on the obvious peaks. Hummingbird of Death blaze through 10 tracks of power violence in about 5 minutes, commandeering a brutal fuzz-bass heavy assault reminsicent of Crossed Out or the earliest Hellnation material. Marion Barry contributes some extreme sonic goop laden with blaxploitation and B-movie samples, easing you into a sort of stylized shrieking sex grind; far more intelligent than the average slab or gore/porn grind that Hull thankfully leaves off these compilations (as enjoyable as a lot of the music is, the subject matter usually drags said bands into a realm of unnatural stupidity.) Despise You and Extortion both pay homage to the true and ancient spirit of thrash and speed metal, while Voetsek combines the best of both worlds and turns in a levelling four song set of subtly complex thrash grind mayhem, with some truly weird high pitched vocals that stand apart from everything else on the record. But the total, true happiest surprise here is one 6 minute track from the obscure and woefully undersung Crom, a weird heavy metal/power violence hybrid of mysterious membership (kind of like the Brujeria of grindcore) and undeniable skill. Their track runs the gamut of extreme metal troping, touching every base without embarassing either themselves or the listener. Simply outstanding, and extra kudos to Hull for including them.
With as much shit going on in the extreme metal micrcosm as there is, it's hard to know what to spend time on and what to avoid. Compilations like this one do the curious a true service while providing a decent level of exposure for projects that might otherwise languish in obtuse limbo. While i wouldn't buy a full-length from every band included here, there's a lot that i would, and feeling confident about purchasing records from 10 new bands (or fuck, even two or three) is pretty much worth the 10 bucks i paid for this album. Relapse has been on a serious roll with these sorts of compilations; here's hoping their continued partnership with Scott Hull yields such consistently amazing results.

SABBATH ASSEMBLY "RESTORED TO ONE" (The Ajna Offensive/Feral House Publishing)

An astoundingly amazing throwback of forgotten musical history performed by Jex Thoth and members of the No Neck Blues Band, Sabbath Assembly is a project devoted to performing the songs of the Process Church of the Final Judgment, a unique and notorious late '70's religious cult loosely associated with both Charles Manson and the Son of Sam. The actuality is much more involved and far-reaching and for anyone interested in the more out-there aspects of counter culture and hive mentality i would heartily recommend Timothy Wyllie's book detailing his experience with The Process ("Love Sex Fear Death") and to a lesser degree Maury Terry's excellent conspiracy nightmare focusing on the Son of Sam murders ("The Ultimate Evil.") Both are very detailed, informative and creepy; they also provide an excellent background to the music found on "Restored to One."

Not that you need any information on the Process to enjoy this album. You don't, because it's a gorgeous piece of atmospheric psychedelia with a heavy tinge of fervor and ecstasy, easily discernible from the frenzied performances, frequent allusions to both God and Satan and an overall focus on minor key abstractionism. These are some truly haunting songs, specifically crafted for ritual and worship, the sort of worship that only occurs in damp night-stained temples of occultic persuasion. This was music to be performed at gatherings, at Witches' Sabbath, at Black Mass as well as Communion. It's universal and completely removed from anything you've heard at once. There is both a familiarity and a disconnect, a known and an unknown, and those two vibes create a super uneasy but incredibly engaging listening experience. I can't help but think of sacrifices and magic, and even though i know these things did not happen in the annals of the Process's existence it doesn't make it any less believable that it did. This is weird, eerie shit born from a fucked up mindset bent on control and devotion.

Thoth and band pull it off beautifully. Her vocals have the smoldering, smoky and broken quality necessary to nestle inside of you and the backing group plays everything with a single minded passion and a recalcitrant intensity. When the guitar solo in "Judge of Mankind" builds up into a maelstrom of string-bending neck skronk you can't help but break out into gooseflesh or feel a slight chill washing over your space. "Hymn of Consecration" makes you want to light a few candles and bow your head while "Glory to the Gods in the Highest" simply wants to obliterate you a bit and get your consciousness dripping and nodding to the throb. There is a pulse here, easily felt and not so easily ignored. Perhaps that's why the Process is so misunderstood; maybe the real power was unnerving to so many because it had such a magnetic quality. Freedom from judgement and total acceptance are powerful, powerful promises with an almost otherwordly allure for many people. Sabbath Assembly recognize that power and push it forth, transforming the source material once more into a sort of hedge enchantment that will no doubt steer many towards an exploration of it's own bizarre and dramatic history. A smashing success in every way, heavily recommended for anyone into late '70's Father Yod themed psychedelic exploration.

CORTEZ/LANGUAGE OF LIGHT "WHITE TIGER PHANTOMS/DOUBLE HELIXES UP TO HEAVEN" (Anticlock Records)

Gorgeous split LP from Scott Cortez (one of my very favorite guitarists, the white noise creative maelstrom behind both lovesliescrushing and Astrobrite) and Language of Light, a dual disc of glistening ambient shimmer and sensitive, beauty-plagued shudder. This is a purely cloudy and somewhat melancholy affair, imbued with a tremendous sense of ache and yearning, as though something long ago was pulled out of you and you've spent the last several years trying to remember what all of it felt like, a rusted haze of memories coasting alongside a blur of vague recognition.

Cortez's piece, "White Tiger Phantoms," is easily one of the most focused and lovely bits of music i've heard from him across all of his various projects (and i've heard pretty much everything.) It's all pure, multitracked guitar, with almost none of the heavy computer-assisted post-processing found in his work with lovesliescrushing. To hear Cortez operating in such a naked state is absolutely thrilling and enthralling; to hear him conjure up such deep, glacial sounds of tarnished melancholic regret in real time is a testament to his vision and patience. The guitars slowly encroach and unfurl, blanketing you ever heavier as they pile upon themselves, never becoming overbearing while at the same time becoming near-oceanic in their weight and depth. The melodies move so seductively and so naturally. You never anticipate the changes, you simply get pulled along with them. It's the very definition of dreaminess in music. It's breathtaking and astonishing and well-worth the price of the LP on its own.

Luckily you're treated to another take on sadness on the flip side, presented in the form of Language of Light's "Double Helixes up to Heaven." LOL is a young and previously unknown entity (i believe this is their first release) but this side shows lots of promise for their place in the great drone pantheon. Similar to Cortez's side in that it's mostly guitars, LOL step away a bit from Cortez's peacefulness and offer instead a slightly more buzzing and agitated piece (but no less yearning) that progresses through several more obvious movements, coming across as a more conceptualized drone suite than a drifting , cloudy swirl. I'm reminded a bit of Aphex Twin's lighter work if there were a greater focus on organic, real time composition; maybe the Climax Golden Twins would be an apt point of reference as well. LOL's side, then, is slightly more challenging than Cortez's but also slightly less beautiful. The decision to place a minor violence in the work creates a sense of unease and discord-you could think of Cortez's side as the sadness and Language of Light's side as the anxiety. As LOL winds things down it becomes quieter, until you're left with a simple circular motif of minimalist melody. LOL's side also ends on a locked groove, so this would be great sleepytime ambience.

Great stuff from both, but an especially awesome side from Cortez. Anyone into Troum or LLC should pick this up immediately. It's very limited but still available, and comes in a lovely white-on-white screen printed sleeve. Nice job from Anticlock Records.

ONDSKAPT "ARISEN FROM THE ASHES" (Osmose Productions)

Third album from the reclusive and ultra-elite black metal Orthodox force known as Ondskapt. Occupying a very special place reserved only for class acts like Deathspell Omega, Svarstyn, S.V.E.S.T., Malign and Clandestine Blaze, Ondskapt are an absolutely quintessential black metal unit whose every album is cause for fevered celebration and fervent devotion, a re-imagining of the black arts as total darkened expressionism, a canvas splattered in tones of all pitch alongside an ancient feeling of dissonance and endless night. The first two Ondskapt albums were absolute untouchable classics of Swedish traditionalism and "Arisen From The Ashes" is easily added to that esteemed catalogue, a potent thrashing of barbed mid-tempo horror mixed with a truly cold feeling of icy expanse, a nighttime sojourn through the most glacial textures of mankind's creation, oblique and jagged, uncaring and obtuse.

Ondskapt are unique in that their attitude and approach towards black metal are completely steeped in the shadows of the old masters. This is pure Mayhem/Dissection/Gorgoroth worship with nary a misstep, a trodding of the road towards the black path wherein each footfall is delivered with conviction and assurance. Ondskapt's sound doesn't veer into the obliquely progressive avant-ism of Deathspell nor the primitive and tarnished romanticism of S.V.E.S.T.; instead it's a paced and focused attack, not free of frenzy but certainly not wallowing in paltry extremism simply for the sake of speed. At its most serious black metal is a form of Satanic worship and occultic devotion; Ondskapt's allegiances are never once in question. Listening to this record is being umbrellaed underneath something darker, a bloody and clutching embrace against the warm chest of fetid discordance, the perfect imbalance of yin and yang. Ondskapt refuses the idea of harmony in any form and instead focuses on a rank and stinking corruption of both morality and age, a hearkening towards more ancient pagan values alongside a rejection of modernism. This is the direction in which Burzum steered its brand of black metal traditionalism amongst so much misunderstanding; with Ondskapt the notion is obvious, violently so.

The music reflects the attitude. Unapologetically midpaced and stinking of an angular melodicism, "Arisen From The Ashes" plods along in a bashing fashion with no concept of audience response. This is black metal made for candlelit vigils and flesh-carving devotionals, fostering a sort of environment where pentagrams adorn the walls and flooring whilst droning chants imbue the air with a feeling of darkened unease. Sacrifice hangs in the night; moonlight becomes vomit when exposed to the chill infinity hanging in the starless, choking gloom.

Ondskapt have crafted yet a third classic. Again, nothing new is presenting itself-instead we're treated to a retread of the beginning, a sickly nostalgiah for a hazy and near-forgotten age. Few bands are able to so appropriately and convincingly summon the early spirit; Ondskapt do so with both an ease and a terrifying conviction. This is belief and this is black adoration. This is true black metal art. A must have for any serious black metal fanatic.

BLACK BONED ANGEL "THE WITCH MUST BE KILLED" (Conspiracy)

Relatively short (only 40 minutes!) transmission from Campbell Kneale's vaguely doomed out slow burn juggernaut of metallicized outsider avant metal, the mighty Black Boned Angel. Recent outings under this guise have found Kneale adopting an almost classical approach to the idea of doom metal, with the last record, "Verdun," being nothing less than an ultra-punishing endurance test of glacial movement and bombastic (literally) noise comprised of overlapping recordings of machine gun fire overwhelming the obstinate stagnancy of the guitars. No wonder then that he would step back a bit and throw out two more easily digestible sides of vinyl for BBA's Conspiracy debut.

Comprised of two untitled tracks both clocking in at 19 minutes, "The Witch Must Be Killed" shows Kneale's obvious embrace of minimalism within the confines of BBA's chosen aesthetic. That he's able to stick to this single-minded sound after the room-filling sonic overloads of my beloved Birchville Cat Motel and keep it engaging as well as assaulting simply shows his awesome command of space, temper and placement in any genre of noise and drone whether it's metal or hyper-blissed heavenscraping.

The first track is as overtly "metal" as anything Kneale has ever lain down, opening with an ominous rumble that gives way to a belch of thick, scratchy guitars sloshing their way across a slow and sliming chromatic chord progression, the BBA template illustrated in bold and shocking colour for anyone to see. It's not evolution, just simple droning-and it's powerfully effective in establishing the "zone-out" mindset that accompanies most of Kneale's work under any moniker. As the track oozes along some rather intricate guitar harmonies develop, paying homage to Judas Priest and Iron Maiden as well as nodding slyly to the compositional abilities of latter day Metallica. It's some pretty deep riffing, all off time and elongated, and Kneale drags it out for everything it's worth until the whole thing novas out in a fizzy spasm, leaving only a wisp and a memory where once was devastating burning light.

The second track is much more indebted to the idea of the minimalist drone-a simple four chord riff repeated at length and ad nauseaum, supported by a buzzing skree underneath that sounds like a swarm of gnats run through a damaged amplifier cranked up past its maximum. The chords collapse out after about ten minutes and lay down a path for the weird and delirious sample of several voices conversing about god knows what for the remainder of the track, creating a mishmash of disembodied opinion and a blurred out human touchstone, an emissary from the cold void that BBA normally occupies in such crystalline isolation. It's a strange and unexpected turn from such a derivative project but Kneale should never be underestimated-again, his powers are such that this sonic soup is an easy success and just pulls you deeper into BBA's fucked up world. This track more than almost any other recalls Kneale's work with Birchville and for me, an utter awestruck and worshiping devotee, it's fun to hear these lines disappear into one another. The art always bears the mark of the individual if it's strong enough. In the case of Campbell Kneale, the art is larger than worlds. Obviously recommended, a narcoleptic triumph of buzzing anxiety.

NAILS "OBSCENE HUMANITY" (Six Feet Under/Streetcleaner)

Eleven minutes of fiery, molten hate and pure caustic auditory destruction, as pure a demonstration of grindcore nihilism this side of "Scum." I picked this up after reading a couple glowing reviews comparing them to Brutal Truth, both sonically and idealistically, and almost every review i came across mentioned the utter intensity on display throughout Nails' approach. They were not wrong, and i was not disappointed. This is fucking obliteration and rage transformed into feedbacking goop and total disregard for any sort of acclaim. It's the best kind of music because it's born from personal strife and a deep rooted disgust for every aspect of modern existence. There is no advocation of change-just a statement of excision.

Seven tracks flatten you in a matter of minutes, coming across like an amalgamation of the aforementioned Brutal Truth, "Jane Doe"-era Converge, Black Flag and the Melvins (the title track may as well be "Honeybucket" rewritten for hardcore and that's not a bad thing at all.) The record culminates with "Lies," a three minute dirge that gives up its last two to an crushing cycle of chunking repetitive power chord atavism while bolts of shrieking hot feedback and electricity scar themselves over the top of it all. I was left wanting the song to be 30 minutes rather than three-i could have listened to that bludgeoning riff for a whole album's length. This shit is that good, truly.

Nails have filtered a key number of extreme influences (Slayer, death metal, sludge/noise aesthetics) into a focused, bitter and incredibly bilious eruption of anger and inner exploration, a frayed edge of psychological portraiture, a clear depiction of the coming depth of the downward spiral. It's over way too quick, and this could have easily fit on a seven inch but that's my only complain. Serious grind passion, a high mark for the genre that hasn't been achieved in a long, long time. Totally recommended.