The Top Albums of 2013: Honourable Mention

I liked these albums quite a bit. Just not enough to write about them.

Alice In Chains – The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here
Altar Of Plagues - Teethed Glory And Injury
Anciients – Hearts Of Oak
Autopsy – The Headless Ritual
Agrimonia – Rites of Separation
The Black Angels – Indigo Meadow
Black Sabbath – 13
Black Wizard – Young Wisdom
The Body – Christs, Redeemers
Boris - Präparat
California X – California X
Colin Stetson - New History Warfare Vol 3: To See More Light
Crystal Stilts – Nature Noir
Dead Meadow – Marble Womb
Ensemble Pearl – Ensemble Pearl
Four Tet – Beautiful Rewind
Fuck Buttons – Slow Focus
Gorguts – Coloured Sands
Gnaw – Horrible Chamber
Hallow Moon – Hallow Moon
Immolation – Kingdom Of Conspiracy
Inquisition - Obscure Verses For The Multiverse
KEN Mode - Entrench
Kylesa – Ultraviolet
Locrian – Return To Annhilation
Lycus – Tempest
Melvins – Everybody Loves Sausages
Moths & Locusts – Mission Collapse In The Twin Sun Megaverse
Mount Kimbie - Cold Spring Fault Less Youth
My Bloody Valentine – M.B.V.
Nine Inch Nails – Hesitation Marks
Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds – Push The Sky Away
Noisem – Agony Defined
Pelican – Forever Becoming
Portal – Vexavoid
Russian Circles - Memorial
Skeletonwitch – Serpents Unleashed
Shining – One One One
SubRosa – More Constant Than GodsThree Wolf Moon - Three Wolf Moon
Toxic Holocaust – Chemistry Of Consciousness
Ty Segall – Sleeper
Vastum – Patricidal Lust
Ulcerate - Vermis
Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats – Mind Control
Vattnet Viskar – Sky Swallower
Windhand - Soma
Watain – The Wild Hunt
Wolf People - Fain
µ-Ziq – Chewed Corners

Friedhof - Friedhof

Band: Friedhoff
Album: Friedhoff
Label: Sound-Star Ton
Year: 1971

This obscure German power trio released one album of raw axe-worship in 1971, then promptly faded into legend. Named after the German word for “graveyard,” these guys grind out a gloomy but high energy take on hard rock and proto-metal, complete with hot and highly indulgent lead guitar playing, and no attempt whatsoever at anything resembling a song for the radio. They didn’t even bother hiring a singer!

 In much of my research on the band, I’ve seen them referred to as a krautrock band, mostly due to the fact that they are German, from the early ‘70s, and very few people have actually heard the record. This is false. Don’t track this record down expecting to hear anything resembling the endless grooves of Can, the lysergic free rock of Amon Düül II, the mantra-like jams of Ash Ra Tempel or the synthetic dreamscapes of Tangerine Dream. This is a hard rock record, pure and simple, and these guys want nothing more than to melt your face.

Side 1 consists of just two songs, the first of which opens slowly, stoking the flames of a psychedelic jam and building into what is eventually a pretty rockin’ crescendo. Appropriately titled “Orgasmus,” it takes a while to get going, but once that jaw-dropping lead guitar starts to let loose it really cooks. It also takes over 11 minutes to run its course, which should tell you what these guys think of the notion of restraint. Not to be outdone, the second cut “Nothing at All” is even longer, though it generally follows the same formula. A little over three minutes in, the rhythm section drops away, leaving the guitarist to go absolutely mental over complete silence, covering every harmonic corner of his guitar neck and digging into his fretboard as if his life depended on it. It’s an astonishing guitar performance, and if you like heavily distorted wah-inflected leads complete with relentless pick attack, screaming bends and feedbacking amplifier abuse, this might be one of the most exciting things you’ve ever heard. And that’s not even halfway through the song! Soon it’s the drummer’s turn, as he whips out a couple minutes of arrhythmic drum solo that was an occupational hazard to most rock fans of this era. Eventually the full band kicks back in and pummels the message home for another off the rails jam to close out the track.

Side 2 has a few more bite-sized tracks, and a couple like “Undertaker’s Joy” flirt with some pretty catchy lead lines. It’s really just more of the same. Friedhof basically do one thing, but they do it with conviction and a ton of energy, and the playing is pretty accomplished throughout. Although the record is extremely rocking, it’s got none of the strung-out brutality of some of the doomier bands of this era like Sabbath or Pentagram, and at the same time not a whiff of blues purity or progressive ambition sullies their pure single-minded determination to rock out. If you want to hear some absolutely ferocious lead guitar playing that sounds like it was recorded in a dungeon, you’ll dig this. If you’re wondering when the vocals are gonna kick in, best to just give it a pass.

Capital

This is a very interesting article by Damon Krukowski from Galaxie 500 that explores how online music streaming sites like Spotify operate, and what specifically they do for new artists. Nigel Godrich and Thom Yorke made waves this week when they pulled their new Atoms for Peace album and Yorke's Eraser record from Spotify.

http://pitchfork.com/features/articles/8993-the-cloud/

Spotify has released a statement in response to Thom and Nigel's stand that I won't bother linking. Suffice it to say that it doesn't really say anything at all, just bland generalizations and non-specific points about Spotify's so called commitment to investing in new talent. No hard numbers or examples are given. It sounds to me like a lot of the same bullshit that the music industry has been proffering since the internet was invented.

No Horses - No Horses

Band: No Horses
Album: No Horses
Label: Self Released
Year: 2008

One of my all-time favourite local bands is this dearly departed Vancouver by way of Prince George roots rock unit. They released this lone album and raised and appropriate amount of hell in dive bars around BC and beyond during their heyday, before drifting off, as so many good bands do, to disband and get real jobs and raise families. But what they left behind is a reverent vivisection of Crazy Horse's unhinged and sloppy roots rock replete with wailing solo's, nicotine and whiskey-tinged gang vocals and tales of drunken debauchery. What's more, the were by all accounts a force to be reckoned with onstage, although sadly I never caught them when they were active.

"Grab Yer Coat" kicks in the door like a double-barelled shotgun blast, opening the album with a furious barrage of bent guitar notes and crashing drums set to lyrics about waking up hungover after a night of drinking alone. This is dark, depressing stuff, a worm's eye view of the rock n' roll lifestyle from veterans who have been doing it so long it's long since lost it's fun and hardened into a habit. Tracks like "Tombstone Eyes" and "Winter Park" weave tales of drugged out losers and hard working grinders down on their luck together with jangly country-rock guitars and a tough as nails rhythm section. You can almost smell the acrid smoke and stale booze sweat of the bars where this stuff was honed. "Shakedown" even offers a glimpse into the hard reality of making a living playing music, with it's images of a road-weary band tearing apart an empty venue on a Monday night, and it's refrain of, "Don't let 'em shake you down, don't let 'em fuck you on your guarantee!"

The Neil Young influence looms large here, as it does over the work of similarly rustic flannel-bedecked Vancouver rockers like Ladyhawk, Featherwolf and Red Cedar, but like these other bands, No Horses add enough personality to their work to avoid mere mimicry. The band 's tales of life on the road center the band geographically and name check bars and gigs and people, lending the songs a sense of authenticity. These feel like real stories about real people and places. What's more, the burnt out and wasted vibe here recalls a sort of alternate reality Rolling Stones circa 1972 if the Stones were just another band grinding it out on the circuit instead of English lords holed up in a mansion in the French countryside.

The album's centerpiece is a character portrait of a vagrant alcoholic in Prince George that may or may not be based on an actual person. "The Great Tabor Mountain Fire of 1961" opens with a plaintive acoustic figure before lurching to life with a wobbly, whammy-heavy guitar solo. As the song builds over 6 minutes, the vocals become gradually become more frenzied as the tale reaches it's climax. It's spine tingling, chilly stuff, and the band matches the tone of the story by rocking the hell out as the backing vocals burn a vicious hook into your head. Balls out rock n 'roll doesn't get much better than this.

No Horses toured up and down the west coast for over a decade, but this record is all that remains of their career, as the band members have all gone on to other things. But their self-titled record is a hell of a legacy, a harrowing portrait of rock on the wrong side of the tracks and a testament to the power of some dudes, some beer, a drum kit, a bass and a couple of guitars. Don't let anyone tell you they don't make great rock anymore. They're just not looking hard enough.

Update

The aftershocks of the bus crash Baroness suffered in August are continuing. Apparently the band will continue on with a new rhythm section after bassist Matt Maggioni and drummer Allen Blickle departed amicably as a result of the fallout from the crash. The deets are here.

How this will affect their sound remains to be seen. They just capped a run of three straight amazing albums with a double album, last year's brilliant Yellow & Green. If they didn't release another note of music ever again, they'd still be a significant figure, but either way, how they rebound from this will have a profound impact on their legacy.

Duality

In the tradition of Plato, and because I'm basically really lazy, here is a dialogue for you. It's a conversation about music and things that I had with a friend.
 

Me - I don't get upset over pop music like some people do. There's no point. It'll always be there, whether it's LMFAO or BSB or whatever.
 

Friend - Yeah. I actually like listening to stuff like that sometimes. Its nice to let my mind shut off and bounce.
 

Me - Pop has it's place. It's functional music. I love some stupid trashy music.
 

Friend - But in my mind, really good fucking music is like poetry, it evokes something.
 

Me - I realized the other day that I can enjoy music on two levels. One being the level most normal people do. And that's the level that lets me enjoy virtually anything, so long as other people are there too. I would never listen to some of the music that people I enjoy hanging out with like. But when I'm with them, I can have a lot of fun, whether it's pop or country or rap or whatever.
 

Friend - Hmm interesting.
 

Me - The second is the work I do as a scholar. And this is serious business. It's work and I treat it as such. I mean, I enjoy it, but I think about it intensely. And I write. Sometimes. Not as much as I should.
 

Friend - I can see how that would work.
 

Me - Anyways, I just became aware of the disconnect. Like for instance. This girl I like and I have in part bonded over "classic rock." Except we have different definitions of what that means. What she really wants is to hear songs her parents liked when she was young. And that could be anything from folk to soul to rock to disco, so long as it was recorded before 1980. Stuff she can sing along to in the car. And I have rigorous aesthetic definitions of such things that I adhere to in my writing and thinking about rock music and what that means. But I don't do that when we're hanging out because then I would be an ass. So instead we sing along to "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye in the car at 2am.
 

Friend - Cute.
 

Me - Fuck yeah, it's adorable. Point is... I've been able (and I'm just realizing this now) to seperate my own very serious thoughts about music with what's actually playing, and basically enjoy music on a human level with people. I used to listen to a lot of really terrible rap at the spag, because that's what everyone liked. And I was able to have fun with it. And I hang out with a lot of serious music nerds who can be total assholes and have no sense of humor about music, and are frankly pretty nasty for no reason about stupid shit.
 

Friend - Do you think they are actually really that angry, or do they feel like its their "duty" as these cerebral indie fucks to get angry?
 

Me - Well probably, but here's an example. So many people give Nickelback shit. And it's like, whatever, if they weren't doing it, someone else would.
 

Friend - Yeah, thats why music is so amazing. Its personal. And interesting. And diverse. And fun. And weird. But it's important as fuck. Like I love car rides with my female friends and we turn up Drake or Rihanna and laugh and dance... but If I was constantly surrounded by that I would die. I need someone who if they aren't interested in my tastes, at least be open and receptive to it.

Me - Totally. Look, I LOVE metal. But a lot of people will not listen to it. And that doesn't bother me. It's not like I think some Slayer track is going to make them change their mind.
 

Friend - Haha, thank you.
 

Me - It's just that we spend so much time bludgeoning each other with our musical tastes, like they are clubs. And that's so stupid. For what? So we can be embarassed about liking things? We should be sharing. Most music is a shared experience. Or it should be anyways. It's made when people come together in performance or collaboration, and it's best enjoyed as such.
 

Friend - Come together, collaborate and listen...yep
 

Me - It's always better to be with friends (or even strangers) who are united in their appreciation for a piece of music.
 

Friend - It's all right there.
 

Me - Yup, Vanilla Ice had it right all along.

Sodom - Tapping The Vein

Band: Sodom
Album: Tapping The Vein
Label: Steamhammer
Year: 1992

 

While I was undergoing my education as a novice headbanger in the history of heavy metal, Germany's Sodom was always included alongside Kreator and Destruction as the leading bands in Germany's glorious thrash renaissance of the mid 1980s. Much rawer then their counterparts, Sodom's early work showed off a dungeon-fi recording quality and a heavier Venom influence than their more technically advanced contemporaries, and they are now considered one of the seminal bands of the early European black metal influence.

They underwent a transformation into a ferociusly blunt speed metal power trio, ending up on the more devastating end of the thrash spectrum and having a hand in the creation of modern death metal. Their most important albums, Obsessed By Cruelty, Persecution Mania and Agent Orange chronicled this transformation from 1986 to 1989. Having basically done all that was required of them, the classic lineup of the band then fell apart, leaving bassist and vocalist Tom Angelripper (pretty sure it says that on his birth certificate) to cobble together one itineration of the band after another to continue marauding around the continent to this day. And as far as I knew until recently that was the end of the story.

But to completely write off the reaminder of Sodom's discography would be a grave mistake for any metalhead who knows exactly what they want to hear, and doesn't particularly care if it is groundbreaking or innovative or even relevant. Like Motörhead before them, Sodom has just kept on going, long after anyone except diehards was paying attention. And they are even less popular, but all the same keep out cranking out album after album of furious, technically competent death thrash. Yes, there have been more than a few duds that fail to rise above mediocrity, but there have been several good to great albums in the band's post-heyday such as 1995's Masquerade In Blood and 2001's M-16. Even their most recent album, 2010's In War And Pieces was a potent lead injection that illustrated why this band has kept on plugging. But the best of these is Tapping The Vein, an ultraheavy distillation of everything the band has ever done well married to a dense, ultraheavy production job and a furious batch of songs.

This is the band's most overtly death metal influenced recording, with downtuned riffs and machinegun doublekicks coming to the fore of the band's songwriting. Angleripper's growls are typically lower and more gutteral than on the 80s records, and the superior production brings to life the dead on performances of the three musicians. Coming off a tour with an in-their-prime Sepultura, it's no wonder a little of that influence rubbed off on Sodom, then in the midst of an identity crisis as many of the arena-thrash metal bands were being swept away by grunge and heavy alternative rock bands from above and more extreme underground metal bands below. The opening one-two punch of "Body Parts" and "Skinned Alive" make it clear that these veterans had no intention of retiring quietly though. Not quite as brutal as what Deicide or Morbid Angel were up to at the time, but several megtons heavier than radio-bound Metallica and Megadeth were at the time, songs like "Deadline," "Tapping The Vein" and "Bullet In The Head" rely on ultraheavy chugging riffs instead of fleet-fingered acrobatics or tacky choruses to make their point, and damned if they don't do it too.

So yeah, it doesn't quite live up to the band's classics, and sure, there are more extreme recordings out there. But if you're a fan of classic thrash, and don't mind when things get a little heavier and the production a little bit cleaner, you could do a lot worse than this album. Definately worth a few spins.