Cerca:cherubs

Falling somewhere between Soulside, Ignition, and The Chocolate Watchband, Vile Cherubs were a short-lived and puzzling band that for a brief window in 1986-88 managed to captivate, confuse, and annoy the D.C. punk scene. Consisting of high school classmates Tim Green, Jesse Quitlsund, and Ben Wides—along with Green’s childhood friend Seth Lorinczi—the Vile Cherubs were more focused on the then-forgotten sounds of ‘60s garage rock and psychedelia than on Minor Threat. Being minors themselves, they likely would’ve remained trapped in the school-dance circuit were it not for Geoff Turner (Gray Matter / 3), who took an interest in the band and recorded their two demos. That first tape caught the ear of d.c. space booker Cynthia Connolly, who despite her initial skepticism paired them with Didjits, Cynics, and other noteworthy bands. Rumors of a potential Dischord album built all through 1987, ending with mysterious suddenness after label co-owner Jeff Nelson dropped in on a rehearsal to find a miasma of LSD, alcohol, feedback, and vomit. Though the band released a posthumous LP in 1988, the original Geoff Turner demos explain why the D.C. scene briefly lost its shit over these teen ne’er-do-wells. Lovingly and exhaustively resuscitated by audio maestro Tim Green from the original multitrack tapes, “Lysergic Lamentations” is the Vile Cherubs at the height of their brief existence.

“The noisiest pop music on the planet” - Pitchfork Austin, TX’s cult noise rock trio CHERUBS return with their new EP, SLO BLO 4 FRNZ & SXY. A follow up to their critically acclaimed Immaculada High (2019), the new EP capitalizes on the musical frenzy and shining moments of the latest full length, resulting in another dose of the legendary band's take on punk infused noise rock. Lead track "A Pair of Pear Tarts" explodes out of the speakers - Kevin Whitley's vocals are at the forefront once again, backed by absolutely raucous drumming and whirry, fuzzed out bass and guitars. "Lazy Snakes" continues this momentum; the trademark psychedelic qualities of CHERUBS heaviness are at the forefront as drums rinse and repeat as the song builds and builds. Elsewhere on the EP, Immaculada High standout "Sooey Pig" is converted into an acoustic anthem, giving the track new dynamics and heights. For Fans Of: The Melvins, Metz, Queens of the Stone Age, Unsane, Butthole Surfers

7"

Limited to 800 copies Grey Marbled Vinyl
Includes postcard and poster
Impossibly rare 1984 UK 7” vinyl single, written by a pre- Bachelor Pad’s Martin Cotter. One of only three releases by the short-lived Glasgow based indie label Bogaten, although redolant of early Orange Juice in the sound of the A-side, also looks forward to Shoegaze, with a reverb-drenched cover of The Velvet Underground’s Waiting For My Man on the B-side

Neon Pink Vinyl. For their tenth LP in a career spanning more than two decades, Tulsa's Unwed Sailor deliver their heaviest riffs, loudest squalls, and most deeply textured arrangements yet. Cruel Entertainment is a catalogue of contrasts - dissonance and harmony, hardcore crunch and post-rock grandeur, complexity and catchiness - that adds a vibrant new dimension to the second phase of their discography, spanning thus far from 2019's landmark Heavy Age up to the "vivid, starry-eyed psychedelia" (AllMusic) of 2024's Underwater Over There. Opener and lead single, "Rock Candy", roars in with a gale of feedback, pounding drums, and nimble bass, until a latticework of howling guitars ushers us into a more goth-tinged space. It's a characteristically intricate, energetic composition that flows with remarkable ease between its parts, and wastes not a moment of its three minutes. "Monster Collecting" brings a rare combination of melancholic and driving energy, reminiscent of avowed heroes New Order, but ups the ante with a tight, fastpaced rhythm section and litany of guitar lines, until opening up into a cascade of reverberating textures and tenuous sweetness. According to Ford, the title Cruel Entertainment refers to "the hardships of being an artist and musician in the crowded, imbalanced world of social media and streaming," where the completion of a new work demands that the creator also be a promoter, content strategist, and agent, among many other intensifying challenges. Pointedly drawing inspiration from noisier, rowdier bands - including Fugazi, Quicksand, and Cherubs - here they seek a much-needed catharsis in the ongoing fight to keep the creative soul intact. Second side standout, "Monty Donahue", typifies this form of release, as massive, mid-tempo percussion leads a fluid low end theme - inspired by the dual bass assault of Dianogah - and Swatzell's chords burst into shimmering nebulas across a labyrinthine arrangement that's equally loud and beautiful. Title track, "Cruel Entertainment", is a mosaic of sound for which Ford's bass provides the mortar: taut drums list between the channels, washes of guitar stretch to the horizon, and metallic heaviness punctuates the drift. There is a confident immensity here, proving that, although Unwed Sailor have witnessed a wild amount of changes in the music industry, their knack for creating complex, vital, and masterfully produced work remains untouched.

“We all grew up playing heavy music. For me personally, listening to artists like Swans, Godflesh, Neurosis and Kiss It Goodbye in my 20s was cathartic in a lot of ways. Identifying with people that have a similar world perspective, who are channeling their angst and frustration into the creative outlet of art and music — that was important.”

Josh Graham isn’t just talking about his decades-long career in heavy music, which has included A Storm of Light, Battle of Mice, and many years as the one-man visual department for Neurosis. He’s also talking about the formation of Guiltless, his new band with bassist Sacha Dunable (Intronaut), drummer Billy Graves (Generation of Vipers) and guitarist Dan Hawkins (A Storm of Light).

Guiltless released their debut EP, Thorns, via Neurot Recordings in early 2024. Crushing and cheerless, it seemed to welcome the apocalypse looming on our collective horizon. “The EP had a pretty narrow focus starting from my ideas,” Graham explains. “With this record, my main goal was to really collaborate with Sacha and Dan and Billy because those guys are great songwriters. The new album is meant to open up the sonic palette and explore more territory.”

That new album is Teeth to Sky, the band’s first full-length. Even more pulverizing and focused than its predecessor, the album’s collaborative songwriting approach was paired with an adjustment to the lyrical content.

You can hear it on “One Is Two,” which channels a tightly controlled Meshuggah churn through the more visceral lo-fi approach of Kiss It Goodbye or Swedish noise rock legends Breach. On “In Starless Reign,” Guiltless blend dissonant black metal and thundering doom while Graham invokes humanity’s inability to see the forest through the trees. Then there’s the bruising title track, which combines the gnarled sensibilities of The Jesus Lizard, Cherubs and Barn Owl into a rumination on Mother Nature’s revenge.

Teeth To Sky was recorded remotely by the members of Guiltless—except for the drums, which were recorded by Travis Kammeyer (Generation of Vipers) at Fahrenheit Studios in Johnson City, Tennessee. The album was mixed by Kurt Ballou at God City in Salem, Massachusetts, and mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege in Portland, Oregon.

Before Circus Lupus landed on DC’s venerable Dischord Records, the group’s original Midwest lineup recorded a full album’s worth of songs less than a year after forming. With the demise of DC’s Ignition in the late ’80s, bass player Chris Thomson headed to Madison, WI for college. Before leaving DC, he dove headfirst into being a vocalist fronting the short-lived throwback punk / hardcore project Fury. Thomson served up pointed and profound Tony Cadena-inspired screeds about betrayal, disappointment and poseurs all set to a soundtrack of furiously primitive and chaotic music supplied by members of the DC punk band Swiz. Brief yet influential, this band marked Thomson’s switch to vocals, putting him on course to front Circus Lupus and claim a notable spot in the DC punk timeline of the late 20th century. Soon after arriving in Madison, Thomson was invited to join a new project started by friends Chris Hamley, Arika Casebolt, and Reg Shrader. Circus Lupus marked a change in direction from the familiar sounds of DC punk that Thomson had been associated with for years. The newly formed group looked to noisier Touch & Go and Homestead bands for inspiration, aligning themselves with bands from Chicago, Louisville and Milwaukee. One early supporter of the band described the new group as “profoundly familiar yet uncategorizable. Like if the Germs had gone to college and never got pulled into hard drugs and suicidal behaviors.” The original Circus Lupus lineup played a dozen shows and recorded these songs with Eli Janney at Inner Ear studios in August of 1990 while on a brief tour. Within a year, the band would decide to permanently relocate to Washington DC, where they felt they had more opportunities. Shrader opted to move to Chicago and would ultimately join the Touch and Go band Seam. Old friend Seth Lorinczi (Vile Cherubs) would become their new bass player, forming the version of the band that most listeners are familiar with. While a few of these ended up on their first single, the rest were shelved, some later to be rerecorded with Lorinczi and released on Dischord. L.G. Records is proud to have helped this notable recording see the light of day. The original tapes were recovered by Ian MacKaye and transferred by Darren Edwards. Tim Green remixed and remastered the original recordings at Louder Studios in California.

Type “Was Joan of Arc” into Google and the suggested endings for this statement give you an accurate gauge of her place in pop culture: “Catholic” / “a nun” / “canonised” / “a prophet” / “French” / “a witch” and so on. Related questions to “What were Joan of Arc’s last words” on the info-sharing site Quora include “Was Joan of Arc bisexual” and “Was Joan of Arc simply crazy?” Everyone seems to agree this person was burned at the stake in 1431, but beyond that, Joan’s narrative is an enigma. It is this lack of definition that the production duo Pillow Queen harnessed for their second release, Burn Me Up. Inverting the image of the devout Christian girl, the Joan who stands as this record’s heroine was a heretic, a transvestite, most definitely a dyke and a hot femme-top at that.

Opening up the A-side, the title track is a call— a battle cry, but also a summoning. In a time of need one calls upon their patrons and elders from history; a DJ beckons and gathers dancers to the floor; prayer and sweat go hand and hand. A traditional Irish bodhrán drum beats out the first rhythms, joined by a steamy vocal sample that gets caught, chopped, and soon “Burns Me Up” is pumping along with organ chords and distorted keys. Pivoting away from the 4/4 format, “Submission” is a textured, downtempo slow-burner, with close-mic’d vocals from Vani-T and the D. Tiffany’s deft drum programming. When the choral pads come in, there’s an echo of the 1990s German worldbeat project Enigma, with its Gregorian chants and flutes laid on top of lounge beats—here, though, the chorus is stripped of kitsch, only driving the track deeper into a mood.

If Burn Me Up’s sequence of tracks is read as a kind of narrative, they seem to tell the story of Joan’s last moments. “Burn Me Up” is, frankly, heat—aggressive, the high-end crackles and the bass puts a pyre under one’s feet. “Submission” is like an exhale, a giving-in to death’s grip; there is, along with the sensuous tread, a melancholy. It only makes sense that one flips the record to “Resurrection”, which rolls in a tremolo’d wail of pitched vocals for 30 seconds before a kick drum begins the 141-BPM march. The percussion is central here, as the track shifts between polyrhythms like a range of resuscitations, varied heartbeats. “Salvation” closes the record, again dialling back the tempo to the deep nod of dub. To no surprise, the scene of redemption here is not one of sunlit cherubs—the church bell sample tolls one strike every few measures of bass-throb and shadow, while Vani-T intones, “Then he lay down and died”. Death can be salvation to some; living as many selves, living in contradiction, is a saving grace to many more.