Suche:reality shock

After a long silence New Zealand bestial death metal horde Exaltation finally unveil their first proper full-length offering, "Under Blind Reasoning", after a demo tape had surfaced back in 2017 amongst generalized obscurity. Indeed what we find on this debut offering is something distant from the lo-fi quality of the promising but under-produced demo, and sees the band tap instead into a realm of vehemence and aural destruction of unseen magnitude and terror. Feral, enveloping, monumental and sprawling in its unrelenting wrath, "Under Blind Reasoning" sees the obscure New Zealand death-bringers whip the sum of their influences (Immolation, Morbid Angel, Incantation, Deicide, Blasphemy) into a coercive realm of shell shocking torment and rise from the depths of obscurity like a cataclysmic weapon of mass-destruction. The album's dense and multidimensional recording quality (courtesy of engineers Raj Singarajah and Cam Sinclair along by mastering from Luke Finlay of Primal Mastering) has yielded a death metal beast of truly unsettling proportions. Every instrument and the utter violence with which it is wielded appears on full display, as the listener is helplessly left annihilated, blow after to blow, to witness the band's tight, savage and merciless performance and technical proficiency literally maul down the fabric of reality piece by piece. These are death metal songs from a realm of perpetual darkness that bare a load of death and ruin of unprecedented traits. Songs of boundless terror and oblivion that evoke eons of darkness and an immanent and oppressive presage of complete inevitability as the music roars out of the speakers with ominous grimness and near-weaponized violence. All hail the realm of darkness and death conceived by Exaltation, one where the death metal craft is reborn as a feral ungovernable force to inflict merciless ruin unto this mortal plane and all that dares to attempt to exist within it. Tracklisting: 1. Iron Rebellion 2. Impending Deceased 3. Exaltation 4. Ascension 5. Fate Revolt 6. Impious Massacre 7. Blaspheme Mortality 8. Divider of Redemption

"The core of confusion and upheaval that drove some of the band's most fiery earlier work, however, is replaced by a more stabilized undercurrent, a mentality that's reflected in songs not afraid to try new things and honestly explore uncomfortable feelings. When combined with exciting production and songwriting choices, that mindset helps make Feels So Good // Feels So Bad one of the Shivas' best albums.” - AllMusic "Portland, Oregon-hailing psych-surf band The Shivas accomplish another time-traveling, reverb-ridden sound that refuses to get boring. Jared Molyneux’s guitar work knows when to be bright or bashful at the right times, breaking into guitar solos that possess a late-’60s groove… The Shivas seem to blissfully flourish” - Paste "a consistent treat for the ears” - The Vinyl District "Though the psych-tinged guitar riff that drives 'Feels So Bad' was written while The Shivas were still on the road, its lyrics didn’t fall into place until the band was well into lockdown, unsure of when they’d be able to return to their most imperative true love: Live shows... Accordingly, 'Feels So Bad' permeates with a sense of urgent desperation, building off a chugging prog-rock instrumental.” - Consequence (on “Feels So Bad”) "They hooked the audience with their throwback rock sounds. The guitar strums and rhythmic drum beats were layered atop smooth and hallucinogenic vocals. The eyes can tell the take at times and there was a sparkle there that said that the band members just love doing live performances." - California Rocker "This single layers on the fuzz but keeps it dreamy, with an especially sticky guitar riff sure to lodge itself in your brain with minimal effort." - Portland Monthly (on “If I Could Choose”) “'My Baby Don’t' translates the genuine vibrant joy


of the live experience into the studio, bringing the band’s ‘60s garage rock roots, sharp pop vocal harmonies, and fervent performances along for the ride." - Under The Radar "Perfectly straddling the line between a solid-head bopping track and an introspective deep cut, The Shivas’ 'Undone' is a rock & roll gem. The track sounds straight out of the late 60s and fits seamlessly in the Portland band’s electrifying catalog." - The Luna Collective "The first time I clicked play on this track, I knew it was a yes for me." - Ear To The Ground Music (on “If I Could Choose”) "The harmonies would make the “Happy Together” Turtles blush, but the unsettling guitar doesn’t shy away from the woollier implications of the ’60s." - Willamette Week (on “If I Could Choose”) "'Undone' is just the perfect song for the good days and the bad ones." - GlamGlare "another hit" - Austin Town Hall (on “Undone”) "one of the best forthcoming albums of the year" - Austin Town Hall RADIO: #3 Most Added @ NACC - 50 official adds BIO Every working musician has had their life turned upside down by Covid-19. For The Shivas, who had recently released a new LP and normally keep a rigorous touring schedule, it was a particularly screeching halt. “We were about to go to SXSW, the following weekend was Treefort in Boise, and then we were going to open for our friends’ band on tour in the US before going to Europe,” Jared Molyneux remembers. Then everything just stopped. They were faced with a dilemma. “It forced us to adapt or just quit,” Molyneux says. “The reality is that shows are our job.” In truth, live shows aren’t just The Shivas job: they are the band’s greatest love. Shivas shows are bombastic, explosive and thoroughly communal live rock and roll experiences where barriers between the performers and their audience seem to dissolve into the sweat and sound. The stage—or the basement, or the living room—that’s The Shivas’ true element. It’s their raison d’etre. It’s their religion. The band’s live urgency may have been born in 2006, when the band’s young members—who began booking West Coast tours while still in high school—waited without fanfare on sidewalks or in parking lots, before being rushed onstage for their sets at 21-and-up clubs. Maybe it developed a little later, as The Shivas blasted their way through Portland’s storied and unsanctioned mid-aughts house show scene. Whatever the origin of their famously kinetic live experience, it’s the show that keeps them coming back after over 1,000 performances spread over 25 countries in 15 years. In those 15 years, The Shivas have grown tight-knit as a group. Guitarist/singer Jared Molyneux, bassist Eric Shanafelt and drummer/singer Kristin Leonard have all been with the band since its earliest days; guitarist Jeff City, another high school friend, joined in 2017. Together they’ve learned to thread a seemingly impossible needle: They’ve honed and tightened their performances without sacrificing the element of surprise that makes each show special. And despite touring and recording for most of their lives, they speak about their project with humility, in the DIY vernacular of their Pacific Northwest upbringing. They talk up their own favorite bands, play all-ages shows as much as possible, and bring a sort of blue-collar humanism to the live performances they relish so much. “We just want to make people feel good,” Molyneux says. “We want them to forget they have to work tomorrow.” Kristin Leonard elaborates, “The live show is all about that feeling of catharsis—in ourselves and in everyone who comes out. We’re creating this safe space where we can all let go. Where we can exhale. And it feels really good when we are able to facilitate that.” So when Covid hit, the band knew it was time for transformation. After a settling realization that live music would be grounded for the foreseeable future, The Shivas booked significant studio time with Cameron Spies, who also produced the 2019 Dark Thoughts LP. They also transformed their lives: three of the band’s four members found work with a local nonprofit serving unhoused Portland residents. They became engaged in protests and fundraisers for social justice. They spent a whole summer actually living in Portland, settling into the city they had always called home, but that sometimes felt like a temporary stop between tours. “We got into a more community-minded headspace,” Leonard says. “And that did give us some purpose. It felt cool to see everybody come together to stick up for what they believe in. It feels like an incredibly formative last twelve months.” The album that emerged from this new moment finds The Shivas reborn as a band that seems seasoned and perfectly at home with itself. There is a calm, even a hopefulness, to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad that sounds new. The Shivas didn’t write or record the album with a particular theme in mind, but one seems to have emerged: where Dark Thoughts was about confronting your demons with fearless self-examination, much of Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is about what happens once you find that peace: how being honest with yourself changes your relationships and your priorities. “I do think it’s about acceptance,” Leonard says. “There’s a weird relaxation that comes with being at peace with things you can’t control or have regrets about.” Maybe that’s why the squealing, riff-laden break-up song opener, “Feels So Bad,” is such a shock to the system. But it’s more of an exorcism than a melodrama: more a song about not being able to do the thing you love (in


this case, playing live shows) than splitting with a partner. “It’s like part of you goes to sleep,” Leonard says. As bandmates who are also in a long-term relationship, Molyneux and Leonard know that their songs might be seen as glimpses into their personal lives, but their songwriting is rarely autobiography. Leonard compares their process to something more akin to screenwriting. “There’s bound to be some autobiographical material in there,” she says. “But the common denominator is the exploration of universal feelings: ones that everyone experiences or can relate to.” The goal is to use the music to drill down into something genuine and sincere, beyond genre or stylistic affectation. That’s where The Shivas have arrived. Whatever growth led the band to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad, plenty of their fascinations remain. They’re still turning love songs into psychedelic, transcendent epics. “Tell Me That You Love Me” subverts doo-wop extravagance and dabbles in Flamenco rhythms. “Rock Me Baby” is a bubblegum anthem soaked in so much reverb that we might just be hearing it from the stadium nosebleeds. “Sometimes” is almost impossibly huge, like a witchy outtake from the Brill Building era. Those songs feel like logical expansions from a band that has always excelled at a timeless sort of rock and roll that tinkers with and explodes elements from every era. But on the towering and mournful “You Wanna Be My Man,” a slow-burning six-minute shoegaze prayer for a higher sort of love, there is a level of emotional nuance that feels like something altogether revolutionary. It’s there again in the stripped-down vulnerability of the album-closing elegy “Please Don’t Go.” Yes, Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is an album about acceptance. Sometimes that acceptance feels enlightened and sometimes it feels like the end result of a lot of kicking and screaming. The Shivas have adapted in both of those ways. With new tours scheduled and a new album on the way, they’re still hoping--like all of us--for a new era of vibrant, cathartic live music. The lessons they learned from having their normal upended, though, have only helped them grow

Roman Flügel is a magician. This statement is far from being a hyperbole. Just put the needle down on any record – I mean any! – of his ( collaborations included) since the early nineties and see for yourself: none of them are without that special effect. The magic works instantly. And as the thing with magic goes: it’s challenging to explain it. But I guess that is what makes it magic.

Eating Darkness is the title of his newest spell. Affected by the fundamental shock that any system got in 2020 – but not the result thereof – it is an album that could absorb it – as its name might suggest. Music and nightlife work hand in hand as escapism and as anchors or as the undercoat of social interactions. They enable people to deal with hardships as well as the burden and the joy of life. That is the starting point and hope of Eating Darkness: the outlook and invitation to enrich each and everyone’s existence.

Bound to the single LP format and reminiscent of a time with format limitations, the nine tracks are testament to Flügel’s weakness for the art of pop music with the use of little and especially short motifs. Furthermore equipped with a clear instrumentation and without any camouflage, Eating Darkness corresponds to his idea of a virtual band.

As it happens, the opener is called The Magic Briefcase. That sits not only well with my first sentence, but pretty much embodies the album and Roman Flügel’s apparatus in an alternative title: Crystal clear sounds and melodies bounce on and off the dance floor, living room and club are pulled together and transcendental moments take turns with the tangibility of reality. After all, that is how a real magician allures you.

In a world of announcements of announcements, Gatecreeper are firing no warning shots before dropping their new release. “I think the social media environment has just fried our attention spans,” vocalist Chase Mason says. “Trying to hold someone’s attention for two or three months with a typical album roll-out doesn’t seem feasible with everything else currently going on in the world.” That’s not the only reason An Unexpected Reality comes with no pre-release hype whatsoever. “It’s meant to be listened to as a whole, so we didn’t wanna break it up or release a couple songs ahead of time as ‘singles’ or whatever,” Mason clarifies. “We also didn’t wanna treat it like it’s our next full-length. Because it’s not.” Written, recorded and now released during the Covid-19 pandemic, An Unexpected Reality is Gatecreeper like you’ve never heard them before. Exploring both ends of the tempo spectrum, the release offers two opposing sides of the band’s musical personality. Side one consists of seven short, sharp shocks that have a total running time of less than seven minutes. Inspired by grind, punk and hardcore, tracks like “Starved,” “Rusted Gold” and “Amputation” are some of the fastest offerings the Arizona death metal squad has ever recorded. Side two is the exact opposite.

The mostly anonymous producer FSS joins Veyl with ‘MMXX_FFS’, a collection of nine raw, mangled numbers that manage to make lo-fi sound hi-fi. Built in moments stolen from working with DIY punk bands and artists producing for Warp, UNO, True Panther, Lucky Me and Tri Angle.... Originally from New Mexico, now living in London, with NYC on the horizon, FSS is no newcomer, and this isn’t your usual debut.
Inspired by a need to release the rage and disillusionment brought on by the extreme shit show the world has become, the writing of ‘MMXX_FSS’ — “it’s nearly 2020, for fuck’s sake” — doubled as a cathartic process for the artist, providing much-needed relief from the constant struggle of living on this planet.
Urged to push into the wild and off the beaten path, the record’s sound is iltered through an ongoing battle with tinnitus, a heavy fascination with distortion, and a treasure of inspired electronics. Memories of clear, bright landscapes play like loops, bombarded with the shock and suffering of urban action. Based on the constantly vacillating reality between moments of familial bliss to existential terror in white hot flashes, ‘MMXX_FFS’ is a snapshot of this process. Generating more.
FSS’ debut is out this December on cassette and digital, as always featuring artwork by Tomaso Lisca.

The Leap is the new project of Dutch producers Tripeo & Doka who are now taking the logical next step in their musical journey and present an EP that touches on genres all across the electronic board. The Leap is about more than just music, which will reflect in the track titles. Current developments in the world take center stage and inspiration is taken out of politics, literature, media, (green) activism and much more.

The opening track 'Shock Doctrine' is a slow building yet powerful piece of gloomy, hypnotic techno, followed by the exceptionally deep and undulating 'Borrowed Time' that combines soft atmospheric textures with distinct fragile melodies and could easily be the soundtrack of a dystopian reality. On the flip side the duo showcases once again seamless production skills and with 'Green Capital' they set a nostalgic mood, a trancey journey filled with crisp hi-hats and snares, resulting in an effective techno tool. The mind bending closing track 'Sustainable Communities' creates dance floor tension with its piercing metallic synthlines & just like the whole EP it provokes the listener to think outside of the techno sphere.

Opening their doors every Saturday for mind-altering shock treatment, Power Station has been giving their raging punters a potent dose of megawatt reality. Their curatorial expertise has established an institution that will now extend the mythical energy generated with a record label in the form of annual limited 12"/digital compilations, grouping tracks that have already become the club's signature tunes. Resident, booker and co-founder Kris Baha finds himself on both sides of the inaugural disc, with the ball of confusion solo production 'Something Something, and again as Heavy Concern in collaboration with Otologic's Nick Murray, a name synonymous with the Melbourne club circuit being one quarter of the Animals Dancing massive. Young gun Disrute captures the optimum warm up set with the shape shifting slow burner 'Ka-Bu' while scene veteran and Haul Music boss Mike Callander discovers a new lab mutation of sci-fi soundtrack, damaged funk and cerebral house.

A1, "Capitulo 4". We find Gregor surprisingly accepting of his new reality: far from going crazy, he has serenely discovered in his new self everything he didn't know and didn't perceive as a human being. "Capitulo 4" is an incredibly precise description of the awakening of the new Gregor. Shadows, fog, sinuous silhouettes that are impossible to identify. In one word: confusion.
B1, "Capitulo 5". Vertigo starts to ease, we can hardly feel the anguish and the heartbeat is gone. We are in a new reality and although it seems a done deal, every movement he makes tells Gregor that understanding this new world and his perception of it will not be easy. Chapter 5 demands our everything while we listen: our full dedication and attention to the last minute detail that reveals a new horizon and its new colour, or lack of it. A horizon that, nevertheless, is more perceptible for Gregor, because he can now capture all sorts of colours and emanations.
B2, "Capitulo 6". Light. Gregor still ignores that most domestic insects have a strong aversion to intense light, but his human conscience is still intact and it will take him a long time to reprogramme certain habits, instincts and automatic behaviours, like a preference for lit environments. The painfully intense sensation that his antennae convey to his tiny brain when faced with light is an effective path to learning: little shocks that Reeko reproduces in this track, surrounded by an oscillating and changing ambience that redefines itself each time we listen to it.