Deathrash Thrash Beyond Death Rar
Here's the first album from the self proclaimed 'Most evil band in Japan.' Intercourse and Lust was released by the sketchy Modern Invasion label in 1997. Abigail's Black Metal is rooted in thrash and punk, the lyrics are brilliant Engrish soliloquies paying homage to things like nymphomaniacal witches, nefarious wizards, and the Yakuza, among other things. 'Thrash til Die/To Glory of Attack/Attack with Spell/In my Attack,' howls main man Yasuyuki on the track 'Attack With Spell.'
Intercourse and Lust, I almost hate to say it, is a fun album, a record to spin with beer, lots and lots of beer and your bestest bros, and beer. Generally most garage psych records bore me, too much of the same thing, useless cover songs, and most fall just shy of being truly heavy, or truly strange. However, The Jacks' Vacant World is just too enticing to be overlooked.
Vacant World carries a darkness and a desperation that pushes it far beyond much of the typically saccharine psych-pop of the time. Some wild vocalizing and absolutely stunning guitar work keep the album interesting. The Jacks gets into gear with 'Marriane,' with it's strange crashy cymbals and almost free-jazz bass lines, wild styles indeed.
'Stop the Clock' is a delicate glockenspielly track. The title track is another dour ballad that almost reminds me a bit of Leonard Cohen, if Mr.
Cohen was Japanese that is. 'In the Broken Mirror' has some of the greatest sounding fuzz guitar committed to tape, but 'Gloomy Flower' is the standout track with Yoshio Hayakawa's pained crooning, the man sounds at his wit's end and although I have no idea what he is on about, I am assured that he fucking means it. 'Love Generation' may be the most average track here, but still packs plenty of hooks. 'Bari-Manji' is a bluesy lope with more Hayakawa wailing.
'Where' is a laid back strut that sounds like it came from a Suzuki gangster picture. 'Love' is a gorgeous ballad, and then the Vacant World comes to an end with '500 Miles from the Sky,' a strange organ/vocal piece with spoken word. All in all, Vacant World is a trip, and a very satisfying one at that. Another cassette treasure nicked from. I couldn't resist, this little demo is just so fucking delicious. Dekoder hail from Montreal and play the kind of dark and desperate post-punk that you so crave.
Drums and bass pound out a stiff backbeat while the maudlin female voice and brooding guitars convey a wealth of unflappable, infectious melodies. My only problem with this demo is it leaves me wanting more. Dekoder, if you are reading this, please please please make an album or twenty. Kenny Dorham's career trajectory was spotty due to the master trumpeter's ever-failing health, thankfully before his death in 1972 Dorham put out some great and versatile albums. As much as I love his entire body of work, my favorite Dorham moment is this 1956 club date committed to tape and titled 'Round About Midnight at the Cafe Bohemia. First let's take a gander at the cover: Dorham in a hideous blazer grips an old mic, superimposed behind him is a landscape of urban rooftops at dawn. The whole package perfectly captures the smoky, seedy city vibe of the recording.
Dorham's band, comprised of names like J.R. Monterose, Bobby Timmons, Kenny Burrell, Sam Jones, and Arthur Edgehill, slide and slunk through the Monk classic from which the albums title comes, as well as a number of standards and a few Dorham originals.
The perfect late night, ice clinking in a stiff drink type of record. The Shiver were Switzerland's answer to the Krautrock boom of the late 60s and early 70s. They played weirdo, organ-heavy, psych, hung out with Geiger (who provided them with cover art) and released one pretty stellar album before the members went on to pursue other interests. Walpurgis, released in 1969, is a great album that suffers from spotty sequencing and a useless cover version of 'Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood,' but the strength of the opener, 'Repent Walpurgis' and 'Hey Mr. Holy Man' redeem The Shiver. If you are one of the handful of people that went all fucky over posted here sometime ago, I recommend checking into Walpurgis. So the top ten lists are rolling in, and some of you may have noticed an obscure CDR demo being mentioned, a demo by a little known Seattle doom band called Bell Witch.
The gracious dudes from the band were kind enough to send me a copy. Admittedly I slept on it a bit, for this I am foolish.
That’s seven years ago, and a lot has changed in the tech world since then. Maybe a piece of hardware you need won’t work with new operating system, or perhaps you’d rather not go through the upgrade process. Dosbox zip. Even so, Windows 7 remains the most popular desktop operating system on the planet. This in spite of Microsoft’s insistence that users upgrade to Windows 10.It seems that many of you want to keep using Windows 7, and, to be fair, there are all sorts of reasons that might be the case.
Bell Witch have ex-members of Samothrace, so right there I should have clamored to listen. This isn't terribly unlike Samothrace, perhaps a bit more menacing and less delicate in parts than the former band. Bell Witch also can boast some pretty compelling vocal work on this release. A truly special band that will go on to do great things. Someone give them money to make an album. This is gorgeous.
Some of you may only know Herbie Hancock as the composer behind the immensely successful and influential proto-hip hop hit 'Rockit.' Long before the '80s, Hancock was already one of the most respected and beloved Jazz pianists and composers of the 1960s. Hancock's airy playing and elegant yet strange arrangements made him an instant favorite amongst Alfred Lion and Frank Wolff, and for this legendary date, they put him in the studio with the ubiquitous ryhthm section of Warren and Higgens, along with Freddie Hubbard, and the elusive Dexter Gordon.
The results were stellar, but only hinted at the greatness to come. If this piques your interest in Hancock, I highly recommend spending some quality time with Empyrean Isles or Maiden Voyage. Brace yourself for some caustic grindcore from Hungary and a band who operated in the early '90s under the mundane moniker of Subject. Diaphanous Writhes of a Soul was the band's second demo and was later pressed into an EP.
Subject had a steady six year run that yielded a few demos, two full-lengths, and a four-way split with fellow Hungarian heavies Set Off, Mindcrime, and Loser's Lair. Admittedly I haven't heard any other Subject material but this demo is just so fucking great I am not sure I need to. In the '90s the ambitious Future Primitive Sound organization set out to pair DJs of note with one another for live performances that would eventually be pressed into limited number CDs. There were only two sessions documented: one matching Cut Chemist with Shortkut and this one that combines the turntable treachery of Z-Trip and Radar. Sad that this brilliant concept yielded just two discs, but damn they are fine listening. And while Cut Chemist and Shortkut are by far superior in skill, Z-Trip and Radar's session is infinitely more enjoyable. The two skilled DJs cut, mix, and match a number of classic records, some of which may surprise and titillate your tired ears.
I have to thank my old Florida homie Justin Cudney for getting this hen's tooth off my wishlist and up in my earholes. So FWA maybe weren't the best hardcore band to come out of the flaccid dick-shaped state that I spent my first 18 years in, but they were an integral part of the scene playing many hectic shows and opening for whatever punk legends were ballsy enough to take the extra travel day down to Miami, only to have their tires slashed, and their merch guy pummeled by subtarded, sun-drenched skinheads. FWA managed to crank out this one EP in the midst of all the heat and chaos. The cover shows a typically South Florida landscape of big ominous skies and rows of buzzing power lines. It may not mean much to you, but to my eyes it is all the loneliness and ennui of my adolescence in one single image. So let's talk about the tunes, shall we?
FWA were amateurish, that is for sure, but in that simplistic, rickety untalent was a charm that may even remind you of your own teen angst. Hardcore with little outside influence, no experimentation, no metal, no emo. Mohawks and skateboards, flannels and boots. Thank you so much, Justin and FWA wherever you may be. Well it would seem that Cosmic Hearse now officially has a time-honored holiday tradition; The Dennis Dread Halloween Mixtape. I always look forward to his eclectically spooky grab bag of razor-infused apples and cianide-laced candy corny gems of obscure sonic fright.
For those of you who don't know the man, or dare to doubt his creepy credentials, Dread is the man behind the great, Destroying Angels Magazine, and most notably the twisted artist behind all great album covers for Darkthrone, Autopsy and a few other notable noisys. So sit back and let Dennis Dread haunt your dreams. With Jazz the prevailing notion was that a player needed experience to truly excel at his chosen instrument, but when Clifford Brown was tragically killed in a car accident after a gig, it was a young Lee Morgan that filled his ginormous shoes, and caused people to question if experience was requisite to great playing. Lee Morgan was so impressive and prolific a musician it is impossible to think about Blue Note or Bop trumpet playing without Morgan immediately coming to mind. He was an integral part of Art Blakey's best and most noted Jazz Messenger's line up, as well as leading twenty-five sessions as a leader for Blue Note. Morgan's drug use was also the stuff of legend, and in 1961 it led to his dismissal from The Messengers. Morgan cleaned up and in 1963 struck pay dirt with his most successful album The Sidewinder.
Over the next decade, Lee was unstoppable as a leader and a sought after sideman. Like Morgan's life itself, his death was dramatic, tragic, and completely unexpected. On February 19th 1972 Morgan's common-law wife, Helen, shot him in the chest on stage, killing him instantly. She served six years for the crime. The bulk of Lee Morgan's massive discography is brilliantly executed standard hard bop, though Morgan was not opposed to more avant styles ( Search For New Land). It was incredibly challenging to find a single album to share here so I opt to go with Lee Morgan Indeed, his first session as a leader for Blue Note.
Why not start at the beginning, right? The album features a great band: Horace Silver (piano), Clarence Sharpe (alto sax), Wilbur Ware (bass), and Philly Joe Jones (drums). The album kicks off with the vaguely sinister, oddly latin number 'Roccus' penned for the session by Silver. Note how the whole rhythm shifts to a fast paced shuffle for Silver's adept solo then returns back to its original creep and lope. 'Reggie of Chester' is a classic Benny Golson tune, it was these lilty metropolitan boppers that Morgan excelled at, immediately after the opening riff, he's off hot dogging the valves and showing the haters who the fuck he is. For me, the album's crescendo is the ballad 'The Lady.'
Here Morgan and Sharpe's notes billow and coil around one another like trails from a lonely cigarette in a shitty dive, but then around the 2:13 mark, something (though I am not sure what) happens to the lady. It is a story told through brass and wood, and in a sense, isn't that is what a great Jazz ballad should be? 'Little T' is another uptown scorcher this time written by Donald Byrd (that guy had riffs).
Philly Joe Jones does a pretty spot on Blakey impersonation on the opening of 'Gaza Strip,' and Sharpe delivers some of his best soloing on the album. 'Stand By' is another peppy Golson arrangement that showcases the talents of Morgan and Silver both. Indeed is a magnificent, but somewhat typical hard bop affair, it is also a great jumping off point to examine the career trajectory of one of Jazz's most beloved and skilled trumpetizers.
Deathrash Thrash Beyond Death Rar Files
Cosmic Hearse supporter and friend, Dirk 'Dino' Noben is a stand up motherfucker, and hands down my favorite Belgian on the planet (my apologies to Jean-Claude Van Damme and Plastic Bertrand). Over the years Dirk has turned me on to more than a few cool bands (and beers) from his country. The lastest was this masterpiece that so perfectly sated my recent thirst for devastatingly fucked up Funeral Dooooooooooooom.
Wijlen Wij (I have no idea how it is pronounced) unleashed this hulking shoggoth of an album in 2007. Spiritually and sonically akin to Esoteric's colossal. My sincerest thanks go out to Dirk and Wijlen Wij for sharing this behemoth. Born in 1885, Papa Charlie Jackson eked out a modest living playing his Banjo/Ukelele hybrid and singing his ribald songs at medicine shows and on the streets of Chicago.
In the 20s, several recordings were made. In 1972 an LP compiling these dusty delights from a bygone era was released by the brilliant Yazoo label. Most of these recordings were made with an audio horn rather than a microphone, and the technology of pressing records was still very new at the time, so almost needless to say, their is layers of hiss that often eclipse the music, but for me, this adds to the experience,and lends a ghostly, otherworldy feel to the whole thing. Aeshma was the infernal collaboration between two Brazilian fiends, Impuro and Nocturnus Tepesh.
Both have operated in several other devout Black Metal bands around their area. The Dark Misanthropic Woods is Aeshma's sole release, it was released in 2003. As you might have guessed, the production is terrible, the playing is sloppy, but the vibe is there. Some guitar overdubs and spooky keyboards seemingly added to a boombox practice room tape, not sure if there is bass, not sure it matters in these woods.
Deathrash Thrash Beyond Death Rar Free
This self=released single by an obscure Heavy Metal band might be just the thing to cure your blues. There isn't a whole lot of information about Satin Steel coursing through the tubes of the ol' interweb, but my searching did yield this: The site has plenty of information regarding the history of the band, some great photos, and even a track that didn't appear on this single, the only official Satin Steel release.
The a side 'Kick Me Where It Hurts' is a slunky, hooky rocker. The b side kicks it up a notch with the oddly titled 'Let's Not Die.' Despite releasing a great little record that got some airplay and critical acclaim, and a move to Hollywood, Satin Steel never cracked the big leagues.
Seriously, bro/sis, I know shit has been getting to you lately, just sit back, pop open a brew, and let Satin Steel make it okay. Here's some mega-fucking-evil death/thrash from Spain and 1989. There were about a million metal bands in the '80s calling themselves Aggressor, most were pretty aggressive as I imagine, but for my money you can't do better than these venomous Valencians. They only managed to eke out one demo, Brutal Aggression, before they aggressed no more, but damn, what a demo it is. You get some Kreator style thrashing, proto-Death Metal vocals from some guys named Captor, Animal, Pelufo, and Chapa. Also want to add that this Aggressor has perhaps one of the coolest logos of all time. Fuck yeah Torsten.
By now you should know the deal. Torsten, a hopeful young Swedish Heavy Metal band from the bullshit town of Loddekopinge, releases one great single, and then fades into obscurity. The singer sounds kind of punk as he sings about how he is 'the best' on the a side 'King of the Nest.' The b side, 'Are You Ready' is a balls-out rocking call to arms. The two tunes here are excellent, spirited, and just plain cool rocking Heavy Metal numbers. Like most of these one-off FWOSHM singles, this is more fun than you should probably be allowed.
The Bay Area scene is interesting. It seems that every so often a whole crop of great new bands spring up but then a year later, maybe only one or two still exist. Lately we have been lucky enough to see the formation of such bands as Owl, Hell Ship, Badr Vogu, Pale Chalice, Lady of the Lake, Pins of Light, and one of my personal favorites, Lycus from Oakland. Lycus plays expansive doom with melodic flourishes. There is enough quality material to make this a regular listen.
I imagine that Lycus, if they managed to stick it out, could potentially make an album that dominates and eclipses all other bands doing this sort of doom. Watch for them. And you can secure a copy of this tape. I recently had the pleasure of seeing Proclamation play live in front of a small, but dedicated, audience in San Francisco. If you are not familiar with this kvlt Spanish horde then let's just say that they worship at the profane altar of Blasphemy (with a smattering of Beherit.) You may not want to reward this kind of blatant appropriation, but these guys are hardly the only Blasphemy clone out there, but they very well may the best. Advent of the Black Omen was Proclamation's first putrid ritual of Satanic darkness (ie:album) and it was released in 2006 on the stunning Nuclear War Now label. After a brief intro, the unrelenting chaos begins.
Shudder to Think really only can be associated with the DC punk scene through their work with Dischord records, nothing here is very punk. I recall describing them to someone as Fugazi meets the Cocteau Twins, but even that description seems lazy, and not all that accurate. Shudder to Think sounded like no one else. This may not appeal to everyone, all you tough guys may want to step out of the room.
Proof Of An Afterlife
You probably won't be able to handle the wispy, feminine vocals of Craig Wedren. You definitely will struggle with lyrics about men in love, and dreams, and summer rain. The rest of us will wax and weep nostalgic for this sublime piece of '90s schmaltz. Fuck, I love this. Sometimes I think if Infernal Majesty had a better name and weren't from Canada they might now be hailed as one of the more important thrash bands of the '80s.
Seriously, have you heard this? Right out of the gate it's ripping with speed, and solos, and roto toms.
None Shall Defy was Infernal Majesty's debut and these calamitous Canucks wasted no fucking time. Musically, these guys kind of worshipped at the same inverted church as Possessed and Slayer. Fortunately Infernal Majesty mixed up the tempos and had a firmer grasp on dynamics and arrangements than alot of their contemporaries. This keeps None Shall Defy. This is mandatory, even if you don't generally care for the thrash. This one may just change your mind.
A pair of panties was added to the provocative cover art on the reissue version of Uncle Sam's album Heaven or Hollywood, but that just makes the cover go from cool to corny. So what is the story on Uncle Sam? What kind of band with any real ambitions would choose a cover that was bound to cause a few problems? Well Uncle Sam were from Rochester, not Heaven, not Hollywood. But the sort of nihilist, sleazoid, bad boy, junkie rock that these fuckwits laid down does seem more akin to Hollywood. The band was fronted by a charismatic gent who sounds a bit like Alice Cooper at times and a bit like Eddie Tudor Pole at others.
This is more artful and punk than say GnR or Ratt, shades of chequer-board power pop creep in. Heaven or Hollywood is a party but the kind with bad drugs and friends that will fuck you over. I like this album. Uriah Heep's sophomore album Salisbury, is a very special bit of legendary crush. From the first track, David Byron's dominance as a forceful frontman is cemented. Monstro-riffs and kooked out Hammond organs, this may be Heep's most 'eavy work, even if it is their most unrefined. Maybe you always thought of these dudes as a junior varsity Deep Purple, and never really bothered to look into their catalog.
Well, you're wrong and you are a horribly misshapen freak, but it isn't too late to right one of these wrongs. Dig into Salisbury then work up to the next three albums after it. The rest of you should just go to the store and get a Swanson's Hungry Man Dinner, the one with the Salisbury Steak. Do they even still make those?
If they don't then just get some beer. Guilty pleasures are for chumps. Why should you feel guilt because something gives you pleasure?
Why would you cringe in embarrassment when one of your shithead buddies is thumbing through your collection and finds that Rita Coolidge or House of Pain album amongst the rare Corrupted and Paysage d' Hiver vinyls? I like Duran Duran, well the first three albums anyways. I like their uber-slick cocaine-on-a-yacht pop music, I like how they embody everything cum-soaked and greedy about the '80s. I like their hair, I like their white shirts. If you are my age and male you hated Duran Duran when this album came out. You hated them because every teenage girl in America wanted to be fingerbanged by Simon LeBon and John Taylor, and not you.
The very existence of Duran Duran was a giant fingerblock. But listen now, plunge into the hymen tight rhythm section of the Taylor tots. Get the cosmetic keys (to my creations and times) of a haircut named Nick Rhodes all over your face. Snort a huge line of cheap, glassy guitars. Swallow up the loveless, semen-smooth vocals of a douchey dandy named Simon.
Ahhhh, now you get it. This album is more evil than Beherit, darker than Bonnie Prince Billy, more lonely and crestfallen than a hundred funeral doom albums. It's the sound of the air conditioned plastic emptiness of the nineteen-eighties.
It's blood flecks on an Armani handkerchief, it's the arrival of AIDS, it's the constant fear of Mutually Assured Destruction, it's anonymous sex, it's Patrick Bateman, it's cold legs in a cold city, it's whore's sweat, it's death. It's a whispered lie from the urethra of oblivion. And now I have spooked myself. Russolo, in his time, constructed many devices to generate noise, he called these objects Intonarumori. Among these inventions was Russolo's noise cabinets shown above. He went as far as to assemble an orchestra to perform alongside his machines. Audiences were baffled, angered, and often moved to violence by these unorthodox performances, and I imagine this pleased Luigi to no end.
Luigi and his brother Antonio (who had similar interests and ideas) made a few recordings of the Intonarumori, but what you are about to hear is the only recording to survive the ages. The effect is unnerving, with conventional instruments accompanied by unearthly wooshes and tones and the occasional glossolalia vocalizings. You can hear, from time to time, the brothers Russolo become excited and the sounds they are producing. Sixty-three years before Merzbow or Whitehouse, Russolo was making sounds and terrifying audiences, and oddly enough, I think these recordings still hold a fair amount of unease.
Now answer the question: Who is your favorite Italian Futurist painter and composer? I know mine has to be Luigi Russolo. China Doll is the next entry in our seemingly endless parade of NWOBHM bands that never seemed to rock their way out of the sweaty pubs and cobbled alleys of whatever bullshit shire they called home. These lads hailed from the dreary seaside town of Poole in Dorset County.
Besides China Doll, other notable Poole partyers include Greg Lake of ELP, Edgar Wright, and even J.R.R. Tolkein saw fit to live there briefly during his retirement, he did of course eventually return to Mordor where he was cast into the fires of Mount Doom.
Anyways, China Doll, like so many of these fucking bands, released one single and then sat back and waited over pints down at the local boozer for the hairy knuckles of fame and fortune to come knocking. The a-side 'Oysters and Wine' is a boogie woogie bar rocker that really gives the what for to some painted lady who thinks she's some kind of high society fancy-fanny bint. The b-side 'Past Tense' starts off like a typically cornball ballad but jumps into gear and yields some passable shepherd's pie and darts rocking.
Pretty cool little record, wouldn't really want much more China Doll than this. Paul Chambers was taken from the earth at the young age of 33 by tuberculosis.
However in his brief life, Paul turned in outrageously brilliant performances on well over a hundred albums, including memorable sessions with the likes of Miles Davis, John Coltrane, Sonny Rollins, Bud Powell, Oliver Nelson, Lee Morgan, Thelonious Monk, Hank Mobley Jackie McLean, Freddy Hubbard.well just about everyone. Chambers also lead eleven sessions, three for Blue Note in '56 and '57. The third of these Blue Note dates yielded the amazing Bass On Top album.
On this fine record, Paul Chambers, joined by Hank Jones, Kenny Burrell and Art Taylor, digs in to standards by Cole Porter, Charlie Parker, Miles Davis, as well as others. There is also one original piece at the album's close titled Chamber Mates cowritten with guitarist Kenny Burrell. Dig into this monumental work by one of the most innovative and prolific bassists in Jazz history. It's about sharing hard to find and special recordings.
It's not about taking anything away from the artists themselves. Of course if something is in print and you like it, buy it. If you have legitimate claim to something posted here and want it removed, just write me and I'll do so. It's definitely not about furthering any sort of political agenda, you might find some things here that you don't agree with. The views of the bands are their own and don't necessarily reflect my ideology or political views. Of course comments and suggestions are welcomed, but don't be hurt if they aren't responded to or taken.
I will do my absolute best to be accomidating. Want to contact me?