Droooooooone.
17 November, 2013
Has it really been that long? Sheesh. Well, after a criminal delay, I've cobbled out some reviews for you folks. If you've been a faithful listener of the radio show, though, these won't be anything new. (Or, perhaps, not TOO new.) But let's just say that these are long overdue. And, as the title implies, the drone prevails over all.
Winkie - The color is fading fast from Athens. Several trees now wave bare in the chilling winds; others droop with dull crimson and muddy brown leaves. And the morning skies are gray. Oh, so gray.
This is the time of year for Winkie. Regular readers have met the midnight duo before, when I introduced their first single – well, the new LP is out. It’s called “One Day We Pretended to Be Ghosts”. I received it some months ago, while in the thrall of my studies – and, might I add, while the sun was still bright and the temperatures still comfy and warm. Back then, the whole thing seemed like some distant fuzz, some abyss that I could safely stare down and not even fathom the chance of being swallowed.
But not any more. Christ, not any more.
Death must feel like this. At least, death when it’s due, when you’ve reached a ripe old age. Cold, immense, but bliss beyond measure. A bliss more transcendent than sex. A slow but welcomed drowning into black oblivion.
Never mind the long, blatantly doom-laden titles. Listen instead to the mangled, warped distortion. It’s great. It’s so great. It’s the primal drone, stretched into a throbbing massage of miasma, mutilated . It is love, heavy and embracing, and it’s induced many a moan from me as it steadily, imperceptibly, then overwhelmingly smothers me. WINKIE shouldn’t need a fog machine when they play live, especially not for “My Eyes Are Closed When The Sun Comes Up” – between the icy synths and that savage drone, you can feel the mists closing in, enveloping everything. And, ohhhh, “The Line Up”. Ohhh, God. Those warbled sustains just kill me.
And OH MY BLOODY VALENTINE, “Sometimes”. It’s a track drawn from the ether, with ghostly guitars floating all around, while traces of bright synth accents stab through the fog. The pulsing bass that drives most of Winkie’s tracks fuels this one with a passion.
Now, not all of Winkie’s terrors assail you gently. “Illuminated” snarls with muscular brooding, pounding from all directions like a tune from Pornography. “Death At The Heart Of The Disco” also summons a thick, doom-laden beat – but ahhhh, now the fog descends upon us in double-folds, shifting now from silver to grey. This one’s a maze of smog, and if you’re not lost at first, you soon will be – and I tell you, it’s so lovely it hurts.
I can take or leave the lyrics – it’s the voice, the eerily pure and heavenly voice that floats gracefully over the blackening haze, that beckons like a siren to the weary Odysseus. Come, come hither. Come deeper into this maddening, razor-sharp fog, o listener. We know it’s a trick, we know that if we follow her, she will blacken out the sun and possibly even rob us of our life. But we follow, through the savage undulation of “The Safest Place Is Denial”, to the ominous and gloriously unsettling rattle of “Arrows” that ends the album, because we cannot grasp her, and because her traps have ensnared us utterly.
Winter will soon be here. Now’s the time to lose yourself in Winkie. Listen and buy their LP from their Bandcamp page.
This is the time of year for Winkie. Regular readers have met the midnight duo before, when I introduced their first single – well, the new LP is out. It’s called “One Day We Pretended to Be Ghosts”. I received it some months ago, while in the thrall of my studies – and, might I add, while the sun was still bright and the temperatures still comfy and warm. Back then, the whole thing seemed like some distant fuzz, some abyss that I could safely stare down and not even fathom the chance of being swallowed.
But not any more. Christ, not any more.
Death must feel like this. At least, death when it’s due, when you’ve reached a ripe old age. Cold, immense, but bliss beyond measure. A bliss more transcendent than sex. A slow but welcomed drowning into black oblivion.
Never mind the long, blatantly doom-laden titles. Listen instead to the mangled, warped distortion. It’s great. It’s so great. It’s the primal drone, stretched into a throbbing massage of miasma, mutilated . It is love, heavy and embracing, and it’s induced many a moan from me as it steadily, imperceptibly, then overwhelmingly smothers me. WINKIE shouldn’t need a fog machine when they play live, especially not for “My Eyes Are Closed When The Sun Comes Up” – between the icy synths and that savage drone, you can feel the mists closing in, enveloping everything. And, ohhhh, “The Line Up”. Ohhh, God. Those warbled sustains just kill me.
And OH MY BLOODY VALENTINE, “Sometimes”. It’s a track drawn from the ether, with ghostly guitars floating all around, while traces of bright synth accents stab through the fog. The pulsing bass that drives most of Winkie’s tracks fuels this one with a passion.
Now, not all of Winkie’s terrors assail you gently. “Illuminated” snarls with muscular brooding, pounding from all directions like a tune from Pornography. “Death At The Heart Of The Disco” also summons a thick, doom-laden beat – but ahhhh, now the fog descends upon us in double-folds, shifting now from silver to grey. This one’s a maze of smog, and if you’re not lost at first, you soon will be – and I tell you, it’s so lovely it hurts.
I can take or leave the lyrics – it’s the voice, the eerily pure and heavenly voice that floats gracefully over the blackening haze, that beckons like a siren to the weary Odysseus. Come, come hither. Come deeper into this maddening, razor-sharp fog, o listener. We know it’s a trick, we know that if we follow her, she will blacken out the sun and possibly even rob us of our life. But we follow, through the savage undulation of “The Safest Place Is Denial”, to the ominous and gloriously unsettling rattle of “Arrows” that ends the album, because we cannot grasp her, and because her traps have ensnared us utterly.
Winter will soon be here. Now’s the time to lose yourself in Winkie. Listen and buy their LP from their Bandcamp page.
Muuy Biien - What?! I haven’t raved yet about Athens’ prime punk bank? What a schmuck I’ve been!
Fortunately, little needs to be said. Anything much greater than 150 words would be unnecessary and totally lame.
So here’s the lowdown: Muuy Biien’s last LP, This Is What Your Mind Imagines, is a black-and-white kind of album. On the black side, they’ll smash your face in. Think the golden era of SST. Two-minute (or less) blasts of sheer nastiness. Frontman Josh Evens is no poser, either – he’s got the strut, the scream, the fuck-you charisma. And nothing is more quintessentially punk than lines like “I don’t like to deal with things/I just pretend they don’t exist” (“Something Rotten”) or, better still, “YOU’RE NOT FUCKING LISTENING” (“Forward Motion”).
Fortunately, little needs to be said. Anything much greater than 150 words would be unnecessary and totally lame.
So here’s the lowdown: Muuy Biien’s last LP, This Is What Your Mind Imagines, is a black-and-white kind of album. On the black side, they’ll smash your face in. Think the golden era of SST. Two-minute (or less) blasts of sheer nastiness. Frontman Josh Evens is no poser, either – he’s got the strut, the scream, the fuck-you charisma. And nothing is more quintessentially punk than lines like “I don’t like to deal with things/I just pretend they don’t exist” (“Something Rotten”) or, better still, “YOU’RE NOT FUCKING LISTENING” (“Forward Motion”).
On the white side, however, from out of the void, Muuy Biien create ambience. Humming drones, seas of hushed static, drifting echo. It pairs well with the edgier punk, really; indeed, it’s almost a different philosophy of punk, an anarchy of another sort, a rejection of the world created by quiet contemplation rather than rage.
Evans knows this. Muuy Biien’s latest EP, Withdrawn/I’ll Never Be The Same is that isolated punk, and the solace found from retreating inwards. It’s four tracks of absolute beauty, and it’s 100% free on Muuy Biien’s Bandcamp page. Of course, This Is What Your Mind Imagines is up there, too. And stay tuned, ‘cause their label HHBTM will be rolling out a new LP next year.
Evans knows this. Muuy Biien’s latest EP, Withdrawn/I’ll Never Be The Same is that isolated punk, and the solace found from retreating inwards. It’s four tracks of absolute beauty, and it’s 100% free on Muuy Biien’s Bandcamp page. Of course, This Is What Your Mind Imagines is up there, too. And stay tuned, ‘cause their label HHBTM will be rolling out a new LP next year.