#mutilatred

Mutilatred — Determined to Rot (Redefining Darkness Records)

Determined to Rot by Mutilatred

Who picked it? Jonathan Shaw

Did we review it? Yes, Jonathan wrote “Most of Mutilatred’s music has all the subtlety of a baseball-bat beatdown on parking-lot asphalt. But they can craft a somewhat more complex experience when they wish.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

Whoa! As an outburst of performative pique, I can dig Determined to Rot, a relentless shit show of an album for a relentless shit show of a time, a point Jonathan made far more eloquently in his review. It’s an exhaustive and exhausting experience and Mutilatred’s frustrated rage is magnificent in small does but as a whole too overwrought to take completely seriously. The deliberate ugliness pummels any message into oblivion and you’re left aurally battered by a bloke bellowing the bleeding obvious over an impressive battering ram of a rhythm section and a sludgy mess of riffage. It‘s like daily doom scrolling; we all know things are bad and perhaps we need reminding that wallowing ain’t action or redemption but Mutilatred provide neither release nor comeuppance. Those drums though.

Andrew Forell

 Overmono — Cash Romantic (XL)

Cash Romantic by Overmono

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? Nope

Ray Garraty’s take:

The first couple of tracks here are perfect dance floor material, drum’n’bass-y techno or techno-ish drum’n’bass with some extra flourishes. The next two tracks, “Gfortune” and “Bone Mics,” are variations on Burial (yes, again), and if they don’t feel particularly new, they still provide a needed change of pace after the more danceable songs. “Phosycon,” the final track, makes the whole EP a pleasurable listen. Overmono’s use of a glitching vocal sample turns the cut into the atmosphere of a weirdo disco; it’s too mutant to dance to, but delicious for anyone who is tired of thousands of bands that churn out the same music, varying only the titles. 

 Pan•American — The Patience Fader (Kranky)

The Patience Fader by Pan•American

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No, but Tobias Carroll reviewed his previous record A Son in 2019 and said it made “a convincing case for why Nelson has had such an enduring presence in the ambient/drone/slowcore space.”

Ian Mathers’ take:

Mark Nelson is a musician who’s work I’ve enjoyed but haven’t explored much (and have always meant to, whether on his own as Pan•American or as part of Labradford). Honestly the last Pan•American record I really dug into was 2000’s 360 Business/360 Bypass, and that was because Alan and Mimi from Low sung one of the songs there. I knew not to expect the ambient dub atmosphere of that record from this one, but maybe the biggest surprise for me is how consonant this work is with that entry from decades ago; something in Nelson’s tone or palette seem to hold no matter the instruments or genres he works with. There are some touches on The Patience Fader that hark back to earlier work (it’s kind of amazing what he does with a harmonica here, evoking both the use of melodica in dub and the uses Walt McClements put an accordion to on last year’s excellent A Hole in the Fence), but long stretches of this dusky, plangent LP seem to be constructed of just sparse guitar and pedal steel. It seems to exist somewhere out past both the Durutti Column’s gentler work and the KLF’s Chill Out and it is spellbinding. Nelson himself, in a song title, maybe sums up the feeling best: “Outskirts, Dreamlit.”

 Shane Parish — Viscera Eternae (Ramble Records)

Viscera Eternae by Shane Parish

Who picked it? Bill Meyer

Did we review it? Yes, Bill wrote: “This is music that invites both surrender and close listening, the better to feel carried away by an evolving stream of sound.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

Guitarist Shane Parish performs two riveting improvisations on Viscera Eternae. On the first “Hatching the World Egg”, he emphasizes the twang, buzz and sustain of steel strings, moving through a series of themes that build to a more percussive approach with total control of direction, dynamics and tone. “Touching the Silver Chord”, played on a nylon stringed guitar, is lighter with more of an emphasis on shorter melodic ideas that ebb and flow connected by a strong sense of progression. The clarity of Parish’s playing and musical intelligence illuminate both pieces and not a moment of their 20 plus minute run times feels superfluous or wasted. As a first experience of Parish’s work, this was a revelation.

 The Smile — A Light for Attracting Attention (XL) 

A Light for Attracting Attention by The Smile

Who picked it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes. Tim said, “Ultimately, whether The Smile spells the end of Radiohead feels beside the point when the music that Yorke and Greenwood are making at this stage in their career is this damned good. ” 

Bill Meyer’s take: 

Radiohead has never done it for me. While they sort of make sense in the abstract as a 21st century Pink Floyd, a massively successful popular music entity that introduces a few semi-popular sounds to the mainstream, and there’s no denying their record-making craft, I’ve never heard a song from them that I wanted to hear twice. So, give Thom Yorke and Johnny Greenwood credit for consistency; The Smile, their non-Radiohead band with Sons of Kemmet drummer Tom Skinner, has the same non-effect. While one can appreciate, for example, the way Skinner constructs an intricate percussive mobile around the popping guitar and nervous falsetto coo of “Thin Thing,” the quirky hooks just don’t snag and hold. “We Don’t Know What Tomorrow Brings” sounds like it wants to be an anthem for an uncertain time, but it feels too far away, too insulated, to provoke a response. And the blue eyed, gray skied ballads are really a bit of a slog. 

 Wayne616 — Grease Files (Still Grinding)

Who picked it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? No

Patrick Masterson’s take:

In a year where hip-hop has taken on the contours of Michigan’s influence more than ever, it seems important to highlight that a major attraction of the street raps emanating from Flint and, to a lesser extent, Detroit aren’t just the off-kilter rappers. But run that back a second: Wayne616, whose “greasy” sound began as Mannie Fresh- and Brick Squad-influenced backing beats for his own R&B crooning before he gave up life on the mic for one behind the boards (“I smoke too much for that” he said in an interview recently), isn’t even from those cities, instead pumping out as many as 30 beats a day from the other side of the state in Grand Rapids. This subtle but significant distinction matters less when his forces combine with two of the Great Lakes State’s finest, Rio Da Yung OG and Louie Ray — one the reigning king of the sound, the other ascendant after an unfocused early run. Grease Files technically is just a compilation of old songs Rio and Louie had lying around but hadn’t used yet, so you’re hearing a hunger in corners you might’ve expected one or the other to coast. And though their voices dominate the tape, Wayne also throws in what ought to be his calling card, YSR Gramz’s “Grease,” plus appearances from RMC Mike and Grindhard E on “Fake Sleep.” Anyone paying close attention to Michigan might know the dudes in the booth, but with Grease Files, Wayne616 shifts the focus to the ominous bell rings, fleet-footed snares and clipped cymbal crashes that back them. Slide in.

 Winged Wheel — No Island (12XU)

No Island by Winged Wheel

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes; Jennifer noted, “No Island would be a monumental achievement in any year, but its origins in difficulty, in anxiety, in separation and tedium make it even more stunning.”

Jonathan Shaw’s take:

Most folks know the highly quotable, front- and back-end bits from John Donne’s “Meditation XVII.” The celebrated devotional piece terminates with the gravid observation that mortality’s Bell “tolls for thee,” and it begins with the equally stentorian “No Man is an Island….” Winged Wheel’s pandemic-period record likely has both those things in mind: psychologically and spiritually impoverishing isolation, and all the too-present death. But the four players in the project also evoke a lesser-known line from Donne’s piece: “any Man’s Death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind….” Across their widely scattered COVID bubbles — in New York, Chicago, Detroit and Ohio — Cory Plump, Whitney Johnson, Fred Thomas and Matthew Rolin shared tracks and layered these songs into organic, pulsing, shimmering forms. In spite of the distances and the temporal dysjuncts, the musicians sound entirely involved with one another, in sync and in aesthetic accord. The emotional weight and socio-cultural dissonance of the past few years are registered (see especially the weirdo atmospherics of “Lasso Motel,” the mournful tones of “Stone Oaks”). But the record continues to find grooves and open, melodically inspired spaces that let the music speak. “Grey on Grey” has grim-sounding title, but you’ll keep coming back to its thrum and cosmic harmonizing. It feels good. It’s the sort of thing that will impel you back toward the world. 

 billy woods — Aethiopes (Backwoodz Studioz)

Aethiopes by billy woods

Who picked it? Andrew Forell.

Did we review it? No.

Tim Clarke’s take:

I haven’t felt this excited about a hip-hop record since Cannibal Ox’s The Cold Vein, way back in 2001. I’d registered a lot of buzz surrounding various billy woods albums prior to hearing Aethiopes, but this is even better than I could have hoped. Preservation’s production is masterful, employing a shifting and surprising kaleidoscope of dusty jazz and blues samples. Over this understated backdrop, woods and various guests lay down hypnotic flows that paint a vivid picture of urban communities rent asunder by poverty, addiction, and domestic tension. It’s a shadowy, stoned and mesmerizing forty minutes, thankfully free of the hip-hop clichés and braggadocio I often find so off-putting. Aethiopes is consistently great, but the one–two of “Christine” and “Heavy Water” is my standout portion of the record, especially when the rolling beat of “Heavy Water” starts up under Mike Ladd’s verse during “Christine”’s closing moments.

 Yard Act —The Overload (Zen F.C. / Island)

Who Picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? Yes, Tim Clarke said, “Smith’s words tumble out effortlessly in a colloquial, observational stream, with plenty of laugh-out-loud moments.”

Bryon’s take:

Earlier this year, I read Simon Reynolds’ Rip It Up and Start Again and Retromania back-to-back, which I feel prepared me for Yard Act’s dance-addled take on U.K. punk rock’s immediate aftermath. Whereas the post-punk revival of the early 00s missed out on decades of Internet-sourced cultural recycling, rock bands today — Yard Act included — can pull from multiple sources within the space-time continuum when crafting their sound. These lads capitalize on this ability, peppering The Overload with splashes of indie dance and its various offshoots. Vocalist James Smith is the primary draw here. He’s in no way related to the late Mark E. Smith, but his sinewy speak-singing comes across as if the Fall vocalist were cleaned up, dressed in his Sunday best, and dosed on pep pills. Lyrically, Smith tames post-punk’s political vitriol with a hefty dose of humor. Having his tongue planted in his cheek doesn’t really detract from the message at all, but the band’s bouncy rhythms and musical polish sure do soften the blow. Still, The Overload is a lot of fun.

Z Money — Back 2 the Blender (4EverPaidRecords)

Z Money · Back 2 The Blender

Who picked it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? Yes, Ray wrote that “His cadence ‘estrange,’ takes the over used hip hop words and lets them shine in the new light.”

Ian Mathers’ take: