Showing posts with label new zealand. Show all posts
Showing posts with label new zealand. Show all posts

Nov 21, 2019

WARM LEATHER "Manic Static" 7inch

Be it with bands such as Hasselhoff Experient back in the late 90s or the more recent combos such as BloodBags, guitar banger and howler of a maniacal sort Andrew Tolley always knows how to bring the heat. His latest trio, Warm Leather, continues to this that. It's leather that is more than warm, it is scorched and blistering.

While his previous combos always leaned towards a bent and twisted fringe of garage punk, this time around, the sound here is elephantine and metallic. Not heavy metal (though it is quite heavy) but more than able to do a lot of damage with a cold and crushing force.

"Manic Static" is more than just the title of the a-side. It's a solid descriptor. The riff that powers it is an elemental surf lick that's battered and bloodied from being dragged through some post-apocalyptic wasteland of a tattered hardcore and has become more energized because of it. The thud provided gives Tolly a rock-solid platform to stand on for his parched bellow to haunt all that hear it.


Even sicker and thicker is the flip's "Vocabulary" which resembles something like a Sub-Pop era TAD track with all it's layered peeled back to the core. Instead of overtly playing up some sawed-off shotgun toting/backwoods demoniac image to sell the song to the listener though, the unhinged clobber here is all that needs to be done to get the very disturbed vibe across.

Join the car crash set at Warm Leather's Facebook page.

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Oct 29, 2018

BLOODBAGS Sinister Deeds 7inch


The smearing of vital fluids that New Zealand's Bloodbags do all over this glob of wax is not for the chicken-livered.

Burly and brusque, slashes of jagged guitars flail and flash like a craggy blade in front of  broken down drums that sound like their being beaten with the firewood logs on "Elder Statesmen." Thoughts of Wire's Pink Flag come to mind but there is more of a feeling of having your head held down in an old metal barrel full of tiger milk. The howl of desperation in Andrew Tolley's voice does not sound like it is going to break into a dissertation of Barnett Newman's work or something of the sort either.

The ride that's "Dark Room Dick" is one on a rigid suspension, down some rocky roads that the ilk of the Honeymoon Killers and the Scientists trudged across using only the distant sound of war drums and the scent of death in the air as road maps.
Get transfused at Spacecase

Sep 7, 2017

The New Existentialists "Elton John" 7inch EP


Growing up sorta in the middle of nowhere, Flying Nun bands were like getting audio pen pals from a place that was familiar yet so distant and mystifying. In the early 90's though, I'd had grown out of touch with the label's tangible dispatches so I can't really compare the differences and similarities between what New Existentialist George D. Henderson has going on here and what he was up to in his other combo the Puddle.

Sleepy eyed in tempo "Elton John" finds daydreams about listening to records and singing along in a wistful and maundering tone. Guitars sibilate a trademark NZ misshapen jangle that dates back to at least the Clean and while a synth emanates a blurting a wobbly mist.


The ghost of Syd and perhaps a specter of, say, the Television Personalities hangs over the band sound without intruding too much. Sure, there's a common whimsical melancholiness in the sort of psych-pop that no doubt stitches them all together, but the bouncing and squishy trip into the earth that's side two's "Mystery Of The Worm" has them loping down their own leafy path.
Snag it at Spacecase Records

May 27, 2015

The TRENDEES "We Are Sonic Art"

     Back in my high school days calling someone a trendy was a blanket slam of disdain on the rich kids, the cheerleaders and anyone else that was deemed a follower or simply late to the game. Y'know, what they called in movies (though we never used the term much if at all) the Soshes.
     Us punk rockers urchins and new wave misfits did our what we could to avoid them. For the most part it was easy. We weren't invited to their parties and they kept out of the video arcade we claimed our turf in this small town.
     With vocals that sound flailing about like Mark E. Smith with his hair on fire while some guys re-imagine what Mordecai's College Rock album would sound like if they attempted to be Flipper taking a stab at doing pop songs on circular saws, New Zealand’s Trendees probably aren't getting invited to many rich kids pool parties.
     Right from go, "Power Waves", guitars caked in mud blare a feedback infested squall and drums that sound firecrackers shut inside an armored car go bang. From there uncontrollable musical spams herk, jerk and pant through cyclones of introspection like "Boring Party", rants while pissing on an electrical fence for "Small Town/Dressing Gown", drops acid at dawn on "Center Of Town" and "Concorde #3" so they can wait for a bad trip to happen and, for "Motorcycle (Make Loud Noise)", take the term Biker Rock way more literately than most by sounding like they are living right inside the tail pipe. 
thetrendees.bandcamp.com