Although this may disrupt the typical peaceful vibes here on the Tome, this band is crucial. Monitor Lizard is a crushing six-piece hardcore band from Cincinnati, OH. And honestly, I have never seen the Queen City so meticulously detailed than in this group's debut video. Giant crocs, dinosaur-aliens, pterodactyls, misfiring laser guns, murderous triceratops...Don't even get me started. Shit's real in these streets. We don't play. Neither do Monitor Lizard. Except when they do. And it's awesome. Enjoy.

Download Jaws 4 for free...or for money

Videodrone brought to you by Ryan H.

Thursday, October 30th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)
From Ashes Come the Day

The vs. in the pairing of these two fine musicians throws me off a bit. Vs. would indicate two individuals in some sort of competition or in competition with one another. Like Man vs. Food. But in From Ashes Come the Day neither Montreal-based, Constellation-associated Eric Craven (Drophead) and the Austin, TX, Holodeck-running Jonathan Slade (Silent Land Time Machine) do not sound like they are in any sort of vs. situtation. Instead each give and then pick up where the other left off. An army of guitar drones gathering intensity only to be paired with an even more intense bowed violia. Clouds of stringed instruments buzzing in fragmentary impatience until a heavily processed guitar cracks the sky leaving chemtrails of decaying reverb to descend on our crops and settle in on our clothes. 

This sort of push-and-pull in and out of shared sonic spaces make this album seem impossible that it was recorded in two separate countries - the bulk of this album being shared via e-mail and built up fragment-by-fragment instead of inside a dank recording studio with instruments strewn all over the floor. This fact only gives more of an air of mystery to this record.

Craven, who has made a name for himself playing with some of the gloomiest and most adventurous artists on Constellation Records roster (HRSTA, Hangedup) plays with a sort of reverence and awe of that knife ridge between dissonant and bracing and cavernous tunnels of guitar sound that swallow entire afternoons. Slade, who also runs in an equally tight and ambitious scene, aids and abets Craven's guitar lines when they race towards noisy crescendos and then guides an cajoles through synth/string led passages of soothing drones and sustained tones (always with dissonance and the promise of the viola's jagged teeth somewhere in the background). Actually, I have no idea how this record was made. It is too tight, to self-aware to really lend itself to detailed parsing out and role assignment. Taken as a whole, this is a monolith of sound worthy of repeated listening and detailed note taking. Another notch in Holodeck's bedpost.

Wednesday, October 29th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)

*Heligator Records is a non-profit record label run by Tome to the Weather Machine founder Ryan Hall. It exists to continuously fund a library at the Malindza Refugee Camp in Mpaka, Swaziland.*

I remember being at a Stag Hare show years ago, listening as thick, syrupy drones slowly coalesced into a heavy, beat-driven crescendo. Most of the audience, myself included, took some time to come out of the deeply-felt meditative trance Stag Hare's soothing tones had pulled us beneath. Someone in the audience, a bit incensed at the rest of his peers, yelled out "come on! This is dance music!".

That it is.

Kinetic energy bridges that gap between body and mind. Flailing limbs are more effective than head nods to expedite this process. "Star Valley" follows this similar trajectory. Long pulls of peaceful drones over strummed major chords, buzzing synths crackle like telephone lines. Then the beat drops. "Star Valley" is reborn.

"Come on! This is dance music!"

We are lucky enough to Stag Hare donate a track to Heligator Records to assist the cause of continuously funding the library at the Malindza Refugee Camp in Mpaka, Swaziland. We caught Garrick at a particularly prolific time. HIs three-part series just dropped (staghare.bandcamp.com) and "Star Valley" takes elements from each tape and weaves them together into this glowing tapestry. A wizard's cloak full of sacred geometric symbols.

All proceeds go to maintaining the Malindza Refugee Camp Library. To find out more about the cause please visit the Malindza Refugee Camp blog at: www.malindzarefugeecamplibrary.blogspot.com

Tuesday, October 28th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)
Rrest

When you stepped into the bright light of a matinee exit after spending your twenties cloaked under thick bathrobes, alone in your room waiting for Black Metal records to come in the mail and printing out pictures of cult leaders to hang on your wall, do you remember what was playing? That moment when you stepped into the sun and your shadow burned against the wall behind you, and you squinted, barely able to make out the one-story buildings and pitubull owners in wifebeaters crossing the street. That moment when your legs passed the requisite 30 or so steps from computer to bathroom on fresh, abalone-speckled pavement. Well, in case you were curious as to what that sound was, that was the last four-five minutes of Rrest's B-Side. It was playing then and it is still reverberating in your ears. Because those guitars are purified missives of light. Soul-cleansing, atom rearranging particles that go deep to remove even the toughest stains. Up to that arcing, ascending crescendo, the Olympia duo took you through the equivalent of a hushed conversation between two seraph facing each other, each guarding a cadre glowing buttons, knobs, guitars, violins, all neatly packaged inside a pinewood ark of the covenant. Except this holy of holies didn't melt your waxen face (at least not much) when it was opened, instead it caused you to grow up a bit, get outside while there was still nice weather and call your mom you hadn't spoken to in a while. Placid guitar passages, sampled spray-paint cans, sounds blowing and knocking around whatever detritus it comes across. the roar and whine of processed guitar and a few choice, ruddy violin lines. These sounds proceeded what came next. A distinct rediscovery of yourself in the brief flash of Arc Angel's gaze - sword in hand. Your shadow imprint left behind is you: not cowering, but fists balled with resolute determination to start your exodus through the barrio, financial district, gentrified skids, beautiful mountains with undrinkable water until you clear the smog, hit the desert and keep walking. That sound still ringing in your ears.

Monday, October 27th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)

Five years ago this month Salt Lake City based musician, Skyler Hitchcox AKA Silver Antlers (now operating under Artistic Violence), dropped his first proper record. 2009 was a heady time in Salt Lake City amongst a tight-knit group of experimental musicians. In Salt Lake City, as I am sure in any city with an oppressive monoculture, there is a strong counter-culture that is built up in opposition and defiance to the dominant culture. Fighting against something builds camaraderie as any gains are generally hard-won. I'm no SLC historian, in fact only a transplant for about five years for college, but this sentiment seemed to embolden SLC punk/metal pioneers in the 80's-90's. Growing up in Denver I heard crazy stories of the outright violence of Provo's straight-edge scene and had heard Iceburn's blistering jazz-based hardcore on Revelation Records. By the time I got to SLC in 2006 it was a pretty dead scene. A lot of alt-country, a lot of screamo and a whoooole lot of misanthropic metal acts by 80's/90's punk holdovers.

SLC's prominent experimental musicians (I don't think it ever grew to anything resembling a "scene") came from unlikely spaces, mainly SLC's suburban north. Northern SLC is an interesting place. Hard-scrabble, economically depressed mining towns butt up next to upper middle class tract home suburban sprawl. There were literally wrong sides of the track. I never got the sense that these kids from up north embraced the violent reactive rebellion of SLC's punk forefathers. Rather, they were self-actualized enough to create art completely separate from either prevailing culture. They simply did it. What grew out of that small band of young musicians were several musical statements, that looking back, seem incredibly prescient and musically astute beyond the relatively young years of these musicians.

I met Skyler outside of a cancelled Owen show outside of the Avalon. We saw each other around, mostly at Kilby Court (I don't think he was 21 at that point) and I saw him perform under his moniker as "Mothers of Sons" a time or two either at Kilby or house shows. A few years later, when Black Blood of the Earth dropped I don't think I quite grasped how good this is. I wrote a glowing record review in my typical hyperbolic style. But listening to this record five years later, I am only now understanding its weight: not just for a young 20-something, but as a musical statement of intense focus and personal expression. This thing is way heavier and noisier than I remember. Listening to it now, out of context from the rest of the music that was coming out of SLC at that time, it takes on a new dimension. Maybe I am in a darker place than when it first came out in 2009. 2009 was a great year for me. I had just gotten married a few months before, I was about to graduate college and the elements of what has blown into a pretty major faith crisis were only starting to materialize.

Silver Antlers always seemed a darker foil to a lot of the lighter drone/beat based ambient music that characterized seemed to characterize SLC at that time. Black Blood of the Earth is full of some really intense moments. These come in the slightly-off tribal drums, distorted guitar loops and oscillators that turn the crescendo of "VI" into an Argento film soundtrack on a Bardo Pond bad-trip. Amanda Mae Hancock's violin reaches pinnacles of Warren Ellis-like ability to set desolation mood pieces. There's a choral outro!?

The album is a beast. A dark side of the prism of SLC's nu-new age. A clear-eyed statemenet of purpose that was criminally overlooked at it's time. I interviewed Skyler to see where he was at five years after his debut and where he is at now.

Tome to the Weather Machine: Black Blood of the Earth was released five years ago. 2009. Can you tell me a little bit about where your head space was at when you released it? Where were you at personally. What was going on in your life that may have played a role in its overall sound/direction.

Skyler Hitchcox: I had actually been very recently broken up with after a nearly 2 year relationship. If I recall correctly, I pressed record on the first movement of the album only a few days after the whole thing had dissolved. I was sad, confused, and needed
something to pull my brain out of that world. The album was a good escape to let me enter a strange world that I'd dreamt about a few times. This was the soundtrack to my newly alone and confusing world.

TTTWM: I remember 2008-2009 as a specifically prolific time for SLC artists.
What was in the air around that time that may have contributed to BBOTE. Did other SLC artists influence the album's sound?

SH: It was a great time for people working at the time. This was RIGHT after A. Star records had decided to throw in the towel and Moondial was starting to get real.
Me and a few friends (Aye Aye people, Stag Hare, Tenants of Balthazar's Castle) all got together, had a few drinks and screen printed all of the sleeves in my parents' garage in Nowhere, Utah. It was really fun. Simple. There seemed to be this feeling
among a lot of us (maybe just me) that things were about to change. Stag Hare's Black Medicine Music was really exciting me. Tenants' had The Moon. I had that split with Seven Feathers Rainwater. Everything was right on track. Good friends were putting out really inspiring pieces of art.

Andrew (Aye Aye), Garrick (Stag Hare), Michael (Tenants), Casey (Cult Leader) and my pal Amanda actually all contributed.

TTTWM: Going back and listening/remastering with fresh ears, what stands out to you? Anything that makes you pat yourself on the back or cringe?

SH: I feel like, and always have, that the last 15 minutes of the album are some of the strongest moments I've had (and will?) as an artist. Sometimes when I listen back to this album there are moments where I don't feel like I wrote it at all. Almost like amnesia.
By that, I mean I remember writing it and recording it, but it doesn't entirely feel like me. At the risk of sounding really corny... I feel like someone or something had spoken through me for those few brief moments.

TTTWM: What was the response locally/blogospherically when it came out?

SH: I honestly don't think very many people cared. It wasn't something people talked about or wrote much about. I was just glad to be done with it. It felt nice to finally have a sigh of relief and mentally say to myself, "We can move on now..."

TTTWM: What has changed since the release of BBOTE? Have any of the circumstances that led to the album's inception changed and in what way?

SH: At this point I'm less interested in my own life. My struggles are much less important on a worldwide level. I'm now more interested in other people's lives. These are the kind of things that I want to write about. Hundreds of children going missing, gay-bashing,
true sadness, etc. Real world problems rather than me being bummed that it took 20 minutes to get pizza. If I have a voice, I feel I need to use it. The world is a wreck and we're all sinking together. Let's at least acknowledge that and sink together if we have to.

TTTWM: Future plans for releases now that Silver Antlers is dead?

SH: Well, like you said, Silver Antlers is dead. I'm now making music as Artistic Violence. I'm hoping to have my first album, My Love For You Is Slowly Drowning, out early next year. Hopefully sooner, but hope in one hand (as they say). Thanks for your time!

Listen to/purchase Black Blood of the Earth here:

Wednesday, October 22nd, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)
Snake Hymns

After digesting the news this morning, Snake Hymns seemed like a natural choice to ruminate on those feelings that things probably aren't getting better. These are desolate soundscapes full of surging delayed guitars, forlorn and windswept washes of drone that drift like worried fire through an empty prairie and a sense of unease that sits on these tracks like a pregnant carrier jet. Full of decaying magnetic tape that sputter out and fall apart in the span of a song (the artifact killing the music), distant guitar lines seeping up from the basement and swooping, carrion saxophones, Snake Hymns also employs bright, technical acoustic guitar twinning on "Greek Lightning" that are reminiscent of Columbia, MO trio Nevada Greene. But left to its own devices, this is the kind of music that we face down in the light of bright, florescent introspection. It carries enough weight and enough space to tie you to this plane, and sheer and shimmering enough to provide a reflective surface to stare yourself down. Snake Hymns, however, after informing you that this is real life - that this is serious - has enough silver around its edges to offer a glimpse of an escape route. "Awake, Awake, Awake" is a response back. A simple three-note melody, a chord played on an organ and then some impossibly light and shimmering electronic guitar descending from on high with healing in its wings. This is music that should accompany every news segment on every channel. Enough to keep us from freaking out, pensive enough to inspire introspection and wearied, measured responses to the question, "will we ever stop tearing ourselves apart?". Phew. Monday mornings are rough. Snake Hymns make it bearable. I can honestly say this is one of the best things I've heard all year.

Ryan H.

Purchase here from Spring Break Tapes!

Monday, October 20th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)

 

ØjeRum - There is a Flaw in My Iris

We will kick this off with my favorite tape in this bumper crop of fine music from around Europe as curated by Portugal's A Giant Fern. ØjeRum is a Danish composer of feather light compositions comprised of acoustic guitar and voice, usually accompanied by field recordings or auxiliary noise. What he can do with this limited palate is astounding. From the first down stroke ØjeRum creates space where feeling wistful and nostalgic and all sorts of ennui is appropriate and welcome. The space between those barely strummed guitar lines are mile-wide chasms to hurl all your insecurities about the future and in return get back memories of being brave. ØjeRum's voice, a deeply understated thing, often sounds like it was recorded in another room or right up close, whiskers scratching the mic. This immediacy and intimacy make this album so familiar sounding although it comes from multiple time zones away. Getting this tape in the mail is the equivalent of finding a t-shirt from your home town in a thrift store thousands of miles away. The usual questions come up, but you are just happy to see something familiar. Fans of Padang Food Tigers and Lake Mary will dig this.

Micromelancolié - Ensemble Faux Pas

Polish ambient-drone artist, Micromelancolié, creates sparse, three-dimensional recordings that pulse and crackle with expectant dread and tension. Side A of this tape is all waiting. Hands taped to a chair while the sky gathers black, sick looking clouds.Wind chimes that are intended to sound soothing pierce through a thick silence. Magnetism going haywire in an inky, green sky. These tones are patient. Splayed out across miles and miles of farm land. Listen to them loud enough and they transcend atmosphere, creating submerged and inherent melodies while thunder rumbles somewhere off the East Coast. A tropical storm waiting to be flattened by the plains. Side B, that storm hits sometime past midnight. Long, droning horns announce its arrival. It doesn't come in a harsh-noise onslaught, but rather a slow build of woodwind instruments, bells and distinctly ominous tones that pass over like the angel of death, leaving an uneasy sense of calm in its wake. A single bell chimes in a church we huddle in for safety. Ensemble Faux Pas is full of these fantastically eerie tones and sustained melodies that keep your ear always crooked towards the speaker in anticipation/dread.

The Hidden Persuaders - The Bone Forest

"Night's Black Agents", tho. Seriously. A distillation of Wolf Eyes short-blast harsh-noise with the melodic, ominous post-industrial tonality of Ben Frost. I realize I'm pulling out some big guns for comparison, but to me, nothing gets better than this. Noise that has distinct parts, plenty of slack space, ace sound-design that incorporates field recordings of everyday sounds being turned into terrifying trips to the abyss. The Bone Forest follows this lead for much of the tape. Andreas Brandal is able to successfully marry dark and noise-laden that burst and bloom into speaker destroying stabs of contact mic/black noise with melodic undercurrents that provide a placid noise-floor that is never completely enveloped by the face-stabbing shards of harshness. Tracks like "God Beast" are crackling, static-filled passages full of oscillating synthesizers and the strange hum that rattles through one's body after standing beneath power lines too long. The Bone Forest incorporates harsh-noise, industrial synthesizers and percussion, goth bass lines and long-form drones to create something wholly blackened and sinister but completely listenable.

Roadside Picnic & Charles Barabé - Worn Paths in Crown Dust

Lastly this brings us to this collaborative tape between Roadside Picnic and Charles Barabé. An hour-long descent into swirling, ambient passages, bugged out electronics, contact-mic scrapings, dripping, feeding field-recordings and long drone pulls that scrape and drag across dirty basement floors. A sweeping, all-encompassing, diving, droning, pitch-shifting push and pull between two artists sharing similar sonic space. Both sides of the tape cover an incredible amount of terrain, fucked electronic passages bleeding into ambient segues blending into power electronics down-tuned and slowed waaaaay down. It is safe to say, there are tones on this tape that have never been recorded before and will never be recorded again. Hours of tinkering meets on-the-fly improvisation that yields frighteningly astute results. This is a tape I've been trying to shake for a week or two now, but I always find myself stuck in the middle of some passage. Trying to find my way out of whatever hellish miasma/stuck between stations noise that beckoned me to dip my toe into. Now completely submerged I may never come up for air. Highly recommended.

Friday, October 17th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)
Sun Tribes

Tome to the Weather Machine is proud to premiere a new video by Brisbane, Australia artist Benjamin Thompson who operates under the name Pale Earth. This halting, sea-sick track is filled with keyed-up Eastern vocal samples and deep, adjacent percussion that have the same audio depth of a door being slammed really hard in another part of a large, Victorian mansion. When these are folded in somewhat reliably into the glitching, VHS-on-pause scanning lines of the milieu of this track the entire thing takes on bodily, rhythmic lurch that slams your chest into the desk you are writing at. Keep your eyes trained to the screen of something that is either an appropriation of a direct-to-video Malaysian crime thriller or some startling found footage. The fist-fight around 2:00 looks waaaay too realistic, but then the dissolve (at that exact perfect moment) brings us back into artifice. It is impossible to tell. So much guilt and sadness in these faces. Spider-bite or gunshot? Bordello or convent? Do these distinctions matter?

You can purchase Pale Earth's new record over at A Guide to Saints.

Pale Earth - Sun Tribes from ROOM40 on Vimeo.

Videodrone brought to you by Ryan H.

Thursday, October 16th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)
8

Halasan Bazar's brilliant 2012 cassette How to Be Ever Happy has finally been given the proper re-issue vinyl treatment on Moon Glyph. I say finally somewhat ironically, but re-listening to this treasure of an album is to shake with rage with the thought of people not listening and loving this record. Halasan Bazar creates perfectly hazy, dark psychedelia that simmers and shines a dull glow under a blanket of fragmented hiss. To remind everyone how good this band is, Halasan Bazar has teamed up with French band Tara King th., and in the snowbound village of Le Chambon-sur-Lignon, came together to create from scratch, a startling recreation of late-60's/early 70's baroque psychedlia that sounds impossibly faithful and forward thinking.

Halasan Bazar's music and songwriting has often been relentlessly inward and dark, wrapping despondency in shuffling, wistful tracks that often crack under the weight of their emotional weight. On 8, Fredrick Eckhoff can still pen some devastatingly bleak verses, but under the light chanteuse spell-craft of Beatrice Mourel Journel joining him as counterpart or foil to his morose deep, drawl, these lines are often given a new dimension of creepiness. Like looking into a mask with no light behind the eyes. In "Rot Inside" with its spaghetti western meets southern California drug-addled organ lines, Eckhoff and Journel trade some pretty desperate lines about complete emotional dependency. The sick wheeze of the organ track this despondency well, conjuring images sunchoked desert landscapes bad-trip motorcycle rides into the foreboding small towns. In "TK16 pt. II" Journel is able to contort her voice to mimic some unbidden spirit possessing a phonograph, while Eckhoff spills his guts to some departed lover. "Cover" and "Try their Best" are light-touch and sun-drenched, full of warped guitars, precise percussion interplay and, in "Try their Best" a barn-burning organ drone that probably stripped the wallpaper on whatever ancient farmhouse they recorded this in.

Extended into a sextet for this record, Halsan Bazar and Tara King th. find rooms full of slack sonic space to fill with equal parts longing and wonder. Next to their reissued record and their equally brilliant Space Junk on Crash Symbols, 8 is a record that extends their downcast psychedelia into unmediated realms of intricacy and baroque complexity and tunefulness. Hard to think of a better calling card for each band.

Tuesday, October 14th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)
Ruleth

The word "sequence" can be tagged onto any of these linear, pulsing synth jams and stick. For those of us growing up on well-worn VHS copies of 80's and 90's dystopian science-fiction movies, these evocative, slightly warped drum machine and synth compositions signal a moment of heightened cinematic tension. Moments that signified a distinct break from reality, sounds divorced from real-world enough to remind us we are in a manufactured reality. I guess synthesizers did for 70's-90's what oscillators and theremins did from the 50's-60's. In "Ruleth" these moments of heightened tension within a slightly less-real world come in rapid succession. There are sped up tempos and staccato synth lines we associate with a chase sequence on tracks like "Ruleth", a track that ties these elements in with washes of harsh digital noise and disembodied vocals. Similar taggings can be applied to the first track on the B-Side of this record, "Ashes". Head-nodding canter beat with some heavily pawed syrupy-thick synth lines with the screed of breaking tapes washing like a cold, mercury-tinged wind across the track. Not sure if this is cannonized in the film lexicon, but "Ashes" holds all the unworldly dread of the "coming robot apocolypse sequence" of the Terminator 2 first-person shooter arcade game. This is a brutal, droning track with beats as brittle as the snap of skull under a tank. They come with machine gun frequency/intensity. Though never to let us wallow in darkness forever, que the "dream sequence" of tracks like "Dreamwaves" and "timeghosts. These are soft-focused and billowing with deep, melodic synth pulls and upper-register float. José Cota's expansive, cinematic palate - balancing intense darkness and stark, naked light of a sun rise through twisted metal of a burnt out city - makes a case for Holodeck Records as a location for uniformly awesome synth-based music to be played well past the apocolypse. Highly recommended.

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Ryan H. 

Wednesday, October 8th, 2014 | Add New Comment (0)