you animal! tapes from mothers of the third reich and burnt to perfection

March 3, 2013 at 8:49 pm | Posted in new music, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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Mothers of the Third Reich – s/t

(C60 cassette, Swim Club, SWIM11, edition of 100 in hand made packaging)

Burnt to Perfection – Trippin Balls

(C65 cassette, Triangle Tapes, TT#1, edition of 50)

mottr tape on swim clubburnt to perfection - trippin balls

What with all the recent excitement here about *ahem* ‘new releases’ the review pile has been neglected.  This is a shame as over the last couple of months many of the earthy, knobbly objects presented at the kitchen door of Midwich Mansions have proved to be delicious musical truffles.  Whilst we wait for our baby to arrive (junior has now missed his or her launch date and thus will be fashionably late) I’ll try and dish up the tastiest for you.  First on the menu are two tapes of gonzo(ish) racket that have been languishing in the cupboard since January.  Mea culpa.

The Mothers of the Third Reich (hereafter MOTTR) offering contains excerpts from three gigs played in 2012 and totals about an hour.  The tape comes glued into an A4 sized page of odd plasticky material that has been (I’m guessing) spray painted through stencils and hand printed with the MOTTR logo.  A denim patch featuring the same logo is also included along with an insert featuring the details.  These are superimposed over an infamous photo of a blood-spattered guitar taken in the aftermath of one of the gigs documented.  Rock and roll!

It is tempting to to describe this as a balls-out free-rock blowout but that isn’t really a satisfactory reaction on closer and repeat listens.  There is a lot more than that going on.  It starts with subterranean rumbles, cavernous atmospherics and bursts of electrical skwee before a fee-fi-fo-fum plodding announces the arrival of something dragging itself towards the goat we’ve tethered under a tree as bait.  Violent clatter, howling and a stomping rhythm suggest another troll trying to break into a shipping container to get at the tasty car tyres stored inside.

Onto side two.  Picture members of a Chinese opera company, bitten and turned during a zombie apocalypse, stumbling down the stairs to a basement jazz club where they join the undead musicians there in an unholy improv session.  Cymbals crash, saxophones squawk and honk.  There are contemplative sections but dark, grimly fascinating, almost panic-inducing as whispered spoken word and detuned bursts of chaotic electronics puncture the reverie.  As if the object of contemplation was something like Fucking Hell by Jake and Dinos Chapman.  This is substantial stuff and I like it very much.

Visit Swim Club here.  Buy here.

Now just a brief account, as it is already sold out, of Trippin Balls by Burnt to Perfection.  A red cassette is squeaked into one of those puffy plastic cases that ZX Spectrum games used to be packaged in.  It is accompanied by a hand-stamped inlay and has the terrific psychedelic cover pictured above.  Sent to me in trade by the charming Marc Roberts of hardcore tape-only (“analog rules.  keep it reel”) label Triangle Tapes this features just over an hour of noise improv recorded under the influence of magic mushrooms.  As you might expect, given the circumstances of its production, there are long periods of indulgence but there is also plenty to recommend it too.  Let’s face it: if indulgence was a crime this blog wouldn’t exist, nor would much of what is reviewed here.  Lolz.  Anyway, this carries a satisfyingly fried atmosphere throughout.

A howling whistle, part Arctic wind whipping the tundra, part deflating balloon alerting us to its dismal fate, is replaced by a guttural augmented growl.  An incinerator roar, a machine rumble, forms the baseline and is whipped into an oily froth by squiggly electronics, pared back to bare tape hiss, then piped in again as the peaks and troughs of the mushroom buzz open and close the mental valves controlling the flow. Clatters echo, the deflating balloon becomes a swarm of agitated robot wasps, a giant grain silo is sluiced out and refilled with gravel.

Sadly, this is no longer available but why not check out the other stuff going on at Triangle Tapes?

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