Getting our hands dirty on your behalf, Subterraneans showcases the best under-the-radar, underground and under-appreciated new music to have come to the Vulture’s attention each week.
That’s not music, that’s just noise! Sometimes the focus not so much on the send you a message, tell you a story etc.; sometimes no catharsis/outpour of wordy feelings (confused by a lack of wordy noises). Pure and simple: guitar wrestling on heroic scale, dying robots, tone worship and some total fucking shit.
Former Grey Daturas and Breathing Shrine: Bonnie Mercer. Not here really quite done justice, live Mercer dishes out sort of macho sorcery, beating her Jaguar into submission wringing feedback from it like wrestling an anaconda. ‘Bad Acid, Bad Job, Bad Amp’ feat. hypnotic chugging wall-of-Stooges guitar back’n’forth, plus shreds. See her solo when you can, or in more conventional role; riffs for sludgey/garage Melbs Dead River.
Courtesy warning from artist, pre-play parenthesis on bandcamp: this is ‘harsh noise’ it seems. Refund here really more sculptor than anything else, ‘Arctic Motor’ noise-line expands and contracts, opens and closes. Overall impression of helicopters crashing, giant robots (slowly) exploding, solid metal turning inside out, grey goo, apocalyptic etc. (without particular melodrama).
White Walls have words. Relative low in the mix though, better maybe focus on how amazing that first 0.45 sounds: crunching distortion charisma and atonal – bits of Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr ilk if the name/compare game is your thing, but more raw – sculptural as above. Regular gigs around Melb, next chance to see will be in support of Golden Plains Dinosaur Jr sideshow (if you got yer tickets pre-sellout).
This is harsh noise. Overtones tinted white nihilistic creates a static obscure layer, underneath it all the real activity: arctic winds, drones that twist and bend, sudden human (human?) yells and calls. Track #90 of a 97-strong album, Andrew McIntosh displays formidable endurance, if not respect for trad melodic approach. No on-a-plate narrative, no comfort sentiment. Sometimes too aggressive for taste aggregate no doubt, but it’s just noise.
If you make music – or know someone who makes music – and you reckon it’s time for life on the surface, advocate inclusion in next week’s Subterraneans via email@example.com
Tagged anaconda wrestling, Andrew mcintosh, apocalypse, arctic motor, bonnie mercer, Breathing shrine, dead river, feedback, for the time being, Grey daturas, Jaguar, Noise, refund, Total fucking shit, white walls