THE NIGHT IS DARK AND FULL OF TERRORS: THRONES!!!!!!

There's not much more that can be said about Joe Preston or Thrones. If you've never had the pleasure of witnessing the one-man wrecking crew lay sonic waste to a room, I don't know what's up with you. Maybe that's harsh, but Preston has been flexing this blissful sludge since 1994. Granted he took an extended hiatus, but Thrones touring schedule since 2010 has been as merciless as his sludgy insanity. He seems to be everywhere.

Maybe I say that "not much more can be said" because Thrones is a difficult project to describe. One charismatic, light-hearted grizzly bear, bookended by enormous cabinets, snuggled by machines, and comfortably harnessed to his bass orchestrates a series of distorted, feedback-riddled, ominous, surreal, gutteral, grinding (adj., adj., adj.) songs that offer enough ingenuity and complexity to satisfy any noise, sludge, metal, punk, arty music fan out there. Thrones trudges through its own landscapes, carving out tectonic plates of brutal awesomeness.

Thrones recordings are consuming in their own right. There's a groovy jazz aesthetic that courses through all the slow heaviness. Live, however, is how you need to experience this. It's imperative. From the first crack of sound, it's a visceral journey like no other. Preston effortlessly erects an eerie (some say "witchy") ambiance that envelops the audience. There's a subtle give and take, but the music wins in the end. Lured by the basslines, Preston pied-pipers the audience through an intricate set that pushes the bounds of experimentation without sacrificing the crusty edge that provides for most of the nightmarish joy of feeling Thrones live.

Thrones just came off of an east coast tour with Floor, (with some envy-worthy dates that included VAZ, and Torche), played a recent show with the Need and Fed Ex, and is playing a host of shows this spring and summer. There's probably a lot more out there. Who knows?

I jumped out of my chair, hugged my girlfriend, and high-fived our cats and dogs when I read the email exchange between Josh Vanek and Joe that landed Thrones for Total Fest this year. It was, perhaps, one of the most beautiful series of communications that I watched unfold. I'll say "don't miss this set" more than a few times between now and then, and if I see you there, I promise to hug you only once.  
 
The day is bright and beautiful and full of hope:

INTRODUCING HOVERBIKES

The future is here: We have Hoverbikes! That is, the band from Oakland, which makes its inaugural stop in Montana this August. It takes about as much time to listen to its EP, So Far So So, as it does to boil pasta, which is just fine by me: Short, sweet, snappy pop.

Hoverbikes' affiliate band, Death Ray, will play Missoula June 3 at the VFW, so be sure to welcome them to Montucky.

Check out Hoverbikes on Bandcamp.
-Kate

SCRAMBLED POP MUSINGS: NUCULAR AMINALS

Portland's Nucular Aminals came through Missoula a few times in the past couple of years (Spruce street house in 2011, and with Slut River in 2012 -- supported by local darlings 10yoGF and Needlecraft, respectively). Admittedly, I missed them at the house show (it's summer and sometimes you could be at the house without ever entering the house. It was a nice yard), but the set at the Badlander was very impressive. Perhaps it was the fact that I hadn't seen a punk show at the Badlander for a few months or that the line-up was awesomely curated for a late summer show, but the melancholic pop of Nucular Aminals fit perfectly with the hunktastic fun of Needlecraft and the rawness of Slut River.

Much is made of the deliberate misspelling of their name, and, I occasionally have to fight my spell check and the damnit-they-made-me-sound-like-Bush feeling I get when I speak their name, but moving beyond that is really quite easy. With seven recordings under their belt (including a 2011 release on K Records) and fresh off a European tour, Nucular Aminals have steadily tweaked their petulant, minimalist, echoed melodies into a jubilant nihilism. The organ ties it all together, adding an odd moodiness to the reconfigured psych-grunge elements that are deeply rooted in their music. There's also a fair bit of silliness that infuses the songs -- like hanging out at a rainy beach party.

Their most recent releases, Start from an End (Self Released 2012) and Alice Day (Hovercraft 2012), push the laid-back grooves, allowing the haunting vocals to seamlessly flow along with the airy beats. In a way their songs remind me of odd eulogies, but the brattiness makes me think they're hanging hammocks over the graves.

TYMPANIC SHREDDING: MULTICULT

Multicult.

Multicult.

Multicult.

It's a name that we've been hearing for a while now. The Baltimore trio has been steadily garnering attention and praise (apparently, aside from one silly ass dude who seems stuck under some Big Black-Steve Albini rock). They've released a few recordings, and, in 2012, (Total bros and sisters) Sleeping Giant Glossolalia released Spaces Tangled. I plead some ignorance about this band. I'd heard the rumblings and listened to a few tracks from their 2010 S/T, but it wasn't until I saw the SGG's release last year that I did some more legwork, which basically meant hanging out on Multicult's bandcamp for about an hour. 

If Multicult is anything, it certainly isn't background music. Mulcult pieces together solid noise-rock jams with elements ranging from mathy / jazzy beats to straight-up abrupt hardcore. The record pushes up against abrasive, yet it doesn't sacrifice rhythm. The songs get stuck in your head, clawing and shredding your cochlear labyrinth, and leaving you in a blissful trance. In ways, Multicult feels paired down, but the trio offers awesomely constructed songs that allow for each component (drums, guitar, vocals, bass) to tangle around each other but without any of the sounds eclipsing the others. 

It's really very pleasing. 

Chaotic and technical at the same time, Multicult is infectious and overwhelming in their ability to split open tonal spaces and fill them with a technically sound blunt force.

LOTS HAVE BEEN DRAWN: ENTER MORDECAI

It's a profound pleasure to announce that those "small town losers" who need something to do, Mordecai, are putting things together to play Total Fest. Since the first time that I saw the Bodish brothers and "friend" play (2009, I think), I was completely blown away.

At this point, it seems silly to bring up their humble beginnings, but the fact that these dudes from Butte seemingly popped up from nowhere has always impressed me (more on this below). So a brief trip down my personal memory lane: Mordecai played the side room in the now defunct BSMT (not sure if this is the first time, but it's the one that sticks as the first time). From the first note, it was obvious that we were in for something special. The cramped room provided the perfect acoustics for their lo-fi, psych fuzz, Velvet Underground/Stooges style that weaves in and out of stability and coherence. Approving nods, winks, smiles, and "holy shits" were exchanged between me and virtually everyone I encountered. Throw in a Sister Ray cover that somehow seemed longer, more tangential, and more stoney than the orginal, and it was the perfect recipe for a mid-summer show, tucked away in the dark confines of a basement.

Now, in 2013, I think we're realizing just how good we had it. Here, in Montana, three young dudes played well beyond their years and, if you listen to all the chatter, well beyond their geographic boundaries. Thing is, that's all terribly wrong.

This is a tired discussion, but the internet has collapsed most of our traditional trajectories of time and space. For some reason, it's "odd" that a band like Mordecai sprouted from Butte, but it's not odd that, throughout the years, excellent music has erupted from small towns in Texas, Iowa, Pennsylvania, Montana, North Dakota, Oregon, etc. etc. etc. Before the internet, in spite of what some people may lead you to think, people made excellent music that didn't simply mimic what was spewing from big cities like New York, Chicago, San Francisco, and Los Angeles.

Yes, there was a world before the internet. Fanzines, skate mags, radio stations, friends, random dudes and dudettes helped small town kids create some seriously crazy, unique, experimental, genre bending shit that killed it.

So, with that, there is no reason to say that Mordecai came out of nowhere. They came from somewhere: a rich personal history, inquisitive journeys, mathematics, and some damn fine musicianship. It's a shame that they cannot play as often as we want them to. But, what isn't a shame is that they'll bring their psychedelic mutations back to Total Fest. Following last year's 7" on Wantage, they've released College Rock, which is as dirty and full of mutations as anything else that's out there. Solid jams that find a way to morph our collective memories into a newly formed and welcome reinterpretations of a mash-upped personal take on what came before them. Fresh atonal guitar with sneering vocals, solid bass and drum lines that grate at everything your parents loved, while celebrating it at the same time. It's as punk as it gets. Here is an old-ish jam:
Mordecai -- Composition 07082011 from Ed Shaw on Vimeo.

SOLID ATTITUDE: (FREAK) PUNKS NOT DEAD (HEADS? MAYBE...)

For the synesthetes, consider pouring a well-shaken snot-green, piss-yellow, and vomit-pink cocktail down the front of your shirt. Now imagine tearing the shirt off and wringing it out into the mouth of your bff. The look on your besty’s face is about half as good as Solid Attitude. Refreshing, no? 

If this description has left you feeling cynical: I am a shitty music journalist, sorey. I admit it: no amount of adjective-abuse will do a band that used to be called Viking Fuck (!) proper justice.

No? Try again, you say? Try harder? Ok, let's see if this works. 

Solid Attitude is shit-hot, arty, weird, and energetic as all get out. But it’s their singer, Mickey Shaw, that takes this, uh, birthday cake--which would otherwise “just” be awesome--and puts fucking awesome icing all over the top of it. Like all celebratory confections, the nuances are what make them so special, and every little squeal, sneer, or sob from Shaw is a little loving curlicue of frosting on my crappy simile’s inability to accurately describe it. I have, like, no clue what he’s saying, but the inflection and the idiosyncrasies of his half Darby Crash/half tattling neighbor kid splat (these may be exactly the same thing) are the sweet and sticky. This is, I believe, what is commonly referred to as ‘motivated selling.’   

Lucky for you, you don’t have to wait until TOTAL FEST to find out if I’m totally full of it (cake is what I’m full of, fyi). Their excellent record, BB GUN PICNIC,  is currently available for download at bandcamp (or check the tune out below). Clocking in at just under 20 minutes, it goes by pretty fast, but it’s just long enough that you can listen to it around 72 times in a day. 

PRONOUNCED "IZ/IZ:" IS/IS IS A BAND THAT IS PLAYING TOTAL FEST...IS

Generally speaking, I’m suspicious when bands describe their music by attaching some “new & clever” prefix to their chosen -core or -gaze. Call me silly for having high expectations, but I still dream of how glorious “SHITGAZE” could’ve been. Who knows? Maybe there will be a revival. 

But in the case of Minneapolis’ Is/Is, it doesn’t really matter if they’re serious or not when tossing about the term “witchgaze.” Sure, it’s funny as hell when taken out of context, but listening to their new single on Manimal Vinyl, there is a surprising amount of accuracy to the term. The “gaze” requirement is fulfilled quickly enough, as fans of big, cloudy guitars and lockstep rhythm-section grooving will note. This is industrial-strength shimmer, guys, primetime tunes for people who prefer the indoors year round. 

The case for “witch,” however, may be a little more difficult to make, which is why I recommend listening to the tune, "Shine Down," linked below. Play it loud and see if you don’t start spinning around your living room wondering where the hell all your incense went. Don’t have any? Fuck it. Put a pot on the stove and stew some eye of newt with a frog’s toes thrown in for bad measure. Pet store closed? Write PETA a fat "I'm Sorry" check and stir in your dissertation on Macbeth (surely something we all have sitting around). Dig on the incantatory gloss of the vocal melody, rolling like steam off of a weird-sister’s sickest green brew--then chug that glug and start feeling invincible. All tempting fate, pumped up on hubris and black majick. You might need to cool down with some baboon’s blood to keep your charm firm and good afterwards, but if you’re anything like me, you also need to treat yourself. You earned it, baby.

Check out their tumblr here and their bandcamp page here.