I have spoken at length about the incredible talent in my area. From widely celebrated acts like Cloakroom and Locktender to more underground sleepers like analecta and Jagalchi.
Add to that list the juggernauts Arcem from Valparaiso, Indiana, an hour and some change west of me. They offer the sort of massive, sludgy, post-metal that you might expect to hear emanating from Scandinavia, not the small Indiana basement I first heard them in.
If Alcest had hung it up after Ecailles de Lune in 2010, there’s a good chance they would have still been recognized as one of the most influential bands in metal. After all, they were the founders of the Blackgaze movement that Deafheaven imported stateside, inspiring legions of copycats. In many corners of metal’s various subgenres, it’s impossible to escape the French pioneers’ influence. Their name has been printed on more hype stickers for other bands than just about anyone I’ve ever seen.
But amazingly, not only did they continue past that masterpiece, but they’ve released a few more since. While Shelter’s more subdued palette may have disappointed fans of their harsher side, each record since then offers a strong contention to being called their best.
Maybe it’s recency bias, but Les Chants de l’Aurore (French for The Songs of Dawn) might actually offer the most compelling argument.
Few bands have had the run that The Flaming Lips had between The Soft Bulletin and The Terror. They managed to several albums of remarkably consistent quality while also sounding nothing alike, traversing from baroque symphonic rock to technicolor glam pop to dystopian psych freakout. While you could easily credit their entire body of work as one of the most singular and inventive careers in music, that period is one of my favorite runs of album in any discography.
I’ve lost track since. I said to some friends recently that I missed when The Flaming Lips were good. It’s maybe more accurate to say that I’ve been unable to keep up with the deluge of projects well enough to sort the inconsequential experiments from the proper albums. But out of this haze, American Head emerges with a seismic scope that combines the best parts of their disparate threads into one immense and gorgeous whole.
As compulsively as I buy records, if vinyl copies of an album are prohibitively expensive, it’s often easier to pretend it just doesn’t exist. But when you’re dealing with a record as monumental as Converge’s Jane Doe, that ignorance is pretty hard to feign. It is a singular masterpiece in the world of heavy music, offering up a record that is superlative in every aspect—including asking price.
But my wife and I have been working our asses off lately, and we decided we deserved to give ourselves a bonus. The first thing I did was head to Discogs to see what legendary and outrageously priced record I might finally be able to afford. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. And even as much as I paid for it (not quite a hundred, but close enough to sting), it’s worth every penny.
A lot happened in the year between John McLaughlin’s first album as band leader and his second. Extrapolation was recorded in the UK right before moving to the States to join Tony Williams’ Lifetime. By the time Devotion was recorded, he had also recorded three groundbreaking records with Miles Davis, served as a sideman for Larry Coryell, and had a single all-night jam session with Jimi Hendrix.
That’s a lot to fit in a calendar year, and this disc carries the full weight of it.
I have spoken at length about the opposing camps within the history of post rock: Team Mogwai and Team Tortoise. It seems that by and large, Team Mogwai has been the victors. These days, the term generally refers to the dramatic, climax-chasing narratives of bands like Explosions in the Sky, This Will Destroy You, and MONO.
But across the pond from the Glaswegians, you have Tortoise, whose compositions are more groove oriented, taking nods from jazz, Krautrock, and dub. Bands like Collections of Colonies of Bees, Bark Psychosis, and Do Make Say Think.
As much as I love the emotionality and bombast of the climaxcore side of post rock, I often find myself being drawn to the more cerebral side. So when I found this copy of DMST’s celebrated You, You’re a History In Rust in a used bin, I snagged it without a thought.
I’m not sure how it’s taken me this long to add this record to my collection. Back when Enema of the State shockingly wound up on the Top 40, I was a blossoming punk who was a firm adherent that any band’s earlier stuff was always better.
While I’ve since learned I was wrong about that, you can probably understand why Cheshire Cat would have solidified that idea for me. While its decidedly less mature than their pop breakthrough and lacks the technical drumming prowess of Travis Barker, this record nails blink’s juvenile humor, teenage angst, and raw energy in a way that they never quite topped.
I’m not reviewing records for other sites quite as much these days, but when I did, it was often a huge exercise in self control to not buy ever record I listened to. It’s still a mystery to me how I would decide to buy some records but not others, but it was not a foolproof system, and sometimes I erred.
One of the more grievous errors was to not buy Time in the Lighthouse, the debut of Michigan post-hardcore 84 Tigers, an act whose members’ resumes include Small Brown Bike and Swellers. In fact, I bought this record only after re-reading my own glowing review.