Moving now from one of heavy metal’s most celebrated champions to a hushed artist who calls her brand of music “Heaven metal” (but not in a Stryper way). Listening to Midwife’s output, it might seem like that tag is a joke. But while there isn’t anything obviously metallic (or even heavy) on Luminol, there are glints of sharpness glimmering in the muted, shoegazey atmospheres that betray a sensibility forged in the fires of heavy metal—and if you can’t tell by hearing, their place on the Flenser’s roster should fill you in.
Shoegaze
Record #968: Downward – The Brass Tax (2022)
Looking back, the marriage of grunge and shoegaze should have been a little more obvious. At first blush, it might not seem like the unwashed, clenched teeth noise rock of the Seattle Sound would have much in common with the dreamy, mumbling walls of noise of the Scene that Celebrates Itself. After all, what kinship can Slowdive have with Soundgarden?
But if you look further from the center of each scene, you start running into bands like HUM, Failure, and Swervedriver—or even, I don’t know, The Smashing Pumpkins. The ’90s were filled with bands that found a middle ground between each scene’s love of huge guitars and hiding pop structures under noise and atmosphere.
Record #967: Flying Saucer Attack – Flying Saucer Attack (1993)
Speaking of the intersection of ambient music and barely decipherable shoegaze, I realized recently that as often as they come up in conversations about shoegaze, drone, post rock, lo-fi, and other noisy scenes that tickle my brain in a nice way, I haven’t dug too deep into Flying Saucer Attack.
Of course, I’m familiar with them by reputation. I’ve even had a copy of Further for years. But my love for the project has not stretched out much beyond that one record. When I was reading about Belong for the last post though, there was an inordinate amount of comparisons to this, FSA’s self-titled record.
While Further is often lifted up as their most significant record, Flying Saucer Attack is much more song-based, implementing more substantial vocals and ubiquitous drum loops alongside the otherworldly ambient guitar experiments they’re remembered for.
Record #966: Belong – Common Era (2011)
As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve picked up a worrying habit in the last couple years: I’ve been sleep-record-shopping. I will often wake up to order confirmation emails for records I don’t remember buying. I’m now pretty sure it’s a side effect of my new ADHD meds, but it hasn’t been enough of a problem for me to want to do something. It’s like a little gift from myself, and even my subconscious self is aware enough to keep to a certain budget.
Well, usually anyway. I got some money for Christmas that Sleepytime Nat has decided should be used to splurge, and he bought two pretty pricey records—that I’ve never listened to, mind you—in the last couple weeks that have raised my eyebrow.
The real problem is though…it’d be a lot harder to be mad at him if he didn’t have such great taste. One record was Loss, by the excellent British post-metal band Pijn, and the other was this: Common Era by Belong.
Belong was, by all metrics, an ambient drone band. They had released a number of largely formless texture experiments a lá Brian Eno that were well received. Then, after a three year absence, they released a shoegaze record, complete vocals and pulsing drum machines. However, the songs aren’t too much more coherent than their other work.
Record #965: bdrmm – Bedroom (2020)
Any sort of appeal to nostalgia has a fair amount of revisionism. The real life nuance that marked an era is too detailed for contemporary acolytes to keep track of, so they opt instead for broad strokes and general shapes. The shoegaze revival of the last several years is especially guilty of this, whittling down the (actually quite diverse) scene of the late ’80s and early 90s into a few landmark albums and a couple combinations of effects pedals.
But when you’re studying Loveless and Souvlaki for inspiration, you might miss that shoegaze was initially an offshoot of post punk and goth, using a vibrant color palette of pinks and violets to fill in the gloomy, monochromatic sparseness of their antecedents.
You can make solid shoegaze without diving too deep into that history. But when a band looks to the same influences as the shoegaze heroes of old, something special happens.
For instance, Bedroom by the British outfit bdrmm, which captures the dreamy landscapes of shoegaze while exercising a simplicity that feels more Joy Division than My Bloody Valentine.
Record #962: A.R. Kane – Sixty-nine (1988)
It’s said that there is a fine line between genius and madness. I’m not sure just how universally true that axiom is, but in the case of Sixty-nine, the debut full length from British dream pop duo (note: they coined that term themselves), they ride that line like Slim Pickens at the end of Dr. Strangelove.
The record is fiercely experimental—to the point that it’s almost a wonder that anyone agreed to release it. Nevertheless, the record became a huge influence on trip hop, post rock, and shoegaze.
I want to be clear that I love this record. There is nothing quite like it. But as is often the case with these sorts of artistic milestones, the scope of its influence may far outshine the record itself. Not everything thrown at the wall sticks. In fact, depending on my mood, this might strike me as completely transcendent, or as the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Continue reading
Record #959: Holy Fawn – Realms (2015)
When Holy Fawn’s Death Spells made them the It Band of 2019, they were given a lot of praise for being one of the best new bands in the scene.
Problem there is that they weren’t exactly new. In fact, they had released their first album four years prior. But Realms sat in relative obscurity—even as Death Spells gathered them new fans. It sat as a sort of curiosity on their Spotify page, failing to offer the same crushing heaviness as the record we all came for.
However, as their star has continued to rise—thanks to tours with the likes of Thrice and Deafheaven—more and more fans found their way back to their debut. And while it might indeed lack the moments of black metal catharsis they’ve come to be known for, their trademark dazzling atmospheres and lush sonics were already in full bloom.
Record #954: Lilys – In the Presence of Nothing (1992)
There’s never been another record like Loveless. But that hasn’t stopped anyone from trying. The sonic sea change that My Bloody Valentine’s seminal masterpiece ushered in was as singular as it was influential, with bands still looking to its rose-tinted soundscape of guitars for guidance on their own sounds
And while it famously took Kevin Shields twenty-two years to release its follow up, it took Lilys about a year.
Granted, empires have risen and fallen as the debate between inspiration and derivativeness has raged on. And if I’m honest, I’m not interested in continuing it. While In the Presence of Nothing owes most of its sonic palette to Loveless, replicating those sounds are a feat in itself. I would also feel much differently if these songs weren’t so dang good.
Record #953: Lift to Experience – The Texas-Jerusalem Crossroads (2001)
It seems no matter how deep I dig (and boy, do I dig deep sometimes), there’s always some seminal release I’ve missed—even in the exact scenes I’ve been trudging through. Take for example Lift to Experience, whom I had never heard of before a review referred to my own band as “We have Lift to Experience at home” (a favorable comparison, I hope).
I’m constantly fascinated by the points of reference other people have when they hear us, so I checked out this band that we were purportedly ripping off. Truth be told, it seems like the only immediate comparison is our shared devotion to overdriven guitars and reverb pedals. But when I divorced them from the comparison, I found a wonderfully idiosyncratic record that lands directly in that sweet spot between shoegaze and post rock that I love so much—bad hip hop parody artwork aside.
Record #948: WHIMZ – PM226 (2022)
I’m going to break the (self-imposed) rules of the blog for the moment and skip way ahead in the alphabet because I’m worried I’ll never get to this if I wait, and I have some feelings about this record.
A couple weeks ago, I was browsing the used section at a local record store and found a bit of cover art that intrigued me. After some quick googling and about thirty seconds on Spotify, I took a gamble on this record—largely driven by the term “sludge pop” that I saw in a review.
And boy, does this disc live up to every possibility that phrase put in my head.