segunda-feira, novembro 19, 2007

Tomahawk - Live In Stockholm (2002)

Se você é um infeliz que ainda não conhece essa banda, o Tomahawk é composto por ninguém mais ninguém menos do que:

Duane Denison (Jesus Lizard)
Mike Patton (Faith No More, Fantômas, Mr. Bungle)
John Stanier (Helmet, Battles)
Kevin Rutmanis (Melvins, Cows)

Precisa dizer mais alguma coisa? Ah, sim, a info do bootleg:

Radio show: Swedish National Radio, P3 LIVE

Location: Nymble, KTH, Stockholm
Date: 2002-02-23.
Producer: Nenne Zetterberg
Sound Quality: FM Stereo

Jockstrap / 101 North / Pop 1 / Harelip / Sir, Yes Sir / Honeymoon / Flashback / Mayday / God Hates A Coward / Laredo / In Every Dreamhome / Point and Click / Angeleyes (Frank Sinatra)

E de quebra, mais duas faixas bônus.


Grand Funk Railroad - On Time (1969)

You cannot talk about rock in the 1970s without talking about Grand Funk Railroad. And you cannot talk about Grand Funk without talking about the hate: how critics pissed on them from an arrogant height. I saw Grand Funk very early on, playing for flies in Philadelphia in December 1969, and I heard in their panzer-trio brio what the snobs did not. Born in Flint, Michigan, of the same local, white-R&B lineage as Bob Seger and Mitch Ryder, singer-guitarist Mark Farner, drummer Don Brewer and bassist Mel Schacher were not cheap Cream but a no-frills, hippie-era garage band; factory-town peaceniks who rocked like warlords.

Original producer-manager Terry Knight fought the brickbats by hyping Grand Funk's box-office might as underground revolution. But his static obscured the band's true bared-bone mettle. Grand Funk made their reputation on tour, cutting On Time, Grand Funk and Closer to Home on the run, all between August 1969 and March 1970. The flat, hard production, then a matter of time and economy, pulls the simple pow of the music upfront: Farner's high, clear tenor; the iron-treble tone of his guitar; the elephantine fuzz of Schacher's bass; Brewer's brute, John Bonham-like drive. As the main writer, Farner avoided complexity like a pox. But "Heartbreaker" and "Into the Sun," both from On Time, and the cover of the Animals' "Inside Looking Out," on Grand Funk, are pure electric-Michigan animalism, an all-testosterone blueprint for the White Stripes. Live Album and the previously unissued Live: The 1971 Tour are not as punchy; the crowd noise gets in the way. But the 1971 tracks from the band's Shea Stadium shows that year are honest snapshots of Grand Funk mania at its peak.

Survival, E Pluribus Funk and Phoenix, all from 1971-72, creak with growing pains. It took producer Todd Rundgren, on 1973's We're an American Band, to polish the pop and Motown lurking inside the amp stacks. The title hit, the stampede "Black Licorice" (with its pumping keyboards by recent addition Craig Frost) and "Walk Like a Man," a hard-rock twist on the Four Seasons, are perfect bombs of sweat, sugar and steel. The late albums have their moments, like Farner's keening wail in "Bad Time" on 1974's All the Girls in the World Beware!!! Still, every train runs out of track someday.

For most folks, a hits disc will suffice. But the best of these reissues show that, for a time, Grand Funk were the people's choice. And the people were right.
(David Fricke, Rolling Stone)


sexta-feira, novembro 16, 2007

Truckfighters - Phi (2007)

If Gravity X took stoner rock back to ground zero, Phi is the band's first step forward. With the basic structure defined on Gravity X, Truckfighters is now able to stretch out and add new flourishes to their songwriting. Phi broach the melodic, layered territory of Mammoth Volume and Dexter Jones' Circus Orchestra. The band still knows how to lay down the fuzz, though, tracks that swing straight at you with an almost ungodly rumble of distortion. Make no mistake, Truckfighters has once again delivered with Phi. If you're a fan of their previous work, you'll find this one to your liking.


segunda-feira, novembro 12, 2007

Om - Conference of the Birds (2006)

Om is the rhythm section of stoner rock wig-out band Sleep -- bassist Al Cisneros and drummer Chris Haikus. There are two long cuts on this slab totaling a little over 33 minutes. While it's true that having two instruments play repetitive droning grooves over and again leaves room for little true variation, it hardly matters. Conference of the Birds has the ability to get underneath the skin of the listener and keep burrowing. There are small rests in each composition, with cosmic, acid-drenched lyrics: "traverse the Cheopian field/Rides out from the red sun high above...." Yeah, but so what. These guys have Syd Barrett's sense of efficacy -- slow, slower, slowest -- clear Sisyphean trudges toward some unholy and unseen peak that ends pretty much in the same place they began. It's in between that counts. And here, slowly skittering snares and drums creep mercilessly along to a bass playing a melody line that offers itself as a bassline. Psychedelic? Yep. Boring as all get out? Only if you take the parts separately. While "At Gina" suffers a tiny bit from the seaminess of the vocals, it still slithers along to displace time and space. Yet it's "Flight of the Eagle" that actually carries the ever-darkening day, simply by the sheer force of that bass. It's a pure, wide-range, low-end throb that pushes no agenda other than sonic mantra, cleaving itself inseparably into the melting brain of the listener who becomes not only a willing participant, but also an active supplicant at the altar of an eternal shadow of the transcendent expando-flex mind -- or some such twaddle. Conference of the Birds rocks terribly, terribly slowly and maniacally in a lazy, trance-inducing way; it will melt your inhibitions -- or send you screaming from the room -- without the use of drugs or alcohol.
(Thom Jurek, AllMusic)