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Post Rock? No thanks! Isis in Substage

Ever in a band played? Then the situation is well known: holed up with colleagues in a basement, put it under a couple of mushroom, smoke maybe a couple Riesenjogis or otherwise brings to boil. Then jammed. It joins the reef to reef and succeed in the rhythm section from scratch the most complex breaks and tempo changes, the lead guitarist gets more and more ecstatic and surprised the singer, is included writhing in ecstasy, with never any mysterious Indian-style, ethnic chants. After three hours played by all sink exhausted but happy again sit-down rehearsal room sofa and feel like the Grateful Dead for their legendary concerts at the pyramids Giza 1978th That was definitely the best thing since the devil has entered Robert Johnson musicians and fortunately, the tape ran along the whole time! Disillusionment follows after sobering up: The tape is listening to the assembled crew. In hypnotic loops fader Soundbrei flows from the speakers. After fifteen repetitions just about any guitar run is monotonous, the drummer shows some promising approaches that riding around with eternal fact not even be original, the keyboard sounds are mentioned at best, bizarre, and the singing acts before all the hullabaloo just unstructured yet. Pure frustration, the tape will be erased with all consent.
Isis are apparently gone the opposite way and have learned their rehearsal room jam tapes by heart. A considerable hard work, the effect on their plate and not at all missed. Live urges, as to visit on Friday at the Substage was, however, on the suspicion that the hype about the guys around beard Aaron Turner (Vox / Git) springs from the tendency of some pop criticism, any lack of accessibility to art, all messed up Schwurbelei for originality and raise lack of entertainment value to the profundity. If the post-rock is, may never end Rock. Coming Soon KISS, thank God! N'Roll

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The madness has a face: Knucklebone Oscar

I'm always there for me there was nothing new in rock. But far from it, something like Knucklebone Oscar last Friday in the Old hackery I've never seen before: they lock a bunch of monkeys fifteen years in a darkened room, fed only with whiskey mash and Leopard testicles, she sonicated day and night with Chuck Berry Ike Turner & the Kings of Rhythm, Motörhead and the Meteors, and they were to play musical instruments instead of car tires in the feet, would probably all come out something like that here - and I'll bet my cowboy boot collection that was just the same. In any case Knucklebone has been active since at least 1993, even a - moderately shaved - not unlike monkeys arguing (according to band info he by no means down) and his three colleagues also act not exactly inspire confidence - I dare to forecast the time that they had this band is tarred and feathered in the 80's said from the city, at least in Bavaria. Musically, the whole as indicated between 60s-Soul, garage punk and rockabilly - if unspectacular - but what does this band Finnish Yetis für'n fire in the ass, there is one for the survival of the polar ice caps and fear Bang. Front of the stage, or back in the audience, hopping from barstool to barstool, or perched on the counter, whether with fingers, with the tongue, with the shirt, or your ass handed to beer bottles, Knucklebone is everywhere and nowhere and plays with all everything on the guitar - this is the way it must have been, as "Acca Dacca", nor the gay clubs of Sydney brought to a boil. As a comparison I find it really only because Michael "Olga" Algar one of the Toy Dolls, this is such a madman. Song titles like "Rockabilly Messiah", "Bantam Fight" or "Boogie Bedouin" from their latest hit album Back From The Jungle (Rookie Records) say the rest. I am serving, completely!

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risk and Rock N'Roll: Clutch in Substage

Kamchatka I already knew from the strategy game Risk, where it is to achieve world domination - play in risk, it's pretty good if you have the land Kamchatka, as then one of East Asia, virtually "behind your back" attack, North America. On Thursday we could learn that there is a band with this name. But why is the name is a mystery, but it is a theory: With its wild mix of blues, jazz, rock and psychedelic Kamchatka sound as American as just what. All the more surprising that these three hippies come from the Swedish backwater Varberg. Now you can engage in risk from Scandinavia and North America, but perhaps the musicians wanted to express their affinity with the U.S. naming of possible subtle expression. People have to smoke pot so much of the often very intricate associative thought processes and how Plummer said my neighbor, "If . The more successful had they would certainly all on heroin "This can not be, because Kamchatka are a really great band and who 2009" Whipping Post "by the Allman Brothers covert band to rule the world has earned it - there had to Clutch drummer Jean-Paul Gaster and got to agree on the second drum, fat!
Two shooting went on well Kylesa, given their hypnotic somewhere between Pentagram, Fu Manchu and Baroness settled sludge sound, but this bad-metallic touch. Otherwise, guitarist Laura Pleasants and made her male counterpart Phillip Cope, who shared the vocals, in particular, deserves the care of the Hall effect. After Filigrangroovern the Kamchatka no increase. After long pauses
forever - had to be displaced in all the drums finally - finally: Clutch. The title of the current long-player, Strange Cousins From The West, is about this band says it all. Without instruments would these "boys" take seriously from German Town in the tranquil U.S. state of Maryland no one guitarist Tim Sult is an introverted Moppel, they determined at the school have teased always, Gaster really looks like the strange cousin of bumpy part of the kinship and bassist Dan Maines can not remember shortly after the concert. Singer Neil Fallon looks even not better, but comes over with his beard and deep-set charcoal eyes like a fanatical preacher from the Wild West two centuries ago. But what can the man sing and what these guys have the blues! Clutch had actually always been the band for the beer drinkers among the stoner-rock fans, because much more rooted in the blues rock genre than many of their colleagues. So one must think of Neil Fallon's riffs actually more of Deep Purple Stormbringer times, as in Black Sabbath. Constantly shine through even the old masters from Chicago. And the clutch depressed at first, can be much harder to stop Clutch: As a huge truck passed on a dark night, this monster of a Highway Tape machine with a way out, that really remains is to flee. But it remains frozen as the rabbit sitting in front of the queue and expects full of fascination to the deadly bite.

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Frick goes Fantasy: Sardev, the shadow of peace

Blogger colleague Klaus N. Frick most likely as a writer of stories about the small town punks Peter Pank, which appear regularly in the Ox-magazine and now two books (Thanks, Peter Pank and Chaos en France - Peter Pank in Avignon) are known to fill. But now instead of beer cans flying fragments, namely human, because with "Sardev, the shadow of peace" (Basilisk), has science fiction fan Frick, a Rastatter Verlag famous space adventure series Perry Rhodan serves as editor in chief, the first time ventured into the fantasy genre. Lives in Karlsruhe Frick adheres not to the development of such multi verses or complicated magic concepts, but goes one way, already the inventor of spaghetti Westerns, Sergio Leone with "A Fistful of Dollars" and Sergio Corbucci with "Django", or later, Ridley Scott's "Alien" or "Blade Runner" followed successful: It brings back a overloaded with all sorts of trinkets and kitsch motif on the (dirty) working level. His main character is no hero, but a lonely loser, an outcast, a bloody Job has to do - there is Sardevs revenge on the traitor Schorrn - whose fulfillment is but it will not bring peace. For a professional partisan guerrillas as a Sardev this means the end of the fight not just earned rest but decline in employment, even meaningless - that explains the seemingly contradictory title. A small, straight-written, exciting, sometimes brutal book. More appropriate for friends of the venerable Robert E. Howard (Conan), as for friends by Stephenie Meyer (Twilight).