Anthony Pirog, "Budding Peonies": On Beginning to End (Sonic Mass), his debut album, NYC-based guitarist/composer Anthony Pirog offers an aural Whitman's sampler of his core competencies: sunkissed tone poems (think John Fahey), pitch-shifted glimmer, meditative squalls, discordant piano frowns and various noisy flavors. While End's odds and, er, ends hang together quite nicely, I'm predisposed to the uglier bits; singling out just one to highlight was something of a struggle. Dug "Screaming Sun," with its halting, gargled scree and through-a-collander electronic pops, and how "Sixth Of One" was in a constant state of metamorphasis, never content to settle for straight fuck-you blare or straining-at-harnesses seethe or heavy-lidded chordal strum. But ultimately, "Budding Peonies" won the day. It opens with a maudlin, wavering drone and cryptic, rolling clacks, letting you get accustomed to that synthesis for a moment or two before allowing the clacks to swell in volume and - crucially - shuffling in increasingly belligerant, detuned string manipulations, rivulets of static, and the sort of buckling groans one might associate with the shifting of heavy furniture on a warehouse floor.
Hailing from San Francisco, theHospitals
live fast and strike hard - on disc and in real life, if their press is to be believed. Albums like 05's
violently collided hardcore punk and scuzz and savored the noisy byproducts; their songs are shocks, bewildered gasps. (John Dwyer, formerly of the Coachwhips and Pink & Brown, was a member at one point, which is telling.)Hairdryer Peace (Meds)
purports to represent Hospitals principal Adam Stonehouse's goodbye to a lifestyle of heavy partying; apparently, the drummer/vocalist enlisted various players to lay down parts, then dissembled and re-assembled the scraps into an art-damaged conceptual whole. Of course, the final result just sounds like another Hospitals record - if slightly more schizophrenic - which is no bad thing. "BPPV" teems with primal, damaged-equilibrium power: recorders (or slide whistles) tweet-tweet over amp riptides and caveman drum pounds that sometimes explode into concussive eclipses. Meanwhile, Stonehouse tosses off bad acid-trip non-sequiturs - "I feel dizzy/I feel stoked," "You're on the ground/Your face looks weird" - that perfectly match the accompanying musical chaos.Walk With One Side, "Sandblasted Pole Barn":
Lance, who runs Houston's Esotype Records in Houston, holds the dubious distinction of having virgin-surgeoned the Friday Night Noise gmail account. He's also a noise dude in his own right, and - in addition to hipping me to likes of Quebron and Zanzibar Snails - fired a few homemade mp3s my way. Of the two, "Sandblasted Pole Barn" was my favorite: a corrugated sandpaper maelstrom that recalls John Wiese's tazmanian devil laptop miniatures (cf.Teenage Hallucinations: 1992-1996
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), a quick, potent hit of malevolence.Got some hot Texas noise tips - or hell, any noise tips? Hit me up with last.fm links or MP3s at email@example.com.