#coldreams

[incubo-di-morte]

Tagged by @weirdlookindog

Post the last song you listened:

I finally have this incredible album in my collection 💜

I tag @lefttorott @deathkvlt @horrid-phantasm @coitus-n-carnage2 @vomitpinata, if you want to share what are you listening to lately :)

[falsestuff]

Coldreams - Eyes (Extended Version) (1986)

[sunjadye]

[futuresandpasts]

Futures & Pasts | MRR #429

Nearing the last of my columns for the print version of Maximum Rocknroll; this one was from #429 (February 2019) & if y’all are quick, you still might be able to pick up some back issues. 

Since I just finished putting together my requisite top ten of 2018 list for MRR, which always feels so unnatural and stresses me out way more than it probably should, I feel like I’ve earned the right to mentally shift gears here for a bit and start my final column of 2018 by talking about what I’ve actually been listening to as this year is about to end, even if it’s mostly things that came out almost four decades ago…

Fringe post-punk resurrectionists Bunkerpop Records are back with their first release in two years, a reissue of the 1985 four-song 7-Inch Round Black Thing EP by Auckland, New Zealand’s art-damaged provocateurs ?FOG. Vocalist Sam Swan landed in the group after her stint in the short-lived LIFE IN THE FRIDGE EXISTS (whose “Have You Checked The Children?” remains one of the most eternal classics of ‘80s Kiwi DIY), and both projects shared a decidedly shambolic approach with inclination toward performative theatricality. ?FOG ultimately took things into a much more confrontational direction—deep, propulsive bass lines colliding with urgent drumming, stuttering razor-wire guitar, and deadpan lyrical recitations marked by pitch black, tongue-in-cheek sarcasm (especially on the fiery feminist take-down of “Fatman With a Big Dork”). The choppy rhythms and dueling male/female rant between Sam and guitarist Lindsay Fog on “Five Heads of State” puts ?FOG on a very EX-like axis of agitated skronk, and there’s even some distant echoes of the Rough Trade school of spiky AU PAIRS/DELTA 5-style UK femme-punk in “Move Your Brain,” if that particular sound had then been refracted through the cracked lens of harsh-edged avant-noisemakers like the GORDONS over on New Zealand’s South Island. Between this single, the two recent NOCTURNAL PROJECTIONS LP collections, and the THIS SPORTING LIFE CD anthology, 2018 has been a pretty solid year for bringing renewed attention to some of the weirder and less musically linear products of the early-to-mid ‘80s NZ underground, but this one is an especially obscure delight to have been rescued from the archives. (Bunkerpop Records, bunkerpop.bandcamp.com)

French coldwave group COLDREAMS released a two-song 7” that’s since become one of the formative (and most highly sought-after) touchstones of the genre’s mid-’80s second wave, so the straight reissue of the original single that just recently turned up on Parisian label Camisole is a nice end-of-year surprise for any Factory Records-meets-4AD freaks out there. While COLDREAMS borrowed from the detached presence and bass-anchored minimalist post-punk rhythms associated with the early Euro coldwavers like CHARLES DE GOAL and KAS PRODUCT, their approach was also much less mechanical and dystopian, instead leaning toward gauzy, ethereal melodies not entirely dissimilar to those of goth-tinged dream-pop combos like COCTEAU TWINS or even Faith/Pornography-era CURE. You can almost picture frost forming on some dimly-lit window as the swirling synths in “Morning Rain” blur right into Géraldine Sala’s sweet-yet-somber vocals, but there’s an almost breezy undercurrent amidst all of the longing and gloom that spares COLDREAMS from any overly melodramatic darkwave pretensions. While that song is great, but the sparse B-side “Eyes” is the real gem here, quietly drifting in the same mysterious and otherworldly minimal wave/synth-pop atmosphere as cult heroes SOLID SPACE, and it’s just as chillingly beautiful as anything on that group’s much-beloved Space Museum. (Camisole, camisolerecords.bigcartel.com)

Not reissued (at least not yet), but something that I’ve been playing a bit lately: RAZOR PENGUINS were from Columbus, Ohio, and their debut two-song 7” from 1981 was an exercise in bleak, incisive post-punk that largely deviated from the sort of warped and deconstructed weirdo sounds generally associated with late ‘70s/early ‘80s Ohio DIY (think ELECTRIC EELS, DEVO, PERE UBU, et al). There’s definitely some psychic connections to be drawn between the post-industrial decay of the Rust Belt and the grey, brutalist urban landscapes of London and Manchester, so in that sense, it’s entirely fitting that RAZOR PENGUINS would have turned to the early output of 4AD and Factory Records for their primary source material—JOY DIVISION, obviously, but also slightly less canonized groups such as CRISPY AMBULANCE or IN CAMERA who had a similar affinity for sinister bass throb, martial beats, and vocals delivered with a desperately anxious edge. The single’s frantic A-side “Paris” is a perfectly dark discotheque smash for the black peacoat and clove cigarette crowd, all needling guitar, loping bass, busy hi-hat, and anguished shouts like they were trying to come up with an American response to SECTION 25’s “Girls Don’t Count”. On the flipside, “Indifference” gives in to the band’s starker goth leanings, existing in some parallel universe where Ian Curtis never died, NEW ORDER never existed, and JOY DIVISION had simply gone into semi-secrecy to come up with a follow-up to Closer after relocating to the middle of Ohio. RAZOR PENGUINS wound up putting out one more 7” in 1986 before totally falling off the radar, but it couldn’t reach the same heights at this one. Midwest post-punk gold!

On a more contemporary tip, Manchester’s clattering and clanging combo D.U.D.S. (formerly known as, uh, DUDS) are back from last year’s apparently brief foray on Castle Face with a new LP called Immediate, and it’s an even more controlled exercise in walking the tightrope between spiral scratched post-punk and the kinetic danceability of the early ‘80s post-No Wave downtown sound (think LIQUID LIQUID or pretty much anyone on ZE/99 Records). The clash of rubbery bass and wiry, minimalist guitar definitely still harks back to GANG OF FOUR, but without that band’s tendency toward dryly caustic lyrical commentary on the effects of capitalism on interpersonal relationships—the shouted (and somewhat buried) declarations that D.U.D.S. throw out seem to be much more abstracted and cryptic, with a good number of the songs this time around dispensing with words altogether, leaving just a skeleton of knotted and frenetic rhythms behind. The occasional sharp bursts of brass that were scattered across their previous record have also been more fully integrated into the D.U.D.S. equation this time around, with “Humour and Friction” and “Same Device” in particular recalling the horn-spiked harsh funk and mutant disco commotion of early A CERTAIN RATIO. Shack up, y’all. (Opal Tapes/Red Wig, opaltapes.com)

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[contac]

[danielanderrson]

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