Because cassettes rule hard and never really age, The Analog Cave is here to bring you some of the best in underground tapes and collected vision. A cassette is like your best friend, your most trusted travel partner, and a specimen of imaginative fantasy and otherworldly dimension. Pop one in and transform. Ride the highway eternal.
Ichtyor Tides: En-Brunsia: Already Dead Tapes And Records
The subsystems of memory and twine are twisted nine-fold on French atmospheric gulpers Ichtyor Tides’ newest cassette, En-Brunsia. A collection of nine translucent compositions breathes fourth-dimensional stardust into one’s perpetual lung—ever simmering and always abundant. There’s sphere crackling, orbital distancing, and a very spatial calling to one’s former life. Ichtyor Tides manage to subtly enter the void of impression, and with each subsequent track, a deeper layer is peeled. You’re nothing but a pure Alex Grey “Energy System” painting by the tape’s end. This is amazing stuff.
Dotson: Indifference: Already Dead Tapes And Records
L.A.-based sound and mood dynamo, Dotson, has the unique ability to create musical soundscapes that flow backward, inward, forward, and around. On the composer’s newest offering, Indifference, there’s an inspired and circular regimen to the constant reshaping of sound structure. The beautiful synergy and philosophy behind every track is bold and robust, squarely daring every listener to rethink one’s idea of form. One of the tape’s highlights is a song with avant-garde electronic and hip hop artist Coin Locker Kid. An abstract and mechanical fluidity rules this composition—a song at once lush and cold. Dotson challenges and succeeds.
VAPOUR: Violent Primitive Force: Me Saco un Ojo Records
Finland thrash-punkers, Vapor, locate the truth with grueling urgency on their first recording in nearly four years, Violent Primitive Force. Four utterly blinding speed metal tracks destroy each and every invisible plane of glass on this latest offering. Shattering, pure, grating, and addictive, each song showcases the band in all their beautifully violent honesty. There’s realness in every subsequent chorus and lightning guitar solo. If you’re working the late shift and need that extra little ideological bent from hell, this is your jam. So fast, so pure, and so lean, you’ll be grinding the air with jaunts of righteous insanity. The night is eternal: existence like a sharp blade.
K.L.L.K.: Le Brasier des Mondes: Caligari Records
French atmospheric black metal sculptors, K.L.L.K., are deep, dark, and sort of classical. There’s a haunting and geometrically organic invisibility to each song they craft. The darkness is like bread and water for this crew. On their latest behemoth, Le Brasier des Mondes, the band delve into the waters of Hades: all sulking, swampy, and brutally harsh. The sound is ugly in a beautiful way, creating a vast network of ambiance and horror. There’s a primitive angle to the band, and this is their allure. There’s no compromise, only deep and everlasting shadows. Get lost in the trance from the bowels of infinity on this thing.
Cioran: Bestiale Battito Divino: Caligari Records
With Italy’s Cioran, devastatingly real black metal never sounded so punk. The band forge linear aggression with a truly devilish tempo to write some of the wickedest riff-based pummelage you’ll ever endure. The sort of black metal this quartet whips up on their latest rocker, Bestiale Battito Divino, is hardcore as hell: all flying, loose and unpretentious. They just go for it—and never look back. Six tracks go by in a blind fury: extreme, angular, catchy, and evil. This might be the realest music I’ve heard all year. There’s high art to this insanity. You dream in shadows and swirl.
Primus: Sailing the Seas of Cheese: Interscope, 1991
Here we are in the year 2017. The world is in flux: from insane digital onslaught to hidden musical oppression to ever-extended greenwashing. There was a time when the moon waxed plainer and late night walks were clearer. Let’s roll back to high school 1995, cars on backroads, doobies aplenty, and pure dreams. Never was there a more amazing experience than listening to Primus: the masters of everything awesome and indifferent. Sailing the Seas of Cheese was that grand yellow, sticky cassette that was natural escapism. The songs so progressive, technical, heavy, and hilarious that every time you inserted the tape into the car stereo, you performed a sort of baptism. It was good to be weird and to wave your freak flag. Primus helped wave that thing eternal.
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