Here at n0teeth (a wholly owned subsidiary of Mr Internet Capital Ventures Inc.) we believe in doing our bit to keep the economy ticking over nicely by chucking cash at any shiny or noisy object that catches our flea-like attention. Here's what we've scooped up in our filthy meathooks and scuttled back to our lair with this week:
Reading this week: Kodak Ghosts Run Amok
In the early days of our most illustrious blogging career we heard rumours of collections of text and images previously existing in a physical, printed format known as "zines" - rumours which we dismissed as folklore, convinced that nobody with a Sony Data Discman (the latest in reading technology) could have any possible use for such a thing. However, we have been happily proven wrong by the Bristol-based publication Kodak Ghosts Run Amok, the contents of which are so richly varied and detailed - covering everything from power electronics to Italo Disco* - you'll simply have to order a copy and read them yourself. The zine is one fellow music enthusiast's passion project, written and assembled with love and care, and n0teeth was instantly on board with it, not least because Issue 7 made use of the most beautiful font ever invented. As we write this, Issue 6.66 has just landed on our desk here at n0teeth corporate HQ and we are going to set aside some time to read it properly. At the risk of sounding like an old man yelling at clouds: in the age of scrolling, it's too easy to end up skimming things that took time and effort to write. And while Issues 6 & 7 were deeply fascinating glimpses into punk and goth - two genres that n0teeth would otherwise be largely unbothered by - 6.66 promises to be "the industrial special", so I'll be sure to wear my finest Clock DVA shirt and some nice aftershave when I get round to it.
*Or as they call it in Italy: Italo. (Think about it. What do people in England usually call a full English breakfast?)
Listening this week: Norillag - The Union of Death
For a few years now Canadian industrialist Norillag has shown an unswerving dedication to the pursuit of what this house considers to be the finest expression of human meat's relationship to stainless steel: clanging, clanking, LITERAL industrial music which employs the sound of metal objects violently disagreeing with other metal objects to glorious effect. (As an aside: naming your metallurgic-industrial project after a gulag that specialised in the mining of metals? Genius. Inspired. Quite possibly the least stupid choice for an industrial band name ever.) On her latest offering the Vancouverite & former punk drummer (clue as to where that percussive power comes from) retains the rivethead-pleasing scrap metal abuse but shakes up the formula a little with "Eschatos" parts one and two: an eerie, sax- and piano- based spot of noir jazz that recalls my favourite Clive Barker obsessed Italian sleazeballs Macelleria Mobile di Mezzanotte. The filthy, guttural sound of a bass guitar is always a welcome sound to my ears in industrial music - far more so than a normal electric guitar, in fact - and "Mechanical Temples" is blessed with a bassline you could cut chromium with. The Union Of Death ends on an ambient note; further proof that Norillag has a lot more than just abrasive metalwork in her sonic toolshed. This is what I imagine a lot of people think "industrial music" means. I did, and was disappointed to find that the vast majority of it doesn't. Norillag is putting the world to rights one misfiring rebar gun at a time.
Regretting this week: Dogmachine - Futuristic Urban Cult
Lured in by a video that seemed to promise a cocktail of all of my favourite trashy 90s industrial cliches I swiftly purchased the reissue of this Australian band's apparently "seminal" 1997 album (their own words) and was thoroughly disappointed. The odd interesting electronic flourish cannot save this thing from its weak vocals, hack lyrics and tacked-on, afterthought guitars. Save yourself seven quid (and an hour of listening) and stick with the videos, which have an undeniable period cyberpunk charm to them. Then go and listen to these other sick Aussie bastards instead: