Origine du Groupe : Canada
Style : Experimental , Post Rock
01 – Mladic
02 – Their Helicopters’ Sing
03 – We Drift Like Worried Fire
04 – Strung Like Lights At Thee Printemps Erable
Origine du Groupe : Canada
Style : Experimental , Post Rock
01 – Mladic
02 – Their Helicopters’ Sing
03 – We Drift Like Worried Fire
04 – Strung Like Lights At Thee Printemps Erable
Origine du Groupe : U.K
Style : Alternative Rock , Electro Rock , Indie
Sortie : 2012
01 – Supremacy
02 – Madness
03 – Panic Station
04 – Prelude
05 – Survival
06 – Follow Me
07 – Animals
08 – Explorers
09 – Big Freeze
10 – Save Me
11 – Liquid State
12 – The 2nd Law Unsustainable
13 – The 2nd Law Isolated System
By Alexis Petridis From http://www.guardian.co.uk
Last year, Muse frontman Matt Bellamy announced the band's sixth album would be a "Christian gangsta-rap jazz odyssey, with some ambient rebellious dubstep and face-melting metal flamenco cowboy psychedelia". It tells you something about Muse that it was hard to work out exactly how far his tongue was lodged in his cheek. For one thing, it's almost always difficult to work out how far Bellamy's tongue is lodged in his cheek, as when he told NME he believed in the theories of Zecharia Sitchin, whose big idea was that the human race had been genetically engineered by aliens from the planet Nibiru, or cancelled a series of US interviews on the grounds that he'd heard an asteroid was about to hit America. For another, if any currently extant major band were to be engaged in creating a Christian gangsta-rap jazz odyssey, with some ambient rebellious dubstep and face-melting metal flamenco cowboy psychedelia, it would probably be Muse. Comparisons are regularly made between their oeuvre and that of Queen, Rush and Radiohead: there's an argument that Muse are to pre-Kid A Radiohead what Meat Loaf circa Bat Out of Hell was to Bruce Springsteen. But none of them really capture the sheer level of trenchant preposterousness at which Muse operate. The most apposite comparison might be to say Muse have actually achieved what the Darkness set out to do: conquer the world with music that's clearly meant to be funny, but isn't supposed to be a joke.
Indeed, it could be suggested that the only real giveaways to Bellamy's comic intent were that his bandmates were talking up their forthcoming album as a major sonic reboot – "It's time to move on and do something radically different," suggested bassist Chris Wolstenholme – and that his description didn't actually sound that far removed from what Muse had done previously: they'd already achieved something best described as "metal flamenco" on 2006's Black Holes and Revelations. That said, anyone listening to Supremacy, the opening track of The 2nd Law, might wonder precisely how radical a reinvention Muse have undergone.
The understated single Madness suggested a new stripped-back approach: there's not much to it beyond an electronic bassline, a decent pop song and Bellamy's vocal, which declines to unexpectedly burst into an ear-splitting falsetto (or scream), or proclaim the imminent arrival of the apocalypse, or indeed do any of the things he usually does within seconds of getting near a microphone. But clearly any discussions about toning it down a bit were shortlived. Supremacy's musical DNA is equal parts Led Zeppelin's Kashmir and Wings' Live and Let Die: its idea of restraint is to leave it a minute and a half before bringing the choir in. It should be noted that, Madness aside, The 2nd Law's lowest-key track is Animals, which concludes with what sounds like a recording of a riot in full swing.
In fact, the most obvious sign of change on The 2nd Law is its incorporation of the kind of dubstep produced by Skrillex and dismissed by its detractors as "brostep". It actually meshes with Muse's existing style remarkably well, perhaps because Muse and your average brostep producer are cut from the same cloth in at least one sense: neither of them has much interest in subtlety. Unsubtle or not, the concluding two-part title track – the most obviously brostep-indebted thing here – is thunderously exciting stuff, a boiling mass of fidgety strings, electronic voices and sub-bass wobble.
This is obviously all great rollicking fun, but there are problems with The 2nd Law. You can see why the organisers thought Muse would be the right band to provide the official song of London 2012, but Survival didn't work – partly because it seems to have no tune whatsoever, but mostly because it didn't fit the event. The Olympics turned out to be as much about tiny human stories – from Chad le Clos's dad to Kirani James and Oscar Pistorius swapping nametags – as epic spectacle. With their choirs, string-laden intro, hysterical vocals and lyrics you might characterise as a bit Ayn Randy – "I chose to survive whatever it takes … vengeance is mine … Fight! Win!" – Muse got the scale but missed the humanity. Six albums in, this is a recurring problem: amusing and enjoyable as the aural histrionics are, you do start to wonder what, if anything, they're trying to express, or if it's just bombast for bombast's sake.
Occasionally, you get the sense the band's sound is actually antithetical to genuine emotional impact. Follow Me is a song about Bellamy's baby son: "I will keep you safe, I will protect you, I won't let them harm you," he sings. He obviously means it, but delivered as it is, in a portentous voice that leaves teeth-marks on the scenery, to a backdrop of distorted dive-bombing bass (courtesy of co-producers Nero) and florid synthesiser arpeggios, it sounds like he doesn't. Similarly, it's hard to tell whether there's actual political conviction behind the title track's equation of the second law of thermodynamics with global economic collapse, or if it's just showy grandiloquence, a lyrical counterpart to one of Bellamy's more baroque guitar solos.
None of this stops The 2nd Law from being a hugely entertaining album. Nor will it stop it being a vast success. After all, no one goes to see a blockbuster for its profundity and deep characterisation. They go for the stunts and the special effects, both of which The 2nd Law delivers.
Brother, Sister is the third full-length album by indie rock band mewithoutYou, released on September 26, 2006 through Tooth & Nail Records. It features guest vocal and instrumental appearances by several artists, including Jeremy Enigk (of Sunny Day Real Estate), harpist Timbre, and members of Anathallo and the Psalters. From August 9, 2007, Burnt Toast Vinyl were taking pre-orders for a LP-format version of the album. The album features an abundance of symbolism, much of which is tied to animals; at least one can be found in the lyrics of each track.
Brother, Sister reached a peak position of number 116 on the Billboard 200 on October 14, 2006.
The cover art is by artist Vasily Kafanov. The album's title comes from a verse in the Bhagavad Gita.
1. Messes of Men
2. The Dryness and the Rain
3. Wolf Am I! (and Shadow)
4. Yellow Spider
5. A Glass Can Only Spill What It Contains
6. Nice and Blue (Pt. Two)
7. The Sun and the Moon
8. Orange Spider
10. In a Market Dimly Lit
11. O, Porcupine
12. Brownish Spider
13. In a Sweater Poorly Knit
It's a Monday night at L.A,'s Viper Room, but people are packed into the club tighter than fat Elvis in leather pants. There is barely room to sweat, thanks to the draw of Dead Sara, an L.A. quartet poised to breakout nationally.
The band, fronted by Emily Armstrong with Siouxsie Medley on guitar, Chris Null on bass and Sean Friday on drums, is riding high on the hit single "Weatherman." They're about to go on tour supporting Chevelle, and they've been named as one of the featured acts on this summer's Warped tour.
This kind of frenzied show is a great warmup for Armstrong, who has never done a national tour and asked her management to find her a trek, hence the Chevelle package, to prepare for Warped. But if this show is any indication, Dead Sara will be fine with the bigger audiences.
The more packed it gets in the club, the more insane Armstrong, who wails onstage like the love child of Patti Smith and Layne Stayley, becomes. "It was all hot, I fucking love that," Armstrong tells Rolling Stone a few days later in the backyard of her San Fernando Valley home. "I love it, the small, intimate, fucking packed, I love that, I just fucking feed off it. I wanted to jump in it."
She's going to fit in fine on Warped. This is a graduate of the Warped audience, one who recalls stage diving as a member of the crowd years ago. "When I was 15 at Warped tour, seeing Andrew W.K. or the Used or whatever I was listening to at the time, I would jump all the time," she says. "I would get thrown in the crowd and that was the funnest thing, the funnest thing."
Now Armstrong can't wait to bring that passion to the stage as a performer. "It's like the power of rock and roll, it just frees me," she says. "It's this release, it's unexplainable, when you're up there it's like you're in a different world and that's when I feel most like myself. It's so fucking free and it's amazing."
Her rock and roll abandon has already earned her the approval of both Grace Slick, who name-checked Armstrong in the Wall Street Journal, and Courtney Love, who invited Armstrong to sing backup on Nobody's Daughter. Armstrong has had the chance to hang with both. "Grace Slick had a few pointers, met her and then she came out to a show, it was really cool. It made me have to be better cause she was there," Armstrong says. And what did she get from her time with Love? "She brought me out to New York, where she was recording , I screamed and stuff on her record. It was insane cause this is somebody I've listened to, like Celebrity Skin and one of my favorites, Pretty On The Inside. I couldn't sleep for like a week before and then I got out there and she's an interesting fucking lady. She was so entertaining and I had a fucking blast."
Now Armstrong gets to put the lessons she's learned from others to practice on the band's debut album Dead Sara, produced by Noah Shain (Atreyu, Skrillex). Blending blues, hard rock and punk into a whirling energy, the album is a vehicle for both the band and Armstrong's diverse tastes, which range from Refused to Fleetwood Mac. And in Medley, Null and Friday she found the right musicians to help her deliver her sound after years of searching.
"It was this sound I kept hearing and I couldn't get anybody else to hear it so I had to be a singer," she says. And what made the current lineup of Dead Sara the right band for what she was searching for? "We wrote 'Weatherman' in the first jam. Siouxsie had the riff, we just went there and it worked," she recalls. "It hit them too and hit us, we were like, 'Let's do a record.' That's exactly the way we wanted it, more real. We wanted our friends, and they're married into this now. I want more of the raw rock and roll, its fucking feeling. That's what I strive for."
01. Whispers and Ashes
02. We Are What You Say
04. Dear Love
05. Monumental Holiday
06. I Said You Were Lucky
07. Face To Face
08. Test My Patience
09. Timed Blues
10. Lemon Scent
11. Sorry For It All
Evidemment, elle ne sortait pas de nulles part, Izia, lorsque du haut de ses 18 ans elle publiait un premier album rude et gras. Mais enfin, ce n’est quand même pas le fait d’appartenir à la grande famille Higelin qui l’a conduit à ouvrir pour Iggy Pop ou Mötorhead. Ce timbre de voix qui a si souvent été comparé à celui de Janis Joplin, cette furie scénique, Izia en a peut être hérité, mais ne l’a pas volé.
A peine deux ans plus tard, à peine âgée de 21 ans, Izia publie un second album plus en nuance, plus pop, plus mur. Toujours accompagné du guitariste Sébastien Hoog, elle prolonge avec So Much Trouble son répertoire vers des champs plus complexes.
By WOODY from http://www.hearya.com
I’ve had Hacienda’s new LP for a couple of months now and to be honest, I wasn’t feeling it on the first few spins. I recently revisited it as I was scrolling though my iPod, mostly because I like the guys so much. I felt like I owed it to them. Thankfully their good nature won out because now I’m in love with it.
Shakedown finds the San Antonio quartet working with Dan Auerbach of The Black Keys for the third time. And just as Auerbach has been picking up some new ideas and sounds from past collaborations with Danger Mouse, Hacienda has broadened their sound as well. That’s what threw me off on the first few spins. There were areas that I found a little too polished, but once I starting paying attention, I realized I was missing the cool nuances and tones that Auerbach had instilled in this album.
After digging into Shakedown, there were a couple of things that really stuck out to me. The tones that Auerbach pulls out of the rhythm section are sublime. They vary from funky to distorted to soulful. After producing their first two albums and backing his solo tour, Hacienda are obviously quite comfortable taking some sage advice from Auerbach. The other thing that really tickled my fancy were the backing vocals. They really bring something to tracks like Let Me Go, Natural Life and Veronica.
So after three great albums with Dan Auerbach, where does Hacienda go from here? I love that each album shows Hacienda trying out new tricks while staying true to their roots. Obviously Auerbach has been instrumental in this, but I really would like to see the boys step out on their own, even for one album. Maybe see things from a different point of view. Either way, I’m sure whatever lies ahead will be awesome.
01 – Veronica
02 – Let Me Go
03 – Don’t Turn Out the Light
04 – Savage
05 – You Just Don’t Know
06 – Don’t Keep Me Waiting
07 – Natural Life
08 – Doomsday
09 – Don’t You Ever
10 – Pilot in the Sky
Origine du Groupe : North America
Style : Punk Rock Blues
Sortie : 2012
By The Triggerman from http://www.savingcountrymusic.com
Listen to me folks, GET THIS ALBUM! I know it’s my job as some high fallutin’ music writer to come up with a bunch of stuff to say about music. But after listening to Painkillers, if I were you, I’d skip all the gabbing and just go get it. And then find the biggest, loudest audio player you can procure and crank it to 10. If you want to flatter me, come back and read the rest at some other point.
The merging of Black Diamond Heavies keys player James Leg with the dirty punk blues duo Left Lane Cruiser known as Painkillers is not a cover album. No, it’s a concept album. Yes, it is made of all covers, songs like “Come to Poppa” made popular by Bob Seger, “When The Levee Breaks” by Led Zepplin, but this is a concept album in the truest sense. Concept is what so many albums are lacking these days, and how this album takes a rag tag of recognizable songs from the rock and blues worlds and makes them into a remarkable collection that marks the most viscerally-satisfying album I have heard so far this year. Wanton, ribald, reckless, and uninhibited, Painkillers will have you slam dancing and pissing off the neighbors.
Painkillers isn’t just a catchy idea to sketch some cover art around, it is the idea this album is built from, to take a bunch of timeless, kick ass songs, give them the dirty, heavy-handed Left Lane Cruiser/James leg punk blues treatment, with the result being an album that is perfectly concocted to kill pain. That’s what’s so genius about it. If they had released a batch of original songs under this concept, the painkilling would just be a placebo. By taking songs we all know and love already, songs that mean something to us, the medicine is potent, fast-acting, striking right at your gut.
How’s the instrumentation on the album? The approach? Dirty. Real dirty. Nasty, filthy. All the songs are awash in a mess of gritty reverb and distortion. Don’t come here looking for any lightning-fast chicken-picking licks to tinkling of keys, this is about immersing you in a wall of sound. And though the nasty, dirty punk blues approach may not be for everyone, the song selections are. Pure genius went into picking these songs. For me personally, I didn’t care for some of the blues standards, but “Chevrolet” made famous by Taj Mahal, and The Rolling Stones’ “Sway” are two of my favorite songs of all time, and to hear the James Leg/Left Lane Cruiser tandem do their worst with them was a gift tantamount to a pull of nectar from a goddesses nipple.
One word of caution: Yes, Painkillers is habit forming. (Come on, did you think I was going to make it all the way through this review without some drug cliches?) And just like many albums that pull you right in on the first play, Painkillers can lose its potency rather quickly. But after you set it down for a few days, you will find it calling you back once again.
No joke, if you’re depressed, lonely, angry, sad, whatever, as prescribed, Painkillers will get you to feeling right.
Two guns up!
01. Sad Days Lonely Nights (3:18)
02. She's Gone (3:13)
03. Come To Poppa (3:50)
04. Red Rooster (2:55)
05. If 6 Was 9 (3:48)
06. Shake It (5:21)
07. Ramblin On My Mind (2:55)
08. Chevrolet (2:34)
09. When The Levee Breaks (4:24)
10. Sway (3:23)
By Randall Roberts from http://latimesblogs.latimes.com
It may come as a surprise that the character of Dr. John, whose new album, “Locked Down,” comes out Tuesday, was birthed in Los Angeles. The mythical voodoo pianist-conjurer is so intertwined with the stories, secrets and rituals of New Orleans that to suggest he is anything but the embodiment of the bayou borders on heresy.
But Dr. John — that is, the persona created by New Orleans singer, songwriter and pianist Malcolm John Michael Creaux “Mac” Rebennack — was imagined and realized in the entertainment capital of the world after the young pianist moved west to find work as a session player in 1965. It was here, after hooking up with a posse of fellow New Orleans musician expats and playing on some big L.A. hits of the era, that Rebennack started brainstorming a solo career and struck up the idea of a persona.
The one he came up with has endured for 45 years and has become a New Orleans archetype, so much so that his less inspired work over the decades has bordered on self-parody. His producers’ worst reflexes have been to highlight his New Orleans drawl, create funky rhythm, roll out a catchy melody on the piano, stir in some gumbo lyrics about second-line brass bands and then punctuate with horns.
But then, as if conjured out of the air, his new record, “Locked Down,” arrives, and it is one of the best of his career. As Bob Dylan did with “Time Out of Mind” and Tom Waits did last year with “Bad as Me,” Dr. John does here: exiting a period of relative creative stagnation by creating something magical, the embodiment of everything he’s done but pushed in a clear new direction.
Produced in Nashville by Dan Auerbach, singer and guitarist for the Black Keys, “Locked Down” reunites the man (Rebennack is now 71 years old) who was inspired by James Booker, Professor Longhair and Fats Domino with the abstract mystic Dr. John.
In his 1994 autobiography, “Under a Hoodoo Moon,” Rebennack describes that mystic as “a medicine man who claimed to be a prince of Senegal before he was abducted and taken to Cuba.”
He came up with the idea while living with a community of roustabouts in a Melrose Avenue building misleadingly called the Hollywood Executive Hotel and recorded Dr. John’s debut album, “Gris-Gris,” a swamp rock classic, at Gold Star Studios with off-hours studio time paid for by Sonny and Cher. This creation has endured through swamp rock gems such as “In the Right Place” and “Dr. John’s Gumbo,” both produced by New Orleans compadre Allen Toussaint, and has found remarkable rejuvenation on “Locked Down.”
This is due in no small part to Auerbach, who has merged the man with the myth by directing the project, compiling the band, playing guitar and setting a course.
As producer, Auerbach gathered the musicians, and what he came up with is stunning. Drummer Max Weissenfeldt, a drummer who has played with acts as varied as the Heliocentrics and the No Neck Blues Band and whose wild snare patterns propel songs from continent to continent with each measure, shines everywhere he hits. Horn arranger Leon Michels is the founder of the Truth & Soul label, has collaborated with both soul crooner Lee Fields and Wu-Tang Clan’s Raekwon; his brass bursts punctuate choruses and bridges. Bassist Nick Movshon’s roaming basslines are all over Amy Winehouse’s “Back to Black,” and guide songs with both grace and urgency.
Rebennack cited West African instrumental music of the 1950s and ’60s recommended by Auerbach as an influence on this record. It’s especially noticeable on one of the album’s most thrilling songs, “Revolution,” which features a doubled-up baritone sax pushing forward a deep, driving melody that recalls Ethiopian Afro-jazz expert Mulatu Astatke, a humming organ solo by Rebennack that jumps around like a tripped-out Sun Ra freakout, and a wild but controlled drum excursion by Weissenfeldt.
Every instrumental break on “Locked Down,” though, is as kaleidoscopic. In “Big Shot,” the saxophone-heavy bridge arrives like a water balloon to the head, this big burst of joyous surprise. “Ain’t no one ever gonna be like me,” declares the doctor, and you’ve got no doubt that he’s right. “I’m the big shot.” (If David Chase were still making episodes of “The Sopranos,” he’d no doubt have harnessed “Big Shot” for a bloodied murder scene involving Tony.)
Lyrically, though, the mask has been taken off, and we see Rebennack not only as a Saturday night voodoo king but also as a Tuesday morning man waking up after a weekend bender and trying to come to terms with what went down over the last 72 hours. Especially on the album’s closing numbers, the erstwhile Dr. John offers intimate, personal lyrics about the importance of family and the generosity of God. “God’s been better to me than I’ve been to myself,” he sings on the album’s closer, and he sounds both repentant and amazed to make it out the other side.
Origine du Groupe : North America
Style : Alternative Rock , Psychedelic Country , Folk
Sortie : 2011
By Adam Sheets from http://www.cdbaby.com
Imagine for a moment that instead of becoming a visionary film director, Sergio Leone had chosen to be a record producer. Imagine that all of the vast, meticulously detailed landscapes painted within the frames of his films were constrained to your mind's eye as you heard only the sounds and the vision of a great artist. Imagine that the music he produced told an epic, violent, but ultimately human saga of a mythic West that never really existed anywhere, not even in Hollywood. A West stuck somewhere between hard, brutal realism and blatant fantasy, between the costly mistakes of our past and our apocalyptic future. And while you're at it, imagine that Ennio Morricone wanted to be Link Wray when he grew up.
That's what Wisconsin artist Slackeye Slim's sophomore album El Santo Grial: La Pistola Piadosa sounds like. A concept album about a gun, this was recorded at junkyards and museums throughout the state of Montana and it represents one of the most visionary, unique, and just plain badass albums to be released in years and it hardly comes as a surprise that Farmageddon Records, this generation's premier country-punk-roots-rock label, is behind it.
Opening with the spoken word "No One Knows My Name," band leader Joe Frankland sets the tone as one of freedom from the rules and constraints of a dying, corrupt society, but slavery to the dark side of your own mind and to the tortured thoughts of loneliness. This is a theme throughout the rest of the album- and in Leone's films for that matter. In a sense, this album is reminiscent of The Wall thematically and while the storyteller here is winning all of his outward battles, he is losing the battle within himself.
On the next track, the brief "Come One! Come All!" Slackeye Slim invites us to "listen to a tale of a gun that came from Heaven." Following this, on "Introducing Drake Savage," we get a full-fledged lo-fi psychobilly number with plenty of distortion, Duane Eddy-like twang, and semi-supernatural lyrics about "The Chosen One." (I'm not sure if it means anything, but Drake Savage was also the name of an insane Vietnam veteran portrayed by Gary Busey in the 1996 Chris Farley comedy Black Sheep.)
For the remainder of the album, Slackeye Slim delivers a series of rockers and ballads rooted in guys like Tom Waits, Johnny Cash, Nick Cave, Leonard Cohen and The Cramps alongside melancholy spoken word vignettes and although there are definite highlights (such as "Vengeance Gonna Be My Name"), this is music that is best appreciated in the context of the record.
Like the best concept albums, El Santo Grial: La Pistola Piadosa offers no definite answers, just more hints laid on top of deepening caverns of doom, destruction, and death. This record has something important to say about our music, our society, our lives, and our myths. In the end, I think that 20 or 30 years from now critics will look back and see this album, like Honky Tonk Heroes and Fervor before it, as one of roots music's defining moments; when the metal and punk kids who grew up despising country music until they heard Johnny or Hank or Waylon perfected the recipe that had been brewing for a decade and finally brought it all together in a seamless blend of traditions old and new, original innovations, and, most importantly, undeniable talent. This is an album as fierce as it is literate, as punk as it is country, and as good as anything I've heard in years.
01. No One Knows My Name
02. Come One! Come All!
03. Introducing Drake Savage
04. The Chosen One (Part I)
06. Vengeance Gonna Be My Name
07. El Mundo, Mi Enimigo
08. El Santo Grial: La Pistola Piadosa
09. The Chosen One (Part II)
10. Judgment Day
11. Make It Right
12. Tomorrow Morning's Gonna Come
13. The Chosen One (Part III)
14. A Song Called Love
Origine du Groupe : Iceland
Style : Alternative Rock , Indie , Folk
Sortie : 2008
The Legend Of Mugison...
When Tom Waits astutely pointed out that "no dog ever pissed on a moving car" Mugison must have been nodding in bemused agreement. Impulsively nomadic, creatively restless, Mugi is the kind of post-modern dude that flows with the flux - one of those ants-in-the-pants artists that naturally negates stagnation and actively seeks out new challenges. His two key albums to date - 2003's "Lonely Mountain" and 2005's "Mugimama: Is This Monkey Music?" (released on Matthew Herbert's Life? and Accidental & IPECAC labels, respectively) are significant snapshots of the Icelander's maverick style. Delightfully shambolic, they both evince a passion for provocative sonic mischief as well as good old-fashioned songwriting. Mugi's endearing DIY ethic (he taught himself everything he knows) allows him to haphazardly hurl everything from glitchy electronica and avant-noise to Bonnie Prince Billy-esque ballads and soaring choruses into his sorcerer's saucepan. Somehow it all fits together, for he is the Mugician. In the three years since touring "Mugimama..." he settled in Sudavik, a miniscule fishing village in the remote Westfjords, raised a family, traded his laptop for a flesh-and-blood rock & roll band and set about reinventing himself and his sound. The result? One of the great rock & roll albums of the century. "I listened to hundreds of CDs," says the maestro. "I became aware that artists like John Lee Hooker, Hendrix, Screaming Jay, Bowie, Dylan, The Beatles, Aphex Twin, Björk, Sepultura, the Pixies and Tom Waits all had one thing in common: they were all expressing true feelings and there were no compromises." "Mugiboogie," his third official solo release, was recorded in his home studio, which offers views out onto silent, ancient fjords. Mugi put everything he had into the project. He worked 16 hours a day, started drinking and smoking again, and didn't just flirt with a nervous breakdown but got into bed with one and spent quite a bit of time fighting to get back out. But the aim - to achieve something classic, something visceral and "beyond the norm" - was ultimately achieved. Click-tracks were foresworn to get that old school standards feel. Songs were played over and over again until they were perfected, exorcised of any superficiality. "There was to be no time reference, no time frame," says Mugi. "The lyrics had to be straight to the point and all the songs played with eyes closed and always in a state of emergency. I had to ensure that all pretentiousness was deleted from the songs. All nearly's, all maybe´s. Every song had to sound like it was the last song I'd play if the world was going down." Brimming with emotion and freighted with recognizable musical references, "Mugibogie" is a mind-trip back to yesteryear when music was free from categorization, when gothic guitars towered and scintillated and when you could hear guts being spilled out all over the record. From opener "Mugiboogie", with its swirling Hammond, wailing guitar and loping drum rhythms to the foot-tapping blues of "The Pathetic Album" and the grindingly sensual "Jesus Is A Good Name To Moan," plus a couple of seriously heartfelt ballads, Mugi has crafted a modern classic. The record has already sold over 10,000 copies in Iceland alone. When it's released internationally next month, you'll feel the earth move too.
2.The Patthetic Anthem
3.To The Bone
4.Jesus Is A Good Name To Moan
9.Two Thumb Sucking Son Of A Boyo
10.The Great Unrest
11.My Love I love