What's a Listening Log? Well, the idea is quite simple. It's a weekly segment that consolidates all the mini-reviews Dozens Of Donuts has given on RateYourMusic over the past week, split between the Past and Present. A straightforward grading scale has been put in place, ranging from A+ to F-, with C acting as the baseline average. There is no set amount of reviews per week, just however many I get around to reviewing. And don't expect week-of reviews. I wait one month - with at least three listens under my belt - before I rate and review an album. Enjoy!
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2019 | Neoclassical Darkwave | Listen
BANGING ON THE CATHARTIC WALLS OF PURGATORY
Given the strict, fundamental components of Lingua Ignota's sound, the failure of Caligula in comparison to the greatness of All Bitches Die is almost impressive. Her rousing debut showcased what Neoclassical Darkwave and Death Industrial are capable of when paired together, a harmonious paradox that exemplifies extremities in human emotion. All Bitches Die was riveting, gorgeous, and paramount in its depiction of abuse from all angles. At a substantial 66 minutes, Caligula lacks all of that, stretching thin genres already hand-picked for their niche convention. Moments billow from the burning flame ever-present, but the bulk - especially a gratuitous second half - trickle out embers instead of soaring plumes of ash.
The disappointment is almost immeasurable, in the sense that, sonically speaking, nothing has changed. Ignota parlays fiendishly between each respective style, utilizing them to best accentuate her volatile nature, like in years past. Caligula, however, doesn't do it out of necessity but rather want. Tracks like 'Day Of Tears & Mourning' and 'Spite Alone Holds Me Aloft' exist to fortify those 66 minutes without truly providing purpose. It's here that Caligula loses focus, meandering around ideas best ratcheted down to manageable sizes. Due to this, each half of Ignota's character is far more inconsistent. Take the putrid vocals on 'Sorrow! Sorrow! Sorrow!,' a far cry from her exemplary performances on 'Holy Is The Name' or even Caligula's best; 'Fragrant Is My Many Flower'd Crown.' An excellent achievement, mind you, and, along with hit 'Do You Doubt Me Traitor,' the only song that can compete with All Bitches Die's best.
There's other bits here and there that deserve merit, like 'Faithful Servant Friend Of Christ' which is a faithful ode to Nico's frightening Avant-Folk era, or 'If The Poison Won't Take You My Dogs Will,' or more precisely, Ignota's rabid re-telling of the title. Overall, there's also influence from Swans' mid-90's excursions into insanity (The Great Annihilator and Soundtracks For The Blind), which is a commendable sound to strive for. With all that being said, Caligula just doesn't sit, stir, and infest my innards in quite the same way as All Bitches Die.
C
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2019 | Lo-Fi Indie | Listen
DEMOLISHING ONE'S BEDROOM IN REVOLT OF SOCIETY'S WOES
Weatherday's debut LP Come In aspires for greatness but rarely achieves that mark. The ambition and desire is present, so much so that the quest for impact obscures the need for quality songwriting, structuring, and all-around pleasantries. Come In is an ugly album, even by Lo-Fi Indie standards. Lyrics are rarely apparent for the swarm of scratchy, tuneless instrumentation runs rampant across the bulk of the 51 minutes. Think the early days of The Microphones, where Phil Elverum didn't care for subtlety when he lambasted sincerity for explosiveness. Here though, the former rarely arises. When it does, Weatherday usually hits the mark, like the expeditious 'Water Dreamer The Same' or personal favorite 'Agatka,' wherein an actual coherent melody is present throughout.
I'm reminded of other artists too. Car Seat Headrest is brought up ad nauseam, and while that influence is prevalent in the lofty efforts ('My Sputnik Sweetheart'), they're most certainly not a primary entry point for Weatherday. Their prose, and destruction in getting there, is totally different. The constant clashing of the kitchen sink also brings about comparisons to Clap Your Hands Say Yeah!, while certain moments recall more nuanced direction; Guided By Voices on 'Older Than Before' or Islands/The Unicorns (pick your poison) on 'Porcelain Hands.' Overall, Come In had promise. It could've been something special had the crusade on Noise for emotion-unspooling Noise sake not gotten in the way.
C-
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AOKOHIO is exactly the type of album Yoni Wolf needed to make to get Why? back on track. Even Moh Lhean, which had moments of flourish, strove for nothing with a total lack of coherency. Here, that's not the case, as Why? makes a conscious decision to adhere to an aesthetic, one that presents fading memories as shattered pieces barely able to be strung together. Interjected interludes act less as the track-splitters we're prone to, and more as curtailed recollections cut short due to relapse. It's an interesting approach that means AOKOHIO is greater collectively than separated. On numerous occasions ('High Dive' to 'Mr. Fifths’ Plea,' 'Rock Candy' to 'Once Shy') tracks divulge into one another, regardless of whether they're fully-composed or mere interludes.
Unsurprisingly, the memories that retain the most end up being the best. 'Peel Free,' 'The Crippled Physician,' and 'Stained Glass Slipper' are all lovely Indie Pop diddies that come equip with Why?'s textbook charm. The latter in particular recalls Wolf's phenomenal collaboration with Serengeti; Testarossa. Much like that LP, Why? saves the best for last. Unlike all the other tracks, which seemingly take place in the past, 'Bloom Wither Bloom (For Mom)' is fully rooted in the present and finds Wolf eulogizing his mother. It's a beautifully-cinematic composition that satisfies as much as it disappoints, on account of the fact that it's the only song of its ilk. Regardless, AOKOHIO is a delightful little project that takes a humbling look at one's childhood.
B-
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Never discredit the Oh Sees' ability to top themselves in terms of prolificness, for that's exactly what they did with Face Stabber, a gargantuan 80-minute exploration of Psychedelic Rock that followed, not one year later, an equally large but ultimately less successful variant (Smote Reverser). Here, Oh Sees reestablish why I grew fond on them with Orc; Variation. It's perhaps too drawn out - especially the two lengthy Jam Band efforts, the Pink Floyd-inspired 'Scutum & Scorpius' and the bizarrely lead single 'Henchlock' - but there's enough detours to warrant a duration that meaty. Short, incisive cuts recall Oh Sees' early Garage Rock leniency ('Face Stabber,' 'Gholü,' and my favorite 'Heartworm'), while curiosities in the Krautrock-leaning 'Daily Heavy' and the Math Rock-inspired 'Fu Xi' help maintain interest.
Not everything is a success though. 'Captain Loosely' is an unexpected journey through minimal Space Ambient that has no purpose being on such an aggressive, hotheaded album. There's the aforementioned 'Scutum & Scorpius' and 'Henchlock' which drag, obviously, but never Drone. A few others, like 'The Experimenter' and 'S.S. Luker's Mom' don't make a mark and could've been eliminated.
One final thought, I admire how seldom Oh Sees relied on John Dwyer for his vocal efforts. I've always begged for albums that used vocals to amplify impact, rather than as a necessary that can't be ignored or an accessory that can't be included. Here, entire songs and minutes within songs go by before and after Dwyer appears, sometimes only momentarily. It draws an ear to his transitory appearances, and that's a commendable approach to songwriting.
C
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2019 | Electro-Industrial | Listen
RUPTURING THE CRACKS OF DESTRUCTION'S INNER-BEAUTY
Blanck Mass has done it again. This time with extra pomp and circumstance. While it's tough to say if Animated Violence Mild edges out 2017's fantastic World Eater, there's no denying the level of advanced artistry unfolding here. Rather than do what's accustomed in Industrial-laced genres - that is, rabid beats meant to correlate agro, macho tendencies with wickedness - Blanck Mass subverts such expectations with a light-hearted, camp feel that perfectly nestles itself in growing Electronic movements endorsing LGBT polychromasia, despite having a totally singular sound. Listening to the spoken word 'Intro' and one will quite clearly know what to expect: "Over this noise, we just hear beautiful, beauty, and it brings tears to my eyes."
There's no denying the unforgivable levels of Electro-Industrial conditioning though, because once 'Death Drop' begins there's no getting off Blanck Mass' wild ride. Sans, of course, the second half of 'Creature / West Fuqua' which really has no place on Animated Violence Mild, with its starlit synthesizers and Space Ambient textures. Everything else blows the doors down with Uplifting Trance - a genre, off the name alone, I'd pay money to get more into - best seen on heavenly closer 'Wings Of Hate,' wherein Blanck Mass matches his ludicrous BPM's with massive, scaling synthesizers beckoning for a light to reach down to earth.
Sadly, the album's three lead singles all ended up being my favorites, in order of release too. So, alongside 'Wings Of Hate' lies 'Death Drop,' the album's heart-palpitating opener that, regrettably, takes a step down from Blanck Mass' previous ear-splitting catch-alls 'Dead Format' and 'Rhesus Negative.' 'House Vs. House' more than makes up for all this though, as it's arguably his best effort to date. Effortlessly melding the hypnotizing Electro-Industrial style with sedative Futurepop - that is, indescribable vocals meant to elicit euphoric sensation through picturesque harmonies - 'House Vs. House' achieves something I've never once heard in all of Electronic music. 'Love Is A Parasite' accomplishes this same feat through more Classical elements, fully forming by song's end with some awesome Screamo vocals. Again, totally indecipherable, which emphasizes Blanck Mass' want for music that tackles the body and soul.
B
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For what it sets out to achieve, A$AP Ferg's latest EP Floor Seats succeeds. That is, macho bangers for a crew meetup on a steamy weekend night. There's party anthems in 'Jet Lag' and 'Pups,' strip club anthems in 'Wigs' and 'Butt Naked,' and whip anthems in 'Wam' and 'Hummer Limo.' That's all to say Floor Seats doesn't reinvent the wheel, though it does further reaffirm A$AP Ferg's place alongside A$AP Rocky as some of Hip-Hop's best flow-savvy marksman. 'Floor Seats' and 'Pups' best showcase that.
Unfortunately, the EP's best six songs are its first six, with 'Hummer Limo,' 'Ride,' and 'Dreams, Fairytales, Fantasies' all desperately striving for more feminine representation, despite how ludicrous and out of place it sounds given Ferg's masculinity on previous affairs. Every single one is outright bad, filled with generic tropes and cliched lyrics spoon-fed in condescendingly obvious ways.
D+
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