Hozac   Page 4

Puffy Areolas

1982: Dishonorable Discharge

Hozac

***One of the most pivotal bands currently infecting the Midwest universe, PUFFY AREOLAS are a pummeling ensemble of free jazz skronk, laid mercilessly on top of a proto-punk nuclear waste dump, still throbbing with orgone energy. A Hawkwind cum-Lucifer’s Crank-era Dwarves killing machine that doesn’t stop until no one is left breathing, or god forbid, unimpressed. A sophisticated mess of noisy, nihilistic bursts of agony and intangible hate-fuck hysteria, that’s as captivating as it is alienating, pushing the boundaries of sanity, each and every performance. And yes, their second full-length is exactly what everyone has been worried about, a toxic bath of spoiled space juice dripping dangerously over the frayed circuits of their demonic WAH, sizzling with nightmarish night trips. A true Funhouse moment really kicks in on side B, a devastating document of human endurance, devolvement, and desecration, and sometimes it seems like this band is less of a musical combo and more of a flashing portal into an unknown Vietnam-like, mind-bending free punk power that summons the inner spirit of self-destruction like you wouldn't believe.

Liminanas

Crystal Anis

Hozac

BACK IN STOCK!!!  The sophomore LP outing from the French breakthrough underground sensations, THE LIMINANAS, who are embarking on an even darker journey on this voyage into the stickiest, most vulnerable parts of your brain. After triumphantly completing their maiden US tour last year and proving to the world how effortlessly they capture their recorded essence in a live setting, they have returned with Crystal Anis, an LP brimming with perfect, humming, fuzz-filled effervescent pop so alluring and seductive in it's most intimate points that it's easy to get lost as the heavenly sounds rush over your soul. It's a perfect slice of modern French Ye-Ye gone underground, conjuring a dimly-lit atmosphere where the long lost transcendent sounds of The Factory intersperse with modern noir nuances to unbelievable effect. This is the Limiñanas hitting their compositional peak stride, with lush instrumentation, building on their signature thick-accented tension, all properly enveloped within their monumentally textured songwriting style. 'Heavenly' doesn't even begin to describe it, but it's a great place to start.

Missing Monuments

(i’m Gonna) Love You Back To Life

Hozac

***In case you weren't aware, MISSING MONUMENTS are the current KING LOUIE vehicle for his sharp pop confections that didn't quite fit in with his numerous other projects, a pure dose of 3-chord razor-pop heaven from the EXPLODING HEARTS' key songwriter and Southern punk icon that delivers exactly what we all need. Proving that he's as universal as the sun, moon and stars, Louie's unpolished pop side is always overshadowed by his raw punk reputation, but as of the last couple years, it's this sound that's becoming his signature, as it's really always been at the root of his genius. Now that the Missing Monuments have had a chance to tour and gain their foothold amongst their brethren, it's become even more evident that the prowess in which they craft these modern day classics isn't reaching any end in the near future. Edition of 475 copies on black vinyl.

People’s Temple

Looters Game

Hozac

***THE PEOPLES TEMPLE have righteously returned with a sliver of their next wave, and with the anxiously agitated 'Looters Game' we have a band on our hands here with their heads clearly going in the right direction. The Lansing, Michigan snarlers are preparing for their sophomore More For The Masses LP, coming this Fall with a taste of what they've been working on since their last outing, and it's got us seething with excitement to share it with the world. 'Looters Game' is a perfect example of what Peoples Temple do best, a direct shot to the dome of perfect rock'n roll snarl, with those one-note piano lines, classic two-part vocal harmonies, and an ever-compelling riff that takes you over the edge and back within three minutes. Isn't this some song you've heard before in another life? Maybe. Peoples Temple have built on their unusual knack for crafting original pop music sounding like it's been stripped out of the ashes of time, only to emerge with some of the most exciting sounds coming out of the Midwest in years. Edition of 475 copies on black vinyl.

Nice Face

Horizon Fires

Hozac

***Such a NICE FACE, what’s with the cold shoulder? The second coming from this habitually antagonizing solo recording outfit, originally part of Brooklyn’s shrouded colony of home-recording pioneers of the new century, is here at last, and it’s hard to cover up the fact that we’re boiling over with synth/guitar ecstasy. Where their contemporaries have faded into dull, lifeless reinventions of their initial, rogue directions, Nice Face has risen to the top of the heap, continually cranking darkness, tension, and animosity into invigorating bursts of seething electronic punk that’s impossible to shake. From the shreds of sickening pop abrasion as evidenced in their first singles, to their mind-blowing Immer Etwas debut LP on Sacred Bones, Nice Face is a force not easily contained, as you’ll soon find yourself revisiting each track’s endlessly hypnagogic grooves.

Rayon Beach

This Looks Serious

Hozac

***The swirling cloud of deranged noise emanating from the highly radioactive inner core of RAYON BEACH has once again reared its head up, bucking wildly and shattering the iridescent thunder of the heavens into shards of wonderfully damaged sound. After the inescapable fallout from their debut Memory Teeth 12-inch EP in 2010, they have rightfully emerged with their first proper full-length LP, dragging the trembling scraps of electronic punk slime through a kaleidoscopic garbage can and out into the light, where they can cook properly in the blinding Texas sun. But whereas on their first record the band was still carving out their slithering sound, melting from one mellifluous life form into another over the course of those first six treacherous tracks, here they’ve found their footing on their first LP, clenching a roughly pristine throb and riding it out into a sizzling pinnacle of modern punk precision.

Cozy

Cola Shock Kids

Hozac

***COZY are four young men who have captured the hearts of fans across the globe with their movie star looks, boyish charm, dapper denim outfits, and a stage show that is truly out of this world!!!! Just ask any of their innumerable female devotees and they will tell you Cozy are the hottest band in the land in every possible sense of the word! For fans of Raspberries, Slade, The Sweet, Angel, Bay City Rollers, Games, Mickey and Tuff Bananas. Edition of 475 copies.

E.t. Habit

Venomous

Hozac

***My, how far we’ve come in this pithy, little universe we’ve created. Who would have thought that our interplanetary invasion would happen when we were least expecting it, and with such an extensively fancy percussion unit? Chicago’s protozoic cellular mass of prog/psych outer space noise, E.T. HABIT has been inhabiting our secular sphere for many moons now, and we’re palpitating wildly in anticipation of their maiden vinyl forging on this debut 7” single. A nightmarish explosion of glitter and blood, culminating into their gut-wrenching, earth-moving early ‘70s je ne sais quoi, that can’t clearly be quantified with its Alice Cooper Band/Hawkwind comparisons so much as it’s theatrical ambiance. Edition of 475 copies.

Far Out Fangtooth

Thorns

Hozac

***Philadelphia’s FAR OUT FANGTOOTH have been meddling within their own poisonous cloud of murky, atmospheric noise for a while now, and after a stellar debut LP on Siltbreeze last year, we’ve cornered their deliriously downtrodden din for a blurry 3-song EP of devastating caliber. Their solidly mid-tempo, gazey gait, braced with gothic flourishes of noise and carefully arranged explosions of angelic harmony are beautifully morose and radiant at the same time, combining the guit-architecture of Sonic Youth’s early primal scree with Circle Pit’s squalorous nuances to create a heavenly hypnotic, haunting haze. This is a band that seduces you when your guard is down, only to soar down and rip your heart out of your chest just at the moment when the rising tide of crashing noise hits you at full force, breaking any human down into their simplest parts. A deeply disturbing, yet fulfilling set of tracks that make that dark place in your heart seem like a nice place for a picnic, and a greater sense of anticipation for what Far Out Fangtooth will drudge up next. Edition of 475 copies.

Plateaus

Do It For You

Hozac

***San Diego’s current wave of underground snarlers comes to us in the form of PLATEAUS, a furiously laid back pop band with that special something everyone is striving for, clearly bleeding through and visibly staining their jeans for all to see. This band offers no hidden agenda, no life-changing song structures, or ear-bending production, just incredible sloptastic pop that hangs off the cliff of irresistibility like no tomorrow. It’s always more impressive when bands can do more with less, and Plateaus fall squarely into that arena, knocking out hit after hit without breaking into any sketchy territory, and locking down the adoration of anyone lucky enough to cross their path. Previous and future releases on Art Fag. Edition of 475 copies.

Band In Heaven, The

S/t

Hozac

***With all the noisy pop bands swimming around in the sub-stratosphere, grasping for threads and most simmering down into indiscriminate, faceless factions of desperation, it’s with great excitement that something like THE BAND IN HEAVEN can slip through the sludge and knock us right into the perfect state of mind. This Florida band has unraveled the mystery of how to solidly arrange the two or three chords that work best into a seamless monster of penetrating throb, peeling back the murky darkness and invigorating their explosive presence, making it impossible to turn away. A sinister chill emanates from each unsettling track included on their vinyl debut EP here, carved repulsively from front-to-back with “Sleazy Dreams” into “Sludgy Dreams,” in between which, the band revs up and blasts off with a goth-tinged ferocity, delivering four, diverse, head-expanding trips into the blackness. Edition of 475 copies.

Bare Mutants

Without You

Hozac

***To say that we’ve been long-time fans of multi-talented JERED GUMMERE’s many musical combos over the past 15-plus years would be a severe understatement. From the bands he was wrapped up in early in his teenage years, such as THE MUGGLES, DEFILERS, REAL COOL KILLERS, and the formidable GUILTY PLEASURES, to his ascent to mainstream recognition with THE PONYS, it’s become clear that Jered is known as one of the most important songwriters of our generation. His influence on pop music over the first half of this century is undeniable, impacting most notably Jay Reatard, and much of the current Brooklyn sound, right up to all the modern bands that still try to capture that elusive something that The Ponys delivered on a nightly basis. Ahead of their time undoubtedly, and with that same pioneering spirit fully intact, Gummere’s newest assemblage, BARE MUTANTS, coalesces all of the most pivotal nuances of his repertoire into a perfectly minimal, mid-tempo snapshot of this morosely powerful tone. Edition of 475 copies.

Radar Eyes

S/t

Hozac

***We’ve been waiting for this moment from RADAR EYES for years. This debut album is more of a pinnacle of modern noise pop than just another invigorating album to get warmed up to on a cold morning. Soaring guitars and heavenly vocal interplay, all screaming along with such interstellar melody and power, you’d think they were on the brink of signing to Creation Records. They have been quietly building an explosive array of hits for the past few years, and now their incredible shine has become unavoidable as they crush together spacey noise with pop hooks so devastating, we just had to ask them to put out their debut album. Here, finally on the LP format they’re best suited for, they’ve aligned their angelic guitar transcendency to come to full fruition, heralding a fresh new layer of palpitating excitement to their timeless sound they’ve honed to such a fine point. This is a band that understands how to control themselves under all the constraints, firing off powerfully direct, gigantic synthesized pop anthems that twist and turn with the best of their influences and lock themselves deep inside your head.

Teledrome

Double Vision

Hozac

***Calgary Alberta continues to reinstate it’s prowess as the Canadian source for essential underground sounds, and we’ve got TELEDROME’s five-track debut 7” EP to prove that fact even further. An irresistible, hook-filled/synth-laden sound like this may initially remind you of The Spits’ slovenly take on primitive futurism, yet this walks the line between neurotic buzzsaw pop and cold wave simplicity so well, it steers clear of the mongo-Ramones’ formula and would fit right in among any of the essential early Factory/Mute releases. Within seconds of the title track’s explosive refrain, Teledrome lock themselves down as a tightly-crafted outfit that doesn’t leave time for introspection. Cranking through five fully-formed classics all within 45 revolutions per minute over both sides of this 7,” a feat not easily accomplished in today’s climate of long-winded artistic “expressions.” Edition of 475 copies.

Heavy Times

Jacker

Hozac

***As Chicago’s most lethal band of the fast-rising noise pop neurotics, HEAVY TIMES have carved out a uniquely hypnotic sound that’s hard to pin down but easy to fall for, and fast. Crushingly melodic vocal hooks cleverly interwoven with static-filled harmonies no one’s prepared for, all executed with a snarling blow to the pleasure receptors. Their massive, almost cavernous grungy pop will escape most realistic comparisons, but as the scuzz starts to feverishly build and disseminate on each successive track of Jacker, it becomes quickly evident that the songs that frame these livid bursts of punk energy are always worth waiting for. Once these mammoth choruses kick into gear, and just as the guitars explode, it’s an endorphin-rushing experience that stands all hairs on end, and will knock you back unexpectedly. This is a band that carefully divides its power, bringing the hammer down right where it needs to hit, and locking into a euphonic wave of impossibly catchy, spidery guitar lines that soar and dive with the best of ‘em so well, you’ll swear you’ve heard these chords somewhere before. What’s more is that Heavy Times have just as much of a hand on blasting your eardrums into oblivion as they do on their signature mega-melodic wall of vocals, washing like a golden glaze over each track with an enchantingly harmonic howl, that clearly defines their hyperactive Wipers-soaked sound to the core.

Radar Eyes

Miracle

Hozac

***Just another hidden gem known mainly to Chicagoans, RADAR EYES have taken the noise-pop sound previously notarized by The Ponys, Hot Machines and Headache City to dizzying new heights. Soaring guitars and heavenly vocal interplay, all screaming along with such interstellar melody and power, you’d think they were on the brink of signing to Creation Records. They have been quietly building an explosive array of hits for the past few years, and now their incredible shine has become unavoidable as they crush together spacey noise with devastating pop hooks. Transcendent pop like this only falls from the heavens every so often, so if you missed out on checking out Radar Eyes in the Hookup Klub, now’s your chance to slip inside their web of heavenly hooks & feedback-fried, skull-splitting sound before the rest of the world catches up. Edition of 500 copies.

Wax Idols

No Future

Hozac

***The San Francisco Bay area’s most promising breakout, and formidable female-fronted pop wonders are not who you may already believe or expect. Lead by the enigmatically agitated HEATHER FEDEWA (aka HEATHER FORTUNE, ex-HUNX & HIS PUNX, BARE WIRES, and current BLASTED CANYONS), WAX IDOLS straddle the line between ripping tough/tender post-punk/goth-pop, and irresistibly anthemic indie rock hooks, somewhat like Joan Jett would sound like tearing through Best Coast with a chainsaw or if Mary Monday had been a member of Wire. Your curiosity may have already been piqued from their unabashed debut 7-inch “All Too Human,” released on Hozac earlier this year, but it’s hard to imagine anyone being ready for an LP of this caliber, bursting at the seams with hits for all seasons, and effortlessly blurring the lines between viciously beautiful temperance and an unwavering, attitude-soaked attack on your comfort zone. With an arsenal of songs that range from chest-pounding melodic punk screamers, to tense-yet-tumultuous tracks of sadness overcome with bombastic pop precision, No Future is one of the most impressive LPs we’ve had the pleasure of releasing, and one we’re sure will go far. Fedewa’s uniquely surly-yet-sultry voice has such an lasting impact, it seamlessly traces the gamut of human emotions back & forth from the unhinged heights to the inescapable doldrums, all tied up in perfect blasts of modern pop/post-punk subdued simplicity that are as upfront and immediate as any of of their legendary influences.

Black Bug

Police Helicopter

Hozac

***The certified degenerate buzz that's surrounded BLACK BUG for the past few years has been dangerously bubbling under the surface and toxically spread over a handful of singles and their debut LP, as they have emerged as the truly most demonic and nihilistic of the minimal synth acts of the current suffocating wave. Hailing from the bowels of the Swedish underground, Black Bug are a terrorizing ambient noise duo of questionable origin, existing in a vacuous plane of reality, where simplistic noisy analog reverberation is the answer to all of life's questions, and when isn't it? Here they offer us three more devilish cuts of unsettlingly echo-laden dance floor classics, undulating with such a depraved throb and squirm, they might be already embedding themselves deep into your skin, as to quickly dissolve and infect instantly. Black Bug revel in the ugliness of simple purity and the way it feels against your cold, wet skin. They've cornered the market on the vile nothingness of paranoid desperation and their songs here are as bleak and gut-wrenching as any of their fore bearers. First edition of 500 copies.

Fungi Girls

Some Easy Magic

Hozac

***As the hypnotically serene breeze of summer finally locks into place across the land, the sophomore LP from the three hyper-talented Cleburne, TX teenagers known as FUNGI GIRLS, sprouts up from the earth like an other-worldly fern-like vessel emerging from the desert, ready to seduce the innocent and beguile the non-believers with its powerfully delicate and cavernous sound. Wise beyond their years, both in song construction, and in their depth of influences, Fungi Girls have been carving out a reverberating and resilient groove that sucks you into their hazy world of lacing crystalline guitar line over thunderous bass rhythms, all wrapped in their inimitable vocal style, which clearly drives this band into their own realm of psychedelic pop mastery. Needless to say, these small-town kids are doing something incredible with the wealth of music lying effortlessly at their fingertips, and forging their own unique sound and certain tension has become second nature on this new LP, which embraces a simple formula that works perfectly to distill the nuances of yesterday's overlooked visionaries into the perpetual sound of today.

Ketamines

Line By Line

Hozac

***How Calgary, Alberta's KETAMINES can create such warming, vibrant sounds in the great white north is still confusing our team of scientists, but the three raw and sunny-sounding blasts of pop on this debut EP will surely have your chest pounding with excitement, and I'm not even a doctor. Formed from the ashes of the revered MYELIN SHEATHS and ENDAGERED APE, and current Fist City and Mammoth Cave Recordings figureheads, Ketamines are truly the Calgary super group you need to hear. It's a rush of swirling pop psychedelia that doesn't veer too far off the deep end, and ropes you into a technicolor world conjuring visions of the UFO Club, cross-wired with luxuriously textured Simply Saucer vibes, all crushed comfortably around teetering lysergic pop song structures.  Whether it's the metronomically phased choruses and flanged nuances that shift effortlessly between the inescapable hooks, or the eerily cheerful songs you simply can't shake out of your head for days, the Ketamines debut EP is everything you wouldn't think they'd be based on their moniker alone. They still harness the hazy, confident stride of the dazed legends that came before them, and their psychedelic pop should carry them straight into the arms of today's most jaded with ease. First edition of 500 copies.

Puffy Areolas

Gentleman's Grip

Hozac

***One of the most pivotal bands currently infecting the Midwest universe, PUFFY AREOLAS are a pummeling ensemble of free jazz skronk, laid mercilessly on top of a proto-punk nuclear waste dump, still throbbing with orgone energy. A Hawkwind cum-Lucifer's Crank-era Dwarves killing machine that doesn't stop until no one is left breathing, or god forbid, unimpressed. A sophisticated mess of noisy bursts of animosity and intangible hate-fuck hysteria, that's as captivating as it is alienating, pushing the boundaries of sanity, each and every performance. Once you tune your brain's lower end into their freaked-out frequency, you'll immediately FEEL THE NOIZE, and you'll quickly see how those gut-churning riffs can peel the paint off the walls better than any crew of Ukranian contractors in this neighborhood, that's for sure. First edition of 500 copies.  

Mickey

Rock'n Roll Dreamer

Hozac

***“Oh yes, the MICKEY album is finally here, and it’s one of those records that will hit you unexpectedly. This sparklingly devilish debut LP comes off so ferociously powerful and snotty, yet recorded and delivered with a finesse and attitude so overwhelming, it might just become your new obsession. Deranged glam pop that hearkens back to the daze of corrupted youth, running from the law, outwitting your parents, and the endless thrills that come with breaking away into where the night takes you. It’s got the desperation and the dereliction to conjure these impulses so well, you might even feel like running away from home, just for that irreplaceable rush, years after you’ve already left. Guitars this clean shouldn’t sound this dirty, and songs this juvenile should never be this immediate. That’s just what might be the most intriguing facet of this debut LP, a triumphant return to the nastiness of unhinged rock’n roll that spans the ages. Conjuring ‘50s/’70s doo-wop/glitter catchiness with pop/metal hooks that just were never supposed to be, yet here they are, running down your legs in all their soiled glory, as the songs come bleeding out of the speakers while you scream down the highway.”

Happy Thoughts

S/t

Hozac

***“We’ll admit, this finished album landed at our headquarters late last summer, but it just seemed unfair to release it in the Fall or Winter months, since this debut LP by the HAPPY THOUGHTS is such an incredibly classic-sounding ‘Summer album’ in all aspects of the term. How do guitar riffs like these clear the clouds away so well, while embracing a pure freshness in such a familiar sense? You’ll feel like you’ve been listening to these songs your whole life. As clean and crisp as the early ‘60s-infused rock’n roll backbeat holding onto these songs for dear life, each track sticks right to your ribs, and with the addition of a full band, compared to the previous solo recordings, it’s a richness you didn’t even know you deserved. Purity, harmony, and true, unabridged happiness come bleeding through this collection of songs even more impressively than on the other bands ERIC LAGRANGE has played a pivotal part in, namely, the excellence of the CAVE WEDDINGS and ROMANCE NOVELS (the latter of which, chosen by Nobunny for support on his first US tour).” For fans of Bobby Fuller Four, Nobunny, Fevers, Shoes.

People’s Temple

Sons Of Stone

Hozac

***This Lansing, Michigan gang of renegade upstarts has been extremely prolific over the last couple of years, and as the time quickly passes by, even better songs have evolved, as this debut LP will undoubtedly prove. Formed from two sets of brothers, THE PEOPLE’S TEMPLE have a certain cohesion that’s hard to pin down, yet impossible to resist. Taking the listener even further down the darkened path, they straddle the line between simple garage intentions and certain lysergic after effects, causing these songs to take on a 13th Floor Elevators/Troggs/Black Diamonds vibe that’s basically supposed to be impossible to pull off without sounding corny. The dirgey yet sparkling production that rears its head on their debut album here may seem like quite a leap forward (a la the Smith Westerns on their debut LP) to listeners already hooked on their string of 7” singles, but the songwriting shines through remarkably well, and quickly separates them from the pack. With hazy nods to both shoe-gaze and ‘60s pop/psych interspersed with their own signature sound, they burst through the thickening fog with anthemic precision and unshakable pleasure, as each track revs up and blasts off through the stratosphere, sending waves of chills and reverberation in every direction. Its always exciting when a band creates such a break-though like this, and we’re beyond ecstatic to help it take off and rip through the sky.

Shrapnelles

S/t

Hozac

***This gang of women raised by wolves from the great northern province of Alberta, Canada have effortlessly pulled themselves up through the cracks of the “girl band ghetto” trappings and nailed their reputation solidly in place here, with their infectiously powerful debut 7-inch EP. Swinging gaseous Gun Club riffs through a rusty blender of ribald chainsaw shredding, with 4-part harmony-style vocals screaming ever so heavenly over the top, is both a sight and sound to behold. But don’t try to pigeonhole them as a female version of Demons’ Claws, these ladies have their very own saw-toothed punk blueprint they’ve created, sloptastically on their own, and once the dramatically hushed intro kicks in on the first track, it’s all smash and crash from here on out. Everything between the writhing, cavernous guitar thunder to the noisy, shredding cymbals comes together in perfect time to create an impact that your chest might not be able to handle on the first punch. But as you’ll soon notice upon repeated listens, these songs quickly converge in your head and seep in through any available unprotected wounds like the delicious poison that they embody so perfectly, on their maiden voyage into your inner skull and all of its awaiting pleasure receptors. Edition of 500 copies.

Wax Idols

All Too Human / William Says

Hozac

***You can feel it in the pulsing drum beat that jumps out from the speakers on first listen of this debut WAX IDOLS 7-inch. It’s simply the sound of raw guts, hot sweat, and pelvic pain, and it’s got that sweet yet snarling catchiness, coupled with an antagonistic kick that’s exactly what you need right now. A dazzlingly ferocious, fuzz-filled debut single that flashes right by, with screaming hooks and that unavoidable throbbing beat tugging you in deeper and deeper, with each listen. Wax Idols are the brainchild of HEATHER FEDEWA, formerly of BARE WIRES and HUNX & HIS PUNX (and currently of BLASTED CANYONS), a firecracker in every sense of the word, and a one-woman noise pop machine that’s assembled a brutish ensemble of players backing her up. Employing a rotating cast of SF Bay-area heads such as MATT HARTMAN (SIC ALPS) and currently two of the ladies from the SPLINTERS, it all coalesces into an impressively bombastic concoction here, rendering two volatile hits you won’t be able shake out of your pant legs any time soon. Edition of 500 copies.

K-holes

S/t

Hozac

***“K-HOLES began in an inauspicious, unambitious way. The goal was to play one show as a dirge surf band and then call it a day. Everybody was involved in other bands (BLACK LIPS, GOLDEN TRIANGLE, BEZOAR, GEORGIANA STARLINGTON). K-Holes was intended to be a big party with no strings attached. Somehow it stuck, though, as the big party with no strings attached lifestyle will sometimes do. Through long nights holed-up in a concrete room, the surf was stripped away and the dirge remained. A saxophone replaced a guitar and the sewer gas sound was complete. All nighters staring at one another through a haze of smoke, Budwieser cans crashing like cymbals against the floor, two beat up drums throbbing along with a $100 bass and the confused rage of a low wage in the digital age. Everything fell apart over and over. Each hungover day felt like a new disaster. So many shows, so many practices brought humiliating failure. Yet, they couldn't shake the green smoke of midnight's dreams from their daytime thoughts. It has been said that to do the same thing over and over and expect different results is the height of folly. Well, if you had to choose between the height and folly and a lifetime of humiliation, tedium and Sisyphean struggle, what would your choice be? Anyhow, K-Holes did the same thing over and over. In today' s New York City, barren as it is to those who are not born privileged, what else was there...

Spider Fever

Whatcha Gonna Do

Hozac

***The brain-blasting and overwhelmingly exhilarating energy that seethes through these first tracks by San Diego's SPIDER FEVER are what hooked us immediately, with two perfectly raw and impeccably loud songs barreling out of punk's original seeping wounds. Featuring drummer extraordinaire MARIO RUBALCABA (OFF!, EARTHLESS, ROCKET FROM THE CRYPT, CHICAONO-CHRIST, and many more...) here on lead vocals & godlike shredding guitar, it's a rare and hefty slice of Testors-influenced ‘70s punk splatter that's shaking the walls and shattering the windows anywhere its cranked. You just won't be able to resist this type of nasty scuzz bleeding into air-tight choruses that beat you up and down all within less than two and a half minutes. It's a classic return to the original violent form that steers clear of any "weird punk" wall-flowering and just beats you continuously until the breathing stops, all to a catchy beat that gets in and out before there's even time to remember what hit you. Edition of 500 copies on black vinyl.

Women In Prison

Strange Waves

Hozac

***With the force and voracity of a pack of rabid wolves set loose upon a herd of cattle, Austin, TX's WOMEN IN PRISON tighten up and rip your chest open with guitar scree so deranged and nihilistic, you'd think James Williamson had stood in on a proto-Black Flag project while shaking off the last of the Stooges' bloody glitter. Their sound is nothing short of raging, rabid, unflinching, and totally what the sound of early 80s punk should have used as a template. Featuring snarling and pure vocals from long-lost Chicago punk diplomat, JOHN BONDAGE (aka FUNCTIONAL BLACKOUTS first lead vocalist BRIAN NERVOUS), along with malcontents from THE YOUNG and TOTAL ABUSE, this is ripping so hard in every direction it'll drive you instantly into hysterics. If all "punk" could really sound this great, the world would really be a better place, not to mention much less nauseating. A breath of fresh air for REAL PUNGK and all of its bleeding subsidiaries. Edition of 500 copies on black vinyl.

Xray Eyeballs

Crystal

Hozac

***The initial swooning rhythm thrust forth by Brooklyn's quickly ascending XRAY EYEBALLS is a heady blast of creeping distortion beautifully bent into perspective by these insidious inhabitants of the dark corners of your mind. With these three tracks on their debut 7-inch EP, we get a glimpse at the mesmerizing range of slurred styles that they encapsulate so well, both throbbing along at a heartbeat-pace and quivering restlessly, XRay Eyeballs knock out the instant hits with an effortless ease that feels so right, it refreshes your cloudy state of mind instantly. Infectious pop filtered through a dizzying framework of noise and frenzy, this EP has that certain lovely nastiness that it takes to make an intriguing first impression. Edition of 500 copies on black vinyl.

Gentleman Jesse & His Men

You’ve Got The Wrong Man

Hozac

***BACK IN STOCK!!! Atlanta's favorite son, GENTLEMAN JESSE SMITH is back in a big way after he turned the modern pop world upside down with 2008's debut single and LP that immediately raised the bar for contemporary power pop recordings. We've been waiting for this release since 2007 and it's finally here. This year has seen Gentleman Jesse & His Men touring like crazy with a new single on Douchemaster along with this one right here, ushering in the second wind we've all been waiting for from this much-adored pop pioneer. This songwriting well isn't even close to running dry, and if the two tracks contained on this new single are any indication of the follow-up LP's magnitude, it may just be time to roll over and declare Jesse the modern 'King of Pop,' as we all know Michael fucking Jackson sure isn't holding onto it anymore. First press of 500 black editions.

Girls

Remote View

Hozac

***THE GIRLS have been notorious for their impressive new wavish pop zeal ever since they first embarked out into the unforgiving world via their Dirtnap debut in 2004, only this time, their subdued dormancy has culminated with a much darker sound that most of their original progenitors might not even recognize. While the band has retained their core competency of twisted pop architecture as it's guiding light, these two new tracks recorded by The Intelligence's LARS FINBERG show a far more robotic side to their sound. Now sounding less like The Cars and more toward the Tubeway Army/The Gas/Valves angle they've comfortably grown into, which fits like a fingerless glove. Dig into these two space-age pop gems, both neurotically bursting with scuzz-laden, mind-numbing hooks that sink in deep and stick like cheap gum in granny's dentures. First press of 500 black editions.

Heavy Times

No Plans

Hozac

***Chicago's newest unpredictable pop blasting caps, HEAVY TIMES, seemed to come out of nowhere this year, and with less than a handful of shows (and a few handmade releases) under their belt within months, they were already turning heads. Primarily the vehicle of BO HANSEN, the band has been recording since 2005 in and out of bedrooms, alone or with others, right up to their current, air-tight three-piece lineup which takes the form of a pop-guided wrecking ball that just can do no wrong. The way they straddle the drastic line of duality between their ferocious live incarnation and their heavenly harmonious studio recordings is still keeping us scratching our heads, as well. In the wake of their recent self-released debut album Dead, earlier this year, it was even more apparent how strong the songwriting was becoming, and once you hear how their mind-blowing screaming dual guitar interplay cuts through it all, it's really no surprise that we're excited about what these guys have up their sleeves. They may be running in the dark alleys and gutters now, but with chops this big and hooks this blinding, we won't be able to keep them a Chicago secret for much longer. First press of 500 black editions.

Tortured Tongues

Let Me Down

Hozac

***It's bad times all year 'round in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where the castrated legions that makeup the by-product known as TORTURED TONGUES reside. The tar-like muck that licked your face endlessly for days upon the debut of their self-released 7-inch in 2009 has crawled out from those toenails once again and has brought the prime slime right up to the front, where it's always belonged. Churning dawn-of-the-century Clone Defects slobberism, schitzo Screamers scuzz, along with Bobby Soxx-soaked backwash, this is one Puritan-polluting problem we can fully stand behind here, as Tortured Tongues will be a very hard stain to wash out. Three full-charge scum punk wonders gracefully degrade this EP over the two sides, with the rusty-gutting, strangulated delivery oozing out of all the facial wounds of your miserable existence, this record might just be the "end of that rope" people are always referring to. First press of 500 black editions.

Reading Rainbow

Prism Eyes

Hozac

***The Virginia-bred, Philadelphia-based garage pop duo READING RAINBOW explores the tension of dreams-versus-reality on their second full-length release. Since debuting in 2008 with a series of distorted, beautiful 7-inch singles, the band’s ability to lyrically tackle broad themes and big questions has set them apart. Twelve tracks.

Subtle Turnhips

Terd

Hozac

***At long last, the French Cro-Magnon punque masters SUBTLE TURNHIPS have returned from the blackness with their third staggering LP of slobbering soiled savagery, and we couldn't be more pleased to help shovel it down your throats. Finally available to folks outside of their alcove of animosity and thrusting forth a sludgy, refreshing blast of toilet-wave toxicity that never sits well in pleasant situations, these three cave-dwelling cretins have created a modern masterpiece of rudimentary punk damage, never straying far off from each song's well beaten two-chord pummeling. For a band that's been surreptitiously releasing records for over twenty years now, the release of this new Terd LP is cause for rejoicing in that, at the very least, it's accessible to the farther-down-the-food-chain life forms that will embrace it the most. Mining only the most slavish nuances culled from punk's deepest grievances and stewed in an acidic bath of primal lunacy stemming from isolation, desperation, and overall sonic decapitation, it's with great pleasure that we unleash the Subtle Turnhips' latest poisonous blast of primordial perfection, the Terd LP upon your vulnerable and unprepared soul. First pressing of 400 copies.

Idle Times

S/t

Hozac

***Since their inception, Seattle's eminently unique noise-benders, IDLE TIMES have enshrouded their unhinged pop dexterity in an entire soiled spectrum of illustrious cloaks, assuring every angle they pursue is leveled with deranged precision. From the instant the lead off track kicks in on their debut LP, it's impossible to ignore the band's brainchild, BRIAN STANDEFOD, utilizing an unreal and otherworldly scorching guitar tone, which very well might be what locks you in at first. But on closer listens, it's the scraps of distant-yet-familiar sound swatches, seamlessly patched together behind that inimitable guitar and vocal combination that make up the intensely diverse array of songs on their first full-length. It's never been more prominent than on their anxiously-awaited debut LP, where Idle Times are clearly pioneering a sound that's meshing so many degrees of varying styles from track to track, that it becomes easy to get lost in the staggering creativity of each intricate alcove. With such an intense collection of tracks that crush and crackle with deranged delight, Idle Times wield both noisy pop hooks with subdued melodic mastery, and prove that following up Sic Alps/Guided By Voices-style grungy, yet fully jangled scratchy pop hits, with the twang and clang of a fried-out later-era Byrds studio outtake, is truly something fresh and exciting in this never-ending world of recycled ideas and ripped-off innovation. It just doesn't sound like anything else, and as shocking as that may seem, that's most likely why it's just so compelling.

Burning Yellows

Urinal Cakes

Hozac

***Portland, OR has been home to quite a few great bands in recent years (and has ever since the 70s, as evidenced by the 10-29-79 compilation, and the Northwest Passage film), and we're beyond excited to offer the debut single from our first band from the area, the sublime and apparitional Burning Yellows. From the second the heartbeat metronome fades in on the first song, an atmospheric VU-rhythmic throb encapsulates your senses and lures you into their reverberated world, and vocalist Kyja's echo-saturated vocals wash over you like a chemical bath stripping away your metaphorical outer layer of dead skin. As the band evolved from its primordial state and into the live arena recently, look for Burning Yellows to continued to daze and mesmerize onlookers with their dreamy, fuzz-laden pop vibrations that will leave you glassy-eyed and converted within minutes. First 200 copies are Gold editions, wrapped in an elegant 'Oceanic Nightmare' alternate sleeve.

Liminanas

I’m Dead

Hozac

***”Ah, the neverending charm of the French. We've been obsessed for years now, and this debut single from The Liminanas has the power to unite warring nations and to seduce the innocent, all in one luxurious punch. With grandiose production and simple, melodic hooks that would make Phil Spector blush in his jail uniform, The Liminanas have that special something that embeds their harmonious arrival quickly into your brain, sending a sinister vibe through the original ye-ye formula and coming out with remarkable results. They cleverly avoid the typical trappings of the pedestrian revivalists and break through here with two incredible, haunting, and inspirationally grim sides that meld a heavy VU-drenched backbone to lurid pop splashes, that result in these timeless recordings you will no doubt cherish. Epic hooks like these combined with bashful female vocals dancing menacingly around the macabre, all done with that irreplaceable accent and performed in the raw like this are hard to come by, so dive into the swirling pop daydream conjured here by The Liminanas, and you'll find it hard to remember what life was like before it seductively invaded your world.” -VictimofTime.com

Fey Gods

Untied

Hozac

***The oddness and ambiguity of Columbus, OH's own FEY GODS may seem like a handicap in some outsider perspectives, but following the rich musical tradition of Columbus' seemingly endless lo-fi treasure chest of recordings (some still surfacing), its great to know that that boundless creativity still flows richly like the two tracks included on their debut 7-inch here. Forming from the corroded ruins of THE GRAVE BLANKETS in late 2008, core members NICK & LULA boil down the bones of all of their previous ideas into a thick, gelatinous throbbing sound that reverberates and scalds simultaneously in the form of Fey Gods. The stark contrast between side A's beautifully ominous VU-style "I'm Set Free" vibrations are brashly struck back on the B-side's neurotic and irresistibly grueling and grinding death march, that ultimately signals a certain demise. Successfully incorporating the lavish and morose sides of the coin with this single, Fey Gods twist and grate their infectious slime toward your open wounds, and stick in like a parasite gasping for blood. 500 copies on black vinyl.