Listen: Woods’ new song “Tomorrow’s Only Yesterday”


Consequence of Sound

Next month, Brooklyn’s Woods will follow up their newly-released eighth album, With Light And With Love, by releasing a new 7-inch featuring two non-album tracks. Already we’ve heard the summery A-side “Tambourine Light”, and today the trio has unveiled its flip side, “Tomorrow’s Only Yesterday”.

Whereas much ofWith Love felt polished, “Tomorrow’s Only Yesterday” feels slightly grittier and unkempt. Psychedelic guitars moan and drone into the ether; waves of crunchy dissonance weave in and out; and even Jeremy Earl’s vocals, cloaked in studio fuzz, feel more like an extension of the jangly noise than a real voice.

Listen in below (via The FADER):

“Tambourine Light” b/w “Tomorrow’s Only Yesterday” is due out July 8th release via Woods’ label Woodsist and Captured Tracks.

The band will be on tour throughout the summer, including stops at the Pickathon and Outside Lands festivals. Consult their full schedule here.

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Album Review: Lone – Reality Testing


Consequence of Sound

There are titles on Reality Testing, like “Begin to Begin” and “First Born Seconds”, that give a pretty clear idea of the kind of experience Matt Cutler’s latest album as Lone offers. While the British producer’s 2012 LP Galaxy Garden soared on soft fronds through maximalist spaces, Cutler here incorporates some hip-hop focus in an attempt to blur the lines between our experienced reality and the brightly blurred ethereal. And while Reality Testing reaches out even further into superhuman space, the attempt feels weighed down at times by a zealous attachment to very human rhythms. Cutler seems to test out these new wrinkles to his sound, and this is just the beginning of that progression. He doesn’t quite find the stride into outer space he’s striving for.

Opener “First Born Seconds” cracks open the skull almost too literally, the high-pitched whirring that fuels the transition evoking a dentist’s drill as much as it does inter-dimensional travel. But that willingness…

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R.I.P. Filter, music magazine to cease publication


Consequence of Sound

Filter Magazine, one of the last remaining bastions of the music magazine industry, will cease publication later this summer, according to Kevin Bronson of Buzzbands.LA.

The magazine’s two founders, Alan Sartirana and Alan Miller, have each launched new entertainment platforms. Sartirana’s Anthemic Magazine will begin publiciation in the fall, promising to span the “cultural landscape of music, television, film, art, travel, and everything in between.”

Miller, meanwhile, will operate his own publication and several live events under the name Culture Collide. The Culture Colide festival, which has taken place in Los Angeles over the last several years, will soon expand to San Francisco and New York.

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Watch supercuts of Nine Inch Nails’ performing “Gave Up and “Hurt” over last 20 years


Consequence of Sound

In their world tour supporting Hesitation Marks, Trent Reznor has assembled three different configurations of Nine Inch Nails. “This keeps things fresh from a musician’s perspective, but also keeps things interesting for fans in an era where every show ends up on YouTube,” he recently explained.

But this is by new means a new trend; Reznor has been reinventing NIN throughout the band’s entire two-decade career. For proof, look no further than these two supercuts, which compile the band’s performances of “Gave Up” and “Hurt” from 1994 to 2014 (via Antiquiet). As you’ll see, no one rendition is the same.

“Gave Up”:

“Hurt”:

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Rifflandia Festival reveals 2014 lineup


Consequence of Sound

Canada’s Rifflandia Music Festival has revealed its preliminary lineup for 2014. The multi-day event takes place September 11th – 14th in venues across Victoria, British Columbia.

Death Cab For Cutie, The New Pornographers, and Thurston Moore are among this year’s headlining acts. Other notable artists include Rusko, Zeds Dead, Dum Dum Girls, Pickwick, Le Butcherettes, We Are Scientists, The Airborne Toxic Event, Keys N Krates, and Half Moon Run.

General admission and VIP passes are now available through the festival’s website.

rifflandia

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Ty Segall Band – Wave Goodbye


Music Jupiter of the Skull Statement

Cannot stop listening to this song!!!

Ty Segall Band – Slaughterhouse

Wave Goodbye

I went to church and I went to school
I played by all of your mother’s rules
But now it’s time to drink the wine
And wave goodbye, bye bye!

So lay us out side by side
Once and for all we shall not hide
But now its time to taste the guilt
And wave goodbye, bye bye!
ohh…

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A sit down and personal check in with the few readers who on many many days saved my life, you deserve this….


Okay, I need to write about some shit in my life. People throwing huge temper tantrums over my, for a few of them are total babes. Which just makes it suck even more.  I want it te fuck out of my mind. This is what does it. This is as opinionated as it gets on here, by me, what follows. Because of my…. I pay 100 bucks a year to  and I may get myself into some trouble disclosing this. But its that right there, However, bluntly, I dont really give a flying fuck. I’m speaking up. So sue me, dinguses. No story. No surrealist lingual collages on a digi canvass. I’m tired, I want to get this shit out….. I have learned something very important about people that I have met at rock clubs, the 3 bands that I have written, practiced, recorded, quit, literally, not even an hour of leaving one group, I for example, get a phone call from my great friend, and born musician, Tyler Hardy. I’m a bona fide  fucking bassist, I have studied bass for 20 years. I’ve made myself untouchable, and goddamn it feels good. That and writing. Poetry. Which is music. Yadayadada, point I will school your ass.  I purposefully wrote my bass lines in the band Microtia, while writing the 6 songs for the  with the intent that, had another bass player come a long, they nor the other 4 members of the band over the last year, to this day. The 28th. Last year on this day, I moved into a studio that is smaller than my practice space in the worst neighborhood in Portland, The Pearl District. Why did I move myself directly into the big fake urban tits of my hometown? Not one person in the pearl is from Portland. And there are so many extremely hot women that a southeast stoner musician with no money or doesnt own a club (cough) of My current drummer, Tyler, and I pay 100 dollars each for the space, we get a set of keys, its another Northwest Rehearsal Space, Saburbia, Bongo Fury type of place. These are big buildings throughout Portland and the saburbs built with many rooms for bands   And its great because I have made some great friends already including lead singer of the Insignificunts, James. My very good friend Matt, who was the singer of a band called Pheasant up until last year, his new band is right across the way, I’m almost positive is….. you know what, I am tired. I am moving back into my central southeast neighborhood, in a few hours. This year has been very dark. Hospitalized 4 times. Living in a neighborhood that god forbid you politely attempt to converse with a woman, well, then, you’re just a huge fucking creep. A year of that killed me. My confidence has vanished, which makes it written all over my face. How nice it feels to be smiled at by a beautiful girl, with awesome tattoos, and wants to come try out for your band? I think to myself, or not even think. I’m going to tell a story, I cant believe it, about things that will help you think and trust yourself. That said, it is also a story of, dude I dont know, life, society and what flies and what doesnt but some major shit……. one thing, another, a woman, My music-super-groovy friends Bass Shake Her Presley, have 2 brand new recorded tracks up on http://soundcloud.com/brian-hardie. Plus a track from the Microtia EP – Distance Is Oval released on SLC punk label Exigent Records in 2007. I was really proud to be creating a new style almost. And it has stood the test of time,. 

7 poems


#1

A mound of sham with colored dust drinks the aesthetic flow of deeper fears, waters I heard when time arrived dire for its need, indeed my seed rather chose to coat my hands the utter sudden flutter did I hear her eyes do as I was walking with summer along the shore , colored to see fearing lovers hear the color of the sky so high it does not seem so when I, guilty and blue to it do I confide, I hide behind burnt out stars just like bandits gitty stealing Mars, clearing out space within its own realm, traveling off frozen back drips of sweat from an alien white skinned ghost- like I was in love with, 2 lives too late I was however sexy Saturn natives seduce the night and wipe your wimper into demise addicted to you, the plato’s cave sun lights dim time on earth which galactical hells of music smells somehow it knows the only way in…. if I am destined despair in sanity I ask enemies where but they laugh, seeing I am not all there and that I have mopped my truths, under carpets shoved my shame into, under despair during a lucid nightmare I shriek, the speakers blare, into flames properly fashioned, the only dare involve tonights despair runs free let me as well hang a noose tied by the hate I bare, to stay out of in heat, and out of the hair of the universe perplexed fixing

thus, where in a sense innocently always blankets my

sympathy from a painted lip piercing

forgiveness that fucks. Who’s talking? Quiet. Listen. The old prune like cheeks of a butt are flapping fluffy poo splashing a little back up onto them now that you’ve nothing to wipe with……ew

 

#2

There is a tunnel up the road and inside there is some sort of transplanted degenerative vortex launching sonar scents into the atmosphere inside around all there is to hide yet is where you came from, soaring above you then will mirrors of perplexed size equal out vibrational gravity of the weight accenting acoustic biospheres and shock waves of electric crack pipes emptying sound scapes supporting the blinded hipster still standing around a cultures low standards scaling the shocked fundamental assurance that the signs will waver and bend his wallet running in the streets with camera men capturing the cool collected list of how to look yesterday, cracked voices open bleed below you know the sun falls from the sky and rolls merrily down the street up stairs into doorways bringing the life in them right out as fast as they went in leaving a fresh breath spaced out among the sleeping chosen chill running out of that tunnel faster than you or the tight pants you pissed in ever will. There is no clearer possible description written. By all means… like, totally bitchin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#3

I think it was originally started by

the ones that constantly build some

kind of desire or ideological hope that I, for now

know is close to what might be a surrealist style

but refuse to educate themselves before

maybe in the future it’s some kind

of beast that inevitably comes down to level it

and set ablaze the foundation of any

habit I thought once to be gratifying to feed in

the king poured cement on my self-portrait

everyone gather around my swollen sweating fame

formally accepted significant reason

made to be some vision…

it is not… and even less than that when

stubbornly placed on display by
who wouldn’t let it not be, who else

than the shit who wrote it.

Am I right?

 

#4
out of the wet

cardboard box

It immediately

began to dig

until it reached

skulls and a skeleton

like it had long known

about it buried there
or even exactly when

they were placed there

and the reason

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#5

I sit

in lullful wait

But it’s not all bad

Ya, see I’m soothed by the sounds

of my Aunt’s meditative fountain

I watch the water slide from atop the body of a kneeling monk

and outside I see wispy white clouds battle for blue sky

It appears all is well at the Rollin Wheels Mini Storage

Though I did let someone’s dog escape from the facility

and have since lost track of his roaming stride

to not have spoken to it’s owner is unconcerning however

for I am lost in the gentle trickling of the buddhist fountain

 

#6

I have met a lady

out of all those that God has thrown at me

One has finally stuck

but now I feel as though I need a spatula or a knife

or perhaps some chemical solvent

to get her off

just merely for a moment

Merely momentarily

mind you

 

#7

did thought explode

shards of an idea

ripping intuitive

jargon past

lives and eras

that have been

what are made

of the rampant

fragments

of something

that farted?