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Half finished digipaks!! Half finished digipaks!! Half finished digipaks!! Half finished digipaks!!
'CASTROVALVA' 'CASTROVALVA (mini-album)' - Label: 'Brew Records' - Genre: 'Rock' - Release Date: 'May 4th 2009'- Catalogue No: 'BRW006' | |
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Written and recorded within one week, this eight track CD will be smuggled out of gigs for not much money and then treasured by its purchasers for a long time to come. Its 25 hectic minutes are a bit of a mess. Which is pretty much the point. Anthony Wright (Ant) and Daniel Brader (Dan) are bass and drums respectively, with each as culpable as the other of wedging in plenty of additional distortions. eruptions, squeaks and dysfunctional aural blemishes whose origins cannot (and probably should not) be guessed. One way to imagine how much you might love it would be to start somewhere like Fripp and Bruford on a good day. Get Bruford to play bass, Put Fripp behind the drums without a stool and let them play to a punk audience for an hour and then send then home while the audience nominates two unlikely candidates to emulate what they have just heard without rehearsal. Maybe I exaggerate a little. CASTROVALVA are a fresher and newer breed than KING CRIMSON, and are probably much more influenced by later generation's post-punk reformulations of rock's primary sources. But whether I exaggerate or not, it's that joyous recklessness that makes CASTROVALVA what they are. A visceral, outrageous experience of sanity refusal. Very big, not very clever, but intuitively right on the ley line joining Hawkwind to the imagined senescence of Melt Banana. The main voice is damaged-sounding cymbal splashing and dry hi-tom battering competing with an outrageously disintegrating bass sound. The energy and the tempo keep it moving and there are moments of deeper cunning for variation (and humour's) sake.
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By Dudley Baker
Even before you’ve began listening to Castrovalva there is already a vague sense of enormity in the coming experience. Like trying to steer a boat across an ocean, there always the possibility of a massive wave about to hit which slams your little boat and leaves you clinging to an oar. Song titles such as ‘Triceratops,’ ‘Bison Scissor Kick’ and ‘Belhausen’ all help conjure a sense of scale, which is probably why they made this a mini album.
When you put the album on though you see why, and your suspicions are all confirmed. A brief wireless broadcast lulls you into a false sense of security, before pummelling you with ‘Max Rhodes,’ a sort of fuzzy stoner workout reminiscent of that most epic of epic bands Kyuss, praise indeed. But it’s not all mega riffs and fuzz, not ALL… And this is where that illusive and tricky term 'prog' pops up. I don’t mean prog as in Rick Wakeman in a silver cape playing and Minimoog, more the sort of jazzy obscure time signatures that always keeps things fresh. Thankfully, after a brief four numbers we get an interlude of sorts in the way of ‘London Kills Me.’ A sort of ambient respite on a treated organ, a good way of calming your ears down and letting some of those images of erupting volcanoes fade away.
But they’re back again all too soon, and your boat is being thrown about once again in the storm. This time though, you’re clinging to the mast with a massive grin on your face.