A pair of sonic haymakers from the last few months. Great albums, both, worthy of your patronage by coin.
SKREEK! SKRONK! WARMPH! Uh-oh, here comes the fuzz (Michael Campagna’s six-string sputter) to cuff Jack Chandler for lewd and mischievous use of saxophone, and filet skins-man Winogrond for abusing the earth’s crust. Ether binges on delicious noise (somewhere the jazzier side of Hüsker Dü nods its approval) under such bad-ass titles as “Return of the Silver Apple Fleck Yoshimbokwa” (spoken-word bashed and gashed by an eruption of squidgy space tugs) and “Snakeskin Pillbox Hat,” a boss romp that complements “Jupiter Jump’s” ’50s sex-club foreplay quite nicely. It’s a little rough around the elbows — just the way we like it — but it hits the pit with a greasy wallop and sticks to your ribs for good. (www.davidwinogrondspacetet.com)
Y’ever find yourself in downtown L.A. — ’round Fifth and Wall or thereabouts — and the whole of Skid Row rains gin bottles on your head? Well, the faint rainbow formed in that glass-cade is Soil & “Pimp” Sessions, Tokyo’s hearty reply to jazz’s “Srsly, WTF?” Poisoned scales mudslide past at giddy speeds, with Motuharu’s ever-pained sax screaming for a medic, but the chaos occasionally chips away to reveal—surprise—an amazing combo. Bandleader Shacho bills himself as “Agitator” (that’s him cutting blood ’n’ guts from ivory and doing God knows what to a guitar…I think), and it’s interesting to hear him maintain a straightforward to/fro Bach pirouette on cuts like “Struggle” while Motuharu and Tabu Zombie (trumpet) jam hatpins down each other’s blowholes. Calm is beauty, but so is mutiny. Here endeth the lesson. Planet Pimp is the most fun you can have this side of murder. (www.soilpimp.com)