Fawnchopper

The spirit of independence is a fickle concept, especially if we’re talking in the music industry or from the perspective of a music discovery blog. The commonplace definition we use for an independent band is a band trying to make a living from the music they create, without major financial backing from a record company or label. Some bands cut steps further than this by producing, mixing and mastering their own content or manufacturing and distributing the albums themselves, sometimes often to reduce the cost or because they have the necessary skills to do it themselves. You could therefore claim that these extra steps could in fact symbolise a greater level of independence, ruling out an extra set of middle men to pay in order to spread their music as far and wide as possible. This philosophy could be stretched into its own debate, but I’m going to keep it at this level of simplicity of the purpose of the article. You see, I share the same level of independence with Canada’s Fawnchopper. I settle on working for myself, having found these guys through my own means, albeit through the medium of Bandcamp. Where Fawnchopper are technically signed to independent imprint Filth Regime Records, in reality, they are essentially on their own to preach the progressive annihilation that their debut album Kind Of Red imbues. Though for dividing such a task between just three individuals, the sheer sonic force from these gentlemen creates an ungodly amount of noise in the best way imaginable. Picture Mastodon and Godflesh starting a riot in the middle of an abandoned factory, nestled in a swampy heartland and you’re pretty close metaphorically. Lead single Kill This Melody is the perfect exposé for this vision, sludgy ripples quickly formulating from heavily distorted guitar and relentless skin bashing at the inset. Not initially dangerous, but you get a glimpse of depravity from a female moan shortly afterwards, right before the hammer comes down on proceedings. A pair of prominent barks narrate a tale of unrequited longing and torment in the eyes of an unseen protagonist, all the while guitar and bass bleeding their own fuzz-sodden dialogue into the volatile mixture. Drums are beaten hard enough to induce blunt force trauma and there’s a sinister-sounding ambient undertow present throughout this primal carnage that pumps far more darkness into the heart of the music. Of which the overdrive kicks in around the two-minute mark, switching to instrumental, pure mechanised brutality, a realm beyond unsettling to say the least and it only gathers strength the further the track progresses. A form of order is briefly restored in the refrain of ‘Kill this melody’ but it increasingly becomes more hostile and violent before exponential static build-up kills the song dead in its tracks, perhaps a somewhat ironic sentiment. With a name like Fawnchopper, you don’t come expecting a picnic in the woods. This is an industrial-strength, sludge nightmare, but if you can sift through the jet-black chasm presented before you, you are rewarded with one hell of a listening experience. Maybe their independence wasn’t so much of a bad thing, especially when you have the freedom to create an admittedly testing album for the faint-hearted, but an album that nonetheless sheds light on a highly skilled, but defiantly darker level of songwriting, among the best released this year.

To truly appreciate this for yourselves, Fawnchopper not only have Kind Of Red in full on their Bandcamp page, but are giving it to you for absolutely nothing, which I implore you to accept with open arms. If you are the giving kind though, you can also pay for a digital download from most respected music retailers, which I would also highly recommend. And if you enjoyed this melody, then there’s a video to accompany it, which is not entirely safe for work.

Go say things to them:

https://www.facebook.com/fawnchopperband/?fref=ts
https://twitter.com/Fawnchopper

And if you would really like to, you can go say things to me too, I won’t be mad if you don’t:

https://www.facebook.com/IAmTheSoundshark/?fref=ts
https://twitter.com/The_Soundshark

Rose Kemp

Once upon a time, there were two folk musicians called Maddy and Rick, and they were in one of the most famous British folk bands of all time: Steeleye Span. Maddy and Rick married and conceived two children, one of which her name was Rose. Rose too initially was a folk musician, but she began to move in a different direction. She abandoned the traditional instruments and strove for a more electric based sound.You could view this as a fairy tale of corruption, but on behalf of the sheer talent and eclecticism that Rose Kemp shows in her songwriting, things turned out for the better. From embracing the more acoustic-focused, less-tempered roots of her parents to full-blown Sabbath-esque doom and drone dirges, her recorded output has sunk more and more into the shadows, but there has always remained a quirky, offbeat likeability to her work. Whether it’s the stirring emotional connection with the strings, or the sudden peril from stabs of organ, or even the various voice projections, from siren calls, to sultry tones, there is a large world of sounds just waiting to be explored. Saturday Night from 2008’s Unholy Majesty is a slow-burning ballad concerning the escapades of weekend living, that bursts into life near the climax, but is gorgeous only based on a few chords of the electric guitar and Rose’s sultry yet vengeful sounding tones. She’s since disappeared from a recording schedule, but her talent has given another shining hope to the already rich singer-songwriter pool, a darker hope, yet an excellent one.

Many of her recorded albums, as well as the odd collaboration such as Jeremy Smoking Jacket, can be found here and there floating around the internet and most respectable music retailers

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rose-Kemp/103984439637649?fref=ts.

Deadists

At least some point in your life, you may ask yourself the question: How is it that I’d like to die? No matter what state of mind you are in, it seems to be an intangiable fact that we as the human race, are oft fascinated by the realms of the morbid. After all, life does come to an end at some point. But say if for example, you are in a Swedish metal band from Gothenburg, and your music so happens to be very heavy, addled with enough riffs and raw power to haemorrage a tower block, you may ask yourself: Is death by sludge possible? Deadists would like think so, their waves of black tar swallowing you whole, whilst the crushing weight squeezes the air from your lungs. Meeting somewhere between doom and sludge, none of Time Without Light’s five tracks falls under the five minute mark., giving enough exposure in one sitting to completely pulverise your eardrums into dust. The full-out fuzz assault of Human Stain is a seemingly endless tide of meaty guitar grooves and highly intimidating barking, all the time while drums beat and bloody the faint of heart into a pulp. Deadists may play with an appetite for destruction, that much is clear, but the size and skill of which this fairly original brand of addictive sludge is performed, leaves little doubt that these gentlemen from Gothenburg are a wrecking crew capable of global domination.

Deadists are in a strange state, they haven’t died but are evolving in terms of sound and personnel, of which change hopefully bring new material with it. In any case, 2010’s Time Without Light can be found on their Bandcamp page for an absolute steal.

https://www.facebook.com/deadists?fref=ts