Posts Tagged ‘Ivansxtc’


Heavy Rotation 61

February 6, 2011

Featuring Power Animal, Ivansxtc, Big Troubles, the Liars and Blessure Grave in conjunction with the always delightful Deathface. Rather not have your music out in the open? Email me at for track removal.


Mike Doyle is doing impossible things with Legos.

Two views on blogging: It’s dead. It’s changing.

Fuckin’ McSweeney’s.

Power Animal – Better Water.mp3

Completely unrelated to Powermen 1-5000, Power Animal project a combination of swelling choruses and backsliding loops which coalesce into a compelling noise not entirely unlike what I imagine successful prayer sounds like: the ecstasy of an open line with the heavens mixed with prostrated frustration, resulting in unrevealing responses.

Ivansxtc – Yesterday.mp3

I may overuse “gorgeous” but that’s exactly what this is. Ivansxtc whips up a sonic daydream out of indescribable longing buoyed by repeatedly cresting waves of guitar crush and minor keys. Bears a solid resemblance to Peter Murphy taking My Bloody Valentine for a quick spin through the darker corners of 4AD’s catalog.  Apparently, Ivan cuts his product with tears of quiet desperation.

Big Troubles – Video Rock.mp3

Big Troubles bring back the big fun of the eighties via an underground broadcast of white-hot keyboard swirls and the most clattering of drums. It’s bunker-party rock broadcast on cellphone speakers, overdriven and compact. The audio equivalent of scrambled cable.

Liars – The Overachievers.mp3

The Liars return and bring with them this tasty slab of power-pop-punk, a radio-friendly unit shifter that snarkily bemoans complacency, hiding its self-hatred behind a smiling costume party mask. There’s some Pixies-esque guitar wrangling, some Ramones-ish shouting and plenty of “harmless” sentiments spat out through clenched teeth. Catchy as a motherfucker, too.

The smoothest move? When the chant morphs seamlessly from “L.A., L.A.” to “Help me, help me.”

Blessure Grave – Stranger in the House (Deathface Mix).mp3

Blessure Grave channels true goth, reaching into the past for the tortured soul of Fields of the Nephilim and then, I don’t know, fuck around and start moving furniture with their minds and cranking out page after page of automatic writing. Deathface pitches in as well, channeling the hoover clamor and arpeggiated synths of an early-90s warehouse rave, pushing everything forward on a sweat-drenched 4/4.

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