From Corners Unknown

Hey there, yah bubonic blistering bile warts! This week Ryan and preform some auditory surgery on a rather gruesome goregrind album. Just take a glance at the grotesque, yet medically verbose track titles of Miasmatic Necrosis’ debut album Apex Profane and you will know exactly what I am talking about. We both bolstered our vocabulary only for it to already leave my mucosanguineous mess of a brain. Talking about brutal ways to die has become quite the staple on this podcast so of course, there’s plenty of that to be had. I also get pretty worked up about the mass-produced “healthy” garbage buffet-style eateries of the past (I’m looking at your Fresh Choice). You will also encounter the tale of Salhalla, the planetary zit cleaner, within the episode. However, if you do happen to be repulsed by the album cover, maybe you should sit this one out (it’s a nasty one-hundred-ish minutes).

Like the album’s track titles suggest, Miasmatic Necrosis delivers a barbarous, scalpel-sharp album. Many tracks are brief, but man do they obliterate you like a white head (let’s call it a Melvin) growing on the tip of your nose. Destructive noise whip lashes you like an old wooden rollercoaster that should’ve been retired a decade ago. Despite the grinding noise, you will notice some slick riffs and bodacious bass grooves throughout the duration of this ride. If you ever wanted to participate as a human whack a mole, well then this is the album for you too! The drums will mallet you into a red-hued puddle of beef pudding all while the vocalist annihilates you with gnashing pandemonium. I’ll take two tickets to Apex Profane, pack my bags, and leave tonight!

Miasmatic Necrosis is a goregrind/deathgrind quartet from somewhere in the eastern reaches of the United States. There is not much information to be found about the band as of yet (I can’t even find a cute band photo). Apex Profane dropped on October 31st, 2020 (a fitting Halloween release).

How goes it confidants of the void? I know there’s a quality Golden Girls rock cover, but my god a Golden Girls–themed hardcore band would be that golden turd of my dreams. Anyway, this week Ryan and I engage in conversation about the Italian chaotic hardcore monsters known as Zeit (every time I read that name my dumbass wants to say ZEET). We talk about their latest ripper of a Self-Titled release as well as the usual random maddening tangents, such as mayo cube urine, lice, razor-filled pool noodle beatdowns (fictional), and childhood soda can hailing dodgeball games. I also get a little too excited about a track named “The Piss”. I bet there’s a Bilbo Baggins reference needlessly injected into the episode too! Hobbit hardcore would be a stellar subgenre. Betty White could fill in for both bands.

We once again struggle to describe the instrumentals in this project with our musician-less brains, but man does this quartet deliver something exhilarating. The vocalist has been compared to Jacob Bannon of Converge due to his non-stop high-pitched yelps as he doesn’t relent for the majority of the album’s brief runtime—just kick you in the keister and spit on your face pissed. I must say the lyrics are pretty neat to dissect too. The guitar tone is something else entirely. It has this sharpened, off-kilter mathcore twinge to it, yet it’s rife with maleficent zaniness. You’ll have to listen to the episode or album to comprehend it as words fail to articulate it succinctly. The bass and drums also protrude with hefty-hefty-hefty frequencies (a Glad trash bag sponsor would be pretty fitting for this episode). They will brain-blast your noggin off in perfect unison with every other chaotic element seeping from Zeit’s instruments. Lastly, this was a totally random Spotify find on my part that I will happily continue to listen to as we trudge forward toward our demise.

Zeit originates from Venice, Italy and they formed in 2014. Since then, they have dropped several releases, including ZOE BIOS (2014 EP), The World is Nothing (2015 LP), and Monument (2016 LP). After a brief hiatus, the Self–Titled album came out September 24th, 2020. I hope you all enjoy what you hear!

I hope your year ended on a bright note void dwellers! We recently released our top album picks list of 2020, which of course led to Ryan, Derek, and I blabbing on about a handful of them. We listened to each other’s top album a few times (including those from other FCU contributors) and then jumped right into the fold of our thoughts. From upbeat hardcore punk to boisterous noise rock and aggressive bastardized grindcore to experimental orchestral craziness, this smorgasbord of genres lent itself to a wonderful year-end reflection. We don’t go as in-depth into the albums this time around and instead, we opt for a general, no notes, off-the-dome approach. As per usual, there’s plenty of out there conversational tangents and dorky oddities lurking within the episode.

Howdy-ho little rotting sugar plums of the void! This week is a bit of a special episode for the holidays. We have established that if Ryan and I post a bad cover, single, or 90’s post-grunge track within our group chat three times, Derek will Beetlejuice us into actually reviewing them! Let’s just say Corey Taylor’s debut solo album CMFT got posted in our chat numerous times. Like a golden nugget from Scott Stapp himself, we then found ourselves day drinking while conversing about this album (it becomes more evident as the episode persists). In the episode, you will find us going on long manic tirades that you may find pretty damn humorous. The content is not holiday-themed whatsoever, but you’re more than welcome to perceive it as a plop of coal in your stocking, or that candy cane that has decorated your tree for several years and you decide… fuck it, why not nom this stale and chewy mint treat.

Now before we get all metal elitist and crap all over Mr. Taylor, understand that we mostly came to the conclusion that CMFT was just flat out boring. With each single released I was hoping for a meme filled banger or cheesy ballad. Yet good old, “looking at you through the glass” Taylor did not really deliver. Instead, we get a hard rock album inspired by rock ‘n roll greats with no life of its own. I won’t lie, there were some fun moments in this album but it did not rest well in the music memory banks. CMFT MUST BE STOPPED! Bah humbug, at least the tangents Derek goes on are quite fantastical! CMFT came out on October 2nd, 2020 via RoadRunner Records.

Howdy super meat critters of the void! This week Ryan and I continue our beef lad ways by conversing about Obsidian Kingdom’s new album MEAT MACHINE. Ryan brings in his knowledge having had listened to this band for quite some time while I frolic about as a newbie. This album is a trip with a platter of strange vocals, moments of synth, and drastic tempo/genre changes. Logically this means I bring in random tangents that have very little to do with the actual music, such as Arnie’s love for the muscle pump! Prepare yourself to hear a decent amount of meat talk as well (sorry vegans and veggies). Remember that stupid Sausage Party movie? Well, we (mostly Connor) come up with a pretty badass Gerard Butler steak hunk action version.

Despite our typical immature ramblings, this album displays some high caliber musicianship. MEAT MACHINE is a genre-bending ride of oddities that mostly adventure in a progressive metal/rock realm. Moments of electronic pop surprisingly fork their way in seamlessly. The sudden changes in vocal delivery fit the experimental craftwork in well-thought-out ways. Some tracks are downright fun with upbeat melodies, while others lay down the meat with some peculiarly tinged heft. Lyrics display bizarre scenarios or interesting modern-day societal comparisons. Fuck there are even human-dog barks. This is one to get weird and funky to, I tell you what.

Obsidian Kingdom is a band from Barcelona, Spain that formed in 2005. Over the years they have released three full-length albums (four, if you include their electronic remix record, Torn & Burnt). Each one explores a diverse sound in terms of experimental progressive rock and metal. Since we recorded this podcast episode I have delved into their discography and have truly discovered how much they branch out with sound. The energy, passion, and risk the band puts into their art shows. MEAT MACHINE was released on September 25th, 2020.

Hello my fried circuit void friends! This week Ryan and I digitalize to you Next Life’s, Guru Meditation. Fair warning, we nerd out hard in this episode (not that we aren’t total dorks in the others). It’s another one where we bring up a multitude of video games, cartoons, and old technology that this music mentally inspired. The experimental electro violence metal brings us to realms within my old crappy Windows 98 or my virus filled XP. Just imagine Wreck-It Ralph but inside the virtual equivalent of a crack house. The synths and unusual instruments in the album’s brain emailed us nostalgia that we didn’t even know we had. Ryan even delves into worlds with sentient insectoid creatures (nukem Rico). It’s a whacked out album full of interesting textures that I’m sure will bring up strange thoughts within every listener.

The first thing I would like to note about the overall sound of this project: They somehow made a xylophone and kalimba sound incredibly stellar mixed in with slick thrashy riffs and drum thunder. Combine those aspects with the electronic 8-bit oddities and you got yourself something unique as fuck. There are moments of upbeat violent insanity and others of down-tempo retro hazed mysteries. Hell, you may even notice samples similar to a jammed floppy drive, a damaged VHS tape, or just the inside workings of a Commodore 64. Each track will spawn you right in the middle of a new bizarre level of electronics and heavy instruments, some of which you might even be able to dance to! I’ve failed to mention that there are no vocals in this album, so that could be a lead factor in why it dusted off our old brain files—unless maybe you were born in 2010 and your tech nostalgia is an original iPhone turning on.

Next Life is primarily comprised of the duo Hai Nguyen Dinh (Guitar, xylophone, kalimba, tracking) and Ander Hangård (Drums). They are based in Olso, Norway, and have existed in the airways since 1999. They have released four full-length LPs in that time span. Guru Meditation being the fourth was released August 21st, 2020. Now go ahead and listen to Ryan and I spew words about the album!

Before the year ended I managed to force Ryan to listen to one of my favourite contemporary psych-rock bands, and it turned out he was actually rather keen to have a cheeky chat about their latest album, Nothing as the Ideal.

This album was a bit of a side-step from All Them Witches’ usual, heavily blues-influenced psych-rock fare, and instead saw them exploring proggier, chuggier, and groovier dimensions of their sound. And the world is a better place for it. Nothing as the Ideal breathes new life into the band’s already extensive catalogue of releases and offers a respite from the bluesy, bar-band rut which the band arguably fell into on their previous release, ATW.

Maybe I’m being a bit harsh there (ATW is actually a fine album, and if you have the time I’d recommend you go and give it a spin), but the point is, on this record the band sound revitalized, re-energized, and reinvigorated—hungry again to make music and explore the auditory limits of their sound while blazing new trails through the psychedelic stratosphere. As a listener who’s been spinning their records and EPs since the release of Dying Surfer Meets His Maker, I’m pleased to say that this new album is one of the most exciting and engaging albums this already excellent band has ever put out.

Stripping down to a three-piece has done wonders for their sound—trimming the fat and streamlining the band to allow for a more efficient, muscular, and immediate delivery. Experimental tones remain, with extensive use of loops, field recordings, and samples peppering the album in a surprisingly musical and non-gimmicky way. Lyrically, Parks has never been as poetic and engaging as on this release, shining most prominently (in my humble and ultimately meaningless opinion) on the album highlight (and tonal deviation), “Children of Coyote Woman”.

But before I give away all of our rambling revelations, check out the podcast and listen to us incoherently babble about how wonderful this record is. It’s a wild and winding ride, but I came out of the conversation loving this album even more than I did when I went into it.

Hello there, pig children of the void! This week Ryan and I return to the bizarre whimsical folk lands of worm mountain—aka, we get weird as hell describing the amazing music dwelling within Return to Worm Mountain’s latest record, Acoustic Tracks 2020. We delve into great detail as we describe the tracks within our own lore-filled podcast universe. We do this by introducing the sentient symbiotic immortal worm (Mgalekgolo) lads known as Nacnud and Macrand (pretty Tolkien inspired on my part). They were formed at the beginning of the world’s creation and have inspired creatures and intelligent beings alike for thousands of years. Yet in recent times the world of Grizzlium has grown depressingly corrupt and now they long to end their lives. This is where things get strange on our part.

Despite our deranged ramblings that attempt to add a narrative to this album, it is incredibly beautiful, inspiring, and uplifting. Duncan and Cam create warm folky backdrops with electronic wizzes and whirls that make one’s imagination wander infinitely. There are plenty of tracks with zany yet calming acoustic guitar melodies that work perfectly for a woodland trail stroll. Do not forget the moments of harmonica and springy banjo jams either! Overall, each tune invokes a new landscape for one to adventure through, be it a western saloon in “Bad Witch” or a golden apple orchard in “Lay Me Down the Mountainside”. Hell, I also get pretty down with the relatable Covid-19 themes in “No Kissing the Dead”. These awesome dudes always deliver something interesting for my ears to digest. If I had to choose a soundtrack to endlessly walk worm filled marshlands, I’d always choose a Return to Worm Mountain album. This music gets as weirdly psychedelic as my brain mush and I relish every bit of it.

Return to Worm Mountain is mostly comprised of two South African weirdos known as Duncan Park and Cam Lofstrand. Each member delivers a multitude of musical talent in each track as well as the occasional guest artist. If you pay attention to the shenanigans of From Corners Unknown you may recognize these names in other places *wink wink*. Acoustic Tracks 2020 is their third LP since early 2019. Each release of theirs has explored a wide array of different elements within their own unique style, and Ryan and I have covered them all if you would like to lurk your way into our podcast archives (debut self-titled and Therianthropy).

Salutations, pallid beef husks! Welcome to yet another dark ambient podcast review where Connor and I prattle on not only about Atrium Carceri’s latest record, the Mortal Shell Soundtrack, but the soulslike videogame it was composed for. It’s no secret that we’re avid listeners of the Cryo Chamber catalog and although our recent streak of episodes—with the exception of Tineidae’s Exo—suggests a “falling off of the wagon” with respect to chatting about music of a dark ambient strain, we found this soundtrack to be an intriguing subject of dissection as we were able to hue our rambling with the interactive media accompanying it. As such, you can anticipate brief reflections upon our first impressions of the game, its difficulty, the vague snippets of lore we could glean, and Connor’s general horridness at playing (and not completing) it.

Somehow, in the near three years we’ve been yammering into the void, an Atrium Carceri record has never been explored by us. Allusions have been made to his work in several reviews of other Cryo Chamber releases we’ve done—as he, Simon Heath, is the owner/operator of the label—, but never have we descended into his obsidian timbres and endeavored to shape it into a long-form review. There is no good reason we can provide that will explain our lack of scrutinizing away, though I am sure when the next Atrium Carceri solo effort drops, we’ll trudge through its Stygian atmosphere in an attempt to make some sense of it.

Admittedly, since the Mortal Shell Soundtrack is, well, a soundtrack, it does not necessarily enrich the labyrinthian mythos Simon has been carving throughout his extended tenure of solo records. However, his uncanny concoction of dreary drones, grotty industrial beats, and murmurs of arcane civilizations—most often, at least in this record, in the form of foreboding chants—is an impeccable pairing for the murky bogs comprising the game’s overworld, Fallgrim, and its various dungeons.

The soundtrack itself treks a panorama of tones. Some are luminous and, at times, holy, though they are often etched with ebony undercurrents of ambient noise. Industrial throbs fissure with metallic resonances akin to a lumbering beast, adorned in chainmail, listlessly pacing down derelict corridors in search of flesh to macerate into a crimson pulp. Beyond all of these textures and layers, however, is Simon’s masterful craftsmanship of a destitute atmosphere that manages to straddle realms both past and present, often merging them into a cohesive vision that feels familiar yet simultaneously alien. There are even a handful of bonus tracks, some of which we assume did not make it into the final game, that broach the rather uniform mold of tracks heard within the game, an example being the stellar “Ritual at the End of Time”, which wouldn’t sound too out of place on Black Corner Den (an album I utterly adore).

That being said, it was an immense pleasure to finally burrow into one of Atrium Carceri’s records. The Mortal Shell Soundtrack dropped back on August 25, 2020. As per usual, we’re exceedingly late to getting our thoughts and musings out into the ether, though we do hope you enjoy our embarking into the unknown. Thank you so much for tuning in!

We are back in space once again, void popsicles! This week Ryan and I slam on our space helms and enter a derelict spacecraft. This dark ambient craft was created by the artist Tineidae for their debut Cryo Chamber release Exo. Within the episode, we describe the various imagery the complex musical soundscapes inspire. Be it a distant sunlit communal room full of moths or a damp crimson-hued maintenance passage, Ryan and I both try to forge our own narrative as we descend into each track (we get weird as usual). I also implement a new character to the FCU lore which is inspired by Exo‘s concept. It’s the stealthy bacon-loving black market contractor “Kummerspeck”! The visuals we come up with are also inspired by what Tineidae is. So stretch your little moth wings and flutter into this episode!

Tineidae drops you right into the interstellar realms of space. He does this by creating asteroid drifting drones that starship sputtering engines must avoid. You get calming arpeggiated swells mixed in with textures of futuristic computer tones. The overall ambiance creates a feeling of wonder for the great beyond. I can’t help but picture beautiful nebulas, exploding quasars, and distant galaxy swirls. There are also serene moments of piano work that teem with sorrow. Tonal melodies dance with dripping percussion and wispy souls lost to the vacuum of space. Each track delivers a mix of emotions as you create cinematic landscapes in your head, may it be exploring a heavily damaged mothership or a goofy bounty hunter tracking down an alien beast. I believe it’s up to the listener to decide.

Pavlo Storonskyi is the creator of Tineidae. Pavlo resides in Warsaw, Poland but hails from Ukraine. He masterfully uses industrial beats infused with cinematic electronics and atmospheric ambience to create these complex soundscapes. You can tell the music is inspired by SciFi. Exo was released via Cryo Chamber on July 28th, 2020.