Ajilvsga — Crossed Bones (Stunned no. 5) — out of stock —
The hot dust of a thousand atomized strip malls whips into the eyes and ears of all who pass the way of Crossed Bones. Our seasoned guides Brad Rose and Nathan Young clutch their headscarves tighter and drive their guitars even deeper into the blistering earth, if only to anchor themselves momentarily in the bent circuit tempest. Forty minutes featuring twin cabinet-shakers that had us promising the neighbors we weren’t testing a new form of sonic weaponry after spinning the demo. Of all Ajilvsga’s past and present explorations into heavy mental music, none have grabbed us so quite in the gutz. Serious low end woofer junkies encouraged to be among the first to check this one as the jam to mix with the sweat of a new summer. Ltd. 100 handnumbered copies in thick polyvinyl case with spooked art by Ted Trager.
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review:
"The collaged art of ‘Crossed Bones’ draws the eye in with a subtle, sinister appeal to what I can only describe as childhood horror nostalgia: designed by Ted Trager, the smoky tint and obscene purples of the laser-printed images imply a loosely smuggled creepiness which can only be illuminated in the gruff séance of the Ajilvsga’s messy constructions... The disc in question is made of two tracks, 25 and 13 minutes apiece, fitted like an essay and appendix: “Soulless Mechanisms & Magical Formulae” growls for nearly half an hour with a deep, writhing blast around which howls a blowing gust, hollow sounds falling floorward in the background. Crunchy, insectine sounds aggregate around the ten-minute mark, a passage of surprising ugly for this pair, and leading into the even greater shock of back-end O’Malley amp worship at maximum volume. Ghostly imprints persist behind the decay, and a searing tone cuts like the band’s acid signature across the bottom of the track’s page. More a bonus than a compliment to such work of force, “Black Lightning Arrow” chugs on beneath an oppressive heat of tubular gusts, a dabbling like synth keys scattered around alien gasps of electronics; the pair again summon a maximal strength, but using such muted elements, the piece feels downright bliss to the previous blast." — Animal Psi
The hot dust of a thousand atomized strip malls whips into the eyes and ears of all who pass the way of Crossed Bones. Our seasoned guides Brad Rose and Nathan Young clutch their headscarves tighter and drive their guitars even deeper into the blistering earth, if only to anchor themselves momentarily in the bent circuit tempest. Forty minutes featuring twin cabinet-shakers that had us promising the neighbors we weren’t testing a new form of sonic weaponry after spinning the demo. Of all Ajilvsga’s past and present explorations into heavy mental music, none have grabbed us so quite in the gutz. Serious low end woofer junkies encouraged to be among the first to check this one as the jam to mix with the sweat of a new summer. Ltd. 100 handnumbered copies in thick polyvinyl case with spooked art by Ted Trager.
_______________________
review:
"The collaged art of ‘Crossed Bones’ draws the eye in with a subtle, sinister appeal to what I can only describe as childhood horror nostalgia: designed by Ted Trager, the smoky tint and obscene purples of the laser-printed images imply a loosely smuggled creepiness which can only be illuminated in the gruff séance of the Ajilvsga’s messy constructions... The disc in question is made of two tracks, 25 and 13 minutes apiece, fitted like an essay and appendix: “Soulless Mechanisms & Magical Formulae” growls for nearly half an hour with a deep, writhing blast around which howls a blowing gust, hollow sounds falling floorward in the background. Crunchy, insectine sounds aggregate around the ten-minute mark, a passage of surprising ugly for this pair, and leading into the even greater shock of back-end O’Malley amp worship at maximum volume. Ghostly imprints persist behind the decay, and a searing tone cuts like the band’s acid signature across the bottom of the track’s page. More a bonus than a compliment to such work of force, “Black Lightning Arrow” chugs on beneath an oppressive heat of tubular gusts, a dabbling like synth keys scattered around alien gasps of electronics; the pair again summon a maximal strength, but using such muted elements, the piece feels downright bliss to the previous blast." — Animal Psi
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