‘Commonwealth’
by Brendan Murray, 23Five Inc.

In his words, “I’m really fond of Massachusetts and my family is from here. I was born here but grew up in Florida, so I always idealized Massachusetts. The record is ‘about’ that if it is about anything—creating a ‘dream state’ in one’s mind and then inhabiting it.”

It took Keene State graduate Brendan Murray almost three years to piece together “Commonwealth,” his fourth official full-length album and first for the 23Five label. It began as several tracks, but soon Murray was culling some of the best sounds from each and constructing what would became one long, engrossing composition, running at just under 50 minutes. Murray has long been a standout in Boston’s excellent avant-garde underground, but the release of “Commonwealth,” an epic piece of modern minimalism, will no doubt turn heads around the globe.

Like the best pieces of computer-based sound art, Murray’s source material is entirely masked through a process of digital synthesis. Ultimately, it is a work of sine tones, deconstructed electric guitar and analog synths, all converging into a phosphorescent drone that’s sustained in one form or another for the duration of the piece. It’s an esoteric art form, but, to his credit, Murray’s work has always been genuine and easy to connect with, and there is a clear narrative arc to “Commonwealth,” an emotional undertow that keeps listeners transfixed while the album unfolds. Tones build momentum as Murray layers new sounds in subtle waves, and then, as the work comes to its conclusion, he begins to gradually pull them back, letting the music fall away in an elegant decrescendo.

Visit www.brendanmurray.com.

‘I’
by Ulaan Khol, Soft Abuse

Steven R. Smith, a revered and prolific experimental guitarist, is full of ideas, many of which can be found on this new release under the newly assumed moniker, Ulaan Khol. You can also find skulls—a heaping pile of them—pictured on the inside sleeve of this digipak CD. That’s a good sign. Generally, an album is going to be great if there are skulls, bones, fires, etc. depicted anywhere on the artwork, and, sure enough, this is a terrific disc. But that’s not surprising. Nary a year goes by that Smith, who is best known for his association with the West Coast’s Jewelled Antler Collective and affiliated bands Mizra and Thuja, doesn’t release an essential album. Already this year he has two (“Owl,” released earlier this year under his real name, is the other).

“I” is a bit of a departure for Smith, however, in that these instrumentals are more band-oriented than his usual solo work, bringing to mind classic psych-noise groups like Fushitsusha, or the dark jamming of Amon Duul. Drums, a rarity on Smith’s solo work, commonly accompany his meandering psychedelic guitar fuzz on several tracks. Billed as the first in a trilogy of Ulaan Khol releases (“II” is scheduled to come out this fall), “I” is a half-improvised, half-composed head-trip; a bleak introduction to whatever Smith has in store for the dark months ahead.

Visit www.worstward.com.

‘On Two Sides’
by Blank Dogs, Troubleman Unlimited

Who are the Blank Dogs? Frankly, I’m not sure. My understanding is that it’s one guy’s bedroom project, a lo-fi dungeon-style operation that churns out releases every couple of days. But furthermore, what is a Blank Dog? Is the “Blank” meant to censor an expletive, like “When are those (blank) dogs going to stop humping my leg?” or “I can’t believe the Bumpuses’ (blank) dogs ate the Christmas turkey.” Actually, this latest Blank Dogs LP, originally a cassette release, is a lot like a humping dog: A little disconcerting at first, but tough to peel away from once it gets going.
For all the musicians crafting grimy, lo-fi electro-rock, the man behind Blank Dogs takes it to another level, because it feels like he means it. The tracks, mostly made with antiquated drum machines, electronics, guitars and distorted vocals, are nevertheless very catchy. There’s a pop singer somewhere under all that spaceman music, and it makes every Blank Dogs release worth checking out. Unfortunately, the releases are typically very limited and sell out fast, so it’s incredible that you can download them all on the Blank Dogs Web site (they’re free downloads, but there is a donation link). Caution: If you play too many in a row, you might go insane.
Visit www.blankdogs.blogspot.com.

‘The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s Skull’
by Earth, Southern Lord

In both style and attitude, Earth has always inhabited its own gloomy world, unmoved by trends, unruffled by external realities. As pioneers of the stoner, doom-metal genre, these well-known contemporaries of Nirvana, The Melvins and the early ’90s Sub Pop crew presaged a sudden interest in slow and heavy music that has propelled bands like Sunn O))), Boris and others to recent success. Yet Earth, as if in spite of the hype, continues to evolve its sound, pulling farther away from those earlier genre constraints at a time when it might benefit them most to stick with what’s popular.
There’s nothing forced or calculated, however, about the band’s growth. It took more than half a dozen albums and more than 15 years for Earth and primary member Dylan Carlson to arrive at this spare, gothic Americana persona, acquiring along the way a sullen sound that is well-suited for dry, dusty landscapes and lonely mesas. The comfort with which Earth explores early American music, blues and heavy metal has been evident since “Hex,” the band’s landmark 2005 release, and has never been more impressive than on “Bees.” Adding some class to this latest release is jazz guitarist Bill Frisell—a somewhat surprising but perfect guest—who lays down crisp electric guitar on a few tracks. “Bees” is a mature release from a band that has weathered much and come out smooth.

Visit www.myspace.com/earthofficial.