They have an extensive (really fucking extensive) discography of LPs and CD-R releases since 2002 – but why haven’t you heard of the Magik Markers yet? Its either you’re not trendy and hip with your ear to the underground like most of the jaded hipster crowd of NYC, or you have a slow internet connection (amongst other things are: you're not from Hartford, Connecticut or you suck). Or maybe it’s because of The Volodor Dance.
Now, not being their first release, not by a long shot, The Volodor Dance is soundscapes caught on the wire, plugged into amps and blasted into great heights while hurricanes are fucking over Kansas – meaning it’s not accessible, not unless you listen to Merzbow, or at least Sonic Youth’s younger albums (Sonic Death times 10? Yes please). From start to finish it pummels you to the ground with (seemingly) noise improvisation, I’ll be quite surprised that the casual listener wouldn’t surrender their first born after the first track, The Scream of the Horses Glowing White, a 20 minute clusterfuck that would make you shit. And it doesn’t end there, following Horses is the 26 minute I’ve-run-out-of-adjectives-to-describe-it, :::::::::: Binary for Carey Loren. After this showing, you still have 2 more tracks to go, one lasting another 14, Ab'R-AChad-Ab' Ra, and the only 3 minute song, Pinkie Brown Goes To The Shore (the hero of the sea is a hero of death).
I’m not saying that just because of the sheer length of this effort that it’s not listenable, but it is part of it. Other than that, 20 minutes of feedback and Elisa Ambrogio masturbating over her guitar isn’t really party music for your buddies to drink to. This is a record you play while you’re alone, and you marvel at its greatness because the guitar “shouldn’t be played that way”, while you dream and picture Hendrix watching a Magik Markers show. The sonic majesty of a record such as this could only be mellowed out by listening to something like World’s End Girlfriend afterward. Or maybe Kenny G.
Still, this doesn’t mean you can’t get into the bandwagon. Their release last year, the Lee Ranaldo produced (natch!) Boss, is definite ear candy. Their second studio effort and second for Thurston’s Ecstatic Peace! is easier to get into. The noise improvisation is still there, but structured into them are slow burning indie songs. Body Rot sounds like a more punk version Be Your Own Pet playing garage rock and Bad Dream/Hartford's Beat Suite would be played in college radio by said NYC hipsters that go gaga over My Bloody Valentine. Also, Ambrogio sounds like Kim Gordon when she gets to sing which is always a plus factor. This album, basically, is peppered for the Pitchfork kids that would be too scared to listen to the Markers’ all out warfare in their earlier releases. Not taking anything away from this album though, it’s still a well structured album with the right bursts of noise to amuse SY fans and has enough indie hipness for those who champion The Strokes, maybe even a little bit of the blues or folk. I recommend listening to Last of the Lemach Line and to the piano(!) “ballad” Empty Bottles, which coincidentally play right beside each other.
After all this is said, listening to these two makes it obvious where you stand in the Magik Markers camp. Its either you harp what older fans are rallying, screaming “sell outs!” (like they always do when one of their obscure underground heroes go "aboveground"), or you cream over the slick Boss. Or if you’re like me, you jam both and just let the detuned mountains come tumbling down until there is nothing left but silence of static, hoping and wishing the assault won’t end with the morning ahead.
02.25.08
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