Urdog - Garden of Bones
Forming from within the effervescent confines of the Rhode Island noise scene in 2002, Urdog held things together long enough to release two albums, before imploding in the late 00's.
2004's Garden of Bones is a 45-minute exhibition in dissonant chords and astral sound collages, replete with gothic Farfisa organ and cavernous echoes. The music is ostensibly haunting, carrying a swirl of discordant sound flailing maniacally in tone and pitch. It's all driven by a foreboding angularity in tempo and dynamics, a contortion of form that, if it weren't for the droplets of melody and nimble hooks subtly running through the layers of rhythm and texture, could possibly induce insanity. The band screams, hisses and cackles out of the speakers, wide-eyed in its prog-psych witchery.
There is a clear ode to Amon Duul II imbued in the songs, whilst Popol Vuh's cosmic ragas also claim influence. There's even a whiff of The Velvet Underground at their most experimental, think Sister Ray as it descends into complete chaos. Urdog clasp onto these influences tight, stretching and tearing them into something almost unidentifiable.
Garden of Bones is an album that demands active listening, if you allow it to recede into background noise it will simply irritate the hell out of you. Whack on a pair of headphones, turn that volume wheel sideways, and wait for the magic to happen.