Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Dads on Wharf Cat Records
I try to remember back to how crazy that first Eat Skull single sounded. Times New Viking was arriving at the same scuzzy conclusion but that Dead Families single sounded like it was from another planet of hiss, barely registering a melody and walking the line between experimental feedback from something like Sonic Youth and the hyped up pop of TNV. This single from Dads out of Tampa, FL on Wharf Cat Records, is working in that same way, balancing a super textured static and primitive brutish rhythms.
A spastic fast rimshot groove on "Invisible Blouse" is the foundation for a slow bouncy electric nailing a tiny riff in the middle of an empty rehearsal space. Their feedback rising in a longer high melody from the treble zone, jammed out, going instrumental for a bit in a slow build to this echo explosion. Wailing vocals and muffled distortion with that clickity rim shot pounding in a bigger way and manages to keep a cock rock arena sound confined to the cinder block basement. They hit a lot of devolved pop sounds for looking like this sleeve was going to house a noise or doom metal 45. The vocals are losing their shit in the back buried down under distortion in an echo of space, playing live together this miniature catharsis says more about a modern experience then any kind of angsty tween corporate punk ever could.
"Homo Concentration" on the B-Side embraces the wailing feedback, hitting the hell out of the drum kit, a heavy roaring in the reverb castle sound. These are sharp, heavy walls these waves are bouncing off off. Someone gave that monster in the basement from Goonies a guitar for what ends up a sad release of emotion. Just when you get attached to a repeated thing they abandon it and leave you hanging on thin crackly drums and the sound of torture, screaming into a tight saw (no pun intended) reverb. Something that couldn't be repeated, ensnared on a b-side, satisfying in that messy way. I think I heard him screaming 'CHUUUNNNK!!' but that might just be me.
Pick up Dads on Wharf Cat Records.