If there was one record we wished we'd released in the year of 2019 - it be this!! The debut LP of this New York squad is a CATACLYSMIC punk obituary that basks as readily in the causeways of the sun as it does in stormy, apocalyptic marvel!
From the second “Time On Earth” came clobbering we were transported back to the dilapidated, wall-crawling psychedelia that we NEVER saw coming on their five track 7” for LVEUM back in 2017, getting us all fired up that such a potent cerebral secretion was no one-off and that our beloved Slender would not fall under the axe of Paco’s oft-heralded - “Mate, ANYONE can make a good single” -mantra! Spirits rejoice!
Lean, concise, often juxtaposed songs and interludes are deftly thatched together to make up the majority of Side A, with dense, drowning-world electronics on tracks like “Heavy Weather” clearing the skies for jovial, anthems of the Anthropocene like “New Country” (which for us totally rings the same joyous bells as Yuzo Iwata’s “Gigolo”!!) and the grittier, barnacled basement etherea of “Sleep The Trees”.
The restrained fury in the opening minutes of Side B initially recall the slow-stirring storm clouds that cast shadows on that Blodarna 7”, the thought of seeking shelter only arising as proceedings are escalated into that which is more akin to hearing Amon Duul perform kali-ma on the guys from Pelt in some subterranean death church! The closing triptych of “So”, “Far” and “Down” tunnels downward and takes place as some sorta on-acid-and-caught-in-earthquake rite, that sees the volcanic pounding intensify and whatever THAT sound is (bass guitar?? some demonic synthesiser??!) begin to envelop everything like the swelling of oblivion - any brief interval between tracks serving only as a moment to observe your own mind try to scramble it’s way out of the slowly opening sinkhole.
Bonkers. Channels the same wild and earthy desire for experimentation as such un-pinnable, sleeping giants as Blumen Des Exotischen Eises, The Fates or Moolah. No idea how the inhabitants of earth will express amazement / bewilderment in thirty years time but can imagine some archival psychopath or discogs dweeb digging this one up and ripping a righteous WHAT THE FUCK.