Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Sound engineering by Mike Gentry
To begin, here are a couple of things that have never happened to me: I've never been in a fight - close once, but it fizzled out as the bullies got bored with the idea of an easy pummeling and then having to deal with the mess they'd made; I've never had a band turn on me musically, become musically friendly again and then turn musically on me all in the span of 15 minutes, then rinsed and repeated the process and I've never felt as if I were being blasted with an atom smasher or by the phosphorescent voltage stream ripping out of a Ghostbusters-like proton pack. All of these things, however, can happen to a person - virtually, that is - when a DD/MM/YYYY record is placed in or on a playback device and you give it the necessary juice. You had better be ready for getting caught off-guard (difficult, we'll admit), snuck up on - and with uncanny imperceptibility - have two jumper cables pinched onto your tender nipples, only to feel the burn of strange acid and flames flung into your body seconds later, like bolts of invisible electric eels, when the switch is pulled. You will be split and quartered, mended and then teased by another bout of whiplash moments later as the Canadian band of maestros - they of the deformed and abstract version of artsy, math rock -- keep jerking you around until you're nothing but a thrilled up pile of soft pulpiness. It's all great recreational fun, like taking bruises from a rough day of tubing on the rocky lake, your body getting slammed and slapped down against the scowling water's surface time and again. These five men strike out to expand any notions of familiarity with timing or known quantities, offering chanting and bursts and orgasmic buildups and takedowns that will leave you and everyone within a mile's radius winded at the end of the demonstration. The songs on the group's latest full-length - "Black Square" - are trippy collections of ideas kept cohesive and dynamic with a smattering of oddities that don't actually explain anything, but form the skeleton for everything to stick to. There are no answers here, just improvisations polished over and over and played so many times that they become concrete statements of fantastic daring and adventure.
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