What better way to consumate my relationship with Cassette Gods -- after a ridiculous delay -- than through the prism of Shearing Pinx and the Isolated Now Waves label, two of my main squeezes of the last three years. With Hot Face along for the ride one can only assume the ride will be bumpy and exhilerating.
Hot Face, I'm assuming, man the sticker side and promptly kick the listener's dick in with jams halfway between Les Georges Leningrad, AIDS Wolf and Sleetmute Nightmute, which means: simplistic, albeit devastating, drums, mangled guitar lines, loose-ass high-hats and a singer, female, with so much personality she scares the timid and enchants the high-strung.
ShPx's side is more of a shaded sketch than a concrete body of lyric, instrument, skin and muscle. I mean there's a bloke shouting in the back, but he's kickin' it from his head, almost surely, and the rhythms and smears of guitar string grind so hard they dissolve like a crank-yanker's teeth and reform like Mario after a Koopa-borne death.
There's a high-pitch squeal overtop this bubbling cauldron that's driving me nuts, so ... there's that. If you poke underneath, much gravy is to be found; I just can't get past that squeal. Probably the least impressive piece of work I've had the pleasure to peruse from this camp, but when you consider that includes a dozen releases by Shearing Pinx, a half-dozen Mongst tapes and an LP, ditto for Aerosol Constellations and several more I can't even think of right now, well, it's apparent these guys are normally a good go. Onward!
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