Great globs of degenerating cartilage! Had one hell of a
time deciphering the name of Youth Pant from the cover art / tape text. Once my
balls took in the fractured / glitched-to-hell imagery and got ready to pop ‘er
in the deck my brain was already in spasm. Really had no idea what to expect,
being as I am ever growing old fuddy-duddy who revels in past accolades of tape
culture, though I am open minded, mind you! One cannot live in the dark ages!
Upon pressing play, it all made sense. Youth Pant deliver
the same sort of cut up computer generated nonsense in sound, that they done
did with the visuals on this thing. Computer blops and bleeps keep time on the
opening track. sped up and slowed down junk hurdles forth to make everything
feel very loose, though somehow structured, akin to an 8-bit system going into
freeze mode. Vocals are diligently forced through the muddle with high pitched
wimpers and mews.
From there it crosses in and out of unexplainable territory.
Mixing atmosphere and large room sound with dizzying decay. Faded jumble and
speech looms around and crosses in and out through dial up modems from the real
world and back into the walls where frayed wires sit ready to burst up all the
asbestos. At times it reminds me of more odd “God is my Co-Pilot” recordings,
where maybe the tape is just rolling and no one is the wiser. Its like slam
poetry on Venus where you might sit and have green baloney in a cup of warm
froth. It will give you the mews baby!
Edition on 150, and still available!
- - Chris Fischer
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