These cuts are the scraps. What, the music, or the meat? I don’t even
know anymore. I’ve been accustomed to Cheap Meat for a while now, in that all
my lunches are bologna. All my dinners are “TV Dinner”s. Don’t even ask about
breakfast. All day, every day, the lo-fi-ness of my diet bleeds into the
reality of the music I ingest. Gritty, distorted funk guitar and bass runs
obscure gritty and distorted vocals. Or is that the consistency of my food?
There are four songs. There are four compartments on my TV dinner tray.
Coincidence? You decide. Demos is
over in a flash, choked down in less than seven minutes, before the first
commercial break.
I guess nutritional value aside this stuff tastes OK sometimes. Sounds
OK? See, I’m still confused.
--Ryan Masteller