More megalithic sound action from the White Reeves Production crew is
always welcome to these dusty old ears. I hear you out there in western
Pennsylvania, your gross veins filled with Allegheny River water and your black
hearts trying to process the toxins through synthesizers and effects rigs. Or
is that black livers? I don’t know anymore, my brain’s just as addled. So now
when the Pittsburgh promoters start complaining, “Not these fucking guys again,” they’ll be complaining about
Supervolcano this time, whose Poor Guy just
dropped out of the sky like a meteorite. And guess what – those same Pittsburgh
promoters are going to be just as wrong as they were when they booked nu-metal
throwbacks in their clubs instead of the future.
White Reeves Productions is the future. Supervolcano is the future. Poor Guy, presumably a sarcastic middle finger to the out-of-touch, is a brilliant
concoction, conjuring space-age pulsers contemporary and historical. It bleeps
and bloops and pulses, and it makes too
much sense for it to not be some kind of message. It’s a message that
pities us pawns, us replaceable and miserable bastards grasping at relevance.
But it makes us feel good about ourselves too, because Supervolcano is nothing
if not a caring and benevolent entity. Now you can be part of it, wrapped up in
its 30 minutes of loving embrace. Two sides, one love, bitches.
--Ryan Masteller
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