SUGAR PILLS BONE “Is This My Husband’s Cemetery?” (Bad Cake Records)


The burpwave pioneers return. Here on this hill from which they previously ascended to destinations unknown, Sugar Pills Bone materialize again packing a cassette blaster filled with devious samples that they manipulate and curdle until the result barely resembles anything but a melting toy box full of malfunctioning Teddy Ruxpins and my-first-boomboxes. The fact that they’re doing it in the middle of a graveyard should be doubly off-putting. Because when one manifests materially upon a hill, that hill must be the site of a cemetery – it’s simple logic. In this instance, there’s a service going on. Burpwave in your face has you questioning the titular question, because that’s all you can do in a situation like this.
Is this my husband’s cemetery?
Isn’t it all of ours?
The duo of Boney Dog Davis and Sleepy Sugar Thompkins don’t take this seriously. They don’t take any of you seriously, especially not the ones who are mourning. They’re too busy making up their own genres (burpwave, duh) and crafting compositions for it. Here, they’ve simmered a “split pea symphony in burp minor” for us, because that totally makes sense and no one should ever question it. It’s a quick blast of dirty plunderphonics, samples both obvious and obscure colliding against each other, overlapping, decaying, sandpapered till they sound as abrasive as sandpaper feels on your face. It’s also a friggin joyride, a blast, a hard shot to the cortex, something carefully crafted or haphazardly chucked together – I can’t figure out which, or if both, the balance. Regardless, the scales align perfectly at THC-choked enjoyment. Try figuring out all the hidden messages in your dorm rooms, you dweebs.
Seriously though, these people at the cemetery are going to have to disperse or else risk a permanent catatonia. Who knows when Boney Dog and Sleepy Sugar are heading back into whatever Lodgespace-adjacent dreamworld they originated from. Gotta light?