An album reviewtf by Pat Tremblay.
So yeah, apparently Satan did wear gogo boots in the 1970s. But only to seduce some young peeps before they would drift to punk. And this is where the prog aspect comes in on NatAtric’s no-holds-barred brilliant 2nd opus.
One early remark upon my listening: The lost-in-solos moments of this album are ALWAYS confronted with verses embedded in illogically-fragmented time signatures, justifying its admitted rebellious anarchic angle. An observation that was supported a year earlier by bassist Phurlgörl Sluce’s pre-album statement during an interview with “Terrible Treble Clefs” magazine. For which the artwork is apparently partly aimed at representing.
Some songs’ highlights:
01-“Born to Break your Eardrums”: Great for its experimental clipping and self-sabotaging mastering techniques. A satirical “uh-oh” for the clinical folks out there!
05-“Jay Birding”: A mindblowing depressive pre-sludge ditty using airplane pilots’ announcement cadences (on the way to their imminent crashing death, no less) to dictate chord changes and lyrics along with the vast amount of creative ways to vocally express how to “flip the bird”.
07-“65 tips on how to avoid stumbling in the flowers of your carpet”: An ultra-syncopated mess that’s so ridiculous you can’t help thinking they wanted to alienate every listener who had hoped the closing song would bring more mathematical, yet beautifully unrestrained madness (but somehow still catchy for the initiated), only for them to put the cherry over this fuck-off-and-toke-some-more of that free-jazz creamy nostril-level cloud at any of those infamous clandestine “fuzz parties”, by making you feel you’d have endless solutions on how to have more fun scraping encrusted vomit from the title-referenced “carpet” versus whatever you still wish to have forgotten from those “special” nights…
Important update note: There has been a recently unearthed scandal alleging that all of this LP’s music was originally written and generationally-interpreted by foregone clans of expatriated midgets with ukuleles on the never-located island of Belzentigra.
Bildquelle: (c) DA