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Gang Wizard, "God-Time-Man Continuum Calibration Disc"
After an entire decade of incendiary live shows and roughly a billion releases of varying quality, this West Coast noise supergroup finally stepped into a (proper) recording studio. Unsurprisingly, this new experience did little to diminish their spazzy, entropic intensity.
Green Tape /olFactory /Lost Treasures of the Underworld /Tanzprocesz
Gang Wizard is a band with ever-shifting membership, but they can reliably be depended upon to feature dissonant guitars, abrasive electronics, some guy shouting and ranting, and a drummer. They cannot, however, be depended upon for unimaginative conceits like structure, rhythm, melody, or coherence. In the past, they've been favorably compared to Throbbing Gristle, Dead C, and "the next logical extension of Black Flag" and for good reason: Gang Wizard exhibit a feral and unhinged nihilism that bring some much needed danger and unpredictability to the experimental music scene. They also show a knack for impressively ambitious album titles (and for managing to get four separate record labels to band together to release an abrasive noise album).
"Whoever Invents" commences the proceedings with dissonant guitar scratching coupled with deep electronic oscillations. A ride cymbal keeps time as squalls of rumbling noise build to an escalating unholy din until the tension finally subsides into an almost calm spoken word interlude. Of course, that calm is ephemeral, as the vocals gradually become more maniacal and cathartic as electronics whir and buzz around them. Eventually, form and nuance is disposed of entirely and the track culminates in a spastic freak-out.
"Bad Teacher" begins with electronic bleeps and blurts, seemingly random guitar squonks, and some vocal caterwauling. It all seems very arbitrary, but the free-form drumming and thick low-end oscillations give it a visceral inertia that ultimately coheres into a groove of sorts. As with he first track, there is eventually an oasis of calm amidst the ugly maelstrom: the guitars drop out and leave only queasy organ and some rambling incoherent vocals. Gradually, a gathering storm of electronic squiggles and pulses forms around the meandering wreckage while the low-end rumbles rise and plunge. The atmosphere becomes increasingly disquieting before fading out in a surprisingly intentional-sounding and dignified fashion.
The second side of the album consists solely of one amazing lengthy piece ("Why Pharaoh Hanged the Baker") which begins with a great deal of throbbing, rumbling, chittering, and squelching. That doesn't change much for a while, but it certainly becomes more intense and could reasonably be described as "power electronics". A stomping kick drum eventually blunders into the sound blizzard, as do some distant distorted vocals. Eventually, the chaos ebbs into a surprisingly restrained and otherworldly interlude before the drummer gets a bit more ambitious and some odd mantric vocals spur a renewed swell in intensity. By the time it ultimately fades out with some gurgling white noise and a two-note drone, it seems as though the band knows exactly what it is doing.
This release is vanishing quickly, although Deathbomb Arc (run by band member Brian Miller) seems to be a consistent repository for the endless and multifarious Gang Wizard oeuvre. Regardless, you can rest assured that there are scores of other ones out there of varying quality and half-assedness (Thurston Moore put one out on Ecstatic Peace, while another one was recorded in the bathroom of a club). However, it seems unlikely that a mere recording can hope to approximate what Gang Wizard must be like live: they sound far more like a fire or an earthquake than a band.
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