 |
|
WOLF EYES, "FUCK PETE LARSEN"
This particularly cruel, sustained assault on the senses was originally issued in a run of 600 LPs in 2002. After listening to Fuck Pete Larsenthrough several times on headphones, then on my stereo cranked up loudenough to scare the entire apartment building and prompt a police call,I've come to the conclusion that it's probably not a good idea to pissoff Wolf Eyes the way Pete Larsen must have.
Wabana
As a way of expressingtheir violent distaste with he-who-shall-not-remain-nameless, Wolf Eyeslaunch into a lengthy, aggressive, speaker-cone obliterating storm ofelectronic noise and senseless junkyard scrap metal percussion.High-pitched squeals and grating, piercing shrieks and monstrousscreams echo through a maelstrom of cheap junk electronics that haveturned against their masters, shooting out showers of sparks andshrapnel that embeds itself into your cranium, sizzling your scalp likehot battery acid. The sweet, putrid smell of protein burns, decayingflesh and cross-wired electrical smoke fuse together, burning nasalpassageways faster than a gram of dirty bathtub crank. A demented,jerry-rigged post-consumer junkyard cyborg lumbers through a dystopianfuture cityscape that resembles what Escape From Detroit mighthave looked like if John Carpenter had ever made such a film. Far inthe distance, contract builders hired by the occupational governmentdrill giant holes in the ground in order to erect a giant rustywatchtower that transmits a 24-hour tinfoil-hate-penetrating brainscramble frequency to keep the street gangs in line. The cold, bitingwind howls and the moon is blotted out by smog that chokes the lifefrom every living thing not equipped with industrial-strength breathingfilters. Sure, this is well-worn territory, and it could be argued thatWolf Eyes don't stray too far from the imperatives first set in motionby Throbbing Gristle and their ilk more than 25 years ago. However,Wolf Eyes are very good at negotiating this territory. Their noiseassaults are narrative in their scope, building fascinating dramas fromjunk electronics, air raid sirens, homemade distortion boxes and otherassorted stuff. Though there is, obviously, a dark streak of nihilismrunning through the sounds on Fuck Pete Larsen, there is alsoan atmosphere of a few guys having a lot of fun making a big, scaryracket. It's this punk-rock attitude and playfulness that has earnedthem a place in the Sub Pop roster (not to mention their morestructured, rhythmic work on Burned Mind). I'd be lying if Iclaimed there was anything particularly unique about this album overmany of the other limited LPs, cassettes and CD-Rs by this veryprolific band, but it does the job nicely, and sometimes that's all youcan ask for.
Wabana
As a way of expressingtheir violent distaste with he-who-shall-not-remain-nameless, Wolf Eyeslaunch into a lengthy, aggressive, speaker-cone obliterating storm ofelectronic noise and senseless junkyard scrap metal percussion.High-pitched squeals and grating, piercing shrieks and monstrousscreams echo through a maelstrom of cheap junk electronics that haveturned against their masters, shooting out showers of sparks andshrapnel that embeds itself into your cranium, sizzling your scalp likehot battery acid. The sweet, putrid smell of protein burns, decayingflesh and cross-wired electrical smoke fuse together, burning nasalpassageways faster than a gram of dirty bathtub crank. A demented,jerry-rigged post-consumer junkyard cyborg lumbers through a dystopianfuture cityscape that resembles what Escape From Detroit mighthave looked like if John Carpenter had ever made such a film. Far inthe distance, contract builders hired by the occupational governmentdrill giant holes in the ground in order to erect a giant rustywatchtower that transmits a 24-hour tinfoil-hate-penetrating brainscramble frequency to keep the street gangs in line. The cold, bitingwind howls and the moon is blotted out by smog that chokes the lifefrom every living thing not equipped with industrial-strength breathingfilters. Sure, this is well-worn territory, and it could be argued thatWolf Eyes don't stray too far from the imperatives first set in motionby Throbbing Gristle and their ilk more than 25 years ago. However,Wolf Eyes are very good at negotiating this territory. Their noiseassaults are narrative in their scope, building fascinating dramas fromjunk electronics, air raid sirens, homemade distortion boxes and otherassorted stuff. Though there is, obviously, a dark streak of nihilismrunning through the sounds on Fuck Pete Larsen, there is alsoan atmosphere of a few guys having a lot of fun making a big, scaryracket. It's this punk-rock attitude and playfulness that has earnedthem a place in the Sub Pop roster (not to mention their morestructured, rhythmic work on Burned Mind). I'd be lying if Iclaimed there was anything particularly unique about this album overmany of the other limited LPs, cassettes and CD-Rs by this veryprolific band, but it does the job nicely, and sometimes that's all youcan ask for.
samples:
