CULT OF YOUTH “A Stick to Bind, A Seed to Grow” LPShow me a person who can buy all the vinyl what blips across their radar, and I’ll show you someone with far too much money and time to waste (srsly guy, buy a push bike or pick up a habit or volunteer to help old folk slip into their depends or SOMETHING). I’m at the point in my record purchasing/independent decision making life to know that if I’m not at least 95 percent sure that I’ll dig the product, than I should just leave the pup alone. If that policy reads a little toight and allows for a couple gems to slip through ‘mongst the turd, well shit I can live with it... and I’m sure they’ll be a trusted source to pick up the flack and hip me to ‘em. After all, there’s only so many times you can get burned before you stop playing with matches all together. OK great, but havin’ said that I gotta stand up and test-i-fy that a burning candle can be a damn PURDY thing…So in the honored name of contradiction (ha!), I paid for this LP amongst a batch of others recently, entirely unsure of what to expect and whether it were worth the $15 what it set my person back. All I knew was it were from New York, and released by the infantile Dais records, whose (so far entire) discography includes a great pre-Gristle Genesis P.Orridge LP reissue and a 7” of harsh noise electronics which I never got because in my limited experience w/ this particular genre/city mix I’ve come to understand that I can’t fuckin’ stand harsh noise electronics from New York. Suffice it to say I took a chance on the CoY, and in all honesty I can’t rightly tell ya why.. I guess I just liked the look of THAT album cover (dig that embossed/foil stamped gold font across deluxe-gatefold packaging), which I’d been staring at all doe-eyed the past couple of weeks while it sat in a corner of my room which my mind relegated as a “to-get-to” zone, before I finally got round to playing the thing. Given the band name, + Dais-pedigree I was expecting a postindustrial, noise based skullfuck of a record. Y’know violent, mechanical and aggressively experimental. What I got was lush and orchestral; martial, neoclassical… and aggressively experimental (that’s a lotta “al’s”!!). This LP is, to the very extent that a piece of pure music could possibly be, a theatrical affair. Kinda like if a pagan Phantom of the Opera type figure were hoisted out of solidarity and rushed into a N.Y. recording studio full’a synth machines and acoustic guitars (and laptops, and effect pedals, and drum machines, and chimes n’ bongo’s and assorted stringed instruments), to record tunes what sound like the images in his head LOOK like. That isn’t to say these songs are unrehearsed or even a tad under-developed. Oh, quite the contrary. Numbers range in execution from exp. gothic cabaret-pop to woodsy + classical neofolk. Each track is meticulously crafted, with layer upon layer, upon lay-er of vocals and instrumentation. The lyrics are dramatic and deeply symbolic, in that they try to inspire visuals through both literal and metaphorical devices, mostly dealing w/ silly little things like love, hope, existence and the quest for/rejection thereof. Very heady in a style which borders on kitsch, but entirely tolerable and even, oddly amusing (though when the deal in occultism, ya don’t know WHAT to do). Vocals alternate between a ruffled nasal bark, and depressed, mumbling drawl, w/ a croon to make Glenn Danzig’s weep the world over. There’s elastic in his octaves, I tell you what. So too do these tunes seem content to switch-up styles and take-a-look-around. Certain tracks blend so many separate sounds, styles and approaches that they’re fragmented into somethin’ what sounds entirely new, if grounded by a traditional central aesthetic. I’ve put off mentioning this so far from fear of a flood of ticked emails from objective types w/ headlines such as “Hey Bigoted Asshole” and “Well let me tell ya somethin’ about what I think of you, ya sonnofabitch”, but I feel obligated as a self-appointed describer of music to explain to you that this LP is very gay and homosexual sounding. And I don’t mean it in a way which I’d want for you to “construe” as a detriment (and you can’t honestly tell me you weren’t thinkin’ that I was gonna wind up here, what with the Lloyd Webber reference and use of faggot terms like “cabaret” and “theatrical”). It’s just that “A Stick To Bind..” will likely appeal to moody adolescent males who spend their weekends under the shade of tall maple oak’s in colonial wear whilst struggling to understand the nature of their heads and erections; who could file it comfortably alongside their Death in June, Sol Invictus and Slapshot records. Hell, I’d take this over the Smiths any day of the week, and I bet S.R’d eat that wanker Morrisey for breakfast (hey, get yr minds’ outta the gutter!). Look, bottom line is listening to this LP will NOT get you any pussy, but don’t fret ‘cause you probably wouldn’t even want to poon the kindsa girls who’re into it, and they sure as shit don’t wanna screw you. Deal with it. Then deal with your feelings.
http://daisrecords.com/
No comments:
Post a Comment