Thursday, August 13 // 8pm // $5-8 sliding scale
at Pilam: 3914 Spruce
WHITE MICE (Providence, RI):
http://myspace.com/whitemiceCACAW (ex-Coughs; Chicago):
http://myspace.com/cacawbandBUBONIC BEAR (Philly):
http://myspace.com/bubonicbearGOD WILLING (Philly):
http://myspace.com/innercarpetThere will be audience-participation hijinks, so come ready to get your hands and mind dirty!
Here's what Termbo has to say about Cacaw's new 12":Remember Coughs? The sheet metal banging Load Records noise unit (R.I.P)? I dug them; one of the few over the recent years' roster. Harry Pussy leanings can be good on a rhythm-and-fuck tribe such as these. Well some of the members ended up here. Split vocal duties between the Coughs gals: One set on the metal/Unsane mode and one on Olympia goes to (Lydia) Lunch. Chi-town dual bass damage that brings the Fort Thunder sound crashing closely into Silverfish territory. Remember the Dolly Parton record? That?s a good'un. Only this is less smart and smacking with even more brutal thuggery. Kinda? vibes like the repetitive Burmese slow jamz. Relentless in its delivery. There?s a pretty good riot going on. Actually glad this is an EP, starting to feel a panic attack coming on. Evil dirge is best used in small doses. Some guy here was in a band called Slut Barf? Fucking Amazing.
These kids aughta? date Drunkdriver whilst screwing Unholy 2 on the side. Filthy whores.
Here's the convoluted press release that my friend Josh wrote:WHITE MICE (Providence, RI) ? With White Mice's barrage of
refreshingly irreverent and intricate release titles such as
Excreamantraintraveinanu
s and another called Ganjahovadose(d at the
CrucialFriction) ? which is being unleashed from its murine orifice
this October ? as well as the slew of brilliant pieces of punning and
portmanteau-ship scattered throughout the corpus of their internecine
presents, it's difficult for me to not get caught up solely in their
facility with language and subversion. Unsurprisingly and
(un?)fortunately, their stage presence and instrumentation are as
grueling and riotous as their word-smithery. Utilizing hypnotic
percussion both vocal and drum-atic, sludgy bass, an assortment of
vicious circuit bent electronics of their own cunning design, and even
guitars on occasion, garbed in blood-stained lab coats and grotesque
mouse masks, White Mice conjure a maelstrom of sound sure to be
noisome to most no matter the occasion. Everything from cut-up,
synthetic mammalian scampering and squeaking to whining drones and
ominously sidereal chiming pervades the foul, claustrophobic
atmosphere these folks masterfully weave.
CACAW (Chicago) ? I am having a great deal of trouble placing this
band. I was going to mention that the vocalists seemed to me some
bastard offspring of Ash Ketchum and Lydia Lunch. I guess I just did,
but that seems utterly inadequate. Seriously, though, I cannot tell if
their songs come off more as the futile rants of a child, the ultimate
babblings of a trauma victim, or an overly exuberant preacher's
sermon, ranging as they do from hollow chanting to haggard shouts
bordering on screams. It strains one's credulity that such utterances
could have ever come from a vibrating piece of meat. Cacaw reminds me
of Antioch Arrow in that all one can pin down is the frightening
degree of commitment behind the delivery; the motivation remains
shrouded in mystery. Emphatic funereal marches, tribal rhythms, and
dizzying mathy snarework allow these tirades to cavort, while guitar
timbres like monstrous electric turkey carvers and incessant sirens
filtered through whelk shells heighten the already palpable fury.
BUBONIC BEAR (Philly) ? Brooding guitar work is punctuated with
incisive and sometimes equally fuzzy wails and growls. Like the moment
a horned owl extends its longest talons mere centimeters away from the
mortified vole scrabbling across the forest floor detritus, set to the
excruciating and warped time frame that each perceives. Bubonic Bear
is an apt name.
GOD WILLING (Philly) ? Rhythmic buzz-saw washes of static alternate
with alien invasion noises. Always possesses a quashed undertone of
mystical phantom overtones, of phylacteries, vomeronasal organs,
long-forgotten monastic traditions ensconced in and yet somehow
transmitted intact by the ululating air conditioners, back-up
generators, and failing street lamps. God willing, we'll peak through
the veil if not breach it before the end.
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