Saturday 30 August 2014

Eat Up The Sex Scheme

Sado-masochism is a real turn-on for dirt-scuzzbags that like their rock disintegrating and dire, isn’t it? From Gentlemen and Occults right back to Big Black... Look I can’t say I'm upset, or even surprised. But it can be a bit of a tired trope to gussy your downer punk grinds with. Sex Scheme are no different. The Brooklyn killers have gone the black and white, hogtied and bootheel cover art. And it gives a strong indication of what to expect here. ‘Dog Slut’ is a sub-two minute blur, neither here nor there; but the off-the-wall awfulness of ‘Eat It’ is actually much more effective, with the drawled lyrics of the insane Ben (not far removed from Bird Blobs vocally, although I must say I much preferred those guys) and the rusted guitar whines are held down by a no-nonsense bass chug and heartbeat drum that, whilst played thousands of times before, keep the shit from flowing down the sewer too soon. The harmonica sounds out over ‘Feel Me’ and the drug-fuelled slurs once more feel at home with the dirty recordings and the aluminium-trash can drums at play here. The lysergic nature of the narcotic drag comes full circle on ‘Mexico City’, barely staying upright on its two varicose-veined stumps, flailing broken glass and spitting broken teeth with barely-contained self-knowledge. And that is Sex Scheme (and most of their ilk) to a tee – there is no rhyme and reason, its just the black tar coming from way down and ripped out and flung on the sweat-stained walls. And just like sado-masochism, it’s an acquired taste. Try this at home at your diseased peril.

Buy the Sex Scheme 7" here.

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