A Perfect Uniform

We here at Sonic Masala have always been massive fans of everything Ben Greenberg has put his hand to. Obviously we are Men acolytes (my cousin Greg and I are huge fans of this latter-stage Springsteen fixation too, although for fluctuating reasons – there’s a post in there somewhere, but that’s for another day). I also really like Greenberg’s solo stuff, a wild guitar exploration as Hubble. And of course there is the excellence of Pygmy Shrews… So when I heard he was in a new outfit called Uniform (no pun intended – geez, two in one day!) I was very excited. But not as excited as I became when I heard who the other dude was – Michael Berdan. The dude from Drunkdriver. An incredible band blighted by the heady fog of controversy, and I have had Berdan withdrawals ever since. Suffice to say I am glad that we have something new coming to the fore – and their album, Perfect World, is all I wanted and more.

It’s decidedly no-frills, rough as guts, sneering, diseased proto/primitive/industrial punk spitting forth from the maw of Time's beginning, somehow both dangerously regressive and deliriously futurist. Berdan’s vitriolic snarl echoes out from the ether, a discombobulated voice without a source, the Id of a nihilistic civilisation destined to thrive in the grave. All the anger, anguish and torment, both real and perceived, doesn’t bubble over rather than ejaculates that pent-up emotion, an expulsion of base forces at once purifying and scarring. Greenberg’s guitar hasn’t been this scabrous since early Men, and the bass synth and drum machine adheres to a militaristic deathmarch that refuses to halt, a constant funereal dirge into a dystopian Nirvana. The basic streamlined gear used vibrates from the strain, but therein lies the allegory – the primal emotions can threaten to tear us apart, but channelled just so and you are acidly cleansed. Long live the Perfect World.

Perfect World is out soon through Alter/12XU – grab this great record here.

Finding Company Amongst The Dreebs And The Hubble

There's a new micro-label coming out of Baltimore/Brooklyn (I know they aren't really near each other, just go with it OK?) called Company Etc. They sent me their first ever releases on vinyl, which is always a sweet deal. What's more, these two release are frickin' sweet.

Hubble is a one-man guitar torturer. Not in the no wave, noise earfuck way, but in the "I'm going to strum and fret your acoustic guitar to death, multiple times, and you'll like it" kinda way. You forget until putting on the Finger 7"how such an instrument can make such a cacophonous howl, a thrumming mantra that is both transfixing and grating - it threatens to stop so many times that the relief that crests when the needle reaches the end doesn't crash over - in fact, you feel empty, needing the torture to start once more. Stockholm Syndrome of the guitar. And it shouldn't surprise you that Hubble is actually Ben Greenberg of The Men. The guy can play guitar alright - whether it wants to be played or not. (This is a complimentary statement, just in case you were wondering...)

Another Brooklyn export is The Dreebs, and their one-sided 12" EP The Humiliation is all kinds of ambient, minimalist warble - Nico crooning hauntingly and out-of-tune over The Doors' 'The End', a cryptic miasma of netherworld prayers. These tracks are oblivious to the mood you're in - they take you over, a possessive mess of competing synapses; apoplectic disdain and anguish. Necrotic soul-searchers, The Dreebs make rituals of the heart, decimates its essence, and reanimates, leaving you hollow inside, and always yearning. "What the fuck does it all mean?" I hear you rant and gnash. That's the point, both here and there. Consider yourself an arbiter of The Humiliation.

You can purchase both of these deliciously oddball releases here. Company Etc promise some even juicier releases in the near future - I cannae wait.