A very loud empireDeath by Audio's DIY artists March 18,
2008 3:14:44 PM
A Place to Bury Strangers
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Work those connections, because the Holy Fuck show at the Middle East upstairs this Friday is already sold out. Which means your chances of having your cochlear fluid shaken by one of the openers, A Place To Bury Strangers, just grew that much slimmer. The Brooklyn outfit is at the heart of a small empire of bands operating out of the rehearsal space, pedal lab, and DIY venue known as Death by Audio. It’s a very loud empire. Searingly, terribly loud — but good loud. Just take a listen . . .
A Place To Bury Strangers, “To Fix the Gash in Your Head”
It’s hard to imagine any disciple of bands like the Jesus and Mary Chain, My Bloody Valentine, and (maybe even) Curve not going more than a little crazy for A Place To Bury Strangers. Then again, it’s hard to imagine anything when the walls of your brain are being sandblasted by the cool and unusual punishment of the Oliver Ackermann hand-soldered guitar sounds heard here.
Death by Audio, “Black Leather Jacket”
Does this mini-track from Ackermann, who is head honcho of the whole DBA enterprise, function better as a song or as a demo of his line of insanity pedals? Who cares. This howling fantod of a guitar loop earns two whole stars just for being itself.
Dirty on Purpose, “Send Me an Angel”
Once, Dirty on Purpose’s pop was smooth and supple, but prickly noise has lately grown all over them like so much back stubble — and the results are better than that metaphor might suggest. As a bonus to this Scorpions cover, enjoy an interview with the band done at DBA, where they share the golden rule of touring (use the girls’ room) and credit their whiteness for allowing them to cuss without fear of having their albums stickered.
Blood Money, “Black Nature”
Although not tied to DBA factions by even the most abused pop sensibility, Boston’s own Blood Money are labelmates with A Place To Bury Strangers on Cambridge’s own Killer Pimp records. This track will sound like either a jarring revelation of the spiritual terror that plagues each moment of the present or else a post-apocalyptic Cookie Monster having phone sex. Your call.
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