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Oct 17, 2017







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E.S.P., Evil Sex Party (self-released)

Unless I’m reading the liner notes upside-down (or I’m being punked), I found out two things about this release. One, it’s released by New Hampshire-based darkwave/industrial label runner Otto Kinzel, and two, there’s a fictional backstory that comes from a cassette release that was “discovered” in the mid-’90s. Oh, and three, it doesn’t suck, even if I’d like to say it does, being as how the Dropbox package is a random mishmash of audio files and unidentified photos from the dude who discovered the cassette and freaked out listening to it while driving around, apparently because it’s possessed by a witch or whatnot, which, well, who knows. For me, deciphering this nonsense was like navigating the dark web trying to find Slenderman (or some credit card numbers, whichever might show up first) without a Tor browser — suffice to say you should listen at your own risk. OK, this review is already stupid, but never mind me — the upshot is that you’ll hear Sunn(((O))) bliss-noise in most of these songs, aside from the Boris-ish fractal departure in “Liturgy” and a guitar arpeggio in “Retreat to Light.” A- Eric W. Saeger




Slow Coyote, Slow Coyote (self-released)
CD Reviews: 8/10/17

08/10/17
By Eric Saeger news@hippopress.com



Slow Coyote, Slow Coyote (self-released)

An enterprising rawk trio from Portsmouth who are starting to rack up radio play and things like that. This is their official debut LP, a nine-songer that begins with “We Could Talk a Lot,” made of a half-plugged country-grunge guitar line that evokes a pretty drunk seacoast-abilly busking near one of those laughably expensive coffee joints, except better than that, a Mumfords undertone lending it an air of invincibility. Eventually, front guy Lucas Heyoka’s voice gets more and more bold, throwing in a Muse-style inflection to the ends of his lines that’s obvious but not hopelessly so. Things get better from there, if by “better” you mean “like Pavement, but with a Melvins guitar sound and a freestyle axe solo,” a bunch of ingredients I’d never advise mixing but which work, in an endlessly annoying way. “The Show” is a wounded, howling, emo-ish blues-metal train wreck, which is awesome of course — if this is a bunch of my old bandmates punking me I wouldn’t be surprised, but by the same token I’m sure a newer band could be this great by sounding this lousy. A Eric W. Saeger





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