Oh, YEAH...!

I got this note from Chris at Fan Death Records when my FNU Ronnies tape arrived in the mail. I didn't know about the local stores stocking their releases (which is AWESOME), but I sure DID know about the Towson Tigers sucking. Not that anyone who plays sports DOESN'T SUCK.

Your Meat in Their Grinder

FNU Ronnies were from Philadelphia. Now, it seems that some of them have moved from there. Hard to say exactly where these guys hail from or what they plan next (though there is word of a full-length LP coming out on Fan Death soon), they enjoy that whole cloak-of-mystery thing that only seems to benefit noisy collectives such as these. Initially the solo project of James Vail, the band has become fleshed out with additional members (in a way similar to John Dwyer's Thee Oh Sees, about whom I wrote a couple of weeks ago--though lest you see some sort of connection, there is no recorded evidence of Mr. Vail's solo dalliances...) and gone on an aural killing spree, having released some very odd documents.

So far (to this writer's knowledge, at least), an even dozen songs have surfaced, with a sound varying from hardcore that decays as you listen to Chrome-gone-ambient/slow core. That said, there's BOY HOWDY a lot of variety and invention to be found here, and if we're to believe these boys' own words, then a lot of the non-hardcore shit is improvised. While consistently sounding like they're stuck in a blender set on "MANGLE", and despite the off-hand nature of these recordings, they manage a range of atmosphere that conveys much while still substantially sounding like soup (but each hiss and snarl is unique, godmotherfuckingdammit). Aside from some random demos and compilation tracks, four of the songs released thus far come from the 7" MEAT EP on Richie Records, which is half hardcore-style froth, the other half is miniature distortion-soaked collage terror. Three more songs came out on the one-sided GOLEM 12" on Night People (also released on CD and Cassette via Skrot Up), which were reissued as the Golem Smoke EP with the exceptional addition of the 17-minute "Golems Sympathetic Nervous System" as its b-side on Fan Death last year.

As their interviews show, these boys know their music, referencing esoterica such as Parson Sound and D.R. Hooker, while embodying very little of that comparatively laid-back aesthetic. That said, while their faster-paced fare usually draws from hardcore, and their slower pieces from a wider range of genres (industrial, ambient, kosmische, noise, metal, drone, etc.), they show a greater knowledge of musical history than many of their peers, simply through their lack of boundaries between sounds. For example, the tape hiss that dominates MEAT has become a part of the instrument sound on Golem Smoke. Vocals that were unfiltered-yet-indecipherable before (due more to processing than fidelity), are now rendered clear and creepy, but distorted and tweaked to the point of near-merging with the vomitatious background synth doodles--all done while leaving the fidelity artfully scuzzy. While Golem Smoke still has layers of noise, it comes from the distorted nature of the instruments themselves rather than the seeming to be the nature of the medium. That said, MEAT is not particularly lo-fi (or at least not much more so than Golem Smoke), it just uses an approach more typical of lo-fi.

While I'm drawn to a lot of music that mirrors the sludgier end of this spectrum, what is really unique about FNU Ronnies is their ability to switch aesthetic on a dime--from slimy synth sludge to guitar splatter--but always in the weirdest places. Who knows if this approach will hold up over a full-length? Really, how could it not? So far, Golem Smoke is an album-length document that holds up well when compared with more seasoned now-defunct noisemakers such as Yellow Swans or the local Clockcleaner. It's also a refinement of those bands' own somewhat single-minded approaches, trading in distorted shouting for phased creepy moans, and saving the drum destroying for the short tunes, using longer tunes to engage in more spacious sense-obliteration. While the EP showcases more sprawled-out arrangements than the 7”, half of the tracks are still somewhat claustrophobic in their lack of cohesion (not that this is a bad thing, mind you). The opening “Watchful Eye” starts out with heavily-delayed ping-ponging drum machine, then blossoms into a Brainbombs-type creeper after a minute and a half of burbling gibbering, and the side one closer “Herb Alpert” screeches with feedback like a dialup modem (think Throbbing Gristle’s “I.B.M.”), while going just enough places to come off as more than just a throwaway doodle—but if not that then what, exactly? Then there are the other two tracks: the lumbering “Golem Smoke”, which sounds like Flipper played through speakers made of rusty lint, and the closing “Golems Sympathetic Nervous System”, which chops and regurgitates little bits of side A, among other detritus, resulting in a suite of crackling, shuddering massacre.

Their sound ends up being parts industrial, punk, surf, noise, psychedelic, and yet somehow amounting to something beyond that, as if all the diversity manages to culminate in fullness-beyond-genre, something previously aimed for by bands such as Sun City Girls. However, while the Girls used exotic textures to conjure images of pan-ethnic, yet non-generic World music, FNU Ronnies paint with a palette closer to home, managing a nationwide pan-extremism. No matter what they’re playing, it’s hard to imagine they’ve invested much thought into the slaughter of perceived sacred cows, more likely they’re just cranking up to 10 and having fun throwing around creepy distortion bombs. So far they’re getting a lot of mileage out of the resulting carnage. Check out their Golem Smoke tape on Fan Death, it’s only $4, and who doesn’t want to be decapitated?

Dorothy Vallens For President!

John Dwyer Clones Himself

I got majorly pissed off last autumn when I just barely missed Thee Oh Sees' visit to DC. Being a Northern-Marylander, two out of three bands I enjoy skip nearby Baltimore and head straight for Washington and Richmond. Nonetheless, I was flattered that they'd come out this way at all, considering their typical reluctance to leave their West Coast locale. Dwyer has also spoken about his dislike of Baltimore and Philadelphia at various points in the past [insert reference—never mind, too lazy]. That said, I didn't see them, and I'm still pissed now.

By the time you read this, Thee Oh Sees will either have released a billion more singles and half as many more albums, or will have ceased to exist, knowing John Dwyer's penchant for combustion. Many words have been wasted on his past projects, all of which have been quite fine indeed (Coachwhips, Yikes, Pink and Brown, Zeigenbock Kopf, Dig That Body Up, It's Alive!, Burmese, Landed, Swords and Sandals, etc.), but there is something of a crystallization of all past styles in the most recent Oh Sees music. For a project that began as solo mumblings/droolings several years ago, and meandered through various unfocused folky (unfolkused?) albums before cranking it up starting with 2007's Sucks Blood, an equally meandering and unfocused affair.

Yet again, all of these were fine efforts, and all are worth seeking out for fine moments: 3's“If I had a Reason”, 4's “Cookie Destroyer”, not to mention everything released by the Coachwhips, Pink and Brown's Shame Fantasy II, and Yikes' Whoa Comas or Blood Bomb. However, pretty much everything Thee Oh Sees have released since 2008's super-fine The Master's Bedroom Is Worth Spending a Night In has been an absolute delight. The most distorted garage yowlings and yatterings to have surfaced since (__________ ), John seems to have finally found a crew that can beat time to his perverted duckwalk. Although they've definitely folked it up and then some since the fleshing-out (late 2009's Dog Poison), never for a moment have they left behind the distortion and space echo.

New full-time members Brigid Dawson (vocals, tambourine, and flute), Petey Dammit (guitar), and Mike Shoun (drums) sound like they've been rehearsing for this opportunity for years, just waiting to be Dwyer-clones. As John Dwyer has played virtually every instrument in the umpteen-dozen bands he's blazed through thus far, it seems natural that he attract collaborators sharing his approach to instrumentation. There's the sense that this incarnation may be somewhat more permanent as a result of this, with the chaos limited to the songs' contents rather than completely enveloping the band (as evidenced by every Coachwhips show ending when too much equipment had been broken to continue).

The feeling of summation here is embodied in the member selection as much as the sound: there's a fair amount of whoop-ass Coachwhips drumming, but tempered with Dwyer's own more-spastic-yet-simultaneously-more-controlled approach used in Swords and Sandals. Petey Dammit's second guitar likewise mimics Dwyer's double-duty in Pink and Brown and the Coachwhips, working as rhythmic anchor, bass line, and harmonic compliment all in one. Brigid Dawson sounds remarkably like Dwyer's multi-tracked falsetto from early OCS recordings (the solo moniker used before other members joined and became Thee Oh Sees), although the flute is entirely her own doing. Managing to reclaim the instrument minus the 70s jazz-cheese, the flute is used to either enhance mood (The Master's Bedroom's “Graveyard Drug Party”) or provide a more melodic breakdown (Help's “Meat Step Lively”).

For music that's seemingly more about the exploration of a unique sonic world as it is about conveyance of genuine emotion and/or conceptual fare (John Dwyer has always seemed content to thrash around like an electrified Muppet), Thee Oh Sees manage to throw in a large dose of beat-heavy dance-ability. While previous efforts have occasionally suffered from a lack of diversity (and a more frequent lack of momentum), the newer material manages to marry the more ethereal screaming drones of Dwyer's heavily echoed guitar to the precision-ramshackle boogie rhythms of Dammit & Shoun.
Like the Velvet Underground, this combination makes for a potent marriage of propulsion and distortion, a tension between tunefulness and full-on chaos. As many standout songs as there are in their catalogue (and this piece really only lists a few, and not even this author's favorites, just the convenient examples), there are easily an equal number of moments that flow river-like from one song into another, and if you hear the same riff twice, it rarely is in the same context as when you first heard it. Generally, I can't help but see this as an extension of my belief in the Album/Single as a collection of songs in service of a greater end (even beyond a sustained mood—it is a conceptual item of attitudinal unity, a creation with a will of its own). To really hear what this band is capable of (and they haven't even shown their entire hand yet), the listener needs to hear a selection of their material. “Tidal Wave” next to “Heart Sweats”, “Visit Colonel” into “Grease 2”, “Destroyed Fortress Reappears” and “Peanut Butter Oven” are all combinations that—while not necessarily rivaling “Love -> Building on Fire” in terms of related structures—lend a certain satisfaction, a completion of an idea in the second that's begun in the first.

What's most impressive, however, is the sheer volume of material (songs or rivers) they have released since things started getting so good ‘n twisted. At the time of writing, there have been 5 albums in the past two years (not including the different CD and LP track listings for the Zork's Tape Bruise compilations—the CD contains some singles, the LP has twice as many demos), plus 9 singles and a compilation track. True, during this time Dwyer has not committed his time to another project, but it doesn't really account for the sharp focus most of this material has. It seems he's finally applying all his energy to a single focal point, allowing an audience to build more easily--or maybe not, as he seems just as willing to indulge himself whenever the notion takes.

Perhaps that's the real secret to his success here, the ability to create an environment where structure seems just as natural as a lack thereof. As many times as classic forms are indulged, vocals are rarely decipherable, most guitar solos end up as anything but, and deconstruct themselves as frequently as they rock out--often simultaneously, as on Help's “Ruby Go Home” or The Master's Bedroom's “Two Drummers Disappear”. These endless contradictions continue to embody Thee Oh Sees in a way that makes their next steps more thrilling to watch than most.