Tuesday, December 10, 2013


Hand Grenade Job
s/t tape
summer 2012

Year+ late & a cliche short, but it bees that way sometimes. "Featuring ex-members of Turboslut (best sludge band of their generation?) and Problems," ain't really gonna prep you proper for what this tape contains. Lifestyles & addresses change & art is a lonely hunter, nahmean? Gotta find a place for it to curl up, otherwise you might. Part of why I've been holding back on spittin verbiage bout this here is because I love it so much. Tryin to vacuum seal & compress it down into something I can plate up all pretty and concise for y'all sometimes sucks the fun outta the listening experience. I wanna do right by it. The music writing community crutches HARD on the sad tradition of comparing bands with women to other bands with women, whether they's relevant references or not. You can count down from the lead how long it'll take til you read "The Raincoats" or "Kleenex/Liliput" or even "Inflatable Boy Clams." Which is to say, dudes thinkin' women making music always sounds like other women making music; as if their audience needs warning. I ain't about to shovel bullshit like that.
What we have here are 6 songs about loss, creepsters, losers, witchcraft and social problems. The sounds move in shivers, hums and throbs, the humor and politics perfectly wed. At times it's painfully sincere. I felt a tremendous relief, a ball of acid finally dissolving in my gut, when I hit play and realized something like this could exist. It ain't fireworks, nor screams and snarls. But it ain't safe neither. Round the time I got to "Personhood," a reworking of "Miss Mary Mack" that contains the lines
"Your sperm will not
Make a lovely person
And I will not
Shelter deadbeats in my womb"
then fades out in a hail of laughter into what sounds like the Video Poker help line hold music, I knew these folks had backtracked over the steps that lead them here like Danny in the hedge maze. To hell with whatever they did before. If there's a tradition this comes out of (Lou Harrison? Femirama? Shit, there I go...), please holla at me. I need more.

Comes with an elegantly letter-pressed J-card to charm you right outta your kicks.

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