Sorry State Records:
Third 7" in the "orifice" series from this noisy Florida punk band. For my money, this is their best yet. Diet Cokeheads have always been able to pound out stomping, bruising noise rock along with the best of them (i.e. Pollution), but on this 7" they significantly up the weird factor. For instance, the creepy noises that begin "Gay Goters" gives the heavy noise so much more impact when it comes in, though even that sounds weird, like the tape is slowed down and decaying. In my book there's no such thing as noise rock that's too weird, and this shit is pretty out there.
Raaaargh! The Diet Cokeheads of Gainesville, Florida have returned with "Ocular", their third and final single, on Vinyl Rites, in series featuring a sensory-inspired title (be sure to check out "Nasal", and "Oral"). First off they blast our senses with "M. Dumptruck" a fucked noise rock fuckery ripe with a shaved nod to Floridian brethren Harry Pussy and Chicago's finest repetitive noise punks, Running. Continuing with the forked tongue approach of unharmonized dual vocalists; introducing new drummer Vivienne Rohan's wonderfully damaged pipes, akin to a dented and abused brass cornet, followed by reverbed caveman shouts as found on the previous singles (absent are the Calvin Johnson-isms, but that's OK!). On the flip-per prepare yourself for "Gay Goters", six minutes of slow 'n sludgy pummeling repetition more akin to the thick Stoogesy / Melvinsy riffs previously explored on their split 7" with Neon Blud, but with far more of a tasty Drunks With Guns appeal. KILLER JAMZ.
Samuel Lefebvre for Maximum Rock N Roll:
This record is much more dissonant and harsh than their previous releases and the band embraces their new direction with maniacal zeal. A-side “M. Dumptruck” is like a medley of a couple unreleased Swans and Mars tracks with pre-pubescent Lydia Lunch wailing for help after she fell down a well somewhere in Newark. At some point some space-age noise creeps in and it feels like the soundtrack to a deleted scene in Repo Man where Otto is dancing with the radioactive alien corpses on top of the East LA police precinct before the bomb is dropped. Flip it over. “Gay Goters” is a turgid funeral dirge about 6 minutes long that alternates between slow and fast, loud and quiet but somehow renders any listener immobile in their seat drooling a bit for the length of the song. This is pummeling, eerie, cosmic swamp sludge appropriate for the soundtrack to a future biopic about some sorry sap’s psychotic descent into madness. Throw it on at your next party and stop speaking to any of your friends who complain.