Friday, December 2, 2011

RedSK - Harsh Livestock EP on Effluvia Recordings

Those familiar with California may know about this, but for those who don’t. If you’re driving on the interstate 5 near the towns of Fresno & Coalinga, you find that your automobile damn well better role its windows up, because there is a foul, musty, genocidal odor, a ripe effluvia if you will. For a while you wonder, what could it be, but your hippocampus soon gets the idea. A Cattle ranch, Harris Ranch specifically, or as it is known among the many whom I’ve heard speak of it refer to it hastily as “cowschwitz”. The stench of manure brings a tear to your eye, and as you drive by, you see a stillborn sea of claustrophobic, tangy cows. These are some of the cows, just a few hundred million pounds, whose meat is supplied to In-N-Out Burger. This is the soundtrack of those creature’s autumn years at the miasmal holocaust. This album is defined simply, harsh fucking guitar noise from the master of harsh fucking noise in all it’s delirious manifestations, RedSK. An undeniable presence all over the pain threshold underground, the aggressive psychedelic fever dreams of his prolific output either make you fall in love or smash your desk chair with formidable hatred. The sounds of your most reckless dose, the stench of formaldehyde, the sights of your favorite cartoon characters repenting in the shadows of Armageddon. The sounds of glee when the parasite finally reaps from its host. And on and on I could go, but I’ll let this magma melt and char your mind in your own respective way. I myself have been familiar and fond of the works of RedSK since before I even knew who Merzbow was, so today is a special day to welcome such a prolonged and amplified voice in the deep caverns of abstract sounds. Dynamic, vehement, hallucinatory, expressive of a frame of mind floating in broken airwaves. Love him or hate him, and oh how I love him, his onslaughts on our ears are here to stay in our archives (including his ownTrashFUCK) and as he unloads on us with these psychoactive bullets, we should rejoice in raw artistic freedom. Long live pedal noise! Roll the window back down and take a sniff of Harsh Livestock

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