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TEF / Scathing - split
Dadadrumming strikes again with more TEF! This time squaring off against not-unworthy newharsher Scorching. Or Searing. Or Scalding. One of those damn descriptors whereby implications as to certain much-prized earhole incinerating temperaments are duly measured. Definitely on the upper end of the Harsh Scale first postulated in 1963 by Dr Scorchyerheadoff. According to the doctor, The measurements of the peak harshness and spectral brutality distribution of a high-brutality, short-duration sphinct-rupturing discharge source indicate a peak harshness of 54,000 °Fucked to 68,000 °Fucked over the wavelength region from 450 nm to 300 nm (republished in Professor Blumpy's "Tinpot Shit-Pails Hurled All Over The Room, Ripping Holes In Filthed-Out Distortion Walls, vol 52"). It's all a bit technical really, but the point is, the shit is hot. Both sides of it, the one nicely complementing the other, the inner ear follicle thingies necessarily guaranteed their never-to-be-recouped incinerations.
Scathing- that was it!- kicks things off with five untitled ditties, separation of which seems at first formality, but which works out advantageously as the side rounds out. The first thing I did when the sounds hit was check discogs for some pictures of the project in action. Live, very much looks to be your straight-up pedal-driven harsh. On this recording, however, almost unquestionably the sort of digitally sourced abrasions also to be found in earlier Worth and some of the other acts appearing on the Lead Lozenges label. The said representation is here much more "pure" in its hole-smoking convictions, though, seldom straying from straight-for-the-jugular whitewashed blisternment, rapid-fire dynamics at some reduced remove, all inevitably in thrall to the Scorchyerheadoff Principle (ibid). Honestly, as to whether the digital sourcings are real or imagined, it's hard to tell, and when the shit is this shit-hot, it's even harder to care.
Untitled, first through third: subsurface busy-ness rushing haphazard from one spectral coordinate to the next. Go deep and gorge on exquisite sub-spastic detail, tensions twisting on a wild ride, plunging down bewildering disarray of collapsible rabbit-holes, spine herked jerked and snapped in fevered dimentia, never settled for more than the most fleeting of intervals, repeatedly cut-off, zipped, zapped, hacked. Rabbit-hole-ous interruptus. Pull back now and indulge the char-blackened high-end, whitesheeted scathewalls subsuming the particulars in purplefaced ferocity, blueballed nut-strangle, redzoned oblivion.
Toward the end, probably the fourth Untitled, and a distinctly filthier wallowing in blown-out distortions, the whitesheeted scathewalls suddenly in fierce competition with fractured textural dynamics. Here a bit of a reprieve from the merciless 'hole smoking, but also occasioning opportunity to take in the punchy spikes of mangled underbrush chopping up the unsightly scathescape, the sources even less certain than previously postulated and the perfect counterbalance to set the scene for TEF.
TEF, of course, is TEF. And if that doesn't scan, well, your 'holes are in desperate need of some serious edumucatin'. That edumucatin' comes fast and hard as only TEF TEFs. Exacting precision and focus, meticulous, obsessive. Obsessively compulsive disorders viciously hacked and splattered across the full frequency spectrum, dynamic spasms exploding in violently unhinged de-rangements, on the knife-edge of the most precarious balancing act...yet delivered with an elegance, grace, artistry and attention to detail second to none.
I wanted to use the word "hyperspastic" but actually this is one rough motherfucker, heavier, dirtier, smellier than the full length Framework previously issued on Dadadrumming. Part of this I readily concede could simply be format-dictated projection on my part. But. What I'm hearing, or projecting, is something more in line with the split 7-inch on White Centipede, where the more hyper of the spastics takes a back seat to the arid landscapes occasioned fragments of percussive thumpa-thumpa, acoustic-metal-smacking-heavily-down-on-acoustic-metal, and raspberried psychedelic twizzle-snort.
The shit, is, as ever, completely out of its fucking gourd. But still, at least by TEF standards, the sense of being invited to stick around, explore some of the territory, get a right gander on this here vicious shriek-attack slamming down from the upper-right, that there bled-out bludger thump ripping along the lower left, or the epileptic feeding frenzy ripping throughout the channel pan, dislocated spasms ripping appendages out of socket, rendering perspective well and annihilated. A nice little round of synth-driven psychedelic thump-loop, a legit pretense at coherence, rapidly lr'd scrap-bash ripping through the teeniest of dead calm respites, eyes rapidly blinking in the blissed surging sss-pastic exposure.
FUCK! Every time I think I got a handle on things and am sure to complete a sentence intact here come the insane hyper-spastic incisions, the outlying proto-ripper-bilge abortions, the frenetic herkily-jerkily splick-splack shudder, the Total SPRACKER-jurg-HUCKA-kerLUNK-swebber-flershsxperk, to to... Total Earhole... To render the narrator a spastic fucking mess. Total Earhole Fuckfrenz-
TEF, is TEF.
Digest spew
TEF is TEF. This time counterbalanced out by newish chap who sure knows his scathe-wash. His scorch-wash. That principally upper-ended earhole-drilling excess of non-relenting persuasion. His HARSH. These two projects deserve each other, one seldom straying from straight-for-the-jugular whitewashed blisternment, one surprisingly rough, and filthy, in deferral to more hand-crafted non-spastics. Total Earhole Fuckfrenzy meets exquisite sub-spastic negotiations of the most intricate of collapsible rabbit holes. Rabbit-holous interruptus.
