LP Edition of 100 / numbered
Second vinyl volume of Brent Field’s bizzaro world “musical” inventions. Along with Lisa Suckdog and GG Allin, these are the sounds that made New Hamsphire famous.
Stuck in the bedroom of his rural log cabin, Brent creates hardcore loner music for dispossessed souls. The first side of this LP is more musical than some may expect. There’s lots of detuned string rompage to accompany the sound of the words Mr. Field’s head emits with such gusto. It’s almost like someone stuck a little hole in the balloon of his soul, and this stuff just came whizzing out. There are tributes to John Lennon, Beck Hansen (don’t tell him), Root Boy Slim, Bongo Joe and Matt Groening (go ahead, tell him), sometimes with music so off-kilter it’ll make your lips spin.
But for all that, I kinda prefer the instrumentals, which are ragged enough to make Bill Orcutt sound like Bill Cosby’s penis (if Cosby’s penis could play guitar, instead of just poking around where it don’t belong).
The rest of the album explores ideas about the sound of dead wax, the anger possible on phone messages, and explores questions about how a crank call to an automated operator might work. Some funny shit, some wild noise, some skin-crawling attitude — Edith Bunker’s Demonized Vomit Insurance has it all. Get set for further volumes, America. You deserve this shit. Richly.
-Byron Coley, 2015