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Polaroids Of Androids

Record Reviews

9.0

Perfect Pussy
I have lost all desire for feeling

I often worry about my hearing.

Every now and again on certain days, when the music I'm listening to reaches a range of decibels, my right ear gets a weird buzzing in it.

I've read somewhere that Stephin Merritt from the Magnetic Fields experiences the same issue and that's why he doesn't use that much percussion in his songs. I hope so. I fucking love Stephin Merritt.

I should go get my hearing tested — but I think most hearing tests are bullshit. I remember being a kid and having my hearing tested and pushing the button saying I could hear the tone, even when I couldn't.

I did, however, try that Youtube hearing test thing a few weeks ago — the one that tells you how old your ears are based on your ability to hear different tones. From what I can gather my ears are between 40 and 50 years old. I'm 28. Shit.

Then again, I'm not really doing anything to combat my hearing loss. I never wear earplugs at shows and when I'm not at a show I've usually got my iPod headphones in blasting too loud. I once got asked to turn down my music in a library while I was using in-ear headphones. With my ears narrowing in on retirement age, I'm increasingly ashamed of that little anecdote.

But just when I feel it's time to take my finger off the 'Volume Up' button, and spare myself a few years of late-night tinnitus soundtracks, something like Perfect Pussy comes along and just begs to be cranked louder and louder until I can feel the wax in my head melt.

The first time you listen to I have lost all desire for feeling, you're going to feel like you've ruptured an eardrum. The drum and bass unpredictably explode like nitroglycerine, guitar lines burn under piles of lawn mower distortion, and vocals are shrieked and hurtled around through the chaos, occasionally bobbing up for air before being sucked back down to join in with the destruction. But buried beneath the chaos, calamity and cacophony of this record is a flowing river of melodic hardcore so pure in its expression and its delivery, it's nothing short of life affirming.

Clocking in at just four tracks in 12 minutes, Ihladff was only ever supposed to be a demo tape but there's something so raw about it that it stands as an ideal snapshot of the intensity and brutality and beauty that all hardcore bands — and fucking all bands in general — should strive for and aspire to.

A lot of that can be credited to vocalist Meredith Graves. Her yelping almost sounds like a child screaming for help amongst a storm of noise at times. Only she's not screaming for help, she's screaming into the storm, tearing it apart with vicious and ferocious delivery of deeply emotional and intricate lyrics. You can't understand her through the waves of sound crashing into your head, but that doesn't stop you from believing everything she says — such is the ferocity and fearlessness you feel in her delivery.

In interviews, Graves has described how everyone in the band's hometown of Syracuse hates them, and yet despite this opposition, they've managed to find a huge amount of acclaim especially after a successful run of shows at the 2013 CMJ festival. Seems this 'demo tape' has also served its purpose, with the band recently signing with killer label Captured Tracks.

I can only froth at the prospects of what their future music will hold, as it looks like Syracuse's loss is going to continue to be my hearing's loss.

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Perfect Pussy

 

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