Summary
"We'd like to get on a label, and I would hope that would happen," says [Sam Pace]. "But a label, to me, isn't some kind of get-rich-quick -- or, in fact, anything but a way to possibly get heard more. We're all realistic at this point. But it'd be nice to have someone distribute the music, so that we can call up a venue and say, 'We'd like to come here and play,' and not just be some random band; have something out there that they might've heard of."
Rutting is, perhaps, a good way to describe the nature-boy swagger and chest-thump, the damnably confident-if-selfless rock 'n' roll of Cheeks of Neptune, Centipede E'est's completed debut. For instance "Org of Cong," an anarchic rock trundle that bucks at its own reflection in the still pond water, or "Mogadon Dancehall," which runs its course from faux-Afrobeat Gang of Four-ism through to wave-whipped, relentless guitar wash. Beyond an embrace of the organic and of some kind of twisted, natural spirituality that permeates even Centipede's noisiest post-punk thrash ([Nick Falwell]'s suggestion for an upcoming live recording's title: Honorable Mention at the Inner Peace Competition), Cheeks of Neptune finds itself accidentally walking an elemental-themed path. "Sinking Boats," with its disaster-at-sea drumming and nautical lyrics, and [JIM LINGO]'s "Asian-tsunami requiem," "Mountaintop Beaches." As if to stress the point, Centipede E'est goes so far as to include musique concrete recordings of tiny waterways -- goddamn tree-huggers.See the full content of this document
Extract
Centipede E'est; Rutting Haiku
JIM LINGO, renowned Pittsburgh eccentric, describes the Alabama farmhouse where Centipede E'est recorded its debut album thusly: "There were gates, and drives down dirt roads and no neighbors, and cows in pastures."
Perhaps a Bloomfield rooft...See the full content of this document
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