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Crushes – Hyperirony

Dendrite Records, 2008crushes

Alas, I fall as another victim of cover art trickery.  Truthfully, what does one expect from a band that features a traffic cone impaled by a fork on the cover of its debut record?  I don’t know, but coupled with the duo’s shot on the back cover of being unceremoniously dumped out of a cardboard box filled with styrofoam peanuts I thought this was going to be either a synthpop or garage rock affair.  As it so happens, I am certainly finding that my genre-sensor needs replacing immediately.

Crushes are a demolition troupe from Boston that collides with one’s ears using electronic drums and a wide assortment of screeches, chugging guitar samples, and bad radio frequencies.  Add all of this up and you get experimental noise, which is probably my least favorite music genre if there’s ever going to be one.  A guy named Smith does most of the noise with his futuristic looking noisemachine, which is in the form of a guitar but it really looks like a soundboard concoction.  The woman named Jones taps away at her drums while singing once in awhile.  Notice I wrote ‘singing’, for she at least tries.  Smith, however, is the guy who makes no attempt to pretty up the air with his voice and instead sings like a drunken guy at a karaoke bar wobbling off a version of “Living On a Prayer”.  Can you picture how bad that sounds?  How about for nearly thirty minutes straight?  Welcome to this album.  I do find it amusing that within the gatefold cover of the record there are printed lyrics as if they matter within this mess.

Here they noisily are on MySpace:  Crushes It has videos as well which are more interesting than the music.

I imagine that if you’ve been looking forward to a new experimental noise act that isn’t saturated with mainstream stuff like Autotune and booty-shaking videos (I make joke) then Crushes will thrill you.  As for the rest of us, the majority will despise the music Crushes is blaring out.  This record goes in the Golden Trash Can as well as the real one.


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