The Homopolice "Sex Drugs Death" Picture it, if you dare: abject anarchy on H-Town's streets, sexual insanity run amuck, fresh blood pooling in drains, some escaped, foaming-at-the-mouth mental patient narrating with a busted megaphone. That's more or less what "Sex Drugs Death" sounds like in a nutshell, its ten punked-out psych-noise minutes barging by in a effects-pedal abusing, snarling hissy fit. Cymbals shattering. Larynxes lacerating. Ax stings flogged relentlessly. Halfway though, Homopolice sludges down its breakneck pace into a blues-y, noisome gulch, plumbing the depths of aggression and neurosis with a singleminded aplomb before splitting the crime-scene in a feedback saturated blaze of glory. Anybody know if these guys ever tour with Rusted Shut? Because they totally should if they don't already; Homopolice are kinda the hardcore ying to Rusted Shut's metal yang.
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Oneohtrix Point Never, "When I Get Back From New York" Lately FNN has been luxuriating in the flickering synth nova-baths of Oneohtrix Point Never, nee Brooklyn's Daniel Lopatin. "New York," from last year's A Pact Between Strangers (Gneiss Things), does synth-soak the way it oughta be done. No disrespect to James Ferrarro, Ducktails, Emeralds and the three dozen other outfits operating circa-now who make fuzzy-keyb statis and drone-y space-core their metier, but FNN likes his little fluffy clouds fiesty, busy; FNN wants his synthetic utopias to sound like desperate maggots swarming a corpse, you know? "New York" fits that particular bill by ponying up, like, geysers of pulsating synths, so it's 12-odd minutes of constant day-glo burbles and blips and beeps and hovering globules of light that dive down a bit too close to the ears. Totally marvelous. Got some hot Texas noise tips - or, hell, any noise tips - for us? Hit FNN up with MP3s or Web site links - but not MySpace links, seriously, because we can't access those at work and at home every spare moment is spoken for - at email@example.com.