HARRY CLOUD: Indian Pussy: CD

This is experimental noise rock that’s just weird for the sake of being weird. It feels like a cousin who wants to show you how they can fart the alphabet while chugging a two liter of Dr. Pepper at the same time. No one knows how you figured out your very unique and strange “talents,” but also no one is as interested in them as you are. Droney art sludge has every right to exist, and I will continue to abstain from it. Personally, I’d cut them way more critical slack if the record felt like it had a point. But instead I listened to seven songs over five minutes long with random samples that go unexplained, while a single note is drug along a violin and someone is fucking with distortion pedals. Apparently, this guy was formerly known as Single Mothers. The old name has been covered up on every part of this CD besides the data that pops up when you put it in a computer. Keep flying your freak flag, dude. I’ve just never been into music that acts like I’m missing something incredibly avant garde and deep. –Kayla Greet (Whiteworm)