sissy spacek – just what you need first thing on a wet and miserable Monday morning in order to ease you blissfully into the new working week. Of course we use the word blissfully in its widest possible context as LA’s quarrelsome quartet and purveyors of noise terrorism Sissy Spacek reign caustic carnage upon your being. Best described as a trepanning exercise without anaesthesia though I’m suspect that given the option the offer of some impromptu head drilling may well prove to be a gimme faced with the prospect of being force fed with the not so much the sound but more the aural atrocities of Jesse, Amanda, Corydon and John as they first despatched your speakers and head sets to rumble as they impishly apply the cerebral sand blasts to your listening space. Much like the highly admired Tayside Mental Health (incidentally Clare – you’ll be happy to know we’ve located those CD’s at long last) and Kylie Minoise, Sissy Spacek operate at the extreme end of the whole pure noise spectrum, an area occupied and frequented by such celebrated sonic sculpturers such as Merzbow and Hijokaidan and a place where sides are drawn among purists as they consider the ceaselessly dividing subjective conflict as to where noise ceases to be music per-say and takes up refuge as an art form. If Sissy Spacek where an artist they would certainly fall into the Jackson Pollock school of rule ripping spontaneity, for their world is one of controlled chaos, not so much pushing the envelope but rather more wrapping the envelope around a brick and chucking the blighter as far as it’ll go to see where it lands. Currently to be found proudly showing off their latest offspring (the ‘Epistasis’ 7 inch via the Italian a dear girl called wanda imprint) to a by all accounts formidable body of work stretching to some dozen and a half singles and a half dozen albums all of which we have grumblingly missed, Sissy Spacek set themselves aside from the usual noise fraternity, amid their irritant intermissions you’ll find elements of freeform art rock on a collision course with scathing grind core (especially on ‘remote whale control‘ which chatters with the disturbing unease of a mid career Volcano the Bear), deranged jazz signatures fried frenetically with the improvised mindset of the more senses affronting dialects of no wave. Its not just bludgeoning power electronics. That said the two minute compressed sample of – as its titled – ’12 tracks from various 7 inches’ takes some beating, a speed freaking head fuck of cranium caning hardcore oblivion comprised of some seriously insane stick work and sheens upon sheens of bastardised noise eruptions and ruptures. Short and sweet at only 26 seconds in duration the wilfully brutal ’bootleg’ sounds like Atari Teenage Riot ripped backwards through a blender while ’devil cones and calm’ really is the kind of disturbed aural afflictions best appreciated from behind the back of a sofa with the lights on – pure unadulterated violence – which if we didn’t know any better where sounds emanating from some human torture like abattoir. All in all its raw, brutal and unforgiving stuff – just a tad deranged – which we recommend you take fair note of before venturing into – our opinion – the sets best moment ‘Cobra heart and rainbow pic’ – a battery acid slab of oddness that’ll peel the top layers of your facial skin and drive up the hairs on your back on end as though you’ve just plugged yourself into the national grid. Be warned this will not be the last time you’ll see them appearing in these pages.

first published – 27th July, 2009

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