Who would have though that the man behind the club destroying thud rock of Pink And Brown, the sweaty, hyper chaotic garage stomp of the Coachwhips, the minimal metallic crush of Dig That Body Up It's Alive and the hardcore homo-house of Zeigenbock Kopf actually had a soft and sensitive side? The ubiquitous John Dwyer (see above) offers up 2 discs of home recorded madness, culled from random tapes/performances over the past couple of years, and damn if this isn't an unexpected surprise. Vascillating wildy between introspective, spaced out downer folk and gritty, hissing free noise crunch, OCS is a massive and unpredicatable ride through one man's damaged musical psyche.

    Disc One,
34 Reasons Why Life Goes On Without You, or the acoustic disc as we like to call it, is made up mostly of solo guitar, recorded in random locations around San Francisco, so the gentle strumming and dexterous fingerpicking is often barely obscuring passing cars, slamming doors, hollered instructions to other players, and nosy housemates, adding another sonic layer to the already thick brew. Think a seriously fucked up Fahey, armed with a four track, a casio, and an old beat up guitar. Think an old Folkways 45 being played on a Fisher Price turntable and run through a bank of cheap effects. Gorgeous and shambolic, meandering and lovely, dark and unpredictable. The acoustic passages are constantly doing battle with an array of sonic intrusions, random snippets of found sound, bursts of angry buzz, tape drop out, random ambient happenings, malfunctioning casios, and distorted crooning. Mysteriously compelling.

    Disc two,
18 Reasons To Love Your Hater To Death, or the noise disc as we like to call it, is a much more challenging affair, channelling the spirts of Borbetamagus, Skullflower, Albert Ayler, Throbbing Gristle and 100 years of NOISE into a shifting sonic noisescape of harsh squealing feedback, gorgeously gauzy and shimmery drones, ear piercing sine waves, distorted low end rumbles, huge washes of effected guitars, rhythmic pulses, darkly muted ambience, subtle barely-there melodies, inhuman vocalisations, massive Merzbow-ian walls of pummel, hyper minimal music concrete, alien lullabies and dreamy stretches of stygian gloom punctuated by bursts of hiss and hum. Intensely beautiful and challenging.

    OCS.
    Also known as Orinoka Crash Suite.
    Two discs. Two hours.
    Of remarkable sounds.




OCS reviews

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