Kent based free-jazz-heavy-as-shit bulldozer trio hit the right wrong notes again with this split with NY based Mothguts. Tasty red vinyl in a sleeve that will make you puke until you realise it’s a scene from any ordinary market or kitchen.
‘Variocise Jibs’ has a Zappesque but raw intro of a jazz elec guitar alternating with almost grungy rock, head on, with effect! Tightness has the piss taken with a technically perfect six note nightmare of a repetition eventually being slaughtered by an all out live and kicking “..you just can not hold her down!” Plenty of practice shows here as chaos and order swop roles slickly, dominated by Onion Skidpants’ grating fuzz axe. Onion is a good lad, at gigs he is resplendent in apron and strobe flashing welder mask; he proves himself a good rhythm player on ‘Spastic Colon’ while Pervy Mike (interjecting here on skizzly electronics and even sax) and Morris Jelly build up from the rear. Morris’s drums get to dance and strip naked and he once told me he’s never had a lesson in his life. Smooth rolls and total command make this hard to believe. The lads’ settle for some foreplay in a mellow mid-section then it all cums together in a hot, wet cake-mix of a free jazz skiddly-doo. The curiously named final track, ‘Newts’ shows some restraint (at least in part) as we are introduced to a maturer side. There’s a tightness and drive with this outfit (live and on their first album as well) that will ensure them success, indeed they already appear to be attracting attention as some exciting work with Hugh Hopper (Soft Machine) is already underway…seriously can’t wait!
Mothguts on the other side offer a one-day live recording session, opening in the shape of a gorgeous freak-out, in a similar vein, though with a dominating alto saxaphone they present a far more liquidy sound that their vinyl-buddies. I love sax, especially when it sounds like a demented sewer rat cornered in a pit-bull’s kennel…Some rocky-horror type spoken vocal wouldn’t go amiss here, perhaps just like our oft-mentioned Frank would have; a commentary on something so pathetic it’s important to dedicate at least one whole album to it..? Anyways, it’s also quite film-soundtracky. Midway through the side the freestyling attitude seems to plateau and lose a bit of momentum, almost as though the guys are surrendering without the passion, or that they got wasted at the beginning of this totally live set. The brief blast of ‘Wild Thing’ reinforced the sense of lack of direction.