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  • Writer's picturerobertsavela

Live Pig Destroyer, X-Files #M32022

Noise-metal genesis blasting beats mainstream kills aesthetic one two three chest thumping abstract waves and lightning bolts of feathers not seen but absolutely heard and felt the truth is out there. Pounding neo-grind not afraid to believe watch the knee smiles and golden hands move on the clock samples and drones produced by a human-ish entity stay-sexy-don’t-do-it looking like Lex Luthor’s brother of the king of Mars in charge of the chaos changing into heavy harmonies from the soil and up to the stars. The invisible man is the pied piper firewalker pushin’ hesher of the music discharge all shook out ain’t got time. He is absorbing the energy of the audience preacher miracle and bed of nails and connected to the effects pedals maybe 20 pieces on that bloated slaughterhouse table and shooting out the speakers back at the watchers, shapeshifters right in their muse-unsolved slipping faces, a conduit if you will, diary of a space warrior. An ET sprinkling dust with powers of tight thrash ‘n’ grind destroyers Mondrian style smoke and street guns, check’s in the mail.

Call the X-Files cause we got one here, the invisible tattooed two-time schizoid 25th century doesn’t fit in seamlessly on that stage but only sonically, five piece band asymmetrical, to each their own rockin’ and rollin’ the next version of math and strings on a dime dumb numbers thrown out twenty feet double-eyes monkey see monkey do. It’s an abstract virus running through a few vampire hours black things organically and machine-made all into one like square fires red alert, red alert.

Generous thoughts like nature is death-tombs and lovelies and madhouse love got burned and enjoyment of the space/time continuum generated in that intimate venue all the way gone devil’s liver. A tear in the invisible walls (I just don’t know anymore) to let the sadness disappear and the noise-drone to become the one and only aura in that room for an hour, extra-ordinary the mirror says. 300 brains and 300 hearts also occupy space and probably some psych-drugged ones (choose my own poison) for the mass to unfold thank the lord leap of faith.

Everything drone carries a message. Be open to receive it. Mulder and Scully forever meet the Jesus of God at the red cathedral of noise with wooden nails. Trust no one. Resist control.


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