Fans of Caught on Tape have been anticipating Thurston Moore and John Moloney's "pussies of the highest order"-befitted black metal musings since August, and on Full Bleed, there's no pussyfooting around.
Album opener "Age Limit" begins with a detonation of fuzz and crash cymbals that characterize an atmosphere of crippling disorientation. Moore chases his distortion bombs with a frantic falling apart guitar solo and then blam — more fuzz. It's ferocious quiet/loud smash cuts like this that establish the righteous brutality of Full Bleed.
While this is Thurston Moore and John Moloney's black metal record and they do revel in the devastation, it's not all a violent barrage of blackened noise. If Full Bleed is a bloodletting, the sacrificial lamb's blood donation euphoria is at the centre of it all on middle track "Arguing with a Balloon." The tension of the album's sonic horror lingers in mid-track pick scrapes and rattles; elsewhere, it's all chiming guitars and shimmering cymbal bliss.
Hearing these two famously unrestricted musicians distil their maximalist instrument vernaculars to primal fits of abstract brutality makes Full Bleed a fascinatingly insightful record. Genre purists might argue the peaceful moments are unwelcome, but for Moore and Moloney, who are just improvising anyway, maybe they are spiritual tells about the experience of exorcising their musical demons.
(Northern Spy)Album opener "Age Limit" begins with a detonation of fuzz and crash cymbals that characterize an atmosphere of crippling disorientation. Moore chases his distortion bombs with a frantic falling apart guitar solo and then blam — more fuzz. It's ferocious quiet/loud smash cuts like this that establish the righteous brutality of Full Bleed.
While this is Thurston Moore and John Moloney's black metal record and they do revel in the devastation, it's not all a violent barrage of blackened noise. If Full Bleed is a bloodletting, the sacrificial lamb's blood donation euphoria is at the centre of it all on middle track "Arguing with a Balloon." The tension of the album's sonic horror lingers in mid-track pick scrapes and rattles; elsewhere, it's all chiming guitars and shimmering cymbal bliss.
Hearing these two famously unrestricted musicians distil their maximalist instrument vernaculars to primal fits of abstract brutality makes Full Bleed a fascinatingly insightful record. Genre purists might argue the peaceful moments are unwelcome, but for Moore and Moloney, who are just improvising anyway, maybe they are spiritual tells about the experience of exorcising their musical demons.
