Randy
BRUISED - Arrow Of Disease / Psychic Stain 7"
$15.00
Highly recommended.
The opening of “Arrow of Disease” hits you immediately with a sense of other-worldliness, projecting you instantly deep into an alien soundscape. The cymbal comes in white hot—I’m not sure if the mic was too close, or if there were some phase issues with the other drum mics, but it fills the track completely in one swirling burst. The bass comes in with similarly overwhelming insectoid/cybernetic urgency, the guitar hits a few off-kilter harmonics that serve as a warning of what is to come, and in within the first 10 seconds of the song it is very clear that we aren’t in Kansas anymore. BRUISED's post-punk/goth-punk songs sound like the soundtrack to a post-apocalyptic world, after the bombs have dropped, or the seas levels have risen, or whatever final catastrophe has occurred. Both songs on this 7” conjure a distinct feeling of desperation and dread, of imbalance and impending doom, through a mixture of frenetic and purposefully unbalanced instrumentation matched perfectly with shrouded, prophetic lyrics like, “through The Big Fence, on the street, they grip their arrows of disease.”
The opening of “Arrow of Disease” hits you immediately with a sense of other-worldliness, projecting you instantly deep into an alien soundscape. The cymbal comes in white hot—I’m not sure if the mic was too close, or if there were some phase issues with the other drum mics, but it fills the track completely in one swirling burst. The bass comes in with similarly overwhelming insectoid/cybernetic urgency, the guitar hits a few off-kilter harmonics that serve as a warning of what is to come, and in within the first 10 seconds of the song it is very clear that we aren’t in Kansas anymore. BRUISED's post-punk/goth-punk songs sound like the soundtrack to a post-apocalyptic world, after the bombs have dropped, or the seas levels have risen, or whatever final catastrophe has occurred. Both songs on this 7” conjure a distinct feeling of desperation and dread, of imbalance and impending doom, through a mixture of frenetic and purposefully unbalanced instrumentation matched perfectly with shrouded, prophetic lyrics like, “through The Big Fence, on the street, they grip their arrows of disease.”
