Music Reviews: Vampire Can't, Child Abuse & Miracle of Birth

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Vampire Can’t – “Key Cutter”
(Load)
Worried about the impending apocalypse? Me too. But don’t let that stop you from enjoying the coming attractions. When the bombs start dropping, the power cuts out, and my face begins to drip into my lap, I’ll be unfazed having already been exposed to Vampire Can’t’s debut full-length “Key Cutter”.
The debut collaboration between guitar and drums duo Vampire Belt and electronic eclectoid Jessica Rylan a.k.a. Can’t, is an exercise in mounting tension in 10 movements. The creepy sonic environments these three northeastern improvisers create hover ominously and tremor with trepidation.
Rylan’s home-built electronics squelch and squeal surreptitiously alongside guitarist Bill Nace’s six-string scraping. United in feedback, the pair provides the perfect backdrop for Chris Corsano to complete the circle of chaos. Corsano tops off the stewing electro-sludge with rhythms that slowly simmer and keep things bubbling.
Alas, the trio’s music rarely boils over, but their stripped-down, free-spazz is intensely focused and deftly executed.
Child Abuse / Miracle of Birth – Split CD
(Lovepump United)
I made a point to track this release down after first hearing Brooklyn trio Child Abuse on a split 7″ single with Octis (Mick Barr of Orthrelm). Their thumping, keyboard-heavy out-punk blew my mind and left me in need of more psychological trauma.
The group’s unclassifiable clamor — a mish mosh of hardcore, death metal, prog-rock, and jazz — is impressive and slightly intimidating but also somewhat comical as their taste for silly synth sounds reveals.
Both “Pre-emptive Priapism” and “Grey Lump” sound like themes from an imaginary giant monster film: distinctly hummable but bewildering and bombastic. “Kalahari” and “God’s Lightning” are more or less Locust-esque thrash tunes, but are no less astounding.
But I have to say Miracle of Birth is the cake taker of the split. The sole musical project of one Jade Larson, Miracle of Birth has again left me desperate for more music, as his contributions are merely twofold.
“Thirst for Hunger”, the split disc’s opening number, is an infectious, futuristic tune that sprints forward with rollicking drums, fuzzed-out guitar, and sharp-edged synths. But just before the word ‘awesome’ can leave your lips, the song segues into a Jungle Book jam replete with psychedelic marimbas. The second track is equally surprising. This release belongs at the top of your shopping list.
John Rickman