No wave, noise band The Sediment Club is as amorphous as where they
call home. From the "general North East area," they are one of the happiest things I've stumbled upon in a while.
Appropriating a host of influences, The Sediment Club maneuvers
through a seeming time warp of uneasy, tenuous, distorted tunes that
bring to mind the avant-garde caterwaul of joy that is the No NewYork compilation. That
said, it's not some tired Weekend at Bernie's retooling of what's
come before them. Jackie, Austin, and Lazar find a way to make it new
and relevant, leaping from part to part, restructuring and
reconfiguring the sonic landscape while never feeling presumptuous or unnecessary.
Missoula is a long way from the general
North East, but I shot Austin an email on a whim, thinking we'd
receive the usual response from bands east of the Mississippi: "that
sounds awesome, but that's too far of a trek for us. maybe next
year." I was tickled to find out that they were planning a tour
out west and that Total Fest fit perfectly into their travels. To my
mind, we don't get enough of the weird or the off center here.
There's a running joke among those who listen to noise music in
Missoula that involves the ratio of attendees to band members. If you
want to hear the joke, you'll have to come out to the next noise
show.
Back to The Sediment Club. The mayhem of their songs is jazz fueled elation combined with enough anticipatory abrasiveness and innovation that remind me of Robert Rauschenberg's combines. Structures fall apart. Processes reveal themselves into cohesive rhythms that are far greater than the sum of their parts. It's a personal journey through subjective thought experiments, hurdling with anxious energy and strained expectations. The Sediment Club possesses compelling dexterity that is sobering in its efficacy. They're attentive to every detail, to every orchestrated deconstruction. It's flat out slippery and disorienting. Each song feels as if you're forced to scratch out another path, lurching forward in vain attempts to reconcile the no longer with the not yet. Ever present and bordering on subconscious conversations, The Sediment Club is infectious with their energy and intensity. At times mournful but always challenging and explosive, their recordings are a testament to their tireless, hard work in crafting a sound that attempts to mimic the primal ooze of feelings that sit at our core.
Back to The Sediment Club. The mayhem of their songs is jazz fueled elation combined with enough anticipatory abrasiveness and innovation that remind me of Robert Rauschenberg's combines. Structures fall apart. Processes reveal themselves into cohesive rhythms that are far greater than the sum of their parts. It's a personal journey through subjective thought experiments, hurdling with anxious energy and strained expectations. The Sediment Club possesses compelling dexterity that is sobering in its efficacy. They're attentive to every detail, to every orchestrated deconstruction. It's flat out slippery and disorienting. Each song feels as if you're forced to scratch out another path, lurching forward in vain attempts to reconcile the no longer with the not yet. Ever present and bordering on subconscious conversations, The Sediment Club is infectious with their energy and intensity. At times mournful but always challenging and explosive, their recordings are a testament to their tireless, hard work in crafting a sound that attempts to mimic the primal ooze of feelings that sit at our core.
B and the Electric Kill - The Sediment Club from Alessandra Hoshor on Vimeo.
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