Crabe - 1982 (Cuchabata)

From the ever-prolific output of Montreal’s Cuchabata Records , 1982 is some of local “un-wave” math-punk killers Crabe‘s best jams to date.
Hot on the heels of their celebrated mind-bending release Ero Gaki (out last year on Signed By Force ), the 1982 cassette captures the playful duo of guitarist/vocalist Mertin Höek and drummer David Dugas Dion at the whip-fast charging beastly vehicle of Crabe, knocking out ultra-twisted and ear-bogglingly inverted chord and time changes that manage to construct a mightily unique sound.
Side one cranks up the engine with the Ween-ian time-shifted title track, before slamming into the brick wall tempo shift of “Une Chandail”, which weaves a surprisingly poppy melodic rising sublimation of cheap keys, crunched guitar melody, Hoek’s snarling sprechtstimme vocals puncturing Dion’s precise and hammer-heavy drumming. As soon as you settle in the mood breaks and dive-bombs into very textured and elastic noise squalls and from there the pace is relentless, the musicianship tighter than a gnat’s asshole. In contrast to the relatively live and spartan feel of Ero Gaki , the ensuing tracks “Ma Bandit d’amour” and “Lemon n Lime n Aqua” reveal a touch more production, in the form of effects that successfully embellish without detracting from the blinding riff sorcery on display.
A totally apt and anthemic cover of The Cars‘ “Just What I Needed” deconstructs the classic into scratchily inverted triumphant encore-fodder.
Grasping for referents, I’m sure most might point to early Buttholes with the rigor of say Naked City or fellow early 90s brainfuckers Mr.Bungle , but ultimately it all pales, or at least the ingredients meld together in such a uniquely awesome way as to render references pointless. Grindingly detuned thrash slices into speed-crazy disco on “Zezus Creu Feurd”, punctuates with a blip of 8 bit Atari music before settling into the incredibly nasty nightmare of “Headless Salad” and gatling gun bursts of noise and pitchdrifting shredded drum and guitar attack on epic closer “The Final Parcheesy III” before bowing out.
1982 is a touch more extreme than what we’ve seen from Crabe before and taken on it’s own, should be an instant classic of it’s own genre, or as a vanguard sample of the new face of punk energy, which rejects all the tedious compartmentalization and clique-y BS to revel in the freedom of playing everything at all times. Crabe is a band that is always pushing their edge while enticing the listener through tongue-in-cheek humour that skeins the album, a welcome release valve or contrast to the almost frightening display of pure musicianship and warped edge-defining songwriting.

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