Sacral Nerves set the pace immediately with the twisted gallop of “Trappings”, an arpeggiating flood that unravels slowly but with tension, by the time the fuzzed out lines hit you are already entranced and unsettled. Slinky guitar lines courtesy of Rick Trembles of American Devices infamy segue into the face stab of “Phoenix Sun”, hypnotic and hallucinatory vocal sprechstimme by Esther Splett is adorned by Yan Basque ‘s synth sorcery, all thunderously propelled by drummer Jackie Gallant . “Torture Gardener” starts off like a stoner rock sea chanty, morphing quickly into a no-wav-y breakdown, all fragmented descending chromaticism to a shimmeringly psychedelic breakdown. Totally majestic, and totally unlike the next track, “Hungry Lobes”, which apes a bar-rock beat while sliding sideways into a sort of bizarro B-52s jam. “Black Feathers Squirming” is easily my favorite track on the album. It’s a twisted standalone trip, reminiscent of the dry angles of UJ3RK-5 while keeping it’s own keeningly dark path. Closer “Tropes” stutters and lopes all danceable to the synth-throb breakdown, stabbed to shreds by guitar expletives and strange falsettos.
Gratifying and disorienting, like any challenging music should be, the musicality on display giving fucked up wings to the mutant children of punk and no-wave. Sacral Nerves could be the soundtrack to a stabbing… or the best night of your life.
