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This is gonna be the first review I go into (almost) 100% blind. I think I started listening to this EP a little bit, but never got the chance to finish even the first song. From everything I've seen and the little I've heard, I was really interested in what this had to offer. Recovered by Numero Group from the mysterious expanse of the 90s, it seemed like right up my alley. We'll give this a try. I know this is kind of cheating since it didn't technically release this year, but they put it up this year, so whatever.
Fire As A Metaphor sees Colin's guitar drift between two chords in some sloppy refrain in wait for future catharsis, joined by Brian's harmonic bass and Dave's fleeting drums. Feedback swirls before the titular chant "Fire as a metaphor" is repeated ad nauseam. Colin's voice breaks between screeching falsetto and diving aches--in moments seeming like the roots of Alex Kent of Sprain's vocals. We break and release into fuzzy garage jams and gibberish, jumbled and contorted by vocal fry. The ending is so sick, switching between silent cleans and stabbing highs.
Blood Of Pattern starts in Dave's dizzying groove that seems to speed up as it slows down, pulsing between modes with bipolar ecstasy. The remastering job here is a little bit iffy. There's a bunch of fuzz and distortion that seeps in through the edges and degrades the song, but I don't think that takes anything away. Colin trails off at the ends of his aching yelps like an echo in a church to pain. This entire EP has a very specific feeling that I can't exactly place. It just fits right into its time in the best way.
Terminus dons (heh) an almost country accent, guitars twanging between driving drums. That illusion is lost upon screams and a following solo that etches youth into the song's elusive ceiling. Brian's bass quacks beneath the lines, "I see that you're no longer alive / and I hold that against you," which is just awesome. Despite lyrics like these, and the daunting fuzz, there's an endearing element of fun to every riff. It's very garage rock in ethos, and easy to listen to.
Connection starts out with Brian playing these wacky bass chords, Colin and Dave slowly building before vocals turn manic and dangerous like some rabid creature eyeing you down the alley, howls and all. Colin's guitar pops between open accidentals and harmonies as drums tom away like a rumbling engine.
Like Rain boasts a daunting track length (I've become incredibly accustomed to two minute emo songs lately. Help me), but it deserves every lasting minute. We take our time, sitting in the pocket of a crunching bass that acts more as a lead guitar than anything else as whispered spoken words hide just underneath the music. "If only you could see" almost goes unnoticed before a jumble of mechanical imagery is beamed, this time, far higher over the sparse strings and fluttering snare hits. For a second we here a yell from another room. Intentional or not, it seeps in like an unwanted guest and makes itself known. A car crash, a collision, an undeserved unity by chance and unaware of consequence. Colin explores the nature of inanimate industry whose individuality comes to an end in becoming one, perhaps our own individuality dissipating in the nature of disaster, in the nature of the collective Screams bolt out of the ether and take us off guard, those distant yells returning like a ghost. The ghost of a late night collision. Finally, after five minutes of distance and separation, they all come together like cars with inebriated drivers, themselves, for a short moment. This song is a gem.
I find this EP fascinating. On the surface, it's pretty joyful and uncaring, yet under its skin are so many demons, so many secrets, so many stories. It doesn't help that their records are so incredibly rare (up until now)--their mystery remains, the stories still obscured and the memories theirs only, and of course, the music's.
8/10
Stream Don Martin Three.
-Foster
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