Poochlatz - Victims of Self Preservation
By Marcus Pan
This one is actually one of those chores to
listen to. From Israel, Poochlatz claims to create music that rises up
against the almost obvious natural need for Self-Preservation. To me that
means they make things that nobody really wants to listen to, therefore
defeating their own preservation as a band to begin with. I hope I got that
right. Headed by Maor Appelbaum with vocals and lyrics by Rani Zager, some
might remember that first name from a band called Sleepless.
Victims of Self Preservation, which is kind of a nice
way of saying that unfortunately theyre still here, is a crapped out ten
track dirge of noise and unlistenable boorishness in an effort to fail, again
judging by the albums title. Theres no way I can really describe
what Im listening to here without becoming at least a bit over the top,
but hell most of you read my reviews just for that reason anyway so lets
start climbing I guess.
Allow me to preface the analysis of this CD by
qualifying to you that I am not reviewing music right now. Im reviewing a
bunch of noise that someone for some unknown reason decided to record. Opening
with Black Milk, male vocals read what I want to say sounds Hebrew, but
not having any training in that particular language I cant say for sure.
Its nothing more than speaker feedback, windy backgrounds and a guy
saying things, picking up the pace and intensity of his readings as the four
and a half minute track moves along. It has a ritualistic quality, but it
certainly wasnt appropriate to press as a song.
I Will Not Survive the Ravage on track two must have
been a foreshadowing attempt to get you to turn the stereo off before the
rape-style screaming begins. Thats pretty much all this one is
backdropped against more speaker feedback with some inundations of flutes or
something played by a big ass after an all you can eat taco buffet. Then on
Imitate-Meditate we scream some more in an attempt to not allow any form
of meditation or concentration within a 50 mile radius. The assflute returns
for Not Just a Conflict and I think someone recorded their attempts at
forcing a microphone in there along with the flute. And not one of those slim
something that looks a bit like this.
We Degrade is eight minutes of static and dial
twisting with nowhere to go. I Got Mice on It is the same thing with
more wind except Rani will yell at you on occasion about something that made
him really mad like his sore throat maybe. Im wondering if the
poor mice were sent in there to get the microphone. To close the brilliance of
Victims of Preservation we have the over ten minute My Sister,
with random vocals, more speaker static and other stuff I didnt bother to
finish listening to.
Speaker feedback isnt music, playing with dials
isnt being a musician and screaming shit isnt singing. I really
dont know how many times I have to say that. Recording a bunch of chaotic
noise is not being creative youre not creating anything,
youre recording unrelated chaotic noise. How is that a creative process?
This sort of shit has got to stop. If you keep sending me this shit, Im
going to keep making fun of you.
PO Box 462, 43362 Raanana, Israel