Got a fresh crop for my Grove from a member of Erode And Disappear, and I’ve chosen their split 7-inch with Peter & Craig as the launching-off point for what will probably be more coverage in one form or another (their stellar album art is half the battle).
Split 7-inch recordings tend to hurt more than they help — mostly leaving the listener wanting more, in a bad way — and while this deep-forest-green-marble slab of vinyl is another in a long line of teasers, it accomplishes enough during its brief spin time to warrant consideration. And no, those are not locked grooves on Petey & Cragger’s side; it only appears that way.
I’ll start with what, if these two bands were a married couple, I’d call the “better half”: Erode And Disappear. First off, you should know they churn nice and proper on 33RPMs, if you prefer doom to zoom. Second on, E&D’s first few riffs will get your head whipping around like the swift chop of a helicopter blade. “Fire on the Wind” is as cheesy as its title denotes, but it’s no Cheeseburger (album out five-odd years ago on Strictly Amateur Films) and it’s not a twinkle-toed dandy-fest along the lines of Aldous Snow and/or The Darkness.
Hell, don’t even know why I mentioned those guys; I guess because the fuzzies are flowing and I don’t get out and throw DOWN like this too often anymore. It’s like the youngest-possible fans of Clutch banded together and vowed to forge an audio entity with none of the sourness smeared all over Clutch’s latter-day material and listened to a few Corrosion Of Conformity cassettes in addition to regular intervals of Black Sabbath, Om and Black Mountain. The effects misting overtop represent but a tiny, barely noticeable accent, yet I appreciate them immensely. Why not more?
White Fang (remember them?) come to mind immediately upon immersion into the domain of Peter & Craig. P&C don’t sit around wondering if their riffs ring too much of this (Buzzcocks maybe?) or that (Anals?) or if their levels are clear or in-the-red-red-RED; there’s simply no time if you want to do punk right. The singing is snotty-flat start-to-finish, like Assorted Jelly Beans — boy have I been waiting awhile to mention THEM — and from the sound of it both Pete and Craig are vocalizing (badly) as only the young can.
They play hard, they play fast, they hit hard, they hit … well. What can I say, beyond that? It’s sing-along punk for tone-deaf rage-rovers, if not mental midgets, and I respect and enjoy it more with each listen, especially side-opener “Soft Pretzels,” whose opening riff is so whipped-topping-y-cherry it almost overshadows what’s to come. It’d be nice to hear what these fellas can eek out with a little more time and open-robe’d studio intimacy to work with.
The possibilities of Peter & Craig don’t seem to be especially infinite, and again, I respect — possibly even prefer — that, too. It’s good to slam-bam that mammer-jammer if you feel the flame in your overly large American man-belly, so that’s what you should do. It’s not rocket science because rocket science isn’t fun.
FUCK OR FIGHT!? Gotcha … And while you’re here, don’t stray too far. It’s been almost too happy of a Hanukkah; I’ve got holiday baskets from Free Loving Anarchists, Full of Nothing, Colour Buk (that one’s a band name), Life on an Island and Hollow Bunny to share with you like Cadbury love-eggs. Suck them!
---- gumshoegrove.com
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