This song is a mess but so am I. How much more fitting could this nom-de-projet be? Freddy Rupert's live performances simultaneously curdle your viscera and enchant all of your faculties and senses, bombarding you with a perfectly orchestrated array of unrefined, sloppy, brutal theatricality, and BLARE. All to the effect of letting us know that Fred hurts, and that, hell, he's hurting you with him. That might sound derogatory, but I'm tired of my mother wanting "happy" entertainment. I want to watch Karin fuck herself with a piece of glass.
He is a mess but so are his songs. This is no opportunistic put-on, no cheap aping of Xiu Xiu. The guy needs to make this music. There is external evidence to this assertion, but the tangle of intestinal anguish seething and snaking its way to molest my ears and innards is convincing enough. For the first time since Hecker's Sun Pandemonium frightened me into shutting it off, this record beat me. While I intellectualized why I was turning off Hecker, I just instinctively pressed the button on my car stereo. Freddy had upset me and DISTURBED me. It was only a few seconds later when I even realized what I had done. I had a good day that day.
Music is a mess but sometimes it's not. I hope I never stop digging and scouring for music, but we all get discouraged. I'm a noise devotee, but it rankles me that so many in the community want to claim that it's the most "felt" music. That actually may be true, but a bunch of it is heartless trash. Yeah, Hive Mind can make some bitchin' fusillades of noise, but how is that any more communicative than Crazy Frog? Hell, I think Crazy Frog is way fucking weirder and more satisfying. That being said, Freddy's despair and transitory redemption are what I keep dipping into the well for.
3. is this childish enough for you sean ford
4. lonely way
5. deaf ears