Gutter Wanderer [LP; Self-Released]

It only took a few minutes to get me hooked on Fadensonnen years ago when I blogged about the excellent White Night, hell’s answer to that tight Chrome Jackson LP that got anally Cerberized in 2012, or maybe those old Matta Gawa albums. Or maybe this: Fadensonnen are to guitarisms what Mincemeat Or Tenspeed are to pedal worship, both packing the frenzy and bluster of an impromptu shootout with a crazy neighbor. Gutter Wanderer slinks out of a smoky sewer and lets its demands be known early and often, and it goes a little somethin’-like-this-here-goes: Don’t worry about where, who, or why you are, and don’t ask questions like, “Where’s the singer?” or, “Who is this music for?” It’s for people like GUMSHOE, dammit (my name is not Gum!), and despite our small numbers you won’t find a group of more dedicated enthusiasts. The thrill of F-sonnen’s jet-propelled, battery-charged, free-wheeling/-dealing/-face-peeling attack lies in the intricate layers that uncoil and strike just when you figure it’s time to grab a snack. Also appealing is the unmitigated obsessiveness that must accompany such a sophisticated-yet-in-the-pocket guitar strategy. I play guitar, OK, and I’ve never seen the fun in maxing out its sonic capabilities for some weird reason, though I tend to enjoy hearing someone else do it, especially when they’ve got the chops of a Fadensonnen/Stephen Mattos/Mick Barr/etc. But just imagine the geeking-out it takes to reach the point where you can guide an entire album with what MUST be improvised guitar-sugar-death magick. There exist several counterpoints to PD’s and RD’s (yep, these are the names, far as I can tell) guitar theatrics, but they barely even register as small distractions buttressing a storm of tragic proportions. I wish there were some way to inject a little low-end into Gutter Wanderer, as my ears have, over the years, started to resent the treble-heavy production values of many an experimental musician. Thing is, Fadensonnen never asked for my permission, or yours. They fuck shit up, and you’d be a fool not to jump ship when you see them descend onto your freighter. Rarely does instrumental music cut so deep, and the heaviness equals anything you’ll hear in the metal world (save Grave Upheaval; that’s some satanic shit). This album may have slunk out of a radioactive gutter but it reaches for the stars and comes close to a full eclipse of the sun when hitting on all cylinders. The only question is: Which forward-thinking indie label is going to take a chance on the F-sonnen next? Make it happen, I can’t imagine waiting another two years for a Fadensonnen record to show up on my doorstep.

Links: Fadensonnen


Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.

Most Read