Kara-Lis Coverdale
Aftertouches [CS; Sacred Phrases]

In the abyss where vaporwave waterfalls into the void, there exists the bottomless pit of our post-[] culture. It empties into the ravine of nothingness but the piling garbage of existential meaning never gathers. It becomes feed for an invisible black hole of slogans and taglines. You see the corpse of the echoing “In a world…” endlessly swirling until it is swallowed by the chattering edifice of Rock Critic. All verbosity vanishing, an immediate ending mirrored in the final seconds of Kara-Lis Coverdale’s “IMGS /R” Aftertouches is beyond this purview, perched on an unseen boat catching those remnants worth saving. Coverdale grabs tightly onto the falling Laurie Anderson, while allowing Ian Anderson to perilously fall (only to save his flute). Her barge is filling up, but with carefully curated artifacts from which to create her post-collages. Sean McCann’s sheet music, Keith Rankin’s visual viscosity, Tara Sinn’s blend of tasteless taste. It’s careful and meticulous, and as it collects to become the sinkhole stop-gap known as Aftertouches, there is hope that this fountain of fad is closed and we’re taken to a new era of pre-[]. Kara-Lis is trying but her ketch can only hold so much, and its weight will soon catch the attention of the massive, blackened mouth that awaits to swallow this era in one big gulp.


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.

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