R. Stevie Moore
There Is No God In America [7-inch; Doomtrip]

The image on the inset of this glorious 7-inch lathe (I got a clear copy, there are only 4 remaining at the release’s bandcamp; MOVE!) reminds me of Wavves’ King of the Beach LP cover, but of course the comparisons between the two end there. R. Stevie Moore is the real deal, a small-batch auteur with cred to spare and a long litany of fascinating releases. There Is No God In America is easily the most gorgeous set of recordings I’ve heard from the mercurial musical maverick, from the squishy, squelchy synths of the title track to the ominously vibrant all-vocal chant of “No Talking” right up to what might be the peak of Moore’s considerable power on display: the discussion of hair politics that is “No Body,” in which he talks of getting a barber’s snip and drawing the attention of a lady or two. As a longhair myself (on and off) I understand all the underlying feelings behind this treatise, and the way he wraps his thoughts around a semi-funky bass line is almost heart-breaking in its sincerity and warmth. Then you have “Oven Love,” which, from its title to its contents, top-to-bottom, is just, as Ricky Gervais might say, MENTAL. His vocals flutter like that kid from Walter TV (I LOVE me some W-TV, btw; lord so great, so underappreciated) and the spare, spindly guitar, buttressed by a straight-four bass blob, somehow illuminates the muddled mess for our confused ears. Just barely though. It’s another scrape-sample taken from the roof of Moore’s cortex, one that will cause you to question whether you, yourself, have ever had a truly creative moment in your desultory life. But hey, maybe I take things too to heart; I don’t tear up during these songs like I might while I take in, say, “Olsen Olsen,” yet there’s a process taking place that I’m not fully aware of, an awakening perhaps? It’s all in there, folks, for you to discover for yourself. Like I was saying though, this is a 20-run monster dressed in the quality of a much, much, MUCH larger release. If you don’t get this quick you’re gonna end up streaming on Bandcamp like some kinda loser. Yes, vinyl still wins (though for Nuclear War Now! and Weregoat/etc. I still love having b-camp around), for now. I hope that never changes; I suspect it might. Oh, the hear-manity!


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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