Velvet Elvis
No Rules in the Wasteland [CS; cae-sur-a]

Sometimes you’ve gotta follow the Big Chief in the sky. You’ve gotta find your inner spirit animal. This ain’t no Fight Club sliding penguin bullshit; this is truth. It’s inside all of us, and often it doesn’t take the shape of an animal at all. For Velvet Elvis, it’s clearly the fiery depths of psychedelic metal. The rattling thunder of Uriah Heap, Deep Purple, and Black Sabbath — it is Ozzy and Dio in an eternal battle over hell because they’ve already disposed with Satan. Flesh melts to jelly; bone becomes coal to keep the hot furnaces boiling. Whatever depths of the inferno Velvet Elvis has mined, what they’ve come back with is a metallic demon manifested as a beast capable of ripping your face off with the single shred of a guitar, elegantly depicted as a bird with untamed hair and a B-cup. I’m certainly not fucking with it.


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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