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December 8, 2014 Monday

music
Rat Bastard, Snakehole, Silvia Kastel, CellTherapy
9:00PM - - -

Rat Bastard


A founding member of the despicable To Live and Shave in LA, Mr. Bastard (Frank Falestra to Mom) has been cracking heads, bursting eardrums, and causing structural damage in shitty clubs for decades, most recently with his sprawling International Noise Conference, which touts: “No droning, no mixing boards, no laptops.”
I had the opportunity to see the Squelchers at last year’s No Future Fest in Chapel Hill, NC, where a burly man with black-rimmed glasses and beanie (Rat Bastard) hurled his static-spewing amplifier into the faces and chests of audience members. You can imagine my intrigue then, at the juxtaposition of such confrontational guitar trash and hook-laden pop-punk for Saturday’s bill, though it makes a bit more sense after some Googling and a visit to the Squelchers site. Pollard and Falestra have actually collaborated before — back in 2003 for Pollard’s Motel of Fools EP. And since the “Laundry Room Squelchers” are basically anyone who can/will tour with Mr. Bastard at the time, the lineup for Saturday will consist solely of Falestra and local guitar/electronics whiz Chris Grier, also a collaborator with TLASILA. Given that this is basically an indie rock showcase, I imagine the Squelchers set will be significantly less violent and involve a more stationary guitar assault. But you never know, heads might roll.
- City Paper Washington DC / by Cole Goins Sep. 26 2008


Snakehole


Snakehole is an all-girl trio formed in Miami, FL by guitarist and vocalist Autumn Casey, bassist Julie Ghoulie and drummer KC Toimil. Originally formed in 2011 as a punk band they adopted the punk doom metal fused sound incorporating occult themes after a 2 year hiatus. They recently released a 6 track EP with DIY label No Work Records based out of Miami, FL.

Silvia Kastel


Italian noise queen and Ultramarine Records chief Silvia Kastel managed to do the impossible with last year's Love Tape and completely invert the the stifling stereotypes of her scene's experiments. What was once embarrassingly macho became ecstatically feminine; what was once hands-off laboratory work became open-ended sensual expression. The exaggerated moans, growls, and howls of Love, even when surrounded in dissonant electronics, always managed to evoke a grinning Kastel, but the title track from her solo follow-up, the Take It 7", finds her seizing an equally sultry but far more sinister position of power rife with paranoia. The slow industrial burn of the factory-floor percussion keeps pressure on your temples while the trails of her tremolo-sliced, supremely commanding sprechstimme drill in to you slowly and take secrets from your head for the keeping.

Cell Therapy



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