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Allegedly featuring the soundtrack to a short film by the same time that appears to involve convulsing, gelatinous blob men, Love God finds Milk Cult engaged in activity that makes Steel Pole Bath Tub seem tame, calm, and inviting. Instrumental credits run from Scotch tape to whipsaws and Maytag equipment, which is perfectly right for an ensemble who sounds like the masses of tools and appliances in America deciding to come to life and march on their users. Throughout Love God, the emphasis is clearly not on live playing but recording manipulation, tape use and abuse, and more besides. It's clear that the band is creating their own death metal crunches and the like, but like Portishead some years later, the idea seems to be to record it and then to deconstruct it to make the real song. If the turntable scratching isn't exactly going to have the DJs of the world shaking in their shoes, it's a way to make some ridiculous, chaotic noise -- listen to "Drag Strip Riot Dream Sequence" for how bizarrely well it comes out; the band knows exactly what they're doing. The "Love God" track itself, full of plenty of heavy-duty riffing and other more immediately familiar rock noise, thinks nothing of throwing in what sounds like a mariachi loop about seven minutes in, only to slow it down and then discard it in favor of industrial sounds, clatter, and various whooshing noises. Then there's the six-part "Clown Party," running nearly 40 minutes and tackling everything from ambient sound to huge, sludgy breakbeats along the way. The funniest bit? The collage of screams, feedback, and other high-volume insanity called, but of course, "Relax and Sleep." ~ Ned Raggett, All Music Guide
J**D
For Love of Loops
You can imagine these guys hunkered down in a filthy apartment in a terrifying post-apocalyptic metropolis, recording tape loops of street noise and decaying instruments for a gruesome anthropological document. From the initial shattering violence of a car horn and sampled heavy-metal guitar grind on the title track, you can tell you're in for something aurally unforgiving. The range of source material in their loop library is dizzying, drawing from any genre you can think of and any culture you've heard of-- in addition to ice cream trucks and spanish radio stations. "Clown Party" is a forty-minute mush that twists and bends relentlessly; the only way I can describe it is that it captures the experience of a telepath on a crowded subway, unable to tune out the thoughts of the hundred people around him. Love God is a terrifying album, much less accesible than 1994's "Burn or Bury," a collection of collaborations with vocalists from as varied sources as Mr. Bungle, The Geraldine Fibbers, and Jets to Brazil. But its manic repetition rewards repeated listening and seems infinitely rich. Summary: It's the soundtrack to a protracted and post-modern armageddon, attended by panhandlers, squatters, truckers, and your high-school AV club.
J**S
excercises in cinematic confusion for the emotionaly excused
it sounds like the machines have risen and taken over on this album. cracked, distorted frequencies collide head on with rampant bursts of primal noise. spooky ambient interludes only add to the confusion. just sit back, and try to enjoy this ride. it may not make sense, but that is part of the thrill.
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