Upping the packaging game from his last release, (Aaron, going by Albert) DeMuth produces a mailing origami of sound mind and soul. You’d almost expect DeMuth’s latest to be as lighthearted and mirthful as this DIY assembly (pictured above). Yet it’s the inverted, guts-on-the-outside feelings that follow on the black wax. No matter the cute packaging, that circular obelisk knows its place is always in the dark, always dwelling on the darkness. So goes DeMuth’s guitar, this time devouring Morrissey’s voice as if it’s the soul of his guitar. As for DeMuth’s voice itself, it creeps further into Peter Murphy territory, adding an extra layer of fortitude to Haircare for Assholes. This dichotomy continues to draw me to DeMuth, who clearly has a great sense of humor and history, and yet does his cleverest trick in creating music that is stirring and serious. But the playfulness keeps it from being foreboding. Which is great, because we Americans have a humorless date in November that has no sunshine, even if we fold up our ballots like swans to hold our collective tears. DeMuth’s packaging concept holds something of black beauty, not of soullessness.
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