I keep committing myself to a nice sit-down with Buck Gooter and I’ll be dipped if I don’t drop out of my end of the bargain over and over out of sheer fear. You never really know with this kinda dude; his music is a banana-up-the-butt experience that leaves one sore and stymied. And yearning. For more. Or not? Fuck I don’t even know if I can guarantee you’ll want to take the journey a second time. I remember thinking Landed were real hard years ago and now they sound like they should be accompanying a ballet recital. (That would actually be really, really cool; we’ll talk.) The most effective element of The Spider’s Eyes might be the drum-machine beats when they get all slow and churn-y, permeating dread and sweating bass. Or at least those choices make more sense to me than, say, the cock-rock riffage I’m soaking in right now (“A to Z,” to be precise). Fuck that. Let’s get back into the squelch, baby! “Sex With a Hornet’s Next”? Now we’re talking! People are always sayin’ rockers never have a sense of humor any more, and, well, allow me: Seeeeex with a hornet’s nest / You’ll probably die / But you’re tougher than the rest. Good. We’re also back to the churnin’ and burnin’ with “Eat My Isolation” and… again, I just don’t know, brother. This might be terrible, and I’m convinced that’s the whole point of this Buck Gooter bastard. FUCK this guy. He might just be the lovechild of Eddie Pepitone (yes, that’s a comedian) and Ed Schrader’s Music Beat. Need I say more? Listen to Side B all the way through before you give up on this one though. That’s where the gold is, and I’m nothing if not an audio pirate. ARGH, ya fucks! (Damn, a lot of swears in this one; time to grow up, guy.)
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