I’m always amazed when some of these cassette-only labels manage to move themselves into the terrifying world of vinyl. But then, of course, these labels never fail to pull through with absolutely worthwhile efforts. At least… worthwhile to them. And to me, the reviewer of said efforts. And maybe you? Well, if you’re a fan of the veteran weirdo-troupe Social Junk, this one should be a no-brainer, since it’s a beautiful wax reproduction of a cassette tape previously issued by the label Human Conduct. But for the rest of you (and by “the rest of you” I mean, “us,” since I had not heard of Social Junk before Tim Wisniewski popped this one into cardboard and shipped ‘er right to my doorstep), prepare yourself for… some weirdness. In all seriousness, Social Junk isn’t for everyone. It’s the kind of music Dracula might put on when trying to get to sleep maybe, but more macabre than even that. Super spare and sparse arranging of generally synth and percussion elements, softly positioned into expansive formless masses of composition, everything in a decidedly minor and morose mode with crawling melodies and electronic swoops whizzing by. Two-note chromatic melodies pervade a lá Jaws to give the album a suffocating blanket of tension, but this is one animal that never strikes: Social Junk creeps ever-toward you while keeping it tight, close. And it’s all the creepier for it, slithering as a snake through a dank, torch-lit sewer of sound. While a title like “Renewal” beckons for something upbeat and uplifting, you certainly won’t find any of that crap here. Instead you’ll descend into the menacing, malevolent presence that is Social Junk.
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