Convivial Cannibal Clan makes music that sounds as visceral and violent as the image that adorns their Bandcamp theme, the one where two wolves are going at each other’s faces in order to display pack supremacy. The Clan marries disturbing imagery to their sonic terrorism as a weaponized form of artistic expression. You can look no further than the malnourished child lying on a brick street next to a dog, or you can dig in a little bit more and find blood-faced hyenas, corpses, and masked, automatic-weapon-toting militants.
CCC’s warped noise is like a cudgel to the collarbone, an air raid contained completely within the confines of your home, or a church engulfed in an inferno. It’s madness, but patterns emerge, and sounds identify themselves within a spectrum of aural nausea. Not content to HNW us until our skin peels back, our flesh crisps, and our skeletons char, Convivial Cannibal Clan conjure satanic whirlwinds that whip and blister, somehow managing to wrangle them onto cassette tape. And yeah, I used “HNW” as a verb, and yeah, our skin and flesh and skeletons still do all that stuff, but there’s a vile ritualistic quality that revels in pain as a vehicle toward rapture. And maybe there’s a little bit of tongue in that cheek, no matter how sunken or flayed that cheek is, and this whole exercise is a reflection of life’s absurdity and its disappointments and its ridiculousness.
But life can still be brutal, and so is Autosarcophagy. It’s a total thriller, and throughout its runtime I’ve scratched away the armrests of my La-Z-Boy due to the tension. The utter, utter tension. Edition of 20 from Ignorant Ear Tapes.
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