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Leave it to the English to embellish a term like
"shit-gaze" and in doing so codify the current
DIY threadbare scrape of Times New Viking,
Psychedelic Horseshit, and Tyvek. No surprise
that the greatest shit-gazer of all time was
none other than Samuel Coleridge, an avowed Brit
who, plied full of laudanum, would sit for hours
and stare at his bowel movements, writing
copious notes on their color, texture, etc.
"Monday? Oh, stool journal, to where didst thine
weekend go?"
At
any rate, it's hard to gauge how much mileage
the Limeys can get with such a phrase, but cross
your fingers it hangs around long enough for Eat
Skull to share in the odorous mirth. Call their
genre whatever you want; Eat Skull will be
ensconced in the stately pleasure-dome at Xanadu,
waiting for the checks to clear.
Biscuit crumbs and tea stains be damned, Eat
Skull are a quartet hailing from Portland,
Oregon, co-masterminded by Rob Enbom (former
bushwacker in the ranks of Hospitals and Hole
Class) and another original Hospital, Rod Meyer
(the greatest living genius of punk). Previous
Eat Skull efforts include a cassette-only EP and
a pair of 7-inches, all of which might be out of
print. Like their brethren and forebears, Eat
Skull runs a post pattern deep beyond pop and
punk. They bring to the game an extrasensory
appreciation of New Zealand's South Island Sound
(Great Unwashed, Axemen), Cleveland art-damage
skronk (Modern Art Studio, X-X), and the
wretched excess of forgotten Midwest hardcore
(Stiff Legged Sheep, Chemotherapy). In other
words, just what you need!
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