Tweezer

Tweezer

How to Live in a Day of Moral Chaos

Shoestring

Angst + Atlanta = Tweezer!? Their new CD captures the savagery one encounters when living in “Hot”-Lanta pretty well, I think. Having seen and heard Tweezer live before, I know them for creating a punkish, too-loud, scabrous sound-attack on reality. I kind of like it for that, but How to Live in a Day of Moral Chaos also features subdued moments: subdued like a crouching panther!

A very physical outfit, Tweezer’s music cycles between moments of quiet tension and minutes of aggressive vocal/instrumental assault. Timmy Smith, intoning some shamanic-action at your hide and then, all of a sudden, there’s the elemental pronouncement and this white noise propelled by some nuclear guitar blasts, all with undercurrents of hidden harmonics. There’s raga-styled stuff here (because the music is pretty deep, dark, etc., etc.), some western twang (of sorts), and more than a hint of scrappy thrash/bombast too. All that stuff — this CD does my head right, I like to listen to this VERY loud, and I want to get me a bottle of Mad-Dog 20/20, some Whip-Its, and a bag of cow-patty surprise. Or rather than that, I’ll run out of my house into the streets, into the woods, screaming and naked.

Bear in mind, these are things only someone like me would endorse, so you’ll have to come to your own conclusions.

We’ve got something that’s street level in philosophy here too, because that’s what I get from this CD. It’s an aggressive attack at a world spiraling into the greatest mass stupidity possible. Take a listen and arrange your own theater of triumphal and righteous anger.

Oh, and you’ll get a kick from dead Sartre reading the lyrics: they range from a histrionic verbal attack on pop culture, to the surreal, to existential decay, as only we who live in the usually steaming South can know and love/hate. What? There’s this thing, there’s this one thing, where Smith is saying, “I’m walking down the street, and there’s my big old head on a pole, right underneath my feet, my big old face I’m tripping man,.”

Indeed. You need a depth charge, get this CD, now! ShoeString Records, P.O. Box 8952, Atlanta, GA 31106-0952

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