I HATE FLORIDA MUSIC! Not really. But as a Florida native, I for one know the great music Floridians are truly capable of. And it’s not Seven Mary Creed. It’s not ‘NSTINK or Backside Boys. The people who declared that swill fit to be branded Floridian must’ve had their ties on so goddamn tight they cut off the circulation to their brains — or at least their ears. My only hope is the creation of such crappy corporate behemoths will inspire, foster, and further vindictive undergrounds that will eventually embarrass the family values of marketeers responsible for churning and turning the cheese factor up to 9.5.
Hailing from the greater Miami area, Cavity recently caught my eyes and ears with their Rhetoric release of Somewhere Between the Train Station, which featured blatant appropriation of the cover art off Ennio Morricone’s Fistful of Film Music . Such irreverence of greatness could really piss me off, especially if the music sucked. It was like some great dare to find out who these fucking assholes were. Lo and behold, these S.O.B.’s can walk the walk as well as talk the talk. Cavity is as heavy and succinct as the Melvins with the spontaneity of Godheadsilo. Tortured raspy vocals with a perpetuating death rattle invoke, inspire, and purge more twisted states. Mean as shit and as sludgy like gator-infested blackwater swamps, this music breathes.
Any label with the balls to take any band with any true grit from Florida seriously without looking for “Funky Joe Fresh and his baggy pants” or “We’re as self-absorbed as Pearl Jam,” would more than likely come from south of the Mason-Dixon line. Hence, label with balls — Man’s Ruin/Kozik.
On Supercollider , Cavity tightens things up a bit. To describe Supercollider as apocalyptic, unforgiving, or brutal would be an understatement. All traces of humanity and empathy have been eradicated. Qualities one can respect on a world choking on complacent P.C. pussies. The challenge is this: If Cavity erodes your faith in all things shiny, happy, good, and positive, then your faith was too weak to begin with.
Rhetoric Records, P.O. Box 82, Madison, Wisconsin 53701. Man’s Ruin, http://www.mansruin.com