THE PARANOID CRITICAL REVOLUTION – Euphobia

Systems Neutralizers

Reg Bloor: guitar; Libby Fab: drums

In the embodiment of 2010 – year in which this cracking CD came out – TPCR were Reg Bloor and Libby Fab (née Fabricatore), both members of Glenn Branca’s Ensemble. While the most diffused explication of their music is something around the lines of “experimental noise rock”, there’s more than plain racket in the shrapnel-like tracks of Euphobia.

Actually, all it would take to deduce that this is not a Philip Glass movie soundtrack is acknowledging Bloor’s quoted interests, which – besides Branca – enumerate among others Merzbow, Tom & Jerry (the cartoon, indirectly recalled in “Stepping On A Rake”), a tornado that once hit her town and whose sound she was enthused by, and a whole regalia of celebrated guitarists who, it is said, are from time to time included in periods of omni-comprehensive hate (how I understand this feeling, Reg can’t possibly know). Then again, it is particularly interesting to note that Bloor is a former Berklee student. You heard right, the place where a good chunk of today’s jazz hipsters (and Steve Vai, and…) were raised before joining the respective corporations.

However, this sarcastically poker-faced woman reports that she does everything they taught her not to do, and it shows. Helped by the buxomly overactive drumming of Fab – in my opinion, one of the aces in Branca’s terrific The Ascension: The Sequel and herself a former jazz drumset and classical snare drum student – Bloor grates, squeaks, snarls, punches and jumps everywhere. With just a Les Paul and a Marshall – the treble factor weighing heavily in the overall mix – she elicits eloquent dissonance with a strong belief in individuality, generating earsplitting matters often more challenging than those emitted by other far-famed deities cooking with comparable ingredients. Vitriol-imbued mice getting fricasseed inside unusual chordal shapes; stinging riffs in overdriven havoc; distorted sliding until oblivion. Except for the final 6-minute title track, the durations are quite short, with Fab’s incisively nasty rhythmic exploits contributing – and not by a little – to a detonative and utterly entertaining outcome.

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