As Zeik: fine n filthy-sounding monochrome fastdirgenoise that sits at some unwanted interstice tween Post-Punk n Almost.Metal. This sounds like a Red Factory rehearsal tape circa '82, tho obviously loads better than that. Faster, more passion, more fsssszttzsh.
Trying to make sense of the tape in the privacy of me own abattoir; hearing some raw Punk nihilistic/Bostik bounceback in places here; a faster, thinner/treblier-sounding Stoogesness - this trak's too, erm, springy for old school garage-rock - there's a leaden shrillness (not as much of an oxymoron as y'd think), an almost.intensity, a dudd!dudd!dudd!isity, an unrequited linearity that Kek digs. A single-finger guitar-solo blossoms from nowhere on the fade-out n it almost sounds baroque, unintentionally opulent. Yeah: go, buddy, go...
Loving the wanton thugboombeatery of this - its lack of angularity n guile; its uncomplicated 'artlessness' (the way it's completely circumnavigated No-Wave/ArtRock canonicity) yet for the most part it's still resolutely a B 'n' W Music - no needless colour hues here; it revels in its reduced bandwidth: this is No-Punk, Non-Post-Wave...on this tune Kek'm getting the Post-JD afterbirth dirge of Factory acts like Crispy Ambulance, but sped up and stripped of Hammett mix-details, stripped of everything except the top-end, tho someone's clearly upset the singer...no, they've upset everyone...but the details are refreshingly unclear. Your private life drama, baby, leave me out.
They come back for more: this time sounding vaguely like "Paralysed" by The Legendary Stardust Cowboy for, well, at least 8 seconds before the drum-kit implodes, metal tubing and crash-stands splinking out into a right old row. They make their point quickly and leave...then something that sounds like fastforward Factory fuguedirge grinds into a Killing Joke outake on L-Dopa. The song hesitates, auto-Metalisises itself, speeds up, turns into a howl of outrage, guitar and drums chasing themselves in a tight circle like a couple of kartoon kats chasing their own tails. G'wan - shooo, you pests!
Tapesquaawwwwk and: early Siouxsie and the Banshees speed thru the room like a high-speed train, swastika t-shirts flailing like miniature windmills. More Legendary Stardust Cowboy, followed by an early Slits demo. "Oh Fuck!" or maybe "Oh Suck," someone shouts. More hi-velocity Kenny Morris drums. Can't keep up w/ them, the fuckers.
A Fall-ish rhythm-riff; drums kick in, shrieks. Track drops out. Rockabilly howl talk-over style vocals briefly occupy reverbspace (In heavily accented semi-English: "Don't fucuuuck with me, or you will dieeee...Die! Die! Die!") then more spaz-drums and a slightly different but similar riff, faster, faster, lapping itself...then something remarkable happens: everything dissolves into a crackle of static, like something's burning - a polythene bag on fire - while a slow, vaguely percussive sound cycles somewhere in the distance. Fadeout.
Apparently, As Zeik means "peeing". I'm probably just passing on a band in-joke - that'll teach me not to speak Flemish! - but - you know what? - ha! I don't care about that. (I would like to speak Flemish, tho.)
I really hope they are called Peeing.
Bekie, Groesjka and Vrjkke: you so fucking rule.
Available from Funeral Folk.