Math rock is a funny term to define. It’s pretty much accepted that bands like Slint and Don Caballero started it. To me, it’s basically any band that favors rhythm over melody. Usually, they’re instrumental groups. A lot of the time, they’re duos, like Giraffes Giraffes, Hella, or Job Creators (ahem).
Very few math rock bands try to delve into the dangerous territory of vocals. Don Caballero attempted this a few times, mostly on Punkgasm. And as compelling as “I’m gonna turn you into a bottle of bleach / and pour you into the rug” may be as a chorus, most math rock bands let the instruments speak for themselves.
The notable exception to me would be Polvo, a band whose thin, cheese-grater sounds were streamlined and smoothed into the hook-heavy, delightful math rock jams of In Prism. The album is a masterful blend of vocals and math rock, especially “Beggar’s Bowl.”
But the wait for another bold and experimental and manic math rock vocal thing-a-ma-jig is over. It’s freaking Haybaby, baby, the hardest Brooklyn math rock you’ll hear today.
Pure Strength is more dungeon than gym: wet floors, murky puddles, tiny mushrooms, soggy ceilings. Manny washes his face and peers at the red rims of his eyes, seeing the the bright fuzz of his youth in Mexico City, buttercups of houses in favelas full of diesel and sun.
He hears his daughter’s name.
I’m happy to announce that my book, Blest, is now available on Amazon. If you’re into young adult, fantasy, or romance, I’m sure you’ll love it.
Blest is a novel about what defines us as people and whether we let the world define us or whether we get to define ourselves.
When sixteen year-old Jim Blest meets Claire Morgan for the first time, he knows that there’s something special about her. And he already knows that there’s something special – or at least very wrong – about him.
As they learn what they really are, Jim and Claire have to wrestle with their feelings for each other… just as they’re pitched headfirst into a war that’s been going on for centuries.
When everyone is telling you who to be and what you need to become, do you listen to them? Or do you work tirelessly to break free from the path that was already chosen for you and try to go somewhere else entirely?
Check it out on Amazon!
Anna can barely contain her disgust as she waits for her Seamless delivery. The creepy guy’s gaze lingers even after he walks back into his smelly slaughterhouse.
She tries not to imagine the daily pain and torment of the creatures behind the doors. She fantasizes that the man wakes up in a cage himself, stacked on top of other men with no respect for animal life.
This thought warms her so much that she barely feels the winter air.
Everything knows what death looks like. Even chickens.
Central Park on a warm autumn night is cool on the skin, the tang of changed leaves fluttering in soft breezes. Runners and cyclists and couples circle around the loops of pavement weaving between trees, but the real breath of the park is in the dark forest trails where it’s empty except for lights as snow-white as crystals melting in the sun.
The tunnel of purple-dark trees is blanketed with changed leaves: oranges and golds and scarlets flicking in the fingertips of wind brushing the treetops.
Posted in Running
Tagged nyc, running