skeletonbreath, Louise (2005, self-released)

Late posting due to a certain laziness this week. Foul weather, family coming over, negative cash flow for music, blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, I was first introduced to the music of skeletonbreath by a friend some several years ago as she was babbling about how great their music was. I casually ignored her for awhile, mostly because money was an issue then (not much has changed) and new music was only acquired by gifts or when I had enough saved up from performances to go and pick up something. Had to make sure the music was good before spending hard earned pennies on it.

So, on an impulse one night last year, I ventured to New Paltz to see skeletonbreath play at this sh#tty bar that I rarely go to. After a cavalcade of mediocrity in the form of other bands wasting time until 1am, skeletonbreath got up, rattled the house to its foundations, and converted me on the spot. There's a special feeling that comes from buying a CD directly from an artist, and I was glad to be able to pick up Louise directly from the hands of the people that made it.

For those completely unfamiliar with skeletonbreath, they are a three piece band consisting of Robert Pycior (also of O'Death) on electric violin, Andrew Platt on bass guitar, and currently Tris Palazzolo on drums, although on Louise drums are performed by their previous drummer Crockett Doob. I file skeletonbreath with other bands that are currently unsigned but phenomenally good and probably should be receiving more attention than they are at the moment (other names on that list include the previously-reviewed Sarah Perrotta, Autodrone, and The Funeral Crashers).

Louise is the self-released 2005 debut from this experimental crew. If I had to describe it as anything with easy pigeonhole terminology, it's somewhere between post-rock and demented violin punk. This band always has something up their sleeves, with sudden changes in tempo and sound, dropping from something high-speed and loud to quiet and minimal. Completely wild and untamed, skeletonbreath can bring out the inner madman in just about anyone. I am not known for being a dancer (almost violently opposed to dancing, as my friends will attest), and skeletonbreath can get me moving on the floor. The album cover art, by Eliza Zeitlin, is awesome as well.

If there are any complaints, they lie in a feeling of repetitiveness. It feels like the same tunes are played over and over with but a few variations here and there. There are a purely instrumental band, so there are no vocals to use as a sort of mark to know which song you are on. Even given that, Louise is still a good release and worth picking up. Their music is so unique that even this criticism is reduced to a mere quibble.

More importantly, skeletonbreath is a band you should see live. Nothing compares to the experience of seeing Pycior sawing away madly on his violin and Platt slamming his bass as the crowd bounces and thrashes in ecstatic motion. Check their calendar for dates when they will be in your area, and then mark your calendar. I guarantee you will not be disappointed that you went.



skeletonbreath's myspace

Left a funny taste in my mouth: David E. Williams, A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying

1994 was an excellent year for music. Among the great albums released that year, we have a ridiculous pile to choose from: Let Love In, The Downward Spiral, Superunknown, Grace, Bury the Bottle With Me, and so on, any two of which qualify ‘94 as “excellent,” despite anything horrible released the same year. However, one album that most of us probably don’t remember as a charter member of the Defining Albums of The Year of Our Lord 1994 Club is David E. Williams’ A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying. Aside from the fact that it was released on a little-known independent label at a time when many talented artists and bands had been recognized by the mainstream market, there are other reasons why Williams is an artist far from being a household name.

First, let me give you a little background on my introduction to David E. Williams. It was sometime in my second year of college, maybe the Spring semester of 2002, on a sunny day when a friend and I were wandering through the campus commons building and passed by a first floor student affairs office. Sitting on the counter were several milk crates of CDs that they were giving away. The CDs were all leftovers from when OCCC had a campus radio station; since the station had been shut down for a long time, they decided to dump the CDs on whatever cheapskates wanted them. Being the cheapskate packrat that I am, I nabbed a couple obscure and completely worthless titles solely to throw the discs away and keep the jewel cases as extras in the event I broke the case on an album I actually cared about. One album, though, caught my eye, and it was titled A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying.

The first thing that struck me was the absolutely stunning stained-glass cover image, made by Judith Schaecter. The title also grabbed me; although long and wordy, it had a distinctly sarcastic yet poetic feel. Since the CDs were free, I figured I’d give it a shot.

A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying is a very 1980s-style synth-goth affair that might go over better if the lyrics weren’t a descent into the very bowels of everything distasteful in the history of mankind. Williams sings monotone of violent misogyny, incestuous gang-rape and the abortion that follows, a quadruple amputee prostitute, assorted Nazi imagery, graphic torture, and other ghastly and unpleasant things. While these are topics that can be depicted musically in a compelling manner that evokes a pretty powerful emotional response, Williams takes to the task with a deranged, almost gleeful, wit that implies the man is completely batty. Thankfully, Williams’ voice is so bland and flat and barely distinguishable from the music that you can’t make out half of what he’s saying. This is one of the rare occasions that I would have preferred the album not come with printed lyrics. Reading through them recently, I couldn’t help but feel nauseated to the point I had to drop them and leave the room. He comes off like William S. Burroughs in the event that Burroughs was outright psychotic and not writing with a pretentious surrealistic flair.

Unfortunately, the lyrics are the only aspect of this album that stand out. The music isn’t anything worth raving about, something of a cross between electro-pop and goth. Not to say that the tunes are bad, just nothing special or unique. You could probably dig around the first or second wave of goth music and turn up something with the same or similar sound and monotone dirge singing without the grotesque monstrosities coming out of the vocalist’s mouth.

Some people regard this man as an absolute genius, and to a degree, I can see how some might respect him. He isn’t afraid to unload all sorts of hideous things onto a CD and put it up for sale on unsuspecting consumers, and, to be fair, he’s not a bad lyricist. It’s his subject matter that is the primary turn-off, which leads me to believe that part of the attraction to A House for The Dead and a Porch for The Dying might be the juxtaposition of very electro-pop instrumentation and disturbing imagery. His myspace bio describes his work thusly:

…a lyrical humor so dark that it's not really funny. Some might call it gallows humor, but "gas chamber humor" is a bit more accurate for his love songs rife with murder, abuse and obscure references to eating.

A mostly true statement, but I wouldn’t quite call these love songs. Maybe love songs in Hell, though. The entire album is like a rattling slow-moving elevator down to Satan’s frozen lake at the 9^th level. With a droning, overly witty blood-soaked clown clothed in his own entrails hanging over your shoulder, cracking tasteless jokes the entire ride.

The only reason I hold onto this is that it’s out of print and a bit of a rarity (although having the campus radio station call letters^* written all over it may diminish its collector’s value). Maybe someday, I’ll offload it onto some poor sap on eBay, but I’d feel guilty for letting someone else allow this sort of sick trash into their music collection. But who am I kidding? The album is available as an mp3 download through SNOCAP for ten bucks, which is $9.99⁹⁹ too much if you ask me, and peer-to-peer provides just about every obscure artist you could ask for. If you are into this sort of unhinged crap, then feel free to go to his website, listen to some samples, read the lyrics, and pursue this man’s music as you see fit. Just make sure the nurses hook you back up to your thorazine drip when you’re done.



David E. Williams website and myspace, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.


^*Curiously, I acquired the CD at OCCC, but the call letters on the CD are WFNP, the campus radio station for SUNY New Paltz, the college I later transferred to. Weird.