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Cavity: Laid insignificant
11/05/10 || Khlysty
Okay, okay, I know. You don’t like slow metal. You don’t really like sludge. You don’t enjoy doom. And you don’t have a penchant for Black Flag’s or early Fear’s take on hardcore –that is, hardcore punk, not the pussification that people call “hardcore” these days… I know. I can understand. Your ears are sensitive to them sludgy, dirty, desperate sounds, that reek of no-money-at-all poverty, body-and-mind-crippling addiction and a deep-seated hatred for you, yeah, you, who, right now, all comfy-cozy, in front of your 2.000-Euro laptop is ready to skip this review and look for something, oh, I don’t know, more “metal”. Or, more “tr00” and “grim”. Or, more “brootal” or “technical”. Something that would make you –and me, who has the money to pay for the CD and the player and the computer on which to write this review…- more comfortable and at ease.
Fuck, man, it’s awright, you know? It’s aw-fucking-right. Cavity spent their ill-begotten life on the fringe, always there, never anywhere else. Down in Florida, with the old people and the Cuban immigrants and the rich people who want a taste of the quasi-tropical climate and the imitators-of-imitators-of-imitators of early death metallurgists, you can easily get lost. There’s always shit happening there; always a new hustle going on. Always drugs to be consumed. Always cheap booze to be bought and drank somewhere, during some humid night. Always a new spectacle of human downscaling. Always some new horror to be sampled and distilled into some expression of despair and fury. You don’t wanna hear (about) them. You wanna hear ‘bout dragons and elves and machismo and Ssssssatan and what a great thing is to be in a metal band. No, sometimes reality is something that you don’t wanna deal with. ‘Specially when you’re listening to music.
I said music and I thought what a joke it is to call what Cavity did as “music”. Shit, it ain’t no such thing. Cavity don’t care ‘bout small details like composition, arrangement, melody, consonance, experimentation, or any other of them things. Theirs is the sound of humanity goin’ down the drain, with a HUUUUGE roar of discarded hypos, livers with the texture of Swiss cheese, VD drugs, loads of snort in attaché cases, burnt money, smoking Uzis, a mashed Ferrari with blood on the alcantara buckets, food stamps, a couple fucking, a couple fighting, some lose teeth, broken during a fight, a humanoid shape searching in festering trash for its next meal, a girl –Hispanic? Caucasian? Afro-American? Don’t matter- crying in the soft, warm night, blood seeping between her legs, a boy chambering a bullet, an old man crossing hisself as a pimp-mobile passes in front of him, a tuxedo, a cool-wool suit, some pills…
Theirs is the sound of desperation and anger and hatred. Most of it, abject. Knowing the score don’t make you smarter. Just makes you feel more like shit. More hatred. More violence. More… something, no, not to ease the pain of living and knowing, but to make it more there, more acute. Stay focused. Lose focus. Everything going whatever place, all at once. Cluster-fuck-bombing. No prisoners. No surrender. No nothing. If nihilism has a voice, it’s probably here, in the grooves of “Laid Insignificant”, screaming like a soapbox preacher on acid, like a cheap guitar losing its battle with feedback and not giving a flying fuck, like distortion that oozes from the speakers and leaves dirty marks on the carpet (Is it shit? Is it blood? Is it the dregs of something unspeakable?), like a hopped-up guy with two drumsticks and eternity to beat into submission. This is the sound of the lost, the sick, the hateful, the crazy, the long-gone, with nothing left behind, but a ghost of substance, there, on the corner screaming incoherently for what was not and what will never be.
So, you don’t wanna hear it. It’s okay. FUCK YOU!
- Information
- Released: 1998
- Label: Bacteria Sour (2008 Hydra Head re-issue)
- Website: none
- Band
- Rene Barge: vocals
- Dan Gorostiaga: bass
- Antony Vialon: guitars
- Juan Montoya: guitars
- Paul Lewin: sampling
- Betty Monteavaro: drums
- Tracklist
- 01. Laid insignificant
- 02. The woods
- 03. 9 fingers of the spider
- 04. Marginal man
- 05. I may go
- 06. Spine I
- 07. Spine II
- 08. A bitter cold spell
