11:01 PM on 06/01/07
They're playing a show for me coming up, and for awhile I was advertising them as "Mock Orange, but with balls," but that doesn't even really work. Damiera sounds more like a better-trained Mike Kinsella being gangfucked by King Crimson. But not regular sex (heavens, no)...confusingly direct and forceful sex. The kind you're embarrassed to tell people about afterwards; the kind of sex that causes you to become suddenly uncomfortable not only with your involvement, but with the boundaries you've set for yourself as a person- disgusted at the course of your life up to that point. The kind of sex that, when you finally watch it taking place right in front of you, you get hard even though you know that you shouldn't be getting hard, because you're "not like that," this isn't "what you like," you aren't "one of those." But the build is infectious. You can't close your eyes or ears. Frequent changes in the dynamics of the spectacle hint at what you think maybe might just possibly be some kind of impending explosion, or, if they stretch too far past what we recognize as the fundamental scalor limits of Western Music, an utter collapse. Then suddenly the outro mathdown of "Via Invested" hits you...you start seizing, and you and everyone else in the room proceed to blow your respective loads. The music has become a twisted part of you, it is disgusting and foreign and you can't tear it away; but you don't even want to anymore. You don't care. It is inside you...you are absolutely fucked on Damiera and you can't stand to think about anything else.
Best album of 2006.