New Music From Genki Genki Panic, Boxcutters / Furnace Creek
Genki Genki Panic
Svrf Cvlt
(Goblinhaus)
There’s something inherently and undeniably fun and rousing about instrumental surf rock, from both its peak practitioners in the ‘60s—like Dick Dale and the Ventures—and its revivalists from several waves (pun intended), like Agent Orange’s punk-inflected early ‘80s surf covers, Man or Astroman’s sci-fi jitters and the tsunami of ‘90s bands formed in the wake of the Pulp Fiction soundtrack.
Chattanooga’s own masked surf-rock band Genki Genki Panic is carrying this torch with an understanding of the genre’s tropes, a love of horror movies and a sense of humor (perhaps endearingly groanworthy, occasionally); they do this while making things just a little more gnarly and twisted than one might expect.
The group’s latest physical release is the flexi disc Svrf Cvlt, which reprises three tracks from last year’s Litanies of Surf EP, and it will be unveiled at a record release show at JJ’s Bohemia on February 10.
The “Ultra Deluxe Boomstick Edition”—the Army of Darkness reference is appreciated by this writer—goes nuts with extra artifacts, including cut-out masks, a patch, a guitar pick, a sticker and a digital download code for the vinyl-impaired.
“Ghouls on Film” wastes no time with generating energy with its churning beginning, slipping into organ-enhanced spy rock and careening into a number of curves in under two minutes. “Sexy Harambe Frankenstein” alternates a surf rock riff with discordant guitar frothing, while disorienting whooping space-age electronic sounds add to the atmosphere.
“Radon Chong” has several notable features, including aggressive bass-thumping (think Bootsy/Flea funk) that duels with Dick Dale-esque pin-prick lead guitar lines; there’s a jaunty mid-song direction change, with mysteriously brief Pink Panther hi-hat tapping and twangy bends.
Shakespeare may or may not have written “Brevity is the soul of surf rock” and Genki Genki Panic know this, with a hit-it-and-quit-it immediacy, never overstaying its welcome with numerous song twists and turns and sly nods to the genre.
She Blinded Me With Boxcutters / Furnace Creek
Split Tape
(Head Destroyer)
Inspirational speakers and life coaches might emphasize that where you’ve been is less important than where you’re going.
The two disquieting Appalachian duos She Blinded Me With Boxcutters (from Johnson City, Tenn.) and Furnace Creek (from Asheville, N.C.) might agree, but their vision of a future destination is a bleak apocalyptic wasteland, as heard on their split cassette of noisy electronics released on the Head Destroyer label.
Evocations of the mountain South pepper Boxcutters’ side, most prominently with Southern accents heard on a sample of a cappella folk singing and a woman’s troubling monologue about weird dreams and industrial waste.
Furnace Creek shares its name with the Death Valley village that boasts the highest confirmed recorded temperature on Earth, and among its terror-synth soundtracks are vague suggestions of Native American drum beats.
The Boxcutters side presents itself as a unified 7-track EP with recurring aural themes involving elements violently pulsing and jerking back and forth; noise and static alternate, cutting in and out, and severely distorted beats swap places with motorized industrial slices.
The piercing interruptions and disturbing shouting about armageddon echo the style of Boxcutters member Patrik Dougherty’s solo act, Mannequin Hollowcaust; squealing frequencies, the glitch-sounds of a skipping CD and an interview involving hypnotism and murder add to the dark ride’s ether.
Furnace Creek doesn’t use typical structures of cycles that build to a peak; instead, it leaves listeners guessing, regarding their fate, with foreboding electronics that suggest sprawling, puzzling John Carpenter scores.
The duo’s side starts with gurgling fuzz that gingerly bounces between the left and right channels, and while tension mounts with unease, rather than unloading a sonic crest, Furnace Creek makes an inverted peak by dropping out sound elements for dramatic effect.
For one piece, ringing tones hover in the air while unyielding sci-fi synths and sleigh bells are muddled.
While their sonic geography is jumbled and diverse, these two duos take the listeners on a journey to troubling depths; to alter a phrase from Flannery O’Connor: “Everything that sinks must converge.”