Andrew Clinco is one of the truest chameleons around today. While drumming for the alternative/post-rock/doomgaze project Marriages with noted doomstress Emma Ruth Rundle, he started the synthwave project Drab Majesty, for which he bought a wig and a dress and took on the alter ego of Deb Demure. In 2019, he took on a new character, Noel Skum (a rather obvious anagram), who is the leader of the “acid punk” outfit VR Sex. Rough Dimension, the second album from the outfit, is the sonic equivalent of a windows-down tour of the Red Light District.
The album has a similar attitude to acts like Velvet Underground, Iggy Pop, and Tom Waits—rock and roll acts that have waded waist-deep in the filth of society’s excesses and vices. It half sounds like it was recorded in a brothel or crack house, whether he’s there to participate or pass judgment. The line between condemnation, glorification, and the neutral reporting of events is blurry—if it exists at all.
The sonic landscape he conjures up is a perfect medium to tell these stories. Synths still play a major role, but they’re far less friendly than the pink clouded pads of his work with Drab Majesty. Oscillators warble at the brink of chaos, frequently crossing that line. His lyrics are largely delivered in the same gothic baritone as Deb Demure, though sung through an audible sneer (minus a section of high-pitched shouting on closer “End Vision”). Skuzzy guitars and simple-but-urgent drums create a ragged skeleton for the songs to rest on. All of it is covered with enough reverb to blur the line between sobriety and intoxication.
It’s practically apocalyptic. Even the more cheerful tracks (if you can call them that) find their joy more in the absurdity of nihilism than anything you could call happiness. And in that way it’s the perfect reflection of a society that greets global pandemic, political chaos, and the looming threat of a third World War with memes. Everything is terrible, but it’s not that bad. At least there’s dancing.
0 Comments