Tabs Out

cassette podcast focusing on noise & experimental sounds
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Tabs Out | Little Baby Tendencies – Bad Things

Little Baby Tendencies – Bad Things

2.14.23 by Zach Mitchell

Vulnerability is an important part of art, but the ratio of vulnerability to anger is the balancing act a lot of modern punk bands find themselves wrestling with.  A vulnerable songwriter is an open wound, all burning and aching with the hope of healing resolution at the end. Sticking the landing, ostensibly, is what separates Great Art from catatonicyouths Instagram posts. Cringe is freeform vulnerability and self -serious artists tend to shy away from anything resembling embarrassment.

This is not to say Memphis punk duo Little Baby Tendencies is “cringey” in the modern sense of the word, but one listen to the self-reflective relationship horror story title track of their debut tape Bad Things will have you contorting your face in some sort of shape as the black metal “I love you daddy” screams enter your ears. Singer/guitarist Haley Ivey and drummer Tyler Harrington have created the kind of brain melting punk tape that walks the vulnerability tightrope with ease. Ivey is one of the most dynamic punk singers I’ve heard in a long time, hitting everything from Jonathan Davis-esque guttural growls to well-placed falsetto highs with ease. The album never feels stale across its 22 minute run time, which is more than I can say about a lot of punk that crosses my purview. Exciting, dynamic music full of left turns.

I keep coming back to their proprietary description of “crybaby punk.” It’s hard to describe the band as anything else once a label like that gets lodged in your brain, but there’s more to LBT than aimless whining. There’s a primal scream therapy type of catharsis on happening in between the guitar slides and drum bashing. Ending the album with a song as bluntly funny as “Burn the Flag!” seems to be an intentional choice. Anti-American jams are as old of a punk trope as any, but after intense screaming about sexual boundaries being broken and a section of the lyrics labeled “an improvisational rant from the point of view of someone who’s lost their mind,” a shout-along song about burning the flag on the Fourth of July feels like a nervous laugh in the face of awkward tension. After songs as intense as “Give Me Ur Coat,” with all of this band’s guts on display, you need a breather. You crave catharsis. Sometimes great punk gives you what you want. Sometimes it just wallops you over the head.

Tape available at your local Little Baby Tendencies show!

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Tabs Out | Death Aria – Lost Media

Death Aria – Lost Media

2.13.23 by Ryan Masteller

I figured I’d go out on a clumsier note, nothing graceful. The body’s not built for grace at the end: you either get old and wither away, get sick and make a mess for a bit before succumbing, or get splattered and, sure, make an even bigger mess while succumbing instantly (if you’re lucky). Regardless, there’ll be that last moment when the breath leaves you, when your lungs simply can’t expand anymore and take in oxygen, and the sound will be appropriately horrible and feeble. That’s why they call it a “death rattle.” 

But there’s an alternative that we haven’t thought about, one that our fine friends at No Rent Records in Philly are eager for us to discover. (Well, maybe not too eager; they only made 100 copies of this thing, so maybe it’s actually an exclusive secret?) Why not a – wait for it – Death Aria? Like, instead of focusing on the immediate and terminal trauma, maybe we can train our minds to experience a euphonous hum or even the Universal Om when it comes time to expire and be absorbed into the cosmos or sink into oblivion or slap Saint Peter the most righteous high-five you can muster at the Pearly Gates. Death Aria’s “Lost Media”: a minimal synthesizer opera to draw existential attention at the moment of expiration and accompany the pending spirit across the threshold into whatever’s next.

Not hyperbole; not without merit. Death Aria examines the cold expanse of transition and composes brutally appropriate meditations in the face of the overwhelming inevitable. But they do so with the lightest, sweetest melancholic touch that just perfectly captures the balance of disbelief and acceptance. While the highlight of course is the gracious ambience of burial preparation and utter reverence for the deceased and the spiral of connection beginning with those closest and proceeding ever outward, the effect isn’t possible without the feedback and electronic disturbance smeared across each track. The combination points toward easy rest, but with turbulence on the road to it. It feels cosmic, all-encompassing, ecumenical. Spiritual. Attainable.

Or maybe this is all nonsense – we’ll see what happens when I’m at the right hand of the Lord following the Rapture. Still, those triumphal horns might not sound quite as nice as “Lost Media”… Who’s to say. I’ll probably end up riding my dirt bike off a cliff anyway. Death rattle.

Released in September 2022, this tape is eminently unavailable from the label (sold out, sucka), and I am one of ten on Discogs who claim it in their collection. Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll stake my copy in a fight (but I’ll win). Downloads is free, feed your iPod. (What do you mean they don’t make iPods anymore?)
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Tabs Out | Ryley Walker & Jeff Tobias – It’ll Sound Different Once We Get Some Bodies In The Room

Ryley Walker & Jeff Tobias – It’ll Sound Different Once We Get Some Bodies In The Room

2.9.23 by Matty McPherson

There’s new 2023 curatorial efforts from Ryley Walker (Husky Pants) & Jeff Tobias (Strategy of Tension) either out or coming on their labels, (Sam Goldberg & the Echoing Department’s Some Songs Are Sung & Feast of Epiphanies’ Significance, respectively). Endearing excursions towards a plane of pop enjoyment the experimental ferric enthusiast ought to take note of. Although neither of which happen to string a set of syllables together that warrants rare use, and I assumed both were stopgaps towards a greater objective, I had not anticipated that objective was actually going to be another Walker jam session. One recorded on January 27th, sent hot to the Bandcamp on February 3rd, and to be shipped off in about a week. And just like that those syllables melted out of my mouth and into the atmosphere.

“EUREKA!”

Ah there it is! We miss this term, don’t we folks? Back in the 2010s when you saw that term you knew where the quality laid and that the album had an intended effect that perhaps extended beyond mere technical precision or dexterity; the kind towards the emotive, primal core of why words are drawn up and transmitted online. We miss that term and its implications for discourse 3 to 4 years down the line. And yet now, I’m bringing it back. “EUREKA!” and say it loud.  As Walker and Tobias’ It’ll Sound Different Once We Get Some Bodies In The Room feels of a small achievement in the current tape world.

Firstly is the aforementioned immense speed of release. Right here and at this moment is a picture of two label heads and long time players cutting to the brass tax and just presenting it as fast as possible. Secondly, the thing shreds, threshing out a love for both Astral Spirits noise and cd era Louisville post-rock; a match made in heaven played like Texas hold ‘em.

Although please understand, we have been told little about the occasion of this release. Just “Jeff and Ryley sit down.” Practically a fairy tale in title form. Jeff’s duo tapes have shown two sides to him. The type of spirit that can follow a game (as with Jack Cooper of Modern Nature on Astral Spirits) or outright entertain a wrestling duel against his own. And I assume you’re aware of how he’s feeling, from back last fall. Jeff’s character with the saxophone (amongst trombone and reeds that aims between deconstructive noise or swaggering croonery hasn’t been as prepared as this kind of player.

Walker’s guitar channels a playfulness and style-nodding prowess that recaptures the beauty of DRWZI DOORS. Still, that release is a whole other noisenik affair. If there’s a baseline to be found (both with the tape + jeff), then it’s in Gastr deconstruction; brevity laden pauses and awe-ridden freakouts break through the C35 in half the tracks. Ryley will lead with breadcrumb chords like small stakes blinds and he needs Jeff to call, or Jeff will fire up a buzz of chords or a trombone drone. Sonically, it starts at 0 and the other will check or bluff to create an imperative; the kind where both of their noises meet and create a deep listen and an impressive show of force. Across six tracks, their high stakes poker game challenges the two to think of how to force a tell out of either. 

When tracks develop, they can start to move like the community flop; a creep of free-jazz cacophonies or post-wolk ambience. “Guest of the Government” opens a pathway to trance with just an inquisitive guitar loop and a low drone.  “Burnt Toyota Sienna” becomes practically caught up in a sax tornado that feels natural. The delicate “Buzz and Glide” plays its cards slowly, teasing out a gorgeous gliding guitar melody that breathes and pervades the space when it shines for its few seconds against the brass of Tobias’ horn; a dialogue and resonance indeed! If the tracks do tangle to the 7-minute mark, then the river portion of these cuts reveal a faithful devotion towards The For Carnation amongst the ghosts of Quarterstick’s past. “Cigarette Lake” retains a spooky tales from the crypt vibe as it approaches the five minute mark, where Ryley invokes southern gothic hallows and Jeff creates the sweltering atmosphere. It’s in these moments I find my quench sated, the nicest sonic jackpot of a tape in recent memory.

Limited Edition Tape Available at the Husky Pants Records Bandcamp