SUBTROPOLIS – Automatic Touchless

Title: Automatic Touchless
Keywords: hard rock rock saint louis future pop hard pop prog prog rock progressive psych psychedelic rock retro-futurism Missouri

Diane, take a letter and .. eat it. I don’t know who this Diane is what this band is talking about, but it feels as if they have a manic spot in their hearts for this certain Diane. Asking her (if I heard it well) to lick the salt of the lead singer’s feet… I don’t know what this all is about, why the group sound so weirdly focused on Diane, I hope they are just poking a bit of fun, if not; Diane might need to look over her shoulder as she goes through life: this part of the band sound like an Ozzy Osborne ready to chew off a bat’s head.

It gets even more violent when the group starts to pull the strings. There are small kinder bits in the middle, but they only seem to help to make the whole ordeal more psychopathic. It’s all a bit menacing, a bit poking and teasing until they suddenly grab the axe of violence again for an heart attack inflicting style of slashing. Are the strings that they pull the ones of guitars, or perhaps a chord ready to be wrapped around someone’s neck for a violent case of strangulation?

The band simply has something sensational, something that feels like you should put your children and loved ones away from them. They even make a ‘plastic sheet’ into a tune to worry about. They poke fun, like sarcastic musicians who laugh in the face of all others as they drive over them with a bullet proof tank of sound. Baselines and guitars, drums; the whole ordeal – musically correct – armed and dangerously busily poking in the face for a winning rock off battle. Everything is loud and bombastic, but surprisingly sophisticated; a sign that psychos are calculated and well educated members of society.

More energy is being exposed in DRMMKR, a rush inducer that combines full on material and slower paces moment in which the frog of a voice suddenly transforms from shaky to utterly romantic, before going in the batshit Black Sabbath zone again. The music is like an insane melting pot that belongs together like a case of math rock that hangs between dream and a slight stroll to nightmare land; it’s all about personal perspective really. I imagine the band romantically ripping the skin of bodies while having sedative romance as the way to make the skinning process a bit easier. But when the skinning is done, the expressed evil glow of music kicks in like a wonderful hate : as if the band members have become fashionable Ed Gein’s fashionistas wearing other people’s skins as coats.

At the end the band seems to have a problem with a computer that loves cocaine too much. I used to know about one of them and it died, so computers and cocaine is a not a good match, but in this case it’s seemingly good flavored material to make a new insane tune about. Everything is a bit pushing, like a strange strangling situation in which the guitars are tweaking out with idiocy & the singer shouts that the computer is at your service & of course a tragic end. One in which the world of the computer seems to twirl around into lost orbits, the effects are kicking in like an insane ticket to the warm goofy place in the nearest lunatic assuming. Arms nicely in a straight jacket as the computer explodes an unfortunate death… and so this release of music stops and if you are one of those people that might dig guitar related stuff – this could also be the right time to ‘start’ listening to SUBTROLIS:

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