Just some of the most captivating, fucked up and stained rock music you could ever imagine hearing. I could say that maybe PC WORSHIP (perhaps GARY WRONG GROUP) sounds a bit like this at times, but otherwise I’m having trouble thinking of other bands that straddle the garage rock-noise rock divide with such bombast, and scuzzy layered disdain. This music goes well beyond anything that could be called rock though. BILLY BAO is a fictitious Nigerian emigre living in America, created by Spanish composer MATTIN…
Snatched from last.fm:
“When Billy Bao came from Lagos (Nigeria) to San Francisco (Bilbao) life was tough here or there.
He did not mind, he had a purpose in his life: to fight the system that fucks up everyday of our life. Back in his hometown, he was an unknown songwriter but, as soon as he arrived to the streets of Bilbao, he discovered Punk Rock. It had energy and attitude and was exactly what he needed.”
And while it might be cooler if Billy was really from Nigeria, this is still a mightily fucked rock we have on our hands courtesy of Billy and friends (guitarist Xabier Erkizia, guitarist Anla Courtis, keyboardist Pablo Reche and drummer Alberto Lopez). This is deconstruction rock. Rock chiseled away from several different angles all at once; cut and paste, glitched out post-effects on the whole recording, walls of feedback, free jazz takeovers, layers of feedback and recordings. A swampy, swampy thing, that is definitely hard to listen to, but for me at least it’s the kind of hard to listen to that I cannot stop listening to. I cannot turn away. I love rock AND I want it to die. And I want to watch and listen as it dies. BILLY BAO is killing rock, so that he can save rock. BUILDINGS FROM BILBAO is the latest recording from BILLY BAO. It was released in 2012 on BURKA FOR EVERYBODY. If you’re scared beware. “Loose” is an unleashed beast awash in total feedback, charging guitars, and a band of goons let loose to do their thing atop the madness. A mad saxophonist(s) emerges from within the giant pile of pillows that the rest of the band have been playing atop. Said sax player(s) finish the song duking it with the yelling bunch for some space, and then ZAP. The final intertwining tones that end the song make me feel as if I have just experienced a raging, hopped up punk version of 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY in audio form. What in the fuck? This project goes back to the early 2000s, so lot’s to explore, and beyond that MATTIN seems to have had many other musical projects over the years. Come. To. Boston.
