LIP CRITIC
Music and production: Bret Kaser, Connor Kleitz
Lyrics: Bret Kaser
Drums: Danny Eberle, Ilan Natter
Drums recorded by Joe Ippolito
Mastering: Phil Moffa at Butcha Sound
Additional recording: Kristian Pitaccio
OMNIBAEL
Electronics/guitars/vocals: Phil Malpass and Jase Kester
Recorded during lockdown on a Tascam 2488 Digital Portastudio with two mics
Mixed, mastered and generally rescued by Wayne Adams
Video here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=XEOY5SX-nOA
ARTWORK
svensvensven.com
CASSETTE TAPE
The LP is available on tape from the very excellent Cruel Nature:
cruelnaturerecordings.bandcamp.com
LINER NOTES
‘There’s something special about a split release. Complementary and contrasting elements brought together. Oftentimes, you’ll buy a split release because you’re a fan of one of the bands, and a well-paired split means you’re likely to become a convert to the other act too. The pairing of Lip Critic and Omnibael is truly inspired. The two acts are certainly more contrasting than overtly complimentary, but that’s the key to the success of this release. Lip Critic’s previous release, the critically-acclaimed Lip Critic II was a whirlwind of derangement, a frenetic exposition that defied all categorisation. The songs on this split release aren’t quite a s noisy or as manic but instead operate on a whole other level. Make no mistake, Lip Critic are on fire here with their wildly eclectic assimilations. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say that they bring together a host of wildly eclectic assimilations and set them on fire. How else do you reconcile the psychedelic jazz jamming of ‘Angel’ that slings in a sack of stoner hip hop into the mix and whips it all into an increasingly tense cocktail? This is a brain-melting postmodern melting-pot of an effort, and I daresay it’s no accident that ‘Bike’ – very much not a cover of the Pink Floyd song – calls to mind the cultureclash racket of ‘Terrorists are Gay’ – the song by fictitious band The Bikes featured on the Chris Morris-penned sitcom Nathan Barley. Only, instead of cheap, trashy lo-fi punk, it’s a hip-hop hybrid that emanates a glorious, self-aware stupidity that’s positively genius and totally fucking Mexico. We live in a crazy intertextual world, where not only is originality dead, but there’s celebration to be had in the revelry of throwing together the wildest pick ‘n’ mix party possible. Here, Lip Critic fully embrace the electronic, using it to construct a car spray-painted with all shades of hip-hop which they then proceed to drive headlong into a wall. Repeatedly. It may be a rather clumsy analogy, but on hearing this, it will make sense. From industrial jungle to electroskapunk drum ‘n’ bass, Lip Critic pack a lot of insanity into five short songs. Omnibael’s darker industrial leanings are a whole lot more serious, and a whole lot bleaker, evoking vintage Pitch Shifter and Godflesh: hard, heavy, and propelled by clanging metallic beats, theirs is the sound of rage, of fury, of powerlessness and nihilism. The four tracks on offer here are entirely deserving of all the classic adjectives: pulverising, punishing, crushing, devastating, pounding, annihilative, abrasive, relentless, thunderous, merciless, unforgiving. Every track is an assault, a steel-toed kicking that will leave you battered, bloodied, bruised and thoroughly dazed. The musical equivalent of a night at Fight Club, anything less would be a disappointment. But what we ultimately have here are two bands trying to make sense of a fucked-up world, scanning the same perplexing vista from different ridges and seeing the same bewildering mess. There’s no one way to respond, although the only same approach is in madness. Avail yourself and channel the madness.’ - Chris Nosnibor