Black Mayonnaise - Dissipative Structure LP Vinyl (Translucent Green)

  • Sale
  • Regular price $25.00


Special Features: Limited edition of only 300 copies on translucent green vinyl.

Tracklisting:

  1. Radiation
  2. The Drunken Stupor of the Waking World
  3. Our Senses are Mysterious to Us, and We are Mysteries to Ourselves

Release Date: September 22, 2009

KLabel: Fedora Corpse Recofrds

Origin: USA

One of Mike Duncan’s early tapes under his goopy Black Mayonnaise moniker was called Things That Live in Your Pubic Hair, which should give you a vague idea of his sensibility – one where ‘doom-sludge’ refuses to adhere to its standard disposition of stiff-lipped and serious. After some small-scale releases in the early nineties, and a CD release on relative ‘big-indie’ Emperor Jones (who, to their credit, were always keen to test out weird sounds), B.M. (I couldn’t resist) returned a few years ago with a spate of CDR releases, including a retrospective on the hyper-chaotic Placenta Recordings imprint. But Fedora Corpse Records’ Dissipative Structure LP (FCR1206) is the first attempt to document the Black Mayo sound on vinyl – in this case vinyl of a bilious green variety. Duncan celebrates the occasion with a seeping hunk of what he does best: slurred muscular riffs and sewer-synths on side-long Goliath “Radiation,” cosmic synth loops set to a harrowing kick-beat on “The Drunken Stupor…,” and a last gasp of bass-heavy doom drone on the closer. The final stanza is unquestionably the hardest hitter, suspending the listener in a bubbling aquarium of low-end as pillars of curmudgeonly guitar-smog clog up the ol’ ear-holes. The hate subsides for a brief spell of reverberant slide guitar at record’s end, loosening a tension that’s somewhat at odds with Duncan’s all-in-jest persona. This juxtaposition is a recurrent theme on the record, which has this surface impression of being grizzled and grumpy, but stops itself from dropping off the cliff into dead-eyed metalhead “I’m-gonna-fuck-yer-face-up” jerkdom. Mr. Mayo instead soaks his riffs in a trippy rinse of psychedelia, never forcing the album to be more humorless than it needs to be. - Michael Tau (Decoder Magazine December 17,2013)