This one’s flying way under the radar, but with two noise-pop/psych-fry stewers on board it should be pulsating to the top of the pile. This is the third outing from Greg Dalton and Rob Thomas (not that one). The pair make their meal in Gary War and Sunburned Hand of the Man respectively and find themselves flying under Dalthom and/or Dalthan occasionally. This time around the succinctly named III arrives from New England psych pipe Feeding Tube and its a gloriously Cronenberged batch of psych-pop porridge to be sure. There’s certainly hallmarks of War’s past works, feeling along in the dark with a bioluminesent burble, but the pair keep this one its own stroke of strange, melding collaged calm, with restrained chaos under the sway of psych-folk.

The record is fairly fluid, and it’s often easy to lose track of where one song begins and another ends. Glycerine runs slide into worm-eaten vocal samples that crisp at the edges like cigarette marks on film. While plenty are still doing it, there’s a feeling of oughts nostalgia for me here, tumbling deep into the bottomless tape submission wormhole of The Blogspot Years of Raven. At the time many were gnawing on this same lit wire madness, but as they start to stand out from the fray, this is a record that sees it done right. Dalton and Thomas weave the familiar with the fetid, injecting a squirm beneath the skin while distracting the listener a lacing of aural nostalgia. Riffs and rivulets of sound stream through the brain too quick and nimble to latch onto for long, but its barbed enough to hook ‘em eventually and let their poison sink in and spread. This one takes more than a few listens to really draw blood, but each listen peels back the skin to reveal layers hiding the dazzle of mercury beneath the dermis.

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