Eric Copeland

Ah man Black Dice gone bubblegum, what more could you ask for on a hot summer day in the confounding year of 2016? Copeland’s had his share of high waving experimental solo excursions and a tenure in Black Dice that gives him free ice cream for life with his noise pioneer club membership card, but he’s throwing all that built up goodwill at the fan and going with his gut on Black Bubblegum. The record still pulls in a fair amount of chaos, but it finds its footing in pop, showing Copeland’s soft spot for the digestible bits of his chosen profession. There’s a dub glaze thrown on top, an ever present influence in Copeland’s solo works, but this time he’s pairing it with glam grind, calliope pop contortions and disco-melted harmonies. A very large part of me can’t help but love that Copeland’s made an album with a self-admitted influence of Neil Diamond. There needs to be more Neil influenced noise pop records rolling off the presses these days, chucking sequined shirts through a wood chipper and running it through a fuzz pedal. That’s the American Dream made manifest at this point of the game.

Copeland’s vision of bubblegum pop is a hard shift from the norm to say the least. He’s jettisoned catchy choruses for the most part in favor of mantras repeated like pop hammerings through the bulk of his songs. He’s got the bright colors and loud snap, but they all seem to be running together, smeared by a good dose of paint thinner while lining up the images in a kaleidoscopic view finder. Its just the blast of weird hot stench that we all need rolling out of this summer though and perhaps a more poignant take on life as it exists between the lines of logic in twenty one six.




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