STRANGULATED BEATOFFS – s/t LP (aka “Beating Off All Over The World”) (1998)
When I entered the rarified realm of college radio as a freshman, sick I’d only previously known a life of Rush, symptoms Yes, Ramones and The Police — stuff that was easily accessible to a know-nothing kid in the ’90s at the different used record stores across West L.A. Upon turning 18, my doors were blown off their hinges and out into the street by a collision of the Make-Up, The Fall, and a batch of warped ‘n wiggy experimental shit that included Nobukazu Takemura’s “Scope” LP (which I might post soon, since I haven’t heard it in a long time, and should like to dig up once more), the all-out face-melting Merzbow catalog, and the fine slab of divinely blithering idiocy you have before you here.
I know next to nothing about who or what comprised the Strangulated Beatoffs, but if I ever meet them in person, then I’m definitely giving them a firm handshake and offering to buy them a drink.
This album is comprised of several loops. That’s pretty much it. To break it down, almost all of the loops have two separate sub-loops that run simultaneously within each track: one for the left stereo channel, one for the right. With the dark absurdity of David Lynch and the deft comedic lunacy of a “Mr. Show” episode, each of these tracks will, if you’re receptive, worm their way deep within your head, and make you freak. Many times, I have listened to this record several plays through, skipping right back to the beginning the second it ends.
“Bury Back” contains endless mumbling, with a single drunken phrase played backwards and forwards, set to the most banal hip-hop beat imaginable. “Beatoffs Get Niggery” has another single repeated phrase, its pitch lowered so low that it threatens to dissolve onto the floor. “What? Who? Me” is the sound I imagine you’d find inside the head of that bat-shit crazy homeless guy character on “Aqua Teen Hunger Force”. “Countless Sheep” is the ultimate lullaby, one which lasts for over ten minutes and one which you’d swear wasn’t a loop unless you were paying strict attention. And “Oh, My Favorite!”, also armed with purposely faceless hip-hop backing, is the aural equivalent of a getting your balls flattened with a hammer — very, very slowly. Absolutely brilliant.