SISSY SPACEK

Back when I worked at the butthole store (Von’s Records), coworker Clint Cox and I would play John Wiese’s Soft Punk over the PA to get people to vacate before close. Not so similarly, Jered Sheline worked at a gas station in Kokomo one summer, blasting radio station static at 2 a.m., methers bought cigs unphased. Though that white noise wasn’t Wiese’s work, the feeling was there — the noise genre transcended and punk was, this time, really (finally) dead.

Wiese collaborated with C. Spencer Yeah, Merzbow, Sunn O))), Wolf Eyes, No Age, and more throughout his career, but nothing has been more seething than his live grindcore incarnation Sissy Spacek. The namesake, a fitting onomatopoeia of simple violence to sound. Homicidal to human hearing. Warning: You may already be deaf. Where others claim such sonic offensiveness, Sissy Spacek succeeds. The recordings and live sets have rotated, this time with Mike Du Bose on vocals, Charlie Mumma on drums, and John Wiese on guitar, and hot off new album, Brath, on Oxen, and a CD boxset of four out-of-print albums (Sissy Spacek, Remote Whale Control, Scissors, Devils Cone and Palm), exclusive full-length (Coast To Coast) and documentary DVD. With a mix of academic composition and uninhibited inertia-répond-vanguard, spatial bliss will inevitably fill the frontal lobe of the invented Spot in your mind.

Watch: Sissy Spacek live @ Pehrspace 2014

PERIODIC TABLE TENNIS

You finally went to the doctor, and he DEMANDED you take these new pills. You’re not even sure what they’re for. Depression? Sleep? Erectile dysfunction? But everything is functioning fine. Right? You take them.

Periodic Table Tennis plays…dissonant beats meander moans. A glossy glass ceiling raises and lowers above your head. You think it’s your head. The vortex landfield changes green hues every song. Your feet: Embellished flapjacks drenched in Aunt Jemima. Everything dark. All you hear is the soundtrack to a horror film, but this feels more organic. Dark chants turnover whipping beats of echoing keys.

Waking up, a shadow man presses down on your chest. Dusty Grant, the man behind Periodic Table Tennis, stares from a rocking chair. You feel like you can’t breathe. Funky, uplifting robotic samples drive you out of your body. Waking up in a cold sweat, you call the doctor who gave you those pills. He never existed. You throw your fist in the air to scream, “THANKS A LOT,” as the camera pans out…”OBAMACARE!!!”

Listen to Captive in Babylon

THE SPOT TAVERN PRESENTS BONER JAM 2015

Drone. Experimental. Masturbatory.

Once-in-a-lifetime performance featuring members of Golden Moses, REV//REV, Pnature Walk, Squirming, Periodic Table Tennis, Teen Brigade, and more.

Bring your diapers, because things are going to get shitty.