turkish delight : howcha magowcha [i heart noise]
as i write this outside, staring at the stars and watching spaceships race by am wondering just how high this lo-fi sci-fi might take me. sky high high, that's how high. still rising, i know/knew nothing of turkish delight but sure am being levitated now by their saw-soaring slew of rooftop post-garage-punk melodia. these four noise-popping pokesters hail from boston and this neat neat neat reissue spools their second album from 1998. way beyond the normality of four-piece rock formalities is a solid jet-propelled air of improv and accurate mark e. detuning. just for the hell of it imagine a combo of bis and sonic youth lobbing their instrumentation into the atmos and whilst gravity does its thing they'll perform perfect 360's calmly catching each others strings, beats, vox (plural), sundries before any likely wreckage free falls and bounces. over eleven tracks and 38 minutes of ting, twang and fuzz varying the all-out gut-level of all choked up to don't look at me's steady strangulation, and all the while the line from smooth karate 'sex with you's like watching kung-fu' sums them up perfectly. it's a metaphor for turkish delight straddling us listening to them, surely? pressurised musical wrestling, oh yes! howcha magowcha has enough crescendo's and counts to ten for any frequent flyer's wings to be burned. but don't worry, these bostonians will patch you back up before any permanent dysfunction. giddysome, they are. indeed. hail that spacecab.
available now on cassette and dl