Buried Wish by PC Worship

Here they are, the guitar band I always think make electronic music. It's in the name -- you expect retro synths and what you get is in fact weirdass indie rock, a little deviating from the proper stuff and a little fried for punk music. PC Worship continue to break the time continuum just a little bit by improvising solid psychedelia with a wash of noise, which on this album concludes tape loops and the like. Buried Wish is a step up, or sideways, or through a wormhole.

Vinyl LP £19.99 LPNS087

LP on Northern Spy.

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Buried Wish by PC Worship
1 review. Write a review for us »
8/10 Robin 21 February 2017

PC Worship is my favourite type of devotion after O. C. worship, which went downhill after season three anyway. It was my understanding that these folks were a straight-up guitar rock band when I saw them in the context of a Parquet Courts team-up -- listening to ‘Buried Wish’, I’ve learned to never again make assumptions about the bowels of indie New York. Their guitar music sounds mangled and their work in the meantime is completely different, a droning medley of tape manipulations and woodwind cutting up proceedings until there aren’t any to speak of.

You can call it no wave if you want, I don’t mind. What I like about this sound is how absorbent it is, how soaks up every lesson on rock music and breaking rock music out there. You can hear from Glenn Branca’s guitar exercises through to Metz’s discordant, brick-wall tunes, the record moving slabs of monotony and quiet, moving pop at the same time, placing weird and wonderful non-pop melody problems next to proper noise rock. “River Running Sideways” is a gorgeous and pastoral song that grew out of a pile of Robert Pollard’s remains and has the distant vocal mumbles of Eric’s Trip -- it’s both pointed and pointy, as much of my favourite indie pop tends to be.

At some point it becomes obvious they’ve abandoned the whole cohesive m.o and gone for gold in the myriad department -- “Back Of My $$$” is a sludgy slice of heavy with a weirdly lovely vocal melody, while “Perched On the Wall” sounds like a self-pitying bedroom strum being played backwards over itself to keep things humble. This effect -- of constantly switching between smaller songs with bucket production, full band rock tunes and droning slabs (like the title track, which Tony Conrad would definitely have loved) -- makes me think they just made this album on the sly, whenever wherever and whoever. One fine afternoon, when the mood for crafting hit them, they put it together. I imagine.



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