Outer Spacist Slugging Through the New Slump

I've always thought that it wasn't the "college campus" that defined and inherently nurtured a constantly healthy Columbus scene, but "the middle." After repeatedly watching Requiem From Detroit and frequently visiting cities like Austin and Amsterdam -- I'm convinced Columbus exists in a sort-o-purgatory. Just enough post-industrial to keep us doped and just enough pre-apocalypse to keep us on our toes. There's really no history, but there is. There's really no future, cause no one cares to attend to it. Perpetually misunderstood and equally innovative.

This will be the second time in 48 hours I've used "curmudgeon." Once to describe the Fall and once, now, to describe myself. I'll wholeheartedly admit to not keeping up on "the latest" or "on the cusp" or "local only" band du week. Release shows are for suckers nowadays. They already got it. I keep up with the 'spaces to hear, sample, diddle, but all the optimistic young-folk trying to claim neighborhoods and distinct demographics is unequivocally dull. Too much Modest Mouse, not enough Pavement. Or just simply not punk, only the Black Swans or Moviola can count violins these days, yo. (Harrisburgh Player and infinite delay pedal notwithstanding). So we're in a slump? Not to say I can't talk all night about what's brilliant in Columbus -- countless bands, but most have been around a (the) lot, in the same circles admittedly, or are composed of sods from other 4D-legendary groups that splintered. They're all still rolling. But a slump nonetheless.

Which brings us to Outer Spacist, the last bastion of hope for this young decade (at least for now.) They've been in the lot for while, and my insular being has yet to really appreciate what they stand for. Seeing them in action vs. Nodzzz (quite the contrast, enjoyably so) was the first shock to my system. Sorry for the delay. I always knew Dave "Sugar Bear" Treneff was top five current clbs. guitarists rank-able, but never realized how hard this band works, even when they are far from working. This "singles-club only" installment from the intergalactic Mormons is hopefully an appetizer to what they can achieve at three times the length. I'll have to resort to cribbing from the label in the perfect description, citing "sci-fi soul" to sell this double a-side. As I'm still confused as to what's up and what's down -- "I Don't Care About Love, Baby" "Pavilion in the Sand, Baby" -- there's an Eric Davidson-nth swagger to every sticky angle. New Bomb Turks would be an adequate roots-dig, especially since these guys have dabbled in many forms of punk scattered long the beach. 'Cept the organ grinder robs the front, popping basement-window pinholes to let through the streaks of fuck-all nihilism. Swagger isn't really needed here, it's all in the attitude, the frenetic balance on the fence-pole of the two backyards of America. There is light at the end of the slump, Columbus Discount will assure it. Sure I can rock an Endless Summer with UH2 and Deathly Fighter.

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