Black Pus, Oozing Wound, Mounds | Empty Bottle | Rock, Pop, Etc | Chicago Reader
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Black Pus, Oozing Wound, Mounds 

When: Tue., May 7, 9 p.m. 2013
Price: $10, $8 in advance
Take away the contorted patchwork lucha libre mask and splatter-painted and collaged everything, and Brian Chippendale is still ambitious and endlessly talented with a pair of drumsticks. As the driving force of the duo Lightning Bolt, he cemented himself as a leader in the what-the-shit-is-that-rock-drummer-doing movement, moving around his kit with almost jazzlike economy despite the barely contained frenzy of his playing—plus he sneers and screams through a mike in his mask while the hellnoise from Brian Gibson’s modified bass guitar blares forth. In his solo venture, Black Pus, Chippendale carries the whole weight himself, focusing on steadier rhythms as he works a kick-drum-triggered oscillator that’s run through a pair of pedals I can only assume he operates with his third and fourth legs. The new All My Relations (Thrill Jockey) bubbles and crackles with thick sci-fi bass tones and ecstatic noise in hypnotic swirls and loops, complementing Chippendale’s urgent drumming and telephonic, sometimes cartoonish vocals. Much like Lightning Bolt, Black Pus makes its home in dense pockets of repetition—often the meter-dicing snare accents seem to be resetting a looping pattern with every hit—so that it’s easy to lose track of time inside a song (“Word on the Street,” for example). The track “1,000 Years” is practically pop by Chippendale’s standards, with a straightforward beat and even a hook that could pass for a chorus—it’s like he’s pushed so far into the bizarre that he’s come around the other side. —Kevin Warwick Oozing Wound and Mounds open.

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