Forget what you have heard about chill wave, kill wave, no wave, new wave— this week’s theme is SOLAR DEATH WAVE. On Tuesday, there was a coronal mass ejection from a sunspot the size of earth aimed directly towards our fragile spinning planet, causing a “solar tsunami” to race 93 million miles across space. Lucky for us our protective magnetic shield displaced the explosion and transformed it into the most awe-inspiring aurora borealis of the century, but more “solar violence” is predicted to occur as the week goes on. Scientists say there is a slight chance that a potentially major solar eruption capable of destroying satellites and wrecking power and communications grids around the globe could occur TODAY, AUGUST 5th 2010.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, whether this proves to be true (in which case you probably wouldn’t be reading this right now) or not, PC WORSHIP is here to provide the score to cosmic battle zone. Allow them to imagine the most insane possible hypothetical situation.
Drop the needle. Side A. Live Reduxion, PC Worship’s latest 7” EP (co-released earlier this year on Shdwply + World War Records) begins this scenario on a deceptively sunny note; hazy beams of warm fuzz radiate across a beachy dance floor of multiple guitar riffs gliding together to a timeless surf-rock beat, sparkling with confidence, trembling with vulnerability, swooning at each other, bumping into each other, exchanging awkward exchanges through palm fronds, laughing at the present through the tears of the past, and overall creating an Eden of nostalgia where love can be created and resurrected anew again.
Then all of a sudden a foot-full of sand gets kicked in your eyes. The guitars screech to a halt, their playful choreography frozen by skull-pounding drums warning of impending doom. The sun that has felt so nice and warm on your skin seems to grow exceedingly hotter and brighter until gradually the godhead above is enveloped in a hairnet of fire and the air grows dense and thick with celestial hell. Suddenly, a cloak of blackness drops over the surface of the globe. In a single flash, the past 150 years of modern discoveries in the fields of electricity, internet, and telecommunications is rendered obsolete. The guitars soon lose all sense of time and poise and begin hailing their own mortality in a squealing celebration of the chaos about to ensue as Justin Frye’s monotone voice chants “wake up in the dark and there’s nothing going on”.
Switch to side B. “Salvic Garden, Prophecies of Hell” returns us to this paradisaical Eden that opened the EP only now we find it in a state of infernal decay, inhabited by mutant guitars dragged across the beach by monster trucks with bleary-eyed recollections of James Byrd. “Gravity” pulls us inward toward the center of the record and deeper into its post-apocalyptic--Island of Dr. Moreau—style visions of madness. Frye chants “they were all dead, they were all dead” in a dramatic last gasp at a lo-fi pop song that dips back and forth into the sinking tidal pool of noise and structural amnesia held together by fist-pumping power chords that offer a thread of hope before trailing off into a shredding oblivion. Thus, PC WORSHIP, a self-proclaimed “mutant soul band” is born to venerate the drugged-out memory of PCs and other myriad artifacts of the long lost era of electronic communication before they were wiped out by the solar wars of 2010 A.D. Their resulting sonic temple is truly worthy of devotion.