I thought I read somewhere that Merx is an offshoot of some sort stemming from the German Army family tree, which would be awesome. No matter: Twenty Sq Ft stands on its own at the summit of randomness, flitting from disguise to disguise until they barely recognize who’s staring back at them in the mirror. They can be muscular and threatening or, as “Swim Job” attests, quite funky, or at least as funky as a limited-run tape band can be. I suppose gloomy post-punk would have to be brought up in the conversation if you were trying to describe this cassette to a dipshit, but umbrella terms aren’t going to protect you from the unrestrained, infectious enthusiasm pouring from the pores of these sketchy tunes. Let them do their work and Merx will reward you in a perplexing manner. Which reminds me: Do you have the proper documentation to be listening to Twenty Sq Ft? Write Skrot Up to secure the appropriate paperwork.
"Whether you come to Island Records with an explorer’s curiosity or the unfortunate luck of a drifter washed ashore, “When You Get There” introduces an uncharted land that’s alive with the breath of ghosts and a tribal history that roars at a timbre just above the whish of the wind. The heart-pump bass and indesciperable chants are not an invitation, but a warning existing on the shoreline. Gibson placing “When You Get There” as the opening track gives the impression that upon arrival, this is your last chance to turn back and the last time you’ll be safe.”
"German Army have slain so many enemies on the post-post-post-punk battlefield you wonder if they’re going to go the way of Disco Inferno and disappear before the population at-large can hear them. That would be a dick-kicking shame, as the swirling, colder-than-ice environs they cocoon us in are more comfortable than my descriptions would suggest."
"Adoption’s music draws on a hardcore, grindcore heritage to create fractured constellations of heavily designed aggression. With each track of Nineteen Ninety coming in hard at an average of 32.1 seconds a piece, the result is a piece of out with a loud, louder, loudest approach and a staying power that outsizes its tiny temporal imprint.”
"The plural nature of the name Scammers implies a group, but it’s just one guy — Phil Diamond — plus a Boss pedal, a looper and sometimes a synthesizer. On a Saturday night in late June, Diamond was setting up his rig on the floor upstairs at MiniBar. He wore denim shorts and a Southwestern-style tank top that revealed his tattoo-covered arms. A punk-heavy crowd of about 30 gathered in his general vicinity. Eventually, a programmed drum-and-synth beat rang out from the speakers, red and green lights started flashing on the looper, and Diamond stood up and brought his microphone to his face."