Scab Queen’s tiny coffins kicks off with what sounds like an unintentional ode to Duran Duran and its classic “Hungry Like the Wolf.” It’s an association not many experimental albums can claim. But the pillowy guitar-and-synth combo and female giggle (followed by “This is a really bad place to do this”) are quickly corrupted, distorted into a dissonant drone left to waver and wither away.
It’s somewhat fitting that avant-garde and Top 40 mesh, if only briefly; behind all of the dark, brooding cacophony is a surprisingly accessible album. I use the term lightly, but Michael Lauden does create something that maintains the harsh chemical burn of an industrial sound while remaining a listenable product. It only clocks in at about 12 minutes long, never prolonging the thrashing percussion that writhes and stutters above the gloomy basement like a haywire jackhammer.
While schizoid percussion may be in the spotlight, it’s definitely worth dissecting the noise that fills out the space, a seemingly random clutter following what seems to be a scripted narrative. This mess isn’t just a wasteland of noise—it’s a carefully composed density.
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