Fear, Emptiness, Decibel: Stream Cretin’s Flexi Disc, “Fourteen”!
Often channeling the spirit of the much-beloved Repulsion—relentless, predatory riffing; uproariously gnarly lyrics—Cretin were one of our favorite one-and-done deathgrind outfits for years. Well, no more. The Bay Area brutalizers have fucking finally followed up 2006’s Freakery in the form of the exceptionally nasty Stranger. You’re gonna have to wait ’til the first week of December to hear it, but know that the December Decibel has plenty of Cretanic grind kindness; not only does Kevin Stewart-Panko back the reconfigured lineup of bassist Matt Widener, vocalist/guitarist Marissa Martinez-Hoadley, drummer Col Jones and second guitarist Liz Schall of Dreaming Dead (“Jones suits the accelerated pace of the new material. He provides some old-school looseness for songs that would probably sound far more clinical in the hands of today’s drum machines disguised as dudes in their early 20s. And Schall’s atonal, divebomb-happy leads contrast with the grinding punk riffs and barked vocals”), but we have the very first taste of new Cretin via the Flexi Series. It’s called “Fourteen,” it won’t appear on Stranger, and it will give you abduction nightmares via silver-on-green plastic. Hear it now, move fast to order a limited copy of the issue containing this rare flexi gem and read Widener’s unique lyrics below:
Kids sometimes throw rocks over the fence, but people mostly avoid walking by the asylum. I liked to because of the sounds. There’s a woman who imitates bird calls, and a group of men who play a farting game. What great laughter. I went by earlier and the patients were chanting, “Thirteen!” I’d never heard them so organized and I felt, well—almost proud. So, I peeked through a hole in the fence. They were wearing party hats. A drooling one poked my eye with a stick. “Fourteen!” they screamed. I ran right into the lobby to complain at the front desk. “Your crazies are poking people with sticks!” I said. The nurse said, “You look like you need a rest,” and then, like a nervous habit, made a bird noise. They’re running this place now, but I do like my room, and they let me write letters, even though we burn them in the courtyard at night. We use the ash to draw on our faces while we sharpen sticks. You don’t walk that side of the street unless you wonder. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.