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doncbruital on 08/04/2009 at 06:11AM

Anarchic Self-Reliance: Black Pus

Let's start by defining art. Free of braggadoccio, with an eye toward maintaining some charitable humility for all that we as mortals don't hardly understand, we might conceive of artistic expression as a means of stoking the universe's natural fires of mystery, of approximating their epic wonder, of exalting in their glow. Quite obviously in this conception humankind may be regarded as rather small, a group of perennial attempters doing their damnedest to point to something which, being ineffable, can't hardly be taken in in its entirety; the blind men and the elephant, like. Not for a second do I buy, for instance, that goofy brand of Objectivist self-worship that, lilting in worship over humanity's ability to build a high-rise, only represses its mind in the service of control. No, humanity is fundamentally imperfect--that's the point--and as for control, well, there ain't none.

None of which is to say it isn't an extraordinary achievement for one to take upon his or her shoulders one such brave attempt at describing the indescribable, in facilitating interaction between the mortal and the immortal, especially in full view of the aforementioned anarchic truth that sez you can't control, conquer, or exert checks on the latter; after all, those who, in 1971, attempted to sue Satan himself for civil rights violations were politely denied. The eternal, messy, unknowable universe won't be bargained with, and the brave souls who, to celebrate this humbling fact, take up the mantle of artistic creation and hammer out their own messy monuments are truly deserving of our admiration.

One such courageous project is Brian Chippendale's BLACK PUS, the drum-n-sputter solo wall of feedbackery that towers to Ayn Randian levels of human creation (without the attendant ethical griminess). On record, the Lightning Bolt and Mindflayer alumnus doles shrapnelgusts of thick tone with frenzied drumclatter harshness, opening up occasionally for bursts of delicate melody, as on his most recent and poppiest full-length All Aboard the Magic Pus. Live, he often layers foundations of sick air guitar solos atop which he spires some more of that acrobatic drumthrashing. All by his lonesome, in the face of nature's chaos and wild incomprehensibility, Chippendale builds and delivers testaments to those selfsame forces; the whole thing is positively architectural.

Black Pus' FMA artist page grants us a wide slew of offerings from four LPs, demonstrating the breadthy scope of the far-reaching project. More radical tidbits can be had at the Lightning Bolt site and the myspace.

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