��Been a fan of Curran Reynolds ever since hearing the 2004 debut from his band Wetnurse, a criminally overlooked avant metal outfit who combined crushing angular heaviness and a twitchy noise-rock influenced sensibility and who was one of the more interesting bands to come out of NYC in the past decade. He's has his hands in all kinds of projects though, from a stint in noise rock legends Today Is The Day to curating his now defunct Precious Metal concert series, and has also written on some of the more interesting music coming out of the metal and experimental music underground for websites like Pitchfork. The guy's got good taste, that's for sure. His latest musical project is some weird mutant conglom of sounds that, while bearing a slight similarity to some of his previous outfits, is really something totally new: on the debut self-titled EP from Body Stuff, Reynolds defies attempts at categorization, the songs sprouting tendrils of apocalyptic post-punk, crushing sludge-pop and industrial rock weirdness all within a single, pounding two minute song.

�� You can definitely hear some of that classic Amphetamine Reptile style noise rock sound juicing up his compact yet thunderous creep-anthems, but that sound is twisted into something much less recognizable and much more creepy. Fronting the band with powerful, warbling vocals that echo over the frenetic metallic pummeling laid down by guitarist Ryan Jones (also of Wetnurse and Today Is The Day, as well as a member of NY black metallers Mutilation Rites), Reynolds crafts a strange and choppy sound with infectious hooks that dissolve like a dream in the fading roar of the amplifiers. "Street Walker" comes prowling across the opening minutes of this Ep like some lurching, murderous confluence of the Jesus Lizard and some soaring arena-metal hallucination, the brutal stop-and-go bass chug heaving beneath the funkified percussion and vertiginous guitars until it all comes to an abrupt and jarring halt. The spacey sheets of guitar and rumbling tribal rhythms of "Wanted Man" turn that brief minute and a half sketch into a vague vision of post-punk propulsion, while both "Year-Ends" and "I Will Be He" deliver an odd fusion of almost Torche-like tectonic metal-pop and weirdly gothic undertones, the former joined by some smokin' bleary saxophone at the very end, the latter surging into an absolutely pummeling industro-metal hook. Classic pigfuck fumes waft off of the dreary chug of "New York Story", and the closer "Beyond Bodies" wraps this up with the longest song on the whole 7", a nearly three minute slice of moody instrumental melodic heaviness with more of that killer Torche-gone-arena-rock majesty.

�� It's like some Gothic take on sludge pop, equal parts Killing Joke and Torche, and one only hopes that Curran will be fleshing out these sounds even further with future releases. Limited to three hundred copies, includes a digital download.