Another new release from Battlecruiser, Campbell Kneale's awesome out-metal sublabel offshoot of his Celebrate Psi Phenomena. It's been awhile since we
last got any new Battlecruiser jams in, which in the past have included releases from Black Boned Angel and Mirag, but the rusted gears of the Battlecruiser
have once again lurched forward to grind out this new nearly half-hour disc from Birchville Cat Motel. Birchville? What is Kneale's normally transcendant
dronerock project doing here on Battlecruiser? Well, check out the other new Birchville CD that just came out and which is also listed in this weeks
update, and you'll see that Birchville Cat Motel has been working the metallic mojo overtime to produce these two latest works. Bird Sister
Blasphemy is the nightshade companion piece to the full length Birds Call Home Their Dead, with four tracks of relentlessly hypnotic blackness
that shred you vertically from the beginning of the disc opener "Powder Slave". The first couple of seconds of "Powder Slave" taunt you with some grim
drifting drone right before the band surges into a redlining locked groove of frenetic bass guitar and propulsive rock drumming, plowing through thick clouds
of Skullflowery feedback and screeching guitar solos, whooshing phaser FX and chaotic keyboards, a ripping space-metal hypno jam that threatens to go on for
eternity. It doesn't though, instead it suddenly segues into the incredibly harsh and violent wall of black metal buzzsaw drone of "Tonal Fire Antichrist",
buried beneath an ocean of white noise and fluttering electronics. Sounds like Skullflower's Tribulation meets one of those black metal Jazkammer
jams, ultra hot and blown out and bordering on pure blazing skree. Track three, "Piss Perfume Overkill", is a creepy, pulsating black-space-drone buzzscape,
drowning in layers of fried out powerchords and searing synthetic horns, thick blots of skuzzy feedback, wavering haunted house keyboards and rumbling
amplifier cones, grim and threatening and hypnotic, and underscored by a ruthless propulsive drum loop. Finally, the title track shows up and closes the disc
out with a super-blown-out wash of black hole guitar and weird rolling tribal drums, everything swirling in a whirlpool around and round, totally shredding
and violent until it dissipates into a cloud of drifting feedback fragments, wind chimes, and ghostly monk chanting. Another great release both from
Birchville and Battlecruiser, with a similiar vibe as the recent Skullflower and Mirag stuff, charred storms of corruscating guitar drone concealing hidden
bits of melody. Awesome. Comes in the trademark Battlecruiser black sleeve printed in silver ink.