This is a degenerate two guitar record that sounds like it was dredged from the Mississippi along with rotted bodies and tin can telephones still attached. Sludgy doesn’t even begin to describe the muck that these two guys are playing through. This is avant-garde blues as seen through carburettor syrup and burnt amps.
Hidden away from prying daylight, the music seems happy to both drag the guitar into the Stone Age using it as a trephination tool. From single notes to lazy strums this duo slouch into their fret boards with fingers, bricks and chunks of steel. Even at nearly 14 minutes long “Two” still fails to grasp the guitar by the right end. Starting without any recognisable guitar sourced sounds it soon slips into a beautifully removed collection of noises. One player makes the six strings whistle in the dark while the other instrument is cajoled into grumbling like an ale-sodden park bench sleeper.
From a reverberating tinny marble scratch both guitars puff up to harangue each other like jealous siblings, both through the instruments and (what sounds like) shitty walkie-talkies. There are a couple of moments on this five track CD-R that Cygnus seem on the verge of resembling a skinny pocked little thing. The music turns inward after the night’s gone sour and the speed’s been cut with flour, these sounds seem to reach for a coherent majesty beyond their reach. Slipping into some gorgeously lost Cure demo guitar styled playing, their note play coming out with a chiming edge of discordance. They ramble up and over the concern for melody.
Clasped in a paint blobbed jewel case that reeks of spray-paint, this looks as fucked as it sounds. Unlike a lot of the exploratory noisy end of solo guitar gurgling, no bong is required to get into this. While Cygnus definitely have their shit untogether, it’s in a good way.
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