This brief split cassette release should’ve yet been another step on Robedoor’s ascent to greatness. And it might’ve been too if it hadn’t been for the pesky well-built post-rock sludge of the flipside.
Robedoor push forward the scrappy “Draining Day” offering with a slow siren of human wheeze hum, normally in their hands this sort of sound would end expanding to swallow acres of brain space. Over the first couple of minutes it kind of finds a niche, but as it lengthens out it just stops delivering; it swamps itself far too early in the race. Robedoor’s attempt at corrugating this rush with the sounds of heavy objects ripping through the air doesn’t help matters. It ends up sounding like a miss-matched mess. The blasts of fog that were designed to force incoming passenger ships into the rocks, sound more like tea lights being blown out. The cassette ends up being a harsh match for Robedoor, Goliath Bird Eater just keeps hitting home.
Beginning with audio from a tank’s vertical lift off the track is soon pinned to the floor with a huge distorto bass line. The slight handed chime of guitar builds slowly in volume, eventually coming to rest on a gorgeous Mogwai lull. The riding out of this almost lo-fi serenity would be enough, but it’s soon pulverized by a huge gut contraction style riff. The bass kicks in and the pace alongside the menace increases, sending the song lurching to an energetic end.
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