Review: Body Stuff’s Self-Titled EP

Body Stuff

On Curran Reynolds’ first solo venture, it’s New York City in the 80’s. Before Giuliani cleaned it up and you could still walk around scared in the neon glow of peep show signs and all night theaters.

It’s here our protagonist finds himself, lit neon against the backdrop of the city that doesn’t know he’s there. This album stalks through its first track aptly named “Street Walker” — the drums punishing throughout, keeping pace with the stalking antihero as he makes his way through the dark after a girl he hasn’t met yet.

Ryan Jones (Today is the Day, Wetnurse, Mutilation Rites) keeps the strings chugging, accelerating the feel of the NYC night in all it’s danger and blind alleys. “Year-Ends,” our middle chapter to this story ends with a noir saxophone, adding to the crime drama feel of it all. Curran Reynolds vocals are haunting on the verge of predatory.

It’s like if you took Jarvis Cocker from Pulp and made him a touch more rapey. “High heels in the hall, we live so long but not at all,” Curran chants through some reverb over a bass line that is nothing but doom on the track “New York Story.”

Our protagonist is closing in on his prey as we get to the last track, “Beyond Bodies,” which we see our anti-hero triumphant at the end of an alley standing over a cardboard mattress and a porcelain queen, and though the instrumental last track seems uplifting, when experienced as a whole, it’s a victor’s song and the bad guy wins in this pulp fiction of NYC nightscapes in the early 80’s.

The way Unsane is such a NYC band, Body Stuff instantly wreaks of back alleys and slummed out bars. Curran Reynolds, who’s held it down in so many great bands pulled out a gem on this, his first solo effort. I already can’t wait for more. But I’m a creep like that. And this EP gives me the fucking creeps in all the best ways possible.

It’s goth, it’s industrial, it’s metal, it’s 80’s; all turned into 6 songs that I can’t take off repeat. Spend your $5 and pick up this gem, out now on The Path Less Traveled. Let it haunt you.

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