Guardian Ear

The Seattle-based experimental quartet Guardian Ear probably shouldn't exist. Listening to them for the first time recently left me with a feeling of my mind, no, my entire exstence being turned inside out and splattered against the walls of my apartment. When that happens you get a good look at your own inner depths, and you start to realize that there are several good reasons that you usually keep them tucked away so nicely. This effect was no accident either. These sadistic bastards openly flaunt their irreverence for convention, custom, expectations and beauty with every last scratched-out note. The oboe (...they have an oboe!) flows gracefully over an undulating rhythm section, trying, painfully, to paint something smooth and sweet, while it's nemesis, an electric 5-string cello relentlessly beats every last melody into cowering, pathetic squeeks and fragmented, gasping syllables. The resulting "pieces" are often simultaneously bitter-sweet, confusing, pretty and ridiculous. It's hard to pin down any large influence over the music, with each member coming from accomplished, yet entirely seperate backrounds, which seem to overlap in the strangest places. Was that a hint of death metal? Was that a cock-rock solo played on a woodwind? Did they all just grunt in unison? What did he just break? This band may not be for the faint of heart or easily frustrated, but they seem to be doing what I had previosly thought was a passé experiment, exploring new realms of music, new concoctions of sounds and genres, and coming out with something legitimately original. -Ilene Zunwald (Music critic from Usedom, Germany)