POWER DOUGLAS
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"Power Douglas is a mania-addled force of nature spewing up ghost poetry over an endless and freewheeling drum solo. They're punk rock bellowed against a wall of Rhodes organ, or Antipop Consortium on acid, slap-bloxing with Miles Davis's ghoul..." -- URB
"Think Kool Keith meets Public Enemy meets TV on the Radio, and then smash the f*ck out of what you think that might sound like." -- XLR8R
As Power Douglas we enjoy wilderness concubines, balloons, vengeance, and toffee.
The Pentecostal Fangbread LP is paranormal judicial conduit of man's condition.
Pyrokinesis is our wandering theme,functioning as a cradle of humanism among this industrial griffin scourge.We will pilfer minotaurs,ghosts, and czars of their fonts.....knowing that the dancefloor is in warfare with cromagnon ovals dressed like a senate.Tim is outlawed in the minds of their expedient daughters.And tender woofers wept, for now chivalry has new friends.So encouraged are we to see Jess in his silent tantrum that banishes impatient killing fields.Power Douglas has a solitaire architecture in the dominion of Brooklyn to thwart charlatan tragedy.Theatre holds memory then harvests invincible love criminals to serenade Power Douglas into a new emotion.Jess and Tim nuture vigilante sound while Furor Thin whispers pyre text.Power Douglas is the tempature of all that is unseen.
Left-Field hip-hop warped by LSD and barfed out as post-punk shrapnel with chunks of stoned plunderphonics and psych swirl? The debut album from Power Douglas is all that and something else entirely. The trio of Jesse Crawford, Timmy Harp and terminally unhinged vocalist Furor Thin has crafted a most confidently weird introduction. Hailing from the same Brooklyn coordinates as TV on the Radio (whose Tunde Adebimpe helps out on a few tracks), Pentecostal Fangbread overflows with sounds, words, textures, and referents; often crumbling into a compost heap of anxious rhythm and caustic distortion and stray barbed-wire frequencies. But this isn't a goof. On it's cover, we see the balcony of Memphis' Lorraine Hotel as MLK's entourage heatedly points to the fatal gunshot's presumed source. Over it, there's a cutout of two anonymous Caucasians happily embracing; their hands soaked in blood. It's hard going down but PENTECOSTAL FANGBREAD yields mesmerizing indigestion - FILTER MAGAZINE , Bernardo Rondeau
