Wow, this is quite a tape! First of all, the packaging on Brain Theft is especially perverse and unique in that it comes inside a Cronenberg-esque slab of rubber flesh. Shortly before the release came out, I recall (Andy) Bolus posting some pictures of a rubber product he had found that came with impressions of eyes and eyebrows in it that is used to practice the application of permanent makeup with a tattoo gun. We had also discussed the possibility of doing a release with a 3D-printed mutant case and it seems like this packaging may have formed itself from some combination of these ideas.
Pituitary Hunter is a side-project of Andy Bolus (otherwise known as Evil Moisture) and is self-released under his new label, Royal Sperm (to maintain the “ick” factor). Both names suit him and tickle the grotesque fascination with the absurd and bodily functions. Like much of Bolus’s work, this tape is a mass of ideas, scraps, and pieces of brain matter found in the gutter that have been heaved into an industrial crusher and minced expertly. The results lead one to think they may have found some lost document of an alien autopsy or illicit car repair, or perhaps a combination of the two.
The methods used to create this desirable travesty is very hands-on. It’s unclear to me if Bolus uses the computer at all to make these compositions, but the beauty in this work is the “warts and all” incorporation of all the defects one might expect from making a collage using dull scissors and wheat paste. No “dog sauce” is spared in his efforts, and this work is dripping with it.
Over the course of side one, the trip into the unknown begins with a trawl through the junk drawer. Metal scraps and diesel generators pump life into this industrial landscape. As the tape progresses, it takes on a more sinister tone and a grossly inhuman monster introduces itself into the fray. At some point, the airlock is breached and a nearby space funk station interjects its disco vibes into the chamber, but it is quickly jettisoned in favor or a more ominous drone from the engine room.
The flip-side begins with a stretch of plundered music—possibly Tangerine Dream according to the liner notes, although it sounds more like an eighties B-movie soundtrack. The previous upper-palate cleansing gives way to the clicks, pops, and whirring of the brain-refurbishing process. One might gather from the clanking sounds coming from under the hood that the refurbishment did not go as planned. The clanking turns into a concerning squealing sound, and one might wonder if the wheels are about to come off. If the mission is to steal a brain to make up for the botched brain job, I hope the good doctor’s assistant doesn’t unwittingly pinch the brain of Abby Normal. At last, it seems the purloined brain is brought online, but it is struggling. Will it survive? A din develops around this horror show of a cerebellum as it gains momentum, relearning its vital functions but eventually fading away into the darkness where it belongs.