Warning: May Contain Screamo.
Gospel ended the way most DIY bands end: unceremoniously. They sort of faded away, after an anti-climactic intra-band fist fight on a lawn after a dumpster-dived vegan buffet house show in a suburban cul-de-sac somewhere in Indiana.
But before that, they were everything. Underground, DIY, musical heirs to Minor Threat, spiritual heirs to Can. One big dysfunctional cocaine fueled road trip of a band, that for some reason I will never understand, I never saw live.
This is a band that was engineered from the smallest molecule up to play in a bar in Greensboro while I drank cheap beer and ignored phone calls from the chef who wanted to know if I could open tomorrow.
But they lacked the emotional equipment to hang together in a squalid van long enough to tour far enough for me to see them, and I will always be disappointed that I never got that chance.
Regardless, this is an album that I have never put on and not listened to all the way through. It's just good rock music.
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