Cardiac Party

It's no small source of stupid pride for me that there are a million cool anagrams for my name, everything from Mr. Iodine Scene to I Sneer Demonic to No Dicier Semen. Any one of these would make a natty album title. But apparently, it's equally no small source of stupid pride for Cardiac Party that their name does not translate into any desirable anagrams, yet they insist on using one for an album title anyway (ignoring even better alternatives than the one they used, like "cry at acid rap," fer instance). Disgruntled Junior Jumblers aside, you can't dismiss R Cacti Yard, PA for not being well-thought-out obversion, the kind R.E.M. used to practice when they'd make an album cover out of the corner of a candy wrapper. They merge sparse kinetics with an odd fascination for polyphonic Moog sounds and hysterical caterwauling that gives them their "melodramatic popular song" sound. Take a track like "In Yr Inner Industry," which starts off as an atmospheric instrumental, meshing into pleasant folk sounds, and eventually reaches a feverish pitch, with the entire cast blowing on kazoos and barking. All this would be totally meaningless if it weren't for a deliberate lyrical obscurity that would make Yes fans drool. Who among us hasn't said "Oligarchic, given to temper" and then immediately followed it up with "I've got gauze that I bought in December"?