Rusted Shut performs at Silent Barn tonight

When I was pudgy, pimply, and vertically challenged, that is, in high school, in Houston, in the late 1980s, and trying my damnedest to find music I could relate to (which was a difficult task in those times if you were neither terribly interested in hardcore or new wave), a local band, Grindin’ Teeth, was the opening act for all of the more interesting touring bands from the noisier end of the spectrum – from Sonic Youth to the Butthole Surfers. While they were also on the grungier vanguard of culture that would soon dominate the sound of the 1990s, Grindin’ Teeth were, unlike these more renowned contemporaries, far more inaccessibly cacophonous – even including the screech of a feeding back violin (or was it a viola?).

Don and Sybil, a couple who were both part of Grinding Teeth, started a slower, heavier, more stripped-down, and even noisier, side-project, Rusted Shut. As Grinding Teeth fell apart, Rusted Shut, who at the time claimed to be informed by Godflesh, but approached density from a far looser, more reckless, I-don’t-give-a-fuck perspective, began developing a small but loyal local following consisting almost exclusively of members of Houston’s finest underground groups.

My bands from Austin wound up on bills with them a couple of times, and they always managed to figure out a way to completely destroy everything: their songs, our eardrums, the stage, and one another. And, despite the fact that their seemingly infinite parade of drummers, whose quantity definitely exceeded Spinal Tap’s tally and was perhaps only surpassed by Austin’s Squat Thrust, replaced one another at an alarming rate*,the trio still always managed to sound like… well… Rusted Shut.

And why is this sound different than all other sounds? It’s more rawer, more homespun, and less arty than your typical early noise band – in fact, its rock’n’roll – but, again, with less of the structure, tightness, or geometry of most noise rock. And, you’ll find more darkness, hatred, and intensity in Don’s middle-aged scream than any teenager – punk, heavy metal, or otherwise – the kind that takes years to brew to blood-curdling perfection. The sound sits misanthropically sloppy in an authentic skuzzy zone between noise rock and pure noise. Words of course do no justice to a rare original. But let’s just say that they make Throbbing Gristle look like Eric Satie, Wolf Eyes like Motley Cru, Dominick Fernow Like Justin Timberlake, Assuck like Screeching Weasel, and Killdozer like Weird Al. They will harm you.

And while Rusted Shut have always possessed plenty of distinction, and true mastery of their form, and no shortage of persistence, the world didn’t begin to reciprocate their “love” until recently. After a couple of decades of neglect, Austin’s prolific, tasteful, adventurous, and, in summation, amazing, label, Emperor Jones snatched the band’s self-released 2003 CD-R Rehab up a couple of years ago and gave it a proper release. Since then, finding converts under rocks and hard places everywhere, Don and company, just picked up by Load Records, are guaranteed to spread their virus, make the world an uglier place one pissed off kid and senior citizen at a time. God bless ‘em.

I can’t believe they’ve made it all the way over here. Tonight you’ll find them appropriately billed with Providence’s Snake Apartment, Baltimore’s equally grating Clockcleaner, and Shopping.

Go here for show information…

listen to Rusted Shut’s “Disease of the Spirit” MP3

* One night when my band (was it Noodle?) was loading out with theirs after I witnessed a typical Rusted Shut drummer incident. After a sold-out show where we both opened for our mutual friends, de Schmog, a local band popular with high school kids, at a larger venue named Fitzgerald’s, Don, Sybil, and the drummer appeared to be pleased with the night and were, as usual, totally pleasant and fun in contrast to their evil stage personas. But, when I was back upstairs between loading trips up the staircase, I found Don and the drummer throwing down. As this was perhaps almost fifteen years ago, I don’t recall the details, or whether we broke it up or let ‘em get it out of their systems Texas-style, but I do seem to recall that Don emerged victorious and the next week they were on to another drummer.