Radioactive Vampire Teeth Unleash Slime-Soaked EP GOD’S GOO

GOD’S GOO EP.

Enjoy the worst, stickiest, green burrito with Radioactive Vampire Teeth’s newest EP, GOD’S GOO. A buzzy, squelchy, slime soaked project whose runtime’s sliced in half with each track: the first screams just over 2 minutes, and last belches out in 5 seconds. On GOD’S GOO, RVT delights in this asymmetrical concentration of heat, like the microwave ritual of searing your tongue with one sporkful and chipping at ice the next.

Heavy guitars and grindcore drums drive through the muck and grime of what I can only imagine to be dozens of keyboards and doodads all distorted and drenched in green and purple ooze. It’s hysterical noisecore espousing a looney tunes philosophy of Goo-ntology, a non-dualistic goo at the heart of us all, its “all over me / all over you / too,” and it “controls what you do.” Goo you are, and to goo you shall return.

The vocals on each track are wiggly and phased beyond comprehension outside the odd “slime” and “goo” bleeding through the squeaking, demented Atari soundscape. Listening to this EP is like eating the stuff from The Stuff (1985); it's like drinking the melty liquor from Street Trash (1987) devolving you to blue and purple slime in a toilet; it's a Nickelodeon baptism illustrated by a sci-fi Robert Crumb–this is all to its benefit. Peace be with you, and also with goo. Amen.