Versus Series II cassette five: Space cadet Ryan Kuehn (Dead Peasant Insurance) throws some synth in the deep fryer with a second course of mechanical filth from Jason Rodriguez & David Russell (Collapsed Arc).
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Ryan Kuehn is as total an enigma as they come, and is probably more responsible than any other individual for the persistence of Cleveland’s status as a hub of utter strangeness, between his long-term stewardship of “The Record Exchange”, a nosebleed haven for human/audio fuckery and deep afterhours gurgle on WCSB, and Thursday Club, his collaboration with Brian Detrow, which spent the early oughts mapping much of the territory within which an ensuing wave of northern Ohio fuckups, from Fragments to Moth Cock, would operate. In that sense, Thursday Club’s DNA is woven every bit as deeply into the Cleveland aesthetic as that of Skin Graft or Tusco Terror, and despite the name, Ryan’s solo recordings as Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman hew much more closely to the psychedelic free electronics and mossy synth throb of TC than, say, the righteously pointed misanthropy of Hot Air Balloon Ride (with John Elliott), the thousand-yard-starin’ tape zonkery of The Reel Deel (with John Elliott and Chris Madak), or the negative-wavecrust hose blast of DPI (with Wyatt Howland, Amanda Howland, and J Guy Laughlin).
While prior DQMW jawns have flaunted their opacity and insiders-only scruples, Advanced Dungeons and Dragons simply shrugs, pulls back the curtain, and takes out the trash. As effective and consistently surprising a cereal box decoder ring as any in Kuehn’s vast ouerve, it’s a rare opportunity to stagger your way across a hypercube tumbling through the ether, sipping nectar through a straw in a storm of mercury droplets (“D20″), passing out on the deck of a heavily filigreed hovercraft (“Soloflex”), wrapping your head around Salvia Jaws (“Vin Diesel”), spraying tar from a whipped cream can (“Suburban Blaster”), and waking up on a screwy plateau on the edge of time, where a drop of water takes eight hours to roll down your face (“Keyless Entry”). …and that’s just side A, with the reverse taking in the GRMmy hamminess of “Fortune Cookie”, the zonked/dissociated lesswave of “Coin Toss”, the glassy, celestial glide of “Sub-Zero”, and the bleary, tumbling wool-fi minimalism of “Room Temp Beer.” Extra fucked classic rust belt basement tapecult aesthetic. One for the true heads.