Mildew’s Mildew: A Rhythmic Noise Odyssey That’ll Mess With Your Head (In a Good Way)
Let’s get one thing straight: this album is wild. Like, “I just got lost in the woods and found a yeti brushing its teeth with twigs” kind of wild. Released in 2009 by Eric and Mike Schauwitzer under their own label shenanigans (905 Tapes and Soutrane Recording Company), Mildew feels like an experiment gone gloriously right. It’s electronic rock but not the kind you’d hear at some neon-lit club—it’s more like if your toaster had a meltdown and started screaming poetry.
The genres here are listed as Electronic and Rock, but let’s be real: it’s mostly Rhythmic Noise with a splash of Experimental chaos. Tracks like "Television Stations In Space" and "Do-It-Yourself Yeti Scalp" stick out because they don’t just sit there—they grab you by the brainstem and shake until you’re dizzy.
Take “Television Stations In Space,” for instance. This track hits you with pulsing beats that feel like static electricity on your skin. You can almost picture old-school TV screens floating through the cosmos, broadcasting nothing but white noise and cryptic messages from aliens who’ve given up on humanity. The rhythm builds and shifts unpredictably, like flipping channels on a broken remote. By the time it ends, you’re left wondering if you accidentally tuned into another dimension.
Then there’s “Do-It-Yourself Yeti Scalp.” Yeah, I know—that title alone sounds like someone dared them to write it. But holy crap, does it deliver. Imagine a yeti stomping around in snow boots while industrial machinery hums ominously in the background. There’s something primal yet oddly mechanical about the way the layers build up, making you feel both hunted and hypnotized. If Bigfoot ever decided to start a band, this would be his anthem.
What makes Mildew so memorable isn’t just the weirdness—it’s how raw and unpolished everything feels. These guys didn’t slap filters all over their work or smooth out the edges; instead, they embraced every jagged, messy bit of it. And honestly? It works. Tracks like "Tiny Beetles Have Big Appetites" and "Cotton Sea Of Wind-Driven Clouds Breaks Soundlessly Against Lofty Ridges" sound like titles pulled straight out of a surrealist dream journal. They’re evocative without being pretentious, which is harder to pull off than it sounds.
So yeah, Mildew might not be everyone’s cup of tea. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or lyrics about love and heartbreak, you’re barking up the wrong yeti. But if you want music that challenges your ears and imagination, this album will scratch that itch—and maybe leave a scar.
Final thought: Listening to Mildew feels like trying to solve a puzzle where half the pieces are missing. Frustrating? Maybe. Rewarding? Absolutely. Just don’t blame me when you start hearing whispers from space during your morning commute.
