The roller rink is cracked. Summer is seeping in. The lacquered floor boards are all warped, but the disco ball spins. Ladies and gentlemen, Black Moth Super Rainbow has left the woods, and the man called Tobacco lords over a gang of demon skaters from the DJ booth of some greased up auditorium in a lost corner of Pittsburgh. The band's fifth LP Cobra Juicy declares death to hippies, excising all things flower power and tightening up what sprawl there was into a nastily bright pile of fuzzed guitar, live bass, hot synths and stubby rhythms—eleven pieces of hard candy licked, dipped in dirt, and wrapped up for you.There nearly wasn't a new Black Moth record at all. In hindsight, 2009's Eating Us seemed too soft, too '70s. Tobacco felt he'd lost control of his main project's sound and so focused on "solo" work. But while crafting 2010's depraved beat beast Maniac Meat, he found himself writing more freely, rediscovering the sickly sour to Black Moth's sweet. Then he realized, fuck it, this thing is his baby anyhow. He cleaned house on the live band—now Seven Fields of Aphelion, Iffernaut, Ryan Graveface and Bullsmear—and got to work, alone, on a brand new BMSR album. Then he threw that one away and made Cobra Juicy.In some ways, Cobra Juicy is the most personal Black Moth Super Rainbow record yet. In other ways, it kinda just wants you to get out there, strap on some wheels, sew a back-patch onto a denim vest, and start a Warriors-style gang tailored to whatever overheated dystopia you call home in 2012. The album will be self-released and funded via Kickstarter, where fans will be able to purchase Cobra Juicy in actual mask form—a latex rictus modeled after the possessed citrus on the cover, music on a USB tooth jammed into the grinning maw. Also, for $10,000, Tobacco will throw you your own roller disco. Really.
The roller rink is cracked. Summer is seeping in. The lacquered floor boards are all warped, but the disco ball spins. Ladies and gentlemen, Black Moth Super Rainbow has left the woods, and the man called Tobacco lords over a gang of demon skaters from the DJ booth of some grease...