Mutators

From Vancouver, Canada, the Mutators have just released their second 7", and their first with new singer Lief. Having witnessed the band on tour opening for the A Frames and Sexy Prison at the Charred Doghouse here in Davis, I was amazed at how aggressive and imperious her vocals were. Surely, she's the most combative female voice I've heard since...I dunno, maybe Lydia Lunch or Diamanda Galas? Lief could be almost as quarrelsome, but without the divaesque posturing. The sparse and stark attack of drummer Justin and guitarist Brody have ratcheted up the ferocity to match the glasseating vokills, and now they're doubly destructive since last year's debut vinyl. This lineup should re-record the "My War" cover.

DJ RICK Art for Spastics v. 145 - KDVS RADIO DAVIS CALIFORNIA

Why didn't anyone tell me that Mutators were so awesome before? They were like the result of some sick science experiment involving Wolf Eyes and Bikini Kill. It was noisy and beautiful. Although, to be completely honest, they had me before they played a note when their lead singer came on stage with an oscillator attached to her belt. - FROM BLOWN SPEAKERS

It takes guts to tackle one of the greatest punk songs of all time on a debut release. The vocalist oft-disinterested wailing can't compare to Henry Rollins's tortured muscleman howl on Black Flag's definitive "My War", but on their self-titled seven-inch, the Mutators tear into the classic with enough disenfranchised glee to make their closer almost worthy of the original. Their own material, however, sees them experimenting with abstract musical ideas beyond the realm of hardcore. "Francine's Bad Dream" follows a repetitive start/stop riff before kicking into a freeform freakout of cymbal hits and guitar noise. The real jaw-dropper on the record is "Stevie Wonder Can See", with its trashy, hypnotic one-note midsection. A trumpet awkwardly jars into the droning mix as the tension builds before Justin Gradin's scrappy drums kick the song back into full gear. With a second seven-inch on the way, expect the Mutators' melding of punk energy and no-wave expressionism to take you on the expressway to yr skull real soon. - GEORGIA STRAIGHT

There’s been a shift in the scene that has been bubbling up as of late where a lot of bands seem to be conveniently discovering No Wave (made somewhat famous in New York during the late ’70s and early ’80s with bands like Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, James Chance and the Contortions and other like-minded outfits) to the effect that it has become a bit too overwhelming for this writer to handle. Not to say it’s all bad—you just to wonder when is it going to end? Better yet, how did it begin? Seemingly at the forefront of this ‘movement’ is the Mutators, three purveyors of pure musical mayhem that have laid down ’songs,’ which may be bereft of melody and certain other qualities made available in popular music, but which do contain admirable structures that resemble tempo shifts, volume changes and ’singing.’ Oh, what the hell—enough of the shop talk, let’s get to the real deal: these guys and gal bring the noise and then some. Not for the squeamish but definitely for the experimental crowds. There’s so much happening on these three tracks that I couldn’t even decide if it sounded better on 33 or 45 r.p.m. Live, I hear they are a clusterfuck of cacophony (trademark that, Sam Sullivan!), but the kids, they dig it. Kudos to a local label for plugging in and turning us on to these crazy tunesmiths (the Broadway To Boundary Records, myspace.com/thebroadwaytoboundary).

Bryce Dunn Discorder Magazine - Discorder Magazine - October 2007

Mutators
Mutators

[Broadway to Boundary]

Setting the pace with an introductory scream that reaches pitches matching those of the included sporadic feedback, the (reformed) Mutators’ debut 7” rekindles an energy I wasn’t sure I would feel again until the teenage years of my next life. As a recombination of minimal punk ideals, hardcore edge and tempo-change madness, this album is an at-home experience of being in the midst of a construction site and simultaneously feeling your mental structures breaking.

While diving into to the three-track record, I found myself not knowing if I wanted to hack my hair off with the nearest sharp object, or drop everything and make violent love to myself with the anticipated bursts of audio insanity. With simple droning and drumming to pay attention to, the (somewhat) newly acquired vocalist, Leif Hall, shrieks and screams her words so convincingly that I have no idea what she is talking about, but I agree nonetheless.

The Mutators may be too unconventional for those who view or listen to punk rock for its nostalgic value, though they’re still reminiscent of historical movements that have brought music to this point (much like everything happening). They are kind of like a banana: they don’t need the shit on the outside, have a delicious inner core and remind perverts of a big yellow dick. This album is one of the most satisfying I could have around. I am convinced that the Mutators are the type of band that will keep only the most honest fans around and bring tears to those who can see the importance but don’t have the stomach for it.

Julianne Claire - DISCORDER MAGAZINE