Mary Ellen Claims

VINYL FORMAT. REPRESSED! Tyvek's first single is a savage broadside that attacks car culture (Side B) and the mass media's promotion of anti-psychotic drugs for the youth as a cure for demonic possession (Side A). The sound is distorted, all cheap old guitars and busted up drums, and the playing is usually teetering on the edge of ineptitude, at times falling off completely. The tunes and lyrics are straight outta overgrown abandoned lots and decrepit playgrounds, and there are plenty of strange little bones on the cracked sidewalks to puncture your bike's Kevlar tires and brand new tubes. Sonically, Tyvek is inclined to agree with the rough simplicity of groups like Crass and the minimal bashing of early Kleenex or Slits. That's all well and good, but, straight up: it's Midwestern blood that flows through these grooves and Tyvek owes a lot to their retarded regional ancestors: the Pagans, Electric Eels and Rocket From The Tombs, etc. Already a DIY classic.