Stinking Lizaveta, live! Tomorrow night! Not sold out!
'With irons in the fires of Black Sabbath, Sonny Sharrock, King Crimson and Slint, the Stinking Lizaveta sound corresponds its crunch with an improvisational largess. Still, it's grounded by the all-encompassing Morelli bass swell, the tar-thick, body-heaving beats, the manic, morose wall of guitar whose wrigglings are stoic and thrashing in a most argumentative fashion. There may be more wah, more drums and more pain on 'Caught Between Worlds'. But the band remains true to its aim.
"Life has gotten harder. So have we," says Agusta. "Ten years is long enough for the atoms in our body to have been replaced two times, but we still play a lot of the same songs. Just never the same way twice."
"It's a hard road, motherfucker," says Yanni when asked if recording is secondary to touring. Record labels—even the smallest—are fragile enterprises. "Labels come and go like the winter snow," says Agusta with hints of both sarcasm and weariness.
One constant is that they still confuse audiences with their diffident tones, spaces and corrosion. Coming long before the equally abrasive Sunno and Fucking Champs, they get called all sorts of names. Punks call them hippies. Hippies call them metalheads. Metalheads call them prog. Prog rockers call them punks. "We are doom jazz!" exclaims Agusta.'
Extract from City Paper interview, October 2004