The Last Slice of Butter has musical roots in the 90s hardcore scene of Botch and the Pumpkin House (Travis introduced me to both treasures of Seattle music past). When I listen to Glossa, I understand that these two young musicians, when they write a song, are totally apart from the tradition of pop music.
Birthed on the murky theoretical highways of music and teen heat that stretches across Lake Washington, up to Bellingham and Anacortes, and down to Portland, the Last Slice of Butter have become one of the young Seattle acts that everybody at the progressive end of local guitar music knows. Travis (Drums) and Catalin (guitars) are idols of a few (Seahouse, I'm talking to you) and friends of many.
The live show burns with a kind of shimmering somber intensity, the way candles shine through a worn piece of glassware, or the way a streetlight in North Seattle looks from a long way off, late at night. When the lights go down, Catalin anchors himself to the concrete floor with a sure stance, lifting his heavy axe like a piece of old-growth timber. Travis is endlessly entertaining on drums, his arms tearing through the air like manic pendulums, his jaw clenched slightly.
I realized recently that I can see the band live and no matter what kind of mood I'm in when I arrive at the show, I feel mildly optimistic and content when I leave. Something about very loud, jumpy music just tires me out enough to feel OK. Mood-inspiring, but not overly moody; the show just completely does it for me.
These two dudes are essentially raw virtuosic talent married to the incredible synchronization of underground-rock brotherhood = uncontroversially awesome.
Glossa has a bigger and better produced sound than the Butter's last record/demo, Drive Cabs By Day Kill By Night. Between the two recordings, the band’s sound has developed a bit, away from the elegant minimalism of a screaming guitar and a pounding set of skins, and toward a sound more focused on amplifying the nuanced feel of their rhythmic and tonal collaboration. Also, the band has added some lyrics, which while difficult to hear, add another layer of personality to the sounds coming out of my speakers.
Aside from the short piece, "Mammabird," which sounds overproduced (especially the vocals) and very accessible if you play it too quietly on a stereo or with computer speakers, I really enjoy the record. The music is still about jolts of acceleration, disorientation, panic, and clarity, but the new record sounds more threatening and cavernous. The full reverb and distortion subtleties of Catalin's guitars are apparent, better simulating the feeling of a live show. Somewhere between the tones of a fat stack of moving magnets and the thump and crack of drums, lives the soul of the Butter.