The smell of AIDS Wolf

Jeremy Krinsley

aids wolf

AIDS Wolf is a threesome.

Sounds like branches creaking ominously as a flock of murder-hungry birds glare on high for the opening bars of AIDS Wolf's “Please Hold The Line”. When the bows do break, it's not really all hell landing on its ass, it's just an early leak off the band's fourth LP, Ma vie banal avant-garde (Lovepump United), itself a nicely named nod to the French from which they come up in the wilds of Montreal.

As far as the general range of terror and violence that AIDS Wolf have so generously displayed over the years of this new millennium, we'd place the rot and offal in “Please Hold The Line” somewhere in the register of a Sunday morning walk to the cafe, as performed by a homeless man looking for a place to deposit a pretty incapacitating shit.

Does that make this babbling mass (with ring modulation?!) a sign of AIDS Wolf slowing down and reflecting on their years of mayhem and nonsense? Do the homeless crap in their pants when they can't find a public toilet? No, they do not! Ask the metro transit authority of any city worth its salt and they'll tell you what really happens. Such is the ongoing fate of the great AIDS Wolf, destroyers of all that is safe and lemon-scented the world round.

AIDS Wolf, “Please Hold The Line

Via.

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