Flat Worms S/T
Sometimes there are records that can potentially change the fabric of the culture in some meaningful way.
On their self-titled album, Flat Worms have discovered this formula for change. The album is a buzzsaw—it’s relentless. Look, I wanted to be objective in this review, but this album just won’t allow it. I try to have integrity when it comes to writing a review and I try to not inject myself into the writing, but I’m going to violate that principle with this album … I’m going to Vonnegut this shit. I can’t get it out of my head. It haunts me. There are some things—very few and far between—I believe in, God not being one of them, but Flat Worms have created something I can truly and unequivocally get behind. I listened to it eight times in a row, deep into the night—a night where I learned that there can be truth beyond only the mere comprehension of my meager existence. This record holds a kind of weight that can’t be conveyed in print—it’s something that needs to be experienced. It’s music that could shift personal paradigms. It’s inescapable, like that book or movie that becomes inextricably linked to your identity. It’s bleak and hopeful in the same breath. That’s what art is and should strive to be. Be aware—this isn’t hyperbole. Will Ivy, Justin Sullivan and Tim Hellman have found the very essence of their band. I do not make this statement lightly or with any kind of irony. This record is wound around a thread of tautness that connects each song—it’s almost a concept album about the frustrations of the human condition today. (LA RECORD)