
Scrappy, lo-fi indie rock defined by its limits. Distorted guitars and nasal vocals capture the friction of early 90s British identity in raw, noisy bursts.
1993 · Wiiija Records
This is a far cry from the sun-drenched sitar-pop of Cornershop's later years. Elvis Sex-Change captures the band at their most abrasive and uncertain. The guitars are thin and distorted, the drums sound like they were recorded in a hallway, and the vocals are delivered with a nasal, almost bored defiance. It is the sound of a band using noise as a shield, hiding their melodic sensibilities behind a wall of lo-fi grit and tape hiss.
How does Elvis Sex-Change sound next to the rest of Cornershop's catalogue?
Basement Show saturates this record notably more than the artist's norm.
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