By: Django Gold
Assuming that the machine apocalypse is indeed nigh, and that our loyal robot servants will imminently rise up against their human masters, there won’t be a better band to soundtrack the whole ordeal than Jamaica Plain noise rockers Neptune. With its origins as a sculpture project, Neptune has evolved (or, more aptly, upgraded) over the past fifteen years into a scrap-metal beast that is simply unmatched in producing some of the most twisted sounds of any band around. The best way to describe the music of Neptune is to describe the instruments through which it is synthesized: guitars clapped together from scrap metal and old VCR casings; electronic devices gutted and conjoined to nurture bizarre drones; pots and pans and even an occasional real-life drum to hold down what is a surprisingly solid rhythmic sense.
Neptune is a unique band: forceful, frightening, without humor, and essentially emotionless. While much of their music is consumed in revolving feedback scrawls and collapsing percussion grooves, they can also rock just fine—see “Tell My People to Go Home (Part I)” or “Paris Green.” While Neptune won’t easily become your favorite band, their inimitable rawness and fascinating live performances put them several cuts above the drum machines and pre-hearsed keyboard patterns of so-called “industrial music.” See them at your own peril.