Dead Gaze’s Cole Furlow’s is a one-man noise-pop wrecking crew, pinching off distorted gems that lodge in memory as easily as they defy categorization. In his hands, abrupt punk melodies churn and roil under geysers of feedback and effects, but his effortlessly direct, bitter voice slices through the din. It’s as if the songs are skirmishes in an ongoing emotional war that Furlow is perpetually at grave risk of losing.
Fri., Aug. 22, 6 p.m., 2014
This article from the Village Voice Archive was posted on August 20, 2014