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The Icarus Line

With Cave-in. Friday, November 16, at the Grog Shop.


The Icarus Line
  • The Icarus Line
The term "Icarus line" is slang for dying. Perfect then, since the band Icarus Line would like to kill you. Or themselves. Or something like that. "We try to break as many rules as we can," explains frontman Joe Cardamone, whose singing voice, appropriately, cuts not unlike a bloody saber. "And we make our records as fucked up as we can." True. Their full-length debut, Mono, is a deluge of mind-numbing feedback, frenetic discord, and straight-up shreddy art-metal. Punk rock? Absolutely.

The band formed in Los Angeles two years back from the ashes of the Kankor Sores. They toured like hell, broke a bunch of stuff, bled a lot, and released a few 7-inches. All the time, they've been dodging a deluge of empty modifiers and flimsy comparisons from the press: Are they post-punk? Neo-hardcore? Noise-rock? Do they sound like the Stooges? At the Drive In? The Jesus Lizard? The answer to all of it is: not really. In fact, they don't quite sound --or look -- like anyone. Perpetually clad in black suits and blood-red ties, the Icarus Line's image, not to mention its stark-raving furious live shows, have inarguably set the band apart. "Kids usually look at us like we're from Mars," says Cardamone. "I think sometimes we offend them, 'cause they have a stank look on their face." Stank or not, the Icarus Line is definitely drawing blood -- most noticeably its own ("Last night, Aaron [North] fell through the stage," Cardamone deadpans). "Rock and roll has been so fake," he says. "We're trying to pick it up a little bit and play songs that are scary."

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