Your head...it's a locked door - but Dead Rider's got the key. And Chills On Glass is sliding it open.
Chills On Glass, Dead Rider's third ride, juxtaposes high and low values - serious playing, danceablity, controlled-outcomes experimentation, and don't-give-a-fuck rad-itude. The fantasy of Dead Rider is akin to the spectacle of a night on the town, gliding through the darkness while thrust up, out of the limousine's sunroof. Scribble, confetti and other sonic details rain down like snow, providing an exquisite dressing for thick and thrashing rhythms and expertly maneuvered tight corners.
Guitars piercing like a neural system. The fullness of real drums. Passion and soul that echo shoutingly from within the (very aLIVE) rhythm machine. Vocal layers and masks of all kinds, space, with digital code threaded around the edges. This is composition that uses improvisation as an element within a larger structure - the ultimate streamlining of production, where songs are processed on several levels, mirroring and flashing their meanings through tactics and layers, backgrounded by a panaroma of yawning, silent, benevolent and black velvet.
Todd Rittmann, infamous from his daze in U.S. Maple, is a guitar warrior with intensive craft at his fingertips. For the past five years, he's been furthering his reputation by doing further damage with his instrument and others, and by spreading the carnage wide with Dead Rider (Matthew Espy, Andrea Faught, Thymme Jones and Rittmann for Chills On Glass). Dead Rider move relentlessly around the borders of their sound, finding new textures throughout, which act as candy to our ears - future candy, like Day-Glo Good & Plenty in a variety of flavors approximating the savory taste of hair on flesh, the sweet smell of sub-gases and the ambivalence in the aroma of a cube of clear gelatin bombarded with micro-currents. It's all-out entertainment, and it's coming for you, March 18th!