Dance party eccrine and experimental noise abrasion may seem like distinct corners of the musical universe, but those with their nose in the Twin Cities underground know the explosive potential when the 'tween do meet. Like a methed-out Afrikaa Bambaataa scratching your itch for brain scrambling distortion, Slapping Purses is this nexus. Kick drum whumps, bass boom throbbing, garbled bombardments of sharp noise, and the most sinister command of breaks, breaks, breaks, since Marley Marl and Co. reinvented James Brown-Jason Power (AKA Slapping Purses) is a one-man self-sampling electronic noise-dance party to go. Bamboozling brains and bouncing booties with classic old school Roland electronic drums sounds, vocals pushed through a homemade jewel encrusted Microphone/kill box and a madman's grab bag of voltage controlled oscillators and amplitude modulators, Slapping Purses packs diamond tight the harshest boom shakalaka you ever slashed a rug to.
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Experimental music? That's a wide net. Cast it into the ocean and you're likely to drag up more boots and tin cans than rock lobsters. But there's Slapping Purses, thrashing about on the forward deck among all that offal like some bizarre, deep-water lungfish. Cheap Casio keyboards never saw Slapping Purses coming, and that sucker punch has left all those bleeps and bloops in a crumbled heap, disintegrating into a stew of battery acid. Noise dance is a coming craze. From Crystal Castles to Skoal Kodiak to Unicorn Basement, DIY punks are finding newer and better ways to shake ass, and Slapping Purses is the movement's most valuable export. Low-bit, defiantly crude, and searingly over-amped, a Slapping Purses show is a gunpoint marriage of grimy bass lines and boom-bip rhythm, and the sound is an imperative command to swap sweat by any means necessary. [City Pages, Best Experimental Band 2009]