In another life entirely, Non Canon gathers maelstroms of guitar noise and feeds them with caustic, yelled, (a)stringent sentences, calling himself Oxygen Thief. Having spent ten years deftly swerving expectation at every measure as OT, Non Canon turns things on their head again. He threads cello where there may have been feedback once, places a third chord where two key changes could have lain, and repeats a chorus line where a scream may have broken the silence instead. He’s returned to his acoustic beginning, that’s true, but he’s torn that up and refused to retain his previous self-taught lessons.
Support from the tallest man in folk-punk.