Clear cassette, Colour j-card, Edition of 100, 2024

To put Muscle Beach to tape has a quaint ineffectuality in itself

To put the tape to words is a refraction to the point of slapstick

Which isn’t to say this tape is superfluous— we played our asses off and cut something we stand behind, thanks in immeasurable part to all the people in our corner

But the band is an impact. An immediacy, a sting. A blunt concision, a contortion into the shape of a room. It’s quivering limbs spent to shreds at the end of a show when we check back into our bodies and recount what we made them do. It’s an intervention into a moment— the moment of a given night and the moment of today’s Los Angeles in all its ills and glory

It is a constellation of immediacies from which this tape is dangling, strung like a clothesline, still wet from the flurry of it all

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