To order: SILENCE IS THE MYSTERY OF THE FUTURE AGE
CD's are $10 bucks ( shipping included )
send check or money order to: David Reynolds, 1829 West Main Street , Richmond, Va. 23220
(be sure and make check out to David Reynolds)
and allow 3-4 weeks for delivery (after check clears)

email: dddreynolds@gmail.com

"Heard in it's element, on the small stages and below ground parties where most of the band's playing over the past eight years has occurred,
Ugly Head's sound has a physical dimension that's more akin to a motorcycle race or a landing strip than what many people connect with the idea of music. This was never truer than during the two years or so when the lineup of Dave, Dave, Patrick and Jack reigned as sullen kings in a Richmond scene that didn't know how to handle them. They were loud, extremely loud, maybe the loudest phenomena I've ever witnessed - but up at that high pure range where Ugly Head lives, where notes bleed together and songs turn into a falling sheet, there's really no point in attempting absolute distinctions or arguing decibel rankings. It's a sound you hear in your teeth. I remember an Ugly Head show in the basement of a punk art gallery sometime during the winter of 1994 - a long, low brick room that ran the length of an old storefront, with the band members set up about a third of the way up the narrow space and their victims scattered down the remainder. Outside, the weather was cold and wet and people wore stocking caps and thick coats as they descended the wooden steps into the roaring blast that Ugly Head unleashed. It was still cold downstairs but with the two guitars, bass, and drums winding out farther and farther, that was forgotten. Coats came off as the mildewy air transformed into something nearly solid - a soupy gelatin you could lean into and punch. People wrapped scarves around their ears or fled to the extreme end of the room or leaned into the walls where the sound might be just a little less invasive. Few stayed long. The sheer menace of Ugly Head - one Dave spitting his lyrics into a wilting microphone, the other rolling frantically on the drums, wringing swing from the chaos, Patrick straining to push his bass above the guitars, Jack standing with his head down, searching for the one perfect note that could carry through eternity - was rarely more apparent. I haven't heard "Silence is the Mystery of the Future Age" yet but I'm sure magnetic tape and digital reproduction can't capture the sheer weight of overtones, the cascade of violent sound collision, the splintering, brilliant bristle of the Ugly Heads at the height of their powers. But that they even made the attempt to render such an avalanche on a puny canvas of aluminum and plastic shows, I think, the center of the band's dilemma and the true heart of its beauty."
-- Mike Gangloff, July 1997

( This is from the liner notes to the cd. Mike is a member of Pelt, and The Black Twigs, and wrote for The Richmond Times Dispatch, as well as other publications)

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