Hell dogs, dead cows and Phish-heads

>> Cerberus Shoal muse to confuse

by BOSS SAMBOSA

"The topic of discussion today was cow mutilation in the Northwest," says Cerberus Shoal drummer Tom Rogers, amidst giggles in the background. "We speculated it could be anything from an animistic cult to aliens. In ancient times, some peoples wore animal parts because it enhanced their prowess."

"President Bush could be an alien," adds "band-writer" Karl Greenwald.

The Portland, Maine, post-indie collective Cerberus Shoal were reached at their shared, 10-person house for a late-night interview. There seems to be something deliberately oddball about the group, a sort of academic weirdness expressed in their nonsensical name (three-headed dog from hell, shallow place in a body of water), their jangled group-interview style, and their latest release Garden Fly, Drip Eye. The new single turns sharply away from their previous soaring, instrumental post-rock offering Crash My Moon Yacht. Rich, deep textures give way to chunky guitars, smashed rhythms and spontaneous vocals.

"The single was made after we merged with Tarpigh, so it's the infusion of new blood that changed us," says guitarist Caleb Mulkerin. "A direct response to the changing of the guard, if you will," adds Greenwald.

Still, there seems to be something premeditated about the single, and about the collective in general. Perhaps it's their origins which are suspicious: Berkley-trained musicians living in the American Northeast, a region known for its immense Phish-head population. Perhaps its because they live under the same roof, a notion Mulkerin explains as being purely pragmatic. "We can access each other more easily this way, and be more prolific."

Maybe it's the presence of Greenwald which is most unusual. His role as "band-writer" makes him the official lyricist, and though he plays some accompanying instruments on stage, his contribution is primarily non-musical. "We have a deep reverence for words, and Karl writes really great lyrics," says Mulkerin. Adds Greenwald, "I also contribute by helping to create themes. The single makes a lot of reference to something that I wrote."

Ultimately, Cerberus Shoal projects a genuine sense of confusion, a state the band attributes to their merging with Tarpigh. "We're still feeling each other out," muses bassist Erin Davidson, "but the confusion is wonderful."

With Spengler at Casa del Popolo on Friday, Sept. 22, 9pm, $6