Post-punk doesn't come much more jittery and tense than this. In fact, at times, Microwaves sound like a good old-fashioned American hardcore band, but they have far too 'arty' leanings for that classification. To the standard guitar/bass/drums format they add a fair amount of samples and other sonic wackery. The guitar is brittle and trebly, the bass sounds like some kid making fart noises on his arm (a good thing in this instance, I assure you), and the drums are all hi-hat and cymbal. Like their close kin in dark disco-punk bands like the Rapture, the Microwaves have obviously digested the Factory Records catalog, but they've also spent some quality time with Devo, Beefheart, Zappa, and most noticeably, MX-80 Sound, meaning they've picked up a sense of humor somewhere along the line.

System 2 begins with what sounds like a squealing, tape-eating Tascam battling a dusty record in-groove, panning back and forth between channels before the angular post-punk chaos ensues. The vocals alternate between the above mentioned screamo and a deadpan plainspeak. The first thing you hear is, "Every time I take a picture something truly horrible happens... people are dead, bloody and mangled," and later, we get some unclear, presumably nasty happenings "in the back of a McDonalds." Most of the time, though, Microwaves purposefully steer clear of direct narrative, preferring to proffer absurdities. And this is where the humor shines through-- if they played it straight and just related some tales of blood and gore along with frantic paced music, it would get tiring pretty quick. (Insane Clown Posse, anyone?) But little spoken-word interjections like "What were you thinking?" and "How ya doing?" are a clue that these boys are feeling the irony. Do they know what kind of lunatics they sound like? Is it just a big put-on? It's hard to tell, and that, ultimately, is what makes System 2 so interesting.

Microwaves' defining moment on System 2 comes with the maddening final track, "1983." It opens with a hyper-repetitive solo drum pattern that sounds like something from a Faust album, and then, just when you think it will never end, they pile on layer upon layer of maniacal laughter (the kind you might hear from a cartoon villain) and some kid repeating, "I took a picture of blood," and squealing with delight. The first time I listened to this I found it brutally irritating, but on subsequent listens found it both hilarious yet quite disturbing.

I've listened to System 2 more than a dozen times and I can't believe I haven't had some sort of aneurysm yet. I'm fairly certain I've now listened to it more than anyone else in the world, at least more than anyone not somehow associated with the band. It isn't something I'd recommend doing unless you have some sadistic desire to inflict damage upon your nervous system, or if you're just really jaded. There are albums that produce more tension and anxiety than this one, but not many. I advise that you not listen to this as often as you visit Pitchfork (wait, maybe you're really filled with all kinds of sadistic desires!), but that instead, you just bust it out when you're on drugs. No, scratch that. Save the money you usually spend on meth and buy this album instead. And don't forget to put a towel or something down on the kitchen floor.

-Jason Nickey, June 11th, 2002