Hobosexual

“As Hobosexual, Ben Harwood and Jeff Silva aren’t the only guitar/drums duo in town, but they’re the most badass.” – Seattle Weekly

“Pretty much the opposite of the squeaky clean, banjo-toting folksters that have characterized much of Seattle’s popular music this decade, Ben Harwood and Jeff Silva are Hobosexual, a bad-ass and truly authentic rock’n’roll duo. Don’t let the name deceive you; Hobosexual is merely the antithesis of metrosexual.” – KEXP

Hobosexual
Hoh-boh-sek-shoo-uh | or, esp. British, -seks-yoo-
– noun
1. One who cares little for their own personal appearance (and/or)
2. Really, really…Really …incredibly loud Rock duo from Seattle, Washington.

Hobosexual is an indie rock duo from Seattle…West Seattle, to be specific.

Ben Harwood (guitars, vocals) and Jeff Silva (drums) play a “heavy-ish-stadium-in-your-parents-garage” kind of rock and roll.

They chose the name “Hobosexual” based on both growing up dirt poor, a zero mutual understanding of fashion trends, and Ben’s upbringing in an LGBTQ family.

Note: Referential similarities via the life of a touring musician and that of a real-life, actual, friendly (…not the stabbing kind of) Hobo has (naturally) followed the band’s cumulative experiences in step as well.

Monolith (Kitchentable Records) was recorded with producer Benjamin Jenkins at Killroom Studios. Jenkins had served on producer on the band’s previous album, Hobosexual II.

Monolith centers heavily around Harwood and Silva’s personal aversion to contemporary internet-based outrage culture.

“I miss the days people actually talked to one another, and/or argued face to face, by which nuance and perspective could be understood over internet semantics as (often) pseudo-intellectual, faceless, text-based, yelling matches, …or yeah, …when you had to be where you said you were going to be, instead of last-minute texts, or the ever pathetic emoji as one’s half apology for never bothering to show up…” – Ben Harwood

Resultant, the band focused heavily on analog and/or hand rendered processes during the sonic and art based production of Monolith.

The duo has done everything they can to craft a literal sonic time vessel of sorts.

Instrumentally, the album is an ode to the pantheonic Arena-Rock as GoodBadTaste decisions of yesteryear. Appropriate to our established ‘go for broke’ lyrical precipice, it’s an unapologetic wall of visceral loud, running the gamut of sprawling anthems, strangely relevant pockets of pop catharsis, and at times, …borders on dare one utter the words, …hair metal?

The coat and sheen of Monolith is notably more nimble than its DLR, spandex clad predecessors though.

The ‘BIG’ production there, but is inventive and worn in, often times utilizing a deliberate and carefully placed distortion and crackle to otherwise heady sonic exteriors, …as if the aural patina itself had matured with age, or was being broadcast through a vortex pointed squarely at 1982.

Lyrically, Monolith stands as a first person prison break rife with Gen X and Y pop culture references; a frantic escape via mind’s eye Millennium Falcon if you will, into subsequent flight from contemporary outrage culture as the proverbial exploding Death Star.

This is a record obsessed with deceptive simplicity if for any other reason, to lend a physical artifact as a time capsule (or pausing point of observation) to one’s current cultural hysteria.

‘Too much information all at once’, delivered on a minute-by-minute basis, to a conscious consensus unequipped to handle it all.

From the worn in look of the packaging and traditional hand painted imagery itself (Adam Burke, Joey Rodriguez), to the audio snarl, punch and bite of pre-internet laden, harder, tougher, yet more interpersonally connected times,

…Monolith stands as a deliberate obsolete, …a variable crafted specifically as tangible experience, in the midst of a world obsessed with the immediacy of intangible exchange.

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