If you're the kind of person who trawls through various blogs, last.fm and the hypemachine ect. in search for undiscovered gems, you'll probably understand what I'm talking about when I say that there are just some bands who manage to grab your attention away from the rest. The kind of band that proudly stands up with its chest out, boots the neighbouring piles of lack-lustre-mumford and sons tribute acts square in the face and shouts something along the lines of, "LISTEN UP DICK HEAD". Well perhaps they don't go about it in quite such a vulgar and boorish way, but i'm sure you get the idea. Right?

Chicago based nutcase, Disposable Thumbs AKA Zach Lewis is one of these artists who are truly worthy of your time. Now when you hear the tag "experimental" attached to a band your ears prick up no? But a cynical little part in the back of your brain starts to wonder, "hmm, does this mean it's just going to be another guitar band who have worked out how a microkorg works or is this actually going to be something different?" In the case of Disposable thumbs, you can completely disregard that pessimistic little brain nag, because this really is something else. Listen to pretty much any of Zach Lewis' songs first time round, and it's hard to stop a manic grin from crawling across your face. In my eyes, this is experimentalism done perfectly. The music sounds off kilter, totally unpredictable and it's utterly addictive, yet it manages to stay pleasantly on the right side of abrasive or lacking too severely in structure. You'll probably struggle to sing along, or even hum any of it, but it's this level of eccentricity that makes Disposable Thumbs so addictive. Every new listen uncovers another element in a song that you had been previously unaware of first time through. The lo-fi, scuzzy guitar work of The sinking ship, plastered with freaked out oscillators and crashing percussion whips up images of some sort of drugged up garage band playing to a warehouse full of malfunctioning robots. Synths splash erratic grooves in all directions and Lewis' vocals, somewhat similar stylistically to Late Of The Pier frontman, Sam Eastgate's, take these slices of unadulterated noise and transforms them into post-everything, psychotic pop songs. Soap Lady sounds as though it could just be a bunch of 5 or 6 short electronically driven songs mashed together into one intense, yet easily consumable sort of chaos sandwich. These are songs that don't conform to any sort of context, you couldn't play them in a club, they aren't party songs and they aren't sit at home and listen on your headphones sort of songs either. It doesn't fit any certain time or place. Music that's stuck in limbo, wherein it's packed full of enthusiasm and power, but you can't decide whether you're supposed to dance or headbang, and for me, I think it's this sort of confusion that gives the music it's appeal. 
Like the musical equivalent of an espresso, Disposable thumbs will give you a sharp, sudden blast of energy, but be warned, it's something of an acquired taste.