WET DIP - Smell Of Money LP

Limited edition of 500 copies.

Singularity. A quality that rarely reveals itself in the overloaded data and screen glow of the twenty-twenties. From deep in the heart of Texas - the trio known as Wet Dip are that jarring, lightning strike of sound like nothing before them. Sisters Sylvia and Erica Rodriguez grew up in the arid, isolated Panhandle region of Texas before making their way to Austin and forming Wet Dip with Daniel Doyle. After meeting Caufield Schnug and Lira Mondal of Sweeping Promises during their time in Austin, Wet Dip made plans to venture up to the Sweeps' new home studio in Lawrence, Kansas to record Smell Of Money, their debut album.

These nine tracks scream something new. The stark honesty of Sylvia's lyrics and vocal delivery, alternating between English and Spanish, is something to behold. Underneath that, Wet Dip treat us to a no-wave ride into the future. No one else sounds like this. You'd even be hard pressed to notice the renditions of the Pixies "Silver" and Gloria Trevi's "Pelo Suelto" in the context of how Wet Dip operates. They reimagine the bland canvas of contemporary Austin into something new, exciting, and jarring. And that's the beauty of Wet Dip, because they do it seamlessly and with a belief in themselves that's not only something to be celebrated, but all their own.

"This is what I’ve been hoping for….fresh, exciting no wave punk." - Bandcamp comment

"Ladies and gentlemen, come and see WET DIP doing the quadruple somersault without safety net. Although I suppose that many of you will need some courage and training, to take your hands off your face and openly watch this fabulous and bloody spectacle of drunken fakirs throwing knives with an unequalled aim, in which the most perfidious and pernicious of lyrics is declined in the most lacerating and dangerously twisted way possible with musketeer skill, to give deadly thrusts on a bed of sharp nails manufactured with a selective instrumental minimalism, where all its elements are extremely lethal... Here everything hurts, everything has sharp corners, there are only right angles. Surely you never knew you liked pain until now! Pure oblique masochism that attracts you by the very morbid nature of the human being. The perfect soundtrack to walk barefoot across the arid Texas' Panhandle plains, while the peyote effluvia makes your head spin in an endless spiral!

Ps: It has never been more useful to me to be Spanish, the lyrics in English are great, but the ones sung in "their mother's language" are unparalleled!" - Tremendo Garaje