On February 2nd, Don Giovanni Records will release the self-titled debut record by Washington, D.C. / Carrboro, NC super-ghouls, Bat Fangs.

Formed in 2016 by guitarist/singer Betsy Wright (Ex Hex) and drummer Laura King (Flesh Wounds, Speed Stick), the duo specialize in prescription-strength shred and churn meant to stiffen the upper lip and crack the third-eye. Slick and sick visions channeled from the midnight mirror world. Acid-soaked hard-rock to thrill the living and raise dead.

The band began just as Wright’s other gig, Ex Hex, settled down for an extended breather. After two years touring as a bassist, she was eager to reconnect with the electric guitar and to push her pop-songwriting into freakier territory. She sent a few demos to King, who signed on to play drums. Together, they pushed the music into a deeper, more overtly psychedelic space.

Recorded earlier this year, Bat Fangs’ debut includes nine tracks engineered by Mike Montgomery at Candyland Studio in Dayton, Kentucky and mixed by Matt Boynton (Gang Gang Dance, Kurt Vile). Rooted in the pop-metal of time beyond memory, the tunes are spiritually corrupted, but also boldly anthemic. Thunder and feedback meant to demolish the airwaves and unfold the collective cranium.

Friends and fans of The Love Language songwriter and frontman Stuart McLamb have learned to expect a lot, but rarely in a timely manner. Completing a triumvirate of spiritual transmissions spent lost (2009’s The Love Language) and found (2010’s Libraries), 2013’s Ruby Red exorcises the transient brilliance fostered by McLamb within the sheetrock walls of the album’s namesake artist space.

Featuring over twenty musicians and straddling several time zones, The Love Language’s lone puppeteer borrowed heavier equipment, and held on to it longer. Initiated in a windowless unit at the fabled Ruby Red, several failed attempts and false starts at a songwriting spree landed McLamb and his engineer/case worker/boxing coach BJ Burton in Black Mountain, North Carolina, consuming every square inch of a carpeted bungalow located a few acres too close to their skittish neighbors. Soon after, Burton’s relocation to Minneapolis effectively thrust McLamb from their shared nest, helping Ruby Red discover its inherent propensity for flight.

Ruby Red produces new standards for the Carolina pop songbook, finding The Love Language as an extroverted community art project made by responsible citizens of a loosely packed scene who know that McLamb will match whatever they contribute. The heartbreak is over. Now we’re getting somewhere.