Rudimentary Peni: Pope Adrian 37th Psychristiatric 12” (Sealed Records) Sealed Records’ Rudimentary Peni reissue campaign arrives at Pope Adrian 37th Psychristiatric, the band’s third album from 1995, regarded by many as the strangest and most difficult record in the band’s catalog. Never having been able to locate a vinyl copy of Pope Adrian in my twenty-five years of Rudimentary Peni fandom, it’s the Rudi P record I’ve spent the least time with, and consequently I was looking forward to this opportunity to appreciate the full artwork and packaging alongside a deeper dive into its music. The lore is that Pope Adrian was conceived during one of Nick Blinko’s most severe bouts of delusion, when he believed he literally was the pontiff from the album’s title. While Blinko’s mental state clearly colors his music and artwork throughout his career, there’s something unique about the way Pope Adrian engages with the landscape Rudimentary Peni’s music inhabits. Repetition is one of the key themes on the album, and the way Pope Adrian leans on repetitive motifs makes it a unique entry in the band’s canon. There’s a looped chant of “Popus Adrianus” that runs through their entire album, not only between the songs but right through the mix, and while you can occasionally tune it out and focus on something else, it’s always there and impossible to ignore for more than a few seconds at a time. The songs themselves are also extremely repetitive, totally hostile to the musical development or resolution upon which all pop music (punk included) is based. Most songs are just one or two parts repeated over and over, with perhaps some slight improvisation on the theme, but never in any sort of clear direction. While the droning repetition might be difficult for some hardcore punk fans to acclimate to, Pope Adrian’s music is some of Rudimentary Peni’s most straightforward and catchiest. The lack of blistering tempos (the exception being “Vatican’t City Hearse,” which might actually make you think you’re listening to Death Church for a second) means the memorable riffs and melodies that made Rudimentary Peni’s early music so seminal shine even brighter here, with tracks like “Pogo Pope” and “Regicide Chaz III” being downright hum-able. But to appreciate those moments, you have to accept Rudimentary Peni’s embrace of repetition, letting go of the desire for the cathartic middle eight or breakdown that gives a song its sense of shape. In contrast, Pope Adrian is like a Dali landscape, stretching out to infinity, built on its own inscrutable logic. But despite all this talk about how strange the music is, I never find Pope Adrian difficult to listen to. It’s not like Nick Blinko is abstruse… he’s not attempting to hide what he’s saying or make it difficult for you; it’s just really fucking weird. That’s part of what you come to Rudimentary Peni for, and Pope Adrian delivers in spades. And even if the music is too out there for you to jam on the regular, the packaging on Sealed’s reissue is phenomenal, with a full-size booklet packed with large, beautifully reproduced images of some of Blinko’s most captivating illustrations.