Released in September on Australia’s Golden Robot Records, “Seventh Day a Dentist” — a tongue-in-cheek play on the band name — explores the idea of cults, broadening the definition beyond fringe religious groups to take aim at political, capitalistic, militaristic and more subtle belief systems.
The album’s opening track, “Mysticult,” is written from the perspective of a cult leader inviting the listener into the fold, boasting “we are the only truth.” It ends with “Mother is God,” based on the story of Amy Carlson, the leader of the “Love Has Won” cult, also known as the Galactic Federation of Light. The lyrics are written from the perspective of one of Carlson’s children, abandoned so their mother could become a New Age messiah to strangers.
On its third full-length release, Abertooth Lincoln’s signature sarcasm and social commentary bite down hard — much like the snake eating its own tail on the Mysticult game board. “Seventh Day a Dentist” explores an absurd world that spawns absurd fanaticisms through complex, noisy punk that occasionally dips into jazz.
The album is also, improbably and intentionally, a board game.
Board games packaged with records are almost nonexistent; beyond a handful of obscure indie releases, like Big Green Cherry’s “Play the Game,” most artists stop at inserts or conceptual gimmicks.
Public Image Ltd’s “Metal Box” came in a metal film canister. Jethro Tull’s “Thick as a Brick” crafted an elaborate spoof of a small-town English newspaper. Cheech & Chong stashed giant rolling papers in “Big Bambu” that mostly went up in smoke.
Interactive oddities are not conceptually unique. But it’s safe to say Mysticult, included in “Seventh Day a Dentist,” occupies a category almost entirely its own: a cult-themed board game with jagged teeth for game pieces packaged inside an LP.
The absurdity extended beyond the record itself. Even the release party could be shortlisted for the most bizarre.
The band mailed invites to close friends. When attendees walked into Tooth Lodge, their names were checked off the list and they were handed a white t-shirt with “Aber” and a number written on it, with the insistence that they be worn.
There were pews, a podium, and a PowerPoint presentation on how Abertooth Lincoln is certainly not a cult. The band wore black and white tracksuits, as they do at shows, an upgrade from the previous Space Force uniforms.
Black paper lined the walls of a room, with black light shining on the Day-Glo markers. “The universe is listening,” the paper read, “what are you going to say?” The people wrote their thoughts. They later chanted in Latin.
Eventually, the not-at-all-a-cult party made its way outside, everyone in white t-shirts, surely not terrifying to any neighbors.
The satirical element of Abertooth Lincoln can be traced, in part, to guitarist James Lampe’s obsession with Dead Kennedys. DK frontman Jello Biafra wrote figuratively, but was always biting, which informed Lampe’s own satire. (See: titles like 2014’s “Osteoferocious” and 2023’s “Algorithms Ate My Neighbors.”) Even the band’s uniform attire was initially satirizing the ridiculous outfits of big ‘80s hair bands.
Abertooth started in 2010 as Lampe and drummer Mike Werthmann came off another project. The band now features frontperson Asche Pooler, keyboardist David Watanabe, and bassist Mike Patak.
In a room at Tooth Lodge dedicated to the band’s previous space — The Aberplex — Lampe, Watanabe, Patak and I played Mysticult. Unofficial sixth member of the band, Bobby Tewksbury, who is involved in band photography and videography, also played.
Werthmann spearheaded the design of the vibrant and cartoonish game board, but the cards were written in collaboration with the rest of the band. Gameplay mechanics were fairly straightforward — to Lampe’s delight — with each card fluctuating initiate numbers: “Burning Man pop-up: gain two followers”; “Critical thinking: lose one follower”; “Trust Fund: move forward three spaces”; and so on until someone reigns supreme leader.
Playing with a prototype deck, some of the cards have since been edited or discarded from the current published deck — like, the “Drink the Kool-Aid” card, in which everyone loses seven followers. According to the band, it made the game go on too long.
Needless to say, Abertooth Lincoln is not a conventional band.
“When we threw that party,” Lampe said, of the cult-themed release, “it was such a fun experience for everyone there. It motivated us to create interesting experiences beyond just playing music.”
When the band released the single “Hell House,” Werthmann drew a comic in the style of a Chick tract, parodying the short, evangelistic comic booklets. The comic was also featured in the music video. The panels of the strip are currently displayed at Tooth Lodge.
“We’ve always had this bend towards over-complicating just putting out a single,” Lampe said. “It’s gonna be a song, it’s gonna be a video, and there’s gonna be a physical thing you can also get behind. And I feel like [Mysticult] is the best version of it we’ve done so far.”
I amassed my followers in the quest for enlightenment and purpose-driven debauchery. I leveraged megalomania and inherent superiority to brainwash. I tasted the Flavorade and won the race against the lesser gurus, my fellow cult leaders, for the crown.
Brandon Berry covers the music and arts scene in Dayton and Southwest Ohio. Reach him at branberry100@gmail.com.
MORE DETAILS
Abertooth Lincoln’s “Seventh Day a Dentist” vinyl record and game pieces — including a card deck and a pill bottle with dice and pawns — are available at abertoothlincoln.com.
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