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ALABAMA THUNDERPUSSY - "FULTON HILL"
BLACK NASA - "DEUCE"
BONGZILLA - "APOGEE"
CHURCH OF MISERY - "THE SECOND COMING"
ELECTRIC WIZARD - "WE LIVE"
THE GLASSPACK - "BRIDGEBURNER"
>>MORE ROADBURN PICS: Pt.II | Pt.III
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ALABAMA THUNDERPUSSY
"FULTON HILL" [ CD - Relapse ]
While Alabama Thunderpussy remain profoundly down-tuned they are anything but dumbed-down; here is a
rabble-rousing rock band with cast iron musical credentials and a breathtakingly mercurial talent
at playing gimmick free, stegosaurus-heavy rebel rock. If you own any of their previous albums it
isn't too hasty a generalisation to state that you are in for a treat of gargantuan
proportions with Fulton Hill, their fourth and most accomplished album thus far, and when you
consider the staggering quality of "Constellation" this is far from scant praise.
All the elements which make ATP such a compulsive and dynamic group are all present and correct -juggernaut
riffage, twin-guitar harmonies, irresistible anthemic song writing, and moonshine-soaked stentorian vocals. No
disrespect to the wonderful Johnnie Throckmorton, but ATP's new vocalist, John Weil is a
seamless replacement and his brawny lung pipes lend the requisite searing gravitas southern boogie
of this grit and amplitude demands.
The first track 'Such is life' is a curious opener as they eschew the patent 'thuderpussy blood n' thunder
bombast' for sublime melody, and teary-eyed acoustic subtleties which I have to say this is a
masterstroke as it really allows you to appreciate the band's diversity and musical growth, an
added bonus is that the track showcases some truly dextrous soloing from both Ryan Lake and Erik Larson.
The following track 'R.R.C.C' cements ATP's position at the top of Rock 'N Roll's pantheon, with agile, muscular
riffage propelling this chunk blower of a tune and this is also were we get our first serving of the
gorgeous Thin Lizzy dynamics that wend their way through the majority of this fine album.
'Wage Slave' slams into your headspace with a fiery package of thermo-nuclear riff rock, this is prime
ATP and visibly bulges with enough horsepower to wrench out whatever ails you and swiftly replacing
it with an exhilarating and decadent glow of Boozy good-times. It's an overused phrase, but 'Wage Slave' is
some righteous, bad-boy tunage.
'Three Stars' tempers the pace somewhat, a slice of 'YEE-HAW' southern grooves with beefy funky
organs filling out the space between twin guitar harmonics and languid Skynryd-esque breakdowns, personally I
feel that they should awarded this track with a considerably higher rating than 3 stars.
At almost midway through 'Fulton Hill' they add on some extra tonnage to their dual guitar attack with
the suitably weighty moniker of 'Bear Baiting', whisky sour vocals, guitars tuned lower than an
Australian oil well and delivering an infectious, explosive groove which is vintage ATP –for me this is the
album highlight and is as good as anything on "Constellation" and features yet more killer Allman Bros
guitar mastery.
'Infested' is a welcome musical peculiarity with some strident guitar syncopation, and a riff so
beefy and frantic it is comparable to being charged by a libidinous, blood mad bull.
'Alone Again' is a splendiferous slice of GNR-balladry with plaintive vocals and lush instrumentation but
the tail end of the track is replete with an almost Iommi-like sludge-out, let's just say this type of sonic
U-turn is indicative of the myriad of delirious surprises this album offers up.
Both 'Lunar Eclipse' and 'Blasphemy' are tougher than roadhouse bar fight –unpretentious
goodtime rock n roll.
'Do Not' is a fine down home emotive ballard midway betwixed Bad Company and
Skynryd –truly delightful.
The wonderfully titled 'Sociopath Shitlist' opens up with some gorbellied bass that's as dense and
enveloping as hot asphalt and the colossal guitars of Lake/Larson pound you into the ground
like colossal steam hammers, another prime example of ATP at their electrifying best.
The closing track is a 13-minute epic slab of gonzoid psychedelic rock -and a spectacular and fitting
way to end such a substantial album.
Thus far 2004 has been goldmine year for shit kickin' heavy music as both 'Halfway To Gone' and 'Orange Goblin' have
released outstanding albums and you can now include Alabama Thunderpussy’s grandiose "Fulton Hill" -from start
to finish this bowdlerising collection of locomotive, anvil heavy, southern scuzz-rock satisfies
on every level, and delivers a suitably bellicose soundtrack perfect for an evening's drunken revelry.
With an ever-widening glut of stultifying corporate rock, Alabama Thunderpussy remain unique as
what y'all see is what y'all get, and that my friends is a whole
buncha’ sweaty, hell raisin' good times!
jason
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BLACK NASA
"DEUCE" [ CD - METEORCITY/ALONE RECORDS ]
When I got this album, I put it in the CD player and listened to it at least four or five
times through and through. While it's solid foundation instantly drew me in, something was amiss.
There was something that I was doing, or not doing, that felt like a
whole piece of the puzzle was missing.
The other evening the weather was a pleasant 75 degrees. It had been a while since I had taken
a drive to nowhere. On a whim, I brought along Black Nasa's newest effort. Roughly two minutes
into the third track, 'Kamikaze', it dawned on me: "Deuce" is the ultimate soundtrack
for a sunset cruise.
Yes, indeed. Roll 'em down. Turn it up! Stray away from crowded
streets and highways. Hit up all those deserted back roads. Stroll down the coastline. Drive
east with the sun at your back. Take control of the road.
I don't really give a rats patoot about all the 'high profile' hype that Black Nasa
seems to have swarming around them. What I only care about is how this music is
going to sound.
Yes, there are some Atomic Bitchwax elements. But, where ATB goes off into
a jammy tangent, Black Nasa keeps their pedals on the floor and deliver
a rock solid, catchy piece of music. There is a constant feeling of motion with
every second that passes by, no matter how fast or slow the tempo may be.
Some songs are dark enough that a daytime cruise would conflict with its atmospheric
tonalities. Other songs are upbeat, bright and [dare I say] poppy, and to be listening
to this while the stars burn above would contradict the feeling of the warmth of the sun...
This is why the album must be listened to, ideally, during twilight hours on the roads of
your choice. Let Black Nasa's "Deuce" beckon the night.
dr.jones
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BONGZILLA
"APOGEE" [ CD - RELAPSE ]
It should be a given that if you have a preference for albums that contain the muscular dynamics
of a rabid Bison chewing his way through a stack of Marshals then you either own a copy of Bongzilla's 'Gateway' or
are pestering a chum to burn a copy for you. Well the masters of the megaton riff
are back with another potent crop of tectonic plate heavy, sludge-grooves.
Matt Pike once intoned "proceed the weedian" and while some of you might chuckle endearingly at this
ludicrous, goggle-eyed statement, others clearly befogged on brain atrophying opiates took this maxim as
rote and formed bands where EVERYTHING was about the two R's; RIFF and REEFER, or RIFF 'N ROLL -and Bongzilla
are the absolute potentates of the expansive SPLIFF-RIFF [onus on potent].
There are two ubiquitous ingredients of a 'zilla album; A) liberal and exultant use of film /news reportage
samples that contain obvious pot references, and B) guitar tones so corpulent and fuzzy they'd give Big Foot
an inferiority complex.
Bongzilla’s sound is liquid, intoxicating, and resolutely tactile
in the sense that you don't merely listen to Bongzilla, you can actually FEEL their viscous, Rhinosaur
sound waves flowing over you like an amorphous marijuana mantle. And the opening track 'H.P Keefmaster' is
no exception, as this rock smokes in all the best ways.
There is an almost elemental force to Bongzilla's music and their opening gambit is a prime example
of what they do best, distil gargantuan heavy metal with the devastating momentum of the
Armageddon asteroid.
Mike Makela's vocals can be a bone of contention for some folk, and on first contact I
felt that it was a case of great riffs, shame about the vocalist... but that was a mere ill-informed, knee-jerk
reaction and after inhaling many hours worth of Bonzilla's toxically resinous sludge riffery, my palate
acclimatized to his mucoid screams, to such a fervent degree I am slightly put out when
I hear folk dismiss his guttural intonations.
Bongzilla are as insidious and addictive as the pungent, psychoactive botanicals they so dogmatically
eulogise –but be warned! As once you have ingested their brand of robust keef rock your
tolerance for weaker bands will diminish and your yen for another 'zilla hit will increase exponentially [while
it is too early to say with complete confidence but the musical theorists thus
far say that the homeopathic benefits of extensive Bongzilla usage are manifold].
For me the greatest thing about eating a roast chicken are the moist, unctuous and flavoursome
medallions, and I eagerly prise them out first before carving the rest of the bird.
Well 'Apogee' has a similarly choice and far meatier titbit in the form of track three; 'Grim Reefer' proof positive
that heavy music remains the most addictive and exhilarating this is their 'Into the Void' as
it is fuelled by one of those pitch perfect, deliriously heavy riffs that muscle their
way into your physiognomy, and cause your head to nod violently as if the fibrous
lengths of ganglion attached to your skull plates were being tugged violently by some
malevolent, internal puppet master, and you eventually lose all control over your upper
musculature as Bongzilla have infected you with their virulent and catastrophically
intense riff science and continue to monopolise all your waking thoughts.
This is explosive sludge rock and the sound is so broad and impenetrable, both the bass and
rhythm guitars appear to be replete with guitar strings the size of jungle vines in order fro them
to resonate with such bowel churning and cavernous low-end frequencies.
I played 'Grim Reefer' so many times I thought I was beginning to lose what's left of my heavy metal scarred mind.
People rave about both Isis /Cult of Luna/Pelican etc, and while they are
fine musicians neither of their recorded legacies thus far has a motherfucker of a
track like 'Grim Reefer.' To such a degree that my entire review has been hijacked by one fucking song!!!
Come on already, do I have to spell it out with branding irons; you simply MUST partake of this
magnificent tune.
The remainder of the album are live tracks -and while they aren't as immediately compelling
as the studio material they are crisply recorded, raucous, uncouth, and remain essential
Bongzilla, and they are an exiting primer as to the obvious omnipotence of their live performance.
It would also be remiss of me to not mention the sterling musicianship of bass player, Hate Dethlefson, as
he lays down subterranean bass runs of such girth they could easily double as metropolitan sewer systems.
There is something decidedly primal about Bongzilla's monolithic take on stoner-core, for while many
detractors regard this whole musical movement as too derivative and one note, I take the contrary
stance and say that they are utterly unique, and that Bonzilla play said note with
such vigour and brute force that their hallucinatory and strident minimalism
dwarfs all their competitors.
Bonzilla's Apogee is yet another superlative album, a thunderous, glassy-eyed, smoke
belching, overdriven, symphonic poem to the mighty weed, and these seven sinuous tracks gleefully flood
your auditory canal with extremely gelatinous guitar distortion. And is a more than
competent follow up to their majestic and landmark 'Gateway.'
Bongzilla are true riff Kingpins, so remember, just say yes kids!!!
jason
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CHURCH OF MISERY
"THE SECOND COMING" [ CD - Diw/Phalanx Records ]
Church of Misery are a familiar name amongst doom cognoscenti as opinions were quite divided over their
slavish attempts to out 'black' sabbath, and while "Master of Brutality" wasn’t a terrible album it had
all the panache and innovation of a Charlie Sheen movie.
So when I received their latest album, "The Second Coming" I was a little blasé about it, but, like
the leopard who changed his spots and successfully avoided a hunter's cross hairs, Church of Misery
have returned with a chunk blower of a doom album, free from any of the derivative limitations of their debut.
I have a real hard on for albums which start riotously, and the coyly monikered 'Motherfucker' is unequivocally
just that, the track begins with their trademark serial killer samples but that is where the predictability
ends as the V8 rock engine at the core of the song generates so much sonic horse power that it's exhaust
fumes alone are guaranteed to burst a lava lamp at a thousand paces, whoah!!!
Man, the doom life boats as we are in for a stormy ride, as mere seconds later the drummer, Junji roughly
grabs you by the short and stinkies, and he pounds out a ferocious rhythm with such intensity you
fleetingly wonder if flesh and blood Junji had been replaced by mecha-Junji, as his primal beats
had the fillings in my teeth spiralling out of my gums like confetti.
This is the VERY FIRST TIME I have been prompted to head bang, not because of an over-zealous power
chord, but due to a drum beat alone, and the rock solid drum patterns woven through "The second Coming" are
of the sturdiest titanium thread, TITANIC BEATS brothers and sisters. At long last Cathedral have some healthy
competition, as Church of Misery's re-invigorated, Doomadelic 70’s hypno-grooves rival the
very best on "Ethereal Mirror."
And when the baton of 'Motherfucker' is passed to 'Soul Discharge' is it done effortlessly, as
Church of Misery grip it the grooves with iron riveted fists and take you up a gear.
Listening to this album at antisocial volumes is akin to inhaling a Zeppelin sized bong hit of
primo Opium whilst simultaneously having Tony Iommi use your central nervous system as guitar strings!
Some albums excite, most bore, but Church of Misery’s truculent doom catapults out of
your stereo and penetrates deep into the mystical nodes of your mind with the alacrity of a lightning strike.
'Red Ripper Blues' is such high quality it should come with five Michelin stars, as it contains
the doom breakdown of ALL doom breakdowns, it’s so compulsive, immediate and euphoric that should you be
carrying a box of priceless Ming vases you are likely to drop them in a Pavlovian response
of frenzied head banging, lunatic rock shape throwing, and deep stanced air guitar swinging.
Guitar man, Hoshi's impenetrable avalanche of electrified sound literally drenches you in a
rich, fuzzy, psychedelic riff goulash, it's one of those all too rare hair-raising moments
of wonderfully intoxicating heavy metal.
On a slightly more perverse note, the inclusion of Aileen Carol Wuornos rant on 'Filthy Bitch Boogie' [whatta
killer title!] is wonderfully unnerving and a fine teaser for Hoshi’s rampant guitar
skull-fuckery to come. And can any true servant of the riff do without a song called El Topo?
If the answer to that is no you are on the wrong website, and probably so far on the wrong side of
the tracks that you are already road kill.
With hand on heart sincerity "The Second Coming" is a delight from start to finish, but for me 'Red Ripper Blues' is
a magnificent and clear standout track, the prodigiously amped and liquid bass grooves of Tatsu swing
with the omnipotence of an elephant's fuck truncheon and provides the raw propulsion to the headiest
example of psychedelic doom I have heard in a long time.
A maelstrom of filthy, psychotic blues
licks, ghoulish vocals and megaton heavy guitars swiftly render you into a pile of gleefully
gibbering fan boy tallow [and that’s only track two folks!].
"The Second Comin" is the classiest collection of bootylicious doom psychedelia since Cathedral’s
impressive "Ethereal Mirror." In Church of Misery's 3-year sabbathical they have gone from slightly
turgid sabs clones to genuine Doom innovators. There are very few legal methods of
intoxication, which can rival the giddy delights of "The Second Coming", and this pungent bowl
of doom is guaran teed to get you higher than the Van Allen radiation belt.
Fans of Sabbath, Paul Chain and Cathedral will find much to enjoy with "The Second Coming."
jason
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ELECTRIC WIZARD
"WE LIVE" [ CD - Rise Above Records ]
Electric Wizard are a band that have commanded so many superlatives for each of their albums, part of
you wonders whether it is inevitable that they will eventually drop the ball. And after the bands' well-documented
collapse and the desertion of two thirds of their power trio, the cynic in me considered the
possibility that "We Live" was too optimistic a moniker.
Not only do Electric Wizard have an enviable back catalogue of elephantine intergalactic
doom, they do appear to have this mercurial ability of out riffing themselves on each
successive release.
While most bands would've balked at the thought of recording a follow-up to the tectonic
plate crushing "Dopethrone" but these Cornish dope-sodden riff fiends simply tightened the mystic
belts around their raven cowls and delivered the admittedly sparer but even more bestial
sounding "Let Us Prey."
Its midway through 2004 and after what can only be said to be a torturous wait I finally have the
wildly anticipated "We Live" in my tremulous hands. As this is ostensibly a
completely different band now, would this new incarnation alter the Wizard’s inimitable brand of doom?
And what would the addition of the prodigiously talented Liz 'Sourvein' Buckingham bring to the table?
Pre-listen I feverishly glanced at the thank you’s list [this is a ritual I do with each
ewiz album –it's borderline obsessive-compulsive] and it is with rapturous joy that I
noticed a mention of Paul Naschy [star of such wondrously lurid fare as
Anthophagus, Crimson, Return of the Werewolf etc] so thus far the mondo credits are
all present and correct, but what about the music?
Jus Oborn's misbegotten guitar prowess remains as intoxicating, abrasive and gravitationally
heavy as before but the overall dynamics of his playing are decidedly less
confrontational –where the savage acoustics of "Let Us Prey" attacked the membranous folds of your
viscera with the virulence of an ecoli pathogen, the effect of "We Live" is a cumulative one, and the
album is redolent with the cloying aromas of a freshly disinterred grave, made all
the more stimulating by it's insidious restraint.
Listening to this album is analogous to being trapped in stygian torture chamber deep
in bowels of some swampy Lovecraftian mansion, where you tremble pathetically, bound and
gagged, fearfully staring, wide-eyed and helpless as the thick, algae clotted
walls lurch slowly and interminably towards you...
As you listen to "We Live" you wait for the cathartic release of a monstrous doom breakdown but
it never comes, and yet the entire atmosphere of the album is so sinister and
oppressive it gives the impression of musical ectoplasm, and engenders a
profound sense of sepulchral heaviness rather than the visceral immediacy of say "Dopethrone."
Jus Oborn's demonolatry and veneration of macabre, psychotronic cinema is palpable in the
arcane narratives of the album. "We Live" works best when ingested as a whole, this isn’t to say
there aren’t any stand-alone tracks but possibly by design this album succeeds as one
continuous hefty soundtrack to some luridly exploitative schlock movie as yet to be unmade.
While Electric Wizard's arsenal now boasts one of the heaviest guitar players in doom
both Osborn and Buckingham appear to have tempered their normally Herculean guitar tones and
successfully explored a more subtle side to the Electric Wizard cannon.
This is clear from the get go by Jus Oborn's clean and almost melodic vocal stylings, gone is the
demoniacal distortion of "Supercoven" and hello to a more plaintive, hypnotic mode of delivery, which it
has to be said work splendidly against the lush, resinous doom overtures pumped out by Justin
Greaves [Drums] Rob Al-Issa [Bass] and Liz Buckingham who all mesh together quite
splendidly, and swiftly allay any fears that EW MKII would lack the authenticity of EW MK I.
"We Live" is NOT an immediate album –in all honesty I was a little non-plussed on my first
listen, to such a degree it almost coaxed a comedic double-take from me... "what the saintly
Franco Nero is going on here???" as there did initially and quite shockingly
appear to be something lacking!!!
BUT and this is a big, gnarly Butt comparable to the barnacled derriere of the omnipotent
Cthulhu himself, by the time you are midway through the 15-minute epic doom symphony of 'Satan's
Children' you are completely bewitched and hooked with the finality of a whale harpoon through the
spine, and no matter how hard you struggle 'Satan’s Children' pins you to the wall with it’s diabolical force.
But I genuinely feel it is the almost cruel holding back of the patented colossal
Electric Wizard sound that paradoxically makes "We Live" such a beguiling and
atmospheric album. Admittedly they no longer deliver the sonic displacement akin
to Captain Nemo's Nautilus at full tilt, Electric Wizard's intimidating megalithic
doom still retains the singular ability to ossify your flesh like the most
fearsome of all graveyard ghouls and thus they remain the most quixotic and influential
doom act of the modern age.
"We Live" is bound to inspire multitudinous internet forum debates, and like any band with a
vociferously passionate fan base, the album's appeal will be immensely divisive. On a more
flippant note, can you really fuck with a band that name checks Les Baxter, Venom and Michael Gough? –no, I didn’t
think so.
For me Electric Wizard’s mystique remains unsullied and where once I would have reached
out for either "Supercoven" or "Come My Fanatics" for an enervating fix of doom
phantasmagoria – now I might just hesitate long enough to reconsider and plump for "We Live."
Album highlights: 'Perfect Day', this is a magnificent tune, misty, planetoidal guitars
underscored with some gonzoid drumming from Justin Greaves gives the track a real sense
of urgency, not a word you generally associate with E.W.
And the transcendent 'Satan’s Children', which is a note perfect 15 minute, doom aria, ample
proof if need be that in the glorious pantheon of doom there is no longer any room for
false prophets... begone snivelling usurpers as the master has returned.
"Go thou to Electric Wizard and shudder"
jason
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THE GLASSPACK
"BRIDGEBURNER" [ CD - SMALL STONE RECORDS ]
It is ever apparent that The Glasspack have this uncanny ability to get right down to
the nitty-gritty. And with their brand of high energy, fuzzed out, rock out with your cock out
bonanza of unpolished Rock 'n Roll, there is no room for slacking.
If the momentum can't keep at the same face distorting speed, what's the point in trying to
carry on? THERE IS NO FUCKIN' POINT! The Glasspack know this: SHUT YOUR HOLE! TAKE A DRAG! BOTTOMS UP! POOR
ANOTHER ONE! If I ever hear you badmouth Creedence again, ILL PISS IN YOUR DRINK! OH SHIT, THE COPS!
Since their inception in '99, "Dirty" Dave and crew have not let it slip out of 5th gear. With a cult
following behind them, and callous thick enough to grind cement pillars down to dust, The Glasspack
brings out the party animal in all of us with the musical bitchslap of their new release "Bridgeburner."
First things fuckin' first: You are a pathetic little twerp. No matter what your bar brawl tally is
up to, Bridgeburner will blur your vision and pummel everything you've ever known and loved. The
energy that this album possesses is that of a booze / chemical-fueled frenzy. It supplies
those liquor-muscles that we all strive for: HULK SMASH EMO FANBOY! This is pure musical testosterone
that would force even the hottest bikini model to shave her sudden-appearing 5 o'clock shadow.
After a few listens, your invincibility grows to full force, and in time the thought of wrestling a
grizzly bear seems more and more like childs play: Bring it, you furry, loud mouthed motherfucker! BRING IT!
The Glasspack is a true testament to the natural destructive phenomenon of the power trio: Less is more, you
lame excuse for a pair of balls! "Dirty" Dave, The Cap'n, Bucky [only pussies go by their birth names!] - Three
tortured souls that strive for musical entropy. Bridgeburner was recorded in less
than two days: HA! I can hump longer than that! Despite a flurry of hold-ups, the band
did what needed to be done to get this album finished - with no spared expense.
Most of the tracks were completed in one take: That's right, you pansy-ass puke! ONE TAKE! This would
not have been an easy feat with more than three people in the unit.
RAW! This album is so raw, it'll burn when you pee. The pack has captured a certain spirit of
Rock that rivals your preconceived notions towards heavy music. They embrace feedback as if
it were a vital part to the balance of the universe: Yeah, I'll give you something to
balance, you little turd. Almost every song has some sort of squeal or screech in it.
The vocals are not done in the normal sense of the word, either: HELL NO! Just scream into a
microphone?! What do you think this is, some kind of sissy pretty-boy festival? NO! They went out of their
way by using a harp microphone and a fender combo amp to make sure Dirty Dave's vocals sound
like utter shit. As overused as the term is… Yes, The Glasspack's guitars sound real dirty: The guitars
are grubby and all fuzzy and shit but that don't mean they don't sound good!
The title track is the best example of the Bridgeburner's ATTITUDE! No matter how out of control
and hazy things get, IT'S ALL IN GOOD FUN, BRAH! No matter how many times someone insults
your mother or girlfriend... Hey, man! Let's waterfall this shit! YEAH! Sure, this is a
testosterone driven album, but that's not to say it's for asshole meatheads. TO HELL WITH THOSE DUDES... I
wouldn't piss on their gums if their teeth were on fire.
Everyone just needs to get rowdy drunk and have a good time! And "Bridgeburner" is just that. Hey! You're
an alright guy! Here, get in on this shit!
dr.jones
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