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DEBRIS INC - "S/T"
DREAM DEATH - "BACK FROM THE DEAD"
GORILLA - "GIMME SOME...GORILLA"
HIGH ON FIRE - "BLESSED BLACK WINGS"
HOGNOSE - "EL SOMBRERO"
KRUGER - "CATTLE TRUCK"
LAIR OF THE MINOTAUR - "CARNAGE"
>>MORE ROADBURN PICS: Pt.III
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DEBRIS INC.
"BACK FROM THE DEAD" [ CD - Rise Above Records ]
You don't have to be 'The Brain from Planet Arous' to realise that both Trouble and St. Vitus were
grievously underrated whilst they were among us. So it was rather glorious to find out that both
Ron Holzner and Dave Chandler had formed a towering power trio, Debris Inc, and along with
Eyehategod G-tar mangler, Jimmy Bower playing drums one would assume that these doom / sludge veterans are
about to unleash a veritable feast of thee slow, ya... Nein?
This fact may well alienate some, but not this beardo, HECK NO! Man, I took to this spazz-core explosion
like a greasy cock to hot ass. That Debris Inc 'S/T' is a profoundly contrary affair will no doubt cause consternation
amongst narrow-minded doom heads, but there was a wee pictorial clue to their new sound, since
Ron Holzner is proudly sporting an Adrenalin O.D T-Shirt.
Now to many of the younger stoner / doom heads this will mean about as much as a Mahogany Rush album, but I had
a sneaky suspicion these Debris Inc filth hounds might deliver far more than just ponderous, grave-deep, doom
rock, and they do! MUCHAS!!!
Noticing the vast proliferation of song titles [19 -yet another crystalline clue] which included, 'Too Many
Mushrooms On My Pizza', 'Full of Shit', 'The Oldman and His Bong', 'I Feel Like Shit Again' ergo, I had
surmised correctly that doom wasn't the only course on this greasy platter.
Oh boy, glassy-eyed, G-tar man, Dave Chandler is amongst us once more armed not only
with his inimitable mammoth, destructo, Gibson tones, but, oh so much more... Ultimately, we all shoulda' been
well prepared for this gear change, as back in the heady days of SST records, the mighty St.Vitus covered
Black Flag's 'Thirsty & Miserable' and squeezed it so hard until little more than a
barely recognisable, oozing, Stygian trickle of the original song remained, and now they are in an
alternative universe where they are obviously infusing Vitus, hell-grind with fists-in-the-air, chant-happy, snot
ty hardcore punk, and rather successfully I hasten to add.
Clearly Mr.Chandler remains an eccentric, and profoundly influential musician who's ageing
quite disgracefully with a nary a care for what should be expected of either him his new band, 'Debris inc., and
I for one applaud this cantankerous attitude.
Outside of the gloriously indolent crunch of 'The Old Man and His Bong' and 'Pain' this album is almost exclusively
rasp-raw, punky beer-core, not the frantic politico rockabilly thrashings of say ' The Dead Kennedy's, more
the dense, splenetic anarchy of one-time label mates Black Flag or D.O.A with a healthy surge of
the comedy thrashings of the brilliant yet sadly forgotten, 'Attitude' [whose cover E.P The Good, The Bad & the Obnoxious' hasn't left
my turntable in over 15 fucking years!].
There's also a healthy glug of the latter day alco-core buzz of Gang Green, and if that means anything
to you, y'all will be all over this monstrous noise like a pile of flies.
Debris Inc. "S/T" be some good shit, the kinda' pungently good shit you cram into
a grimy, ditch water-full, D.I.Y bong, which while being roughly engineered, still guarantees
you a delirious high. The seemingly incongruous, jagged hybrid of Chandler's screaming, psychedelic
g-tar solo's, and abyss-bleak riffage all held loosely together with the dripping mucus of
mid-to-late-eighties hardcore, makes for a splendid, beer cans in the air, shout-along racket -and
I for one thoroughly enjoyed this rough and boozy ear fuck.
Dave Chandler's heavily opiated, leathery vocals are perfectly suited to the gloriously woozy, punkoid
scree vomited out by the sterling fellows who make up the unholy scuzz fest that is
'Debris.Inc.'
It must also be noted that both Ron Holzner's [bass] & Jimmy Bower's [drums] contributions
are outstanding, and hopefully lend much credence to Debris Inc being far more than a one album
deal.
After initial contact you might feel that Ron Holzner's mix is slightly muddy, with a little of the
ol' fluff under the needle sound, but on successive listens it proves to be marvellously apropos since
it lends much D.I.Y punk verisimilitude to Debris.Inc's cacophonous aural assault, until you wonder
why more albums' aren't recorded thus... quite simply the overall effect is PUNK AS FUCK.
I can always tell how much I groove on an album by the tunes I dig out after listening to it, and
I went straight for Attitudes' "The Good, The bad & the Obnoxious" and Carnivore's "Retaliation", and
thrashed hard until my poor metal-strained neck could stand no more!
Again it's very FUCKING HARD to write a borderline lucid review of an album that immediately
instills in one the uncontrollable urge to drain a six pack of beer in nano seconds and windmill
around your pad as if plugged directly into the national grid.
A final point, in an era of gross plagiarism and the nauseatingly crass marketing of piss-poor music I
can say in all honesty that this raucous album is an entirely unique, worthy addition to any extreme
music fan's music collection.
Album highlights' the anthemic doom of 'Old man and His Bong', the seriously
Black Flag 'Full of Shit [F.O.S].
For fans of Black Flag, Doom, Attitude, Gang Green, S.O.D, Carnivore, Fear.
STANCE FACTOR: MAXIMUM SNOTTY PUNK ROCK STANCE
PS. all hail to Rise Above Records for releasing this fine album.
jason
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DREAM DEATH
"BACK FROM THE DEAD" [ CD - psycheDOOMelic Records ]
Unlike some reviewers I view demos with considerable apprehension as I no longer have the
patience to decipher from poorly recorded music whether I am witnessing the re-birth of Black
Sabbath, as ultimately that 'aint gonna happen', so I approached 'Dream Death-Back from the Dead' somewhat
gingerly, since my expectations were pigeon shit low.
On placing the CD in the player I was immediately assaulted with gargantuan amounts of tape
hiss superseded by a sludge riff of immense proportions... FUCK ME!!! I was completely incredulous as
this was some supremely heavy doom and, 'Sealed in Blood' began to kick my ass oblong.
Even with the limitations of it's muddy, D.I.Y sound mix, you are left in no doubt that
these gloriously mullet-ed, uber-sabbathytes were beating to the darker rhythms of their own, lava
slow drum. The quality of both the riffing and songwriting far outweighs the deficits
of the garage recording, since these songs are massive, doomed-to-fuck and absolutely
punishing.
Brian Lawrence's brutal, G-Tar thunder-chugs are truly devastating and punch through
the claustrophobic mix like crazed ape fists, one can only wonder at the low end
ferocity Dream Death must have dished out in the live arena [should any live footage
exist I for one would be very interested in seeing it!].
Surprisingly for a first demo the band sound remarkably assured, and lay down some heinously
heavy, sluggish doom as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The last time I was
this pleasantly surprised was when I dreamt of having a long, pleasurable
piss and awakened to a full bladder but fortunately dry bed sheet...
A few tracks into this snarling riff-beast and you seriously begin to question why Dream Death
aren't held in the same lofty regard as Cathedral, since the fine music on "Back From The Dead" pre-dates
Cathedral by several years, and even at this tender stage their redoubtable doom chops
make for a convincing argument.
A case in point being the brutalising doomerama of 'Under the Blood Red moon', if re-recorded [come on
lads you know it makes sense!] this could well become one of the great doom anthems! The centrepiece
and real head-swinger is the furious, mosh-pit annihilation of 'Dream Death' which slams at some
considerable pace, and Brian Lawrence's bestial Tom Araya bray, screeching out the
chorus is a genuinely hair-raising experience!
The following demo, with the splendid title of "More Graveyard Delving" has been blessed
with a fuller, richer sound which generously serves the meaty, Slayer / Candlemass collision, yes, back
in the mid-eighties that must have struck folks as a rather incongruous sonic coupling
but Dream Death manage to effortlessly switch gears between a chaotic blur of grinding
metal, and punishing slabs of earth-shifting, doomy guitars which clearly makes them one of the most
unique sludge / doom / metal bands I have ever heard...
Is this hyperbole? absolutely not, a fine example of this bruising fusion is the evil
sludge feast, 'Back from the dead' marching against the locomotive, Hellhammer
stomp of 'The Elder Race.'
Brian Lawrence really excels himself on "Back From The Dead", as it is replete with a
mammoth G-tar beat-down, again making writing these words a wee bit of a chore as
I NEED TO GET INTO FULL-ON DOOM STANCE...HELLLLLLLL YEAHHHHHHHHHHHH!
>From a songwriting / riffing perspective these three demo's make for exiting listening as:
Brian Lawrence [guitar], Ted Williams [bass], Mike Smail [drums] equip themselves magnificently
and professionally crank out a youthful and devastating hurricane of glacial, sabbathoid-beat
downs, hard-spliced with frenzied swathes of gritty, Hellhammer Guitars.
This effortless melding of proto-sludge and churning, apocalyptic metal is something no
true doom aficionado can be without. And the annals of metal history may well need
to be re-wrought as the ubiquitous Hellhammer debut that is so zealously quoted
by both metal musicians and gibbering hacks alike, make it a gross injustice
that no one has previously mentioned these Dream Death demos in similarly reverential tones...
And I'd be very surprised if future Riff Warlocks don't get caught with their jammy fingers deep in
Dream Death's jar of doom.
On a final note: I actually found the gritty genesis of Dream Death to
be more compelling than the polished debut album "Journey Into Mystery", as for all "Back From The Dead's" lack
of finesse it concedes nothing in raw excitement, the infectious variety that is
generated by hungry young metallifucks, and the mind-blowing effect of this
collection could be no more effective even if it had been fired at point blank
range, shredding my skull amongst a murderous hailstorm of white-hot buckshot.
Fave tracks: 'Dream Death', 'The Elder Race', 'Back From The Dead', 'Bitterness & Hatred' [this
gloriously heavy grind, boldly tears down the walls of even the mightiest cathedral track, and I
genuinely feared that my head would come off it's rubbery neck hinge during a
dizzying head bang to this gigantor chuggage!].
For fans of Hellhammer, Candlemass, Trouble, Slayer, Sabbath -motherfucking doom!
STANCE FACTOR: MAXIMUM PITTSBURGH SLUDGE METAL STANCE
[According to Brian Lawrence himself Dream Death are planning to record more music with the initial
line-up, and I for one find this to be a wildly thrilling prospect]
jason
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GORILLA
"GIMME SOME...GORILLA" [CD - Beard of Stars ]
OH YEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! Here we have a small silver disc, WITH BIG, HAIRY RAWKE 'N ROLL WITHIN! The sophomore
album from the mighty, chest-beatin' Gorilla -hold on, I'm half-kraut, not English, forget the sophomore
shit, I don't ride ELEVATORS, and I don't wear sneakers... This is the SECOND and righteously flame-grilled
album from London's blazing POWER TRIO, Gorilla.
Some of you may well have been fortunate enough to have taken a ride on their first, eponymous
album, where the Gorilla mantra was ice clear: KEEP IT ANALOGUE, AND LOUDER THAN A ANGUS YOUNG FUZZZZZZ TSUNAMI! And
thank the monolithic Rock Cock of Wotan, the Norse god of hard-fucking and amplitude that
this Gorilla hasn't dropped a few pounds of adrenalized meat, as "Gimme some..." is guaranteed to kick
start your day like an Elephant's heart defibrillator on maximum wattage!
I liked the "S/T" allot, but that was a mere tantalising finger poke, when compared to
the elbow deep, greasy, knuckle fuck of 'Gimme some ..." It's a heap O' GOOD BlUE CHEER! This really is one
of those albums that smacks you up like a rubber hose fulla' fire water, and sends you doolally, where repetitive
screaming of YEAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, are some of it's many endearing side-effects.
Dig that title... Getting bored of indentikit band name followed by title, well check this
shit out... IT'S T'OTHER WAY ROUND, YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Do it mother-guvnor...whot cha listen' to? "Gimme
Some... Gorilla" Works for me -see, douche-pipe - other way round!!! Like, gimme some head, gimme
some Shock treatment, gimme some Foghat and gimme a crate of Holsten Pils, and while ya' at it, gimme
some fucking Gorilla! YEAHHHHHHH! [Told ya about the albums pungent side-effects].
One spends most of the day grooving to long-forgotten acid-rock and sometimes the digital
polish of thee moderne rock sounds a little anodyne, over-produced; generating more "MEH" than
"HELL-YEAH" when compared to the earthy, OTT fuzz-tronics of the late 60's early 70's, but not
this canny, metropolis dwelling simian... These polyester-hued, scum-rock lizards clearly
groove on the super-sounds of: Randy Holden, Josefus, Creepy John Thomas, Horse, T2, Mountain, Dark, Ten
Years After, Bang, Spooky Tooth, Grand Funk, Captain Beyond, Sir Lord Baltimore, Leafhound AND THE
GOD OF ALL FREAK-OUT G-TAR, TONY MCPHEE, BABY....
So it's a heady well of inspiration that Gorilla sup their sonic nutrients from... and for that reason
alone it makes me wanna give them all a deep and sensual bum kiss [well Sarah Jane anyhoo, Lorks, she so fine, make
Michaelangelo drop his spatula].
To my mind Gorilla are no weak-chinned retro dilettantes, and I truly believe they are hewn
from an impermeable rock of ages.
Album opener; the flame-burnin', fret-fuzz-fury of 'Just Wanna rock' is a sturdy example of how
much bastard fun "Gimme some..." is. There was I preparing my first mug of piping hot, Nut
Brown tea, where within mere Mono-trons of time, John Redfern's, Leslie West gone
tonto G-tar explosions got my legs into maximum shimmy stance, and I was pinwheeling a
round the kitchen like a Ltd Edition Keith Moon weeble, SEXY TUNE, with enough
six-string gumption to make a dead man twitch!
So not only do you get 9 tracks of pussy sweet rock and roll music, you also get excellent, drunken
email spelling; Rok Orl Night? I lyke et, Orl ryght! Orl fukyng rite!
Lest I forget, Sarah [Num-Nums!] Jane's over-driven, muscular, bass wah-wah groovings
have GOT to be heard to be believed... FAR FUCKING OUT, and for the remainder of the
album, Sweet Jane pushes that sweaty Rickenbacker so hard, I wouldn't be surprised
if we didn't hear the pitter patter of four-strung feet very soon!
Redfern's Les Paul tone would send shivers down a squid's spine... damnation, it's a three-way
fuzza-tron orgy! And in all honesty, Redfern, Jane and Darlington [they should do a
full-on Ash Ra Tempel space rock album with that very moniker RJD, nice!] keep the album in
high revs all the way, 1 through 9, a riotous album thankfully free of any troublesome
skid marks...
The most pleasing aspect of Gorilla number two ['smirk' number twos], is the gleeful usage of the
uber-prog, brain-machine... the B3 mellotron organ, whose sublime sonic ooze can be heard
on the utterly delightful, organ-shaded track ,'Vesuvius'... She-hite, when I first heard the the
intro I thunk, MAN, that sounds like, Sundial, and it does, BIG TIME, and if you own
Sundial's extraordinary 'No Way Out' vinyl, y'all know what high praise that is...
While this track eschews the generally furious tempo of the album, it is clearly the finest music Gorilla
have ever written -a devilish roast of earthy Randy California G-tar grindings with wonderfully
soothing B3 Gorillallotron frothiness which genuinely evokes the sublime head-trips of vintage
Moody blues, Brain Box, Hawkwind, Mountain etc...
Reason enough to believe that Gorilla are WAAAAAAAY beyond any narrow garage-psyche
rock parameters than have stymied so many other retro bands... Take whatever libations / pharmaceuticals that
work for you, dim the lights and let yourself be transported to a delirious THC hued-world were
Syd Barret, Donovan and Lewis Carrol reign supreme.
Redfern's voice is not good in the classic rock sense, but there's bad-bad, and there's
plain shite, fortunately he is neither, it's good-bad in a snotty, boozed-out wail that's perfectly
suited to the proto-punk, stoogeoid, 'The Who-not-by-numbers' Riff-fuzz that Gorilla do so
much better than anyone else, and Billy Darlington [now there's a title for the best kitchen
sink drama never made] plays the drums so fiendishly you can't help but wonder if recording
the album wasn't merely some strenuous form of Rock calisthenics, HE BE ONE
HEAVY DRUMMER, MAN!
Fuck all this bloated wordage... buy "Gimme some...Gorilla" and play it so loud, your eyes blend
into ocular blancmange!
Stand out tracks: 'Just Wanna Rock', 'Vesuvius', 'Oaken Mind' and 'Gimme Some Gorilla.'
STANCE FACTOR: MAXIMUM BALLS-OUT ALVIN LEE-STANCE
jason
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HIGH ON FIRE
"BLESSED BLACK WINGS" [ CD - Relapse ]
To my mind Matt Pike is a genuine guitar Avatar who's uncouth, barbaric approach to heavy music
has made for the most scabrous, and skull-fucking heavy metal of the modern era. High on Fire excel
at distilling all the Venom from all their obvious influences and generating a brutalising sound
that is unequivocally all High on Fire.
The previous H.O.F albums have all been uniformly excellent and to my mind are the
greatest fucking racket made in the last ten years, so as we come to High on Fire's
third .347 magnum opus, "Blessed Black Wings" -anticipation is at a murderous pitch...
On "Blessed Black Wings" Matt Pike brazenly rings the death knell for all chinless practitioners
of false gaymo-metal and other such musical blasphemies... So take heed O' ye of little
faith, not only has TRUE blood N'Guts metal never gone away, it remains our only genuine
outlaw music, and the most full-bore proponents of said genre are, High on Fire, so scramble to
the highest vantage point and scream out your allegiance to Matt Pike [Blitzkrieg Guitars/ Banshee Vox], Des
Kensel [Apocalyptic-Drums] Joe Preston [War-Bass]... as they are amongst us mere mortals
again with an album heavier than Agamemnon's Blood axe.
Fans of High on Fire got a thrilling taster of the new album with their thunderous
live version of 'To Cross The Bridge' on the recent
Relapse DVD, which immediately floored me like a cannonball avalanche, and the remainder
of this seismically heavy album does anything but disappoint, "Blessed Black Wings" has
exceeded my lofty expectations.
And while it is too early to say whether this album usurps
the corrosive, riff-grenade of "Surrounded By Thieves" or doom-tinged insanity of
'Art of Self defence', it is clearly a match in terms of Matt Pike's vigorous
riffage and H.O.F's infamous and downright frenzied rhythm section. But one
clear advance has to be the superlative production of Steve Albini, this is demonstratively
the best mix the band have had thus far, and their rock majesty hath been revealed
by Albini.
What remains a constant is the total lack of immediacy to their overwhelming music, High on
Fire's assault is analogous to Pin Head's box, since it requires considerable patience, not
to mention a perverse desire to decipher their blunt and devastating approach to metal but
with continued effort it will gleefully reveal it's manifold delights within, and then
it will quite literally TEAR YOUR SOUL APART!
Albini brings an abrasive and organic quality to heavy music, and H.O.F couldn't have asked for
a more effective helmsman. The one aspect, which is abundantly clear upon first listen is
that the overall sound of "Blessed Black Wings" is far thicker, and the chaotic lower
registers are fucking immense.
Opening track 'Devilution' lays down a furious heavy metal gauntlet with such genocidal intensity
it's reverberations shalt be felt on both sides of the equator, searing the earth
and toppling buildings with the grandiose wrath of a vengeful
Mechagodzilla, as the forceful, galloping drums of Des Kensel telegraph the holocaust ahead...
When suddenly the pendulous, gravitational riffage of Matt Pike engenders such a hell-cat, Les Paul blizzard on
the senses it is akin to having a murderous Sammo Hung smashing you repeatedly in the face with
a yard of rusty scaffolding!
You are quite literally beaten into submission by 'Devilution' and for the following 56 minutes
of cataclysmic heaviness you are High on Fire's bitch, unable to do anything but
cower under the musical pugilism generated by this turbulent power trio.
There are currently very few genuinely idiosyncratic guitarists in metal, most
either wallow in a trite, sloppy, Iommi-lite riff gloop, or bore you with shop soiled, Priest / Maiden
harmonics, but not Mr.Pike, his brutal iconoclasm runs it's way through each devastating
chord like DNA in bone marrow -Matt Pike is the Josef Mengele of extreme G-tar, and "Blessed Black Wings" is
the ultimate sonic Rorschach test, ergo: I was listening to 'Anointing of Seer' whilst
queueing in the post office and within seconds I found myself glaring at all disinterested, shiftless
idiots around me, when a deep, sickening revulsion for them spiked bile into my throat, until
I had an adrenalized urge to cleave out some soft bellied guts with a double-handed broad
sword, then mash their skeletons into bone meal with a hefty, meat-stained mace...er...H.O.F
just make me feel plain mental!
The music on this album assaults your senses with the terminal efficacy of the Ebola virus, organs
start to liquefy, soft tissues are painfully rent apart and your very life's essence weeps from
every sanguine orifice, "Blessed Black Wings" is replete with some of the most agonising
metal riffage ever committed to a digital format.
High on Fire's intensity is unyielding, as vast tonnages of unrestrained power-chords weigh
down brutally on your chest, the drums purge your ears and explode in your head as if the kit
itself were fashioned from Semtex and the sticks were wooden fuses, when Kensel strikes
those incendiary skins, the delicate, interlaced plates in your skull buckle under the
weight, but for me H.O.F's main genius is in being able to channel all this chaotic
tumult into a vastly entertaining music that screams to be heard live.
This is the kind of devastating, ballistic metal that veers deliriously close to musical
terrorism, and "Blessed Black Wings" is ripe with more sick grooves than a
corpse's vagina...
Be warned H.O.F have raised the bar so fucking high it couldn't be reached even if yer
name WAS Stretch Armstrong. Matt Pike, Des Kensel and Joe Preston forge a metal that
is so molten it could double as the earth's core! It is almost inconceivable to me that three
men can explode in so much fucking noise, as you genuinely feel at dizzying junctures
of "Blessed Black Wings" that you are no longer listening to music but
in the midst of a mighty battle, cowering pathetically against an oncoming
legion of pillaging, blood-mad Mongols.
I normally list standout tracks, but that would be a spurious endeavour this time as
the entire album is exceptional, frankly anyone who doesn't like this can't like
metal. A searing, brutal, heavy metal apocalypse. For fans of: Heavy Metal!!!
STANCE FACTOR: MAXIMUM BATTLE-AXE IN SKULL STANCE
jason
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HOGNOSE
"EL SOMBRERO" [ CD - Arclight Records ]
As I'm unfamiliar with these re-fried, bong warrior's first outing, "Long handle" I'll have to concern
myself with this noisy pig-sticker instead... With a fugly moniker like Hognose, equally
fragrant album title, 'El Sombrero' and lyrics like.... "she makes a full-time job of breakin' my balls" you
may get a gist of where these crimson-necked, whiskey soaked, Skynryd-in-overdrive, Honky Tonkers are
coming from...
Yup, y'all got it: Hognose do beefy, southern discomfort, "we don't take kindly to city folk
around here", bong load, G-tar grooves. Outside of the radder-than ass-fuck album opener, 'Weedbilly' [clue
to tha' brothers tunes is in tha title!] the first spin of "El Sombrero" left my cock decidedly
un-rocked... BUT HOLD YA HORSES, BUMNUTS! This be a slooooooooow burner, like a mess, a rock
gumbo! Y'all gotta simmer that fucker over a duration to let them spicy Les Paul juices stretch
out and tickle yo' ass, and like a full-on humdinger with yer compadres, it takes some tall, man beers
to get things into a state of full bluntal Nugity. And after said booze cans I got a fiery
groove on to these bellicose, Quick Draw-riff-Mcgraws's... and I can assure
thee, "El Sombrero" amounts to a heap O' good rockin.
I kinda' wanted to like em' when I noticed they had a song named after one of my favourite
actors, Warren 'Cock Fighter' Oates and happily I find that I do, as said track is replete
with a rowdy, Dirty Deeds, C.O.C rock out, muchas tasty, amigos!...
While Hognose fit snugly into the southern riff rock cauldron, with two fingers of, Raging
Slab, Huevos Rancheros, Karma to Burn, and C.O.C they clearly ooze their own bulldozing
identity as after all those spicy ingredients are forced through the meat grinder, Hognose churn
out a raucous blast of boozy, fuzzed-out, maximum THC, mountain man Boogie!
While the album never really usurps the kick ass momentum generated by the first two
tracks, 'Weedbilly' & 'Local Honey', especially since 'Weedbilly' swings with a suitably
infectious and uber 'YE-HAW' hook, nimble enough to kick start any shindig before
y'all can say 'Sweet Home...' And the quite sublime Huevos Rancheros-esque 'Local Honey' whose
title is apropos as it contains a riff sweeter 'n Angel pussy.
There is no dearth of mega-tone riffage on 'El Sombrero' especially the gutsy Gibson shimmy fleshing out
the uber stoner anthem, 'El Chamuco', and Hognose's heaviest track is the doom-tinged swamp
boogie, 'The First Song.'
Shane Herring's voice is suitably char-grilled as to give this outing more than enough credence and
lends these belligerent Weedbilly's some considerable roughshod gravitas. Hognose's
schtick makes for a consistently entertaining, volatile, beer N' nachos and hold
the cheese, Allman Bros, rock till y'all drop party album, and guitarist's Shane Herring and Roy
Todd Engram rip out these muscular foot stompers with some gritty, down home, G-tar pizazz.
When the London spring arrives and I can finally fire up the ol' BBQ on the back porch, I will
be havin' me a porcine frenzy with mile-high meat patties, double-sixers of
Holsten Pils and gleeful blastings of "El Sombrero>"
Hognose deliver the goods and fans of Raging Slab, Dixie Witch, Pride & Glory, Scissorfight will
want to kick some shit with 'El Sombrero', hell yes!
Quality production by Arclight impresario David Elizondo, but Tod Dylan's drums are somewhat
dwarfed by the protean guitar duo of Shane Herring and Roy Todd Engram, a minor quibble but
those drums needed to be turned up a notch, and last but by no means least kudos must go to
Sol Morris for laying down some unfussy, lead-bellied bass lines.
Album highlights: 'The locomotive', 'Weedbilly', the delightful
instrumental, 'Muffin' and the riff heavy, 'El Chamuco' [oh, yes, and hang loose for
the hidden track, the grungy,hemp dazed Floyd cover, 'Breathe' as it's a beauty].
STANCE FACTOR: MEDIUM 'WHO'S FOR RIBS? STANCE
jason
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KRUGER
"CATTLE TRUCK" [ CD - Ronald Reagan Records ]
Once upon a time Switzerland was famous for little else aside from "that" Orson Welles
quote and 'Celtic Frost', which to some might indeed seem as a paltry recommendation, but suddenly
and quite fortuitously another heavy band emerge, the splendidly named, Kruger, whose
second full-length, 'Cattle Truck' is currently worrying my speakers with an
impressive display of bravura, bass-heavy, chug-a-chug, thug-core riffage...
The album opener, 'Las Vegas' is a piece of shit' does little to endear me to them
as it is a derivative track bringing to mind pre-Leviathan Mastodon, without the percussive
excess but with all the generic, drawn-out, fashionista grind ala Cult of Luna, [who I personally
find wildly overrated] but the track is redeemed by a series of tightly coiled guitar
punches that perk up the so-so dynamics quite considerably.
After a noisy but slightly inauspicious start Kruger really fucking throw-down with the monstrous 8 minute
track, 'Speedometer' and while the vocalist still pitches his throaty, beer-growl somewhere betwixt the
Mastodon / Neurosis oeuvre this is where the band begin to carve out their own identity with their
impassioned, bank vault heavy infusion of Uprising-era guitar pulverisation's -and generate a
monstrous, head-nodding groove, where the sparkling Fredrik Nordstrom mix corals the Zeitgeist-y
Kruger sound into something genuinely compulsive and exciting to listen to...
While the Kruger schtick is most likely to appeal to the skin-faced, Relapse / Hydrahead 'post-whatever' crowd, there
is nonetheless a palpable, and threatening METAL engine within 'Cattle Truck' which won't alienate
uber-metal riff junkies such as myself.
The fun continues with 'I hate this band' which happily turns out to be a bogus claim as they
keep the behemoth riffs punchin', and again the band eschew any noise-core pretentions and
grind out a slammin' little Uffe Cederlund/Alex Hellid G-tar mosh-out... sexy!
So midway through 'Cattle Truck' all thoughts of the band being little more than yet another ISIS clone
are diminished by lashings & lashings of dense, bruising, Krug 'an roll guitar battering, and vocalist, Reno
really comes into his own here adding a powerful presence to the blisteringly heavy, 'Captain America.'
Kruger then up the ante with the splendidly riff engorged 'Yalta'. Good work, Ian & Margo (G-tar)!
The dearth of anything even approaching a guitar solo on a heavy album is always a bit of a
non-starter for me, but in this anomalous case, less is indeed more, as Kruger's potent embrocation
of brawny, low-geared, Entombed swagger, neatly tempered by lathe
precise, hardcore, muscle chords makes for an exhilarating listen, ideally suited for
late-night bench pressings or surviving the ardours of City travel.
The inclusion of a flaccid interpretation of Depeche Mode's iconic 'I Feel You' cover is a mite
baffling, but overall there is much high quality, bombastic music to recommend here.
Album closer, 'the drive run' reveals a more controlled and contemplative side to Kruger where
guitar thuggery is replaced by some lush, evocative sound textures reminiscent of 'Godspeed You Black Emperor' and
'A sun never set's-era Neurosis, which pleasingly ends the album on a subtle, yet engaging note.
Album highlights: 'Captain America' is replete with a super-heavy, propulsive chug-blast which will
induce much joyous head banging! 'I hate this band' rocks hard and Yalta is a
speaker mashing, G-tar fuck fight of grandiose proportions! SOLID! With each successive listen
of 'Cattle Truck' I found much to admire.
STANCE FACTOR MEDIUM-UPRISING STANCE
For fans of Entombed, Neurosis, Mastodon ["Remission"-era]
jason
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LAIR OF THE MINOTAUR
"CARNAGE" [ CD - Southern Lord ]
Donald James Barraca [bass], Larry Herweg [guitar] and Steven Rathbone [guitar / vocals / synth] are a
triumvirate of bellicose, Celtic Frost-worshipping musicians whose 8 tracks of blitzkrieg metal
is apt to appease many a be-leathered miscreant, whose idea of pleasure is to have his or
her timid ear bones beaten into whimpering submission by extreme Riff-Metal overkill -that
outside of High on Fire has only but a few peers.
The only legitimate way to be more metal than Lair of the Minotaur's devastating "Carnage" album would
be to have all the members of Judas Priest dipped in bronze... as this is unadulterated, old school, spike-fisted
metal, where the gloriously METAAAAAL!!! artwork, consisting of a profoundly homicidal Minotaur
brutally decapitating a Trojan is only usurped by the Panzer charge riffage recorded on
the actual disc.
L.O.T.M are truly a magnificent beast, and if you, like me, grew up gibbering deliriously
beneath the protean might of vintage Entombed, Celtic Frost, Black Sabbath and Fudge Tunnel etc, this
thunderbolt of molten metal will have you congratulating yourself for keeping the faith and
staying heavy, whilst all around you witless folk and faux-metal bands kowtow to the predicable
Relapse vernacular of shouty-shout-shout, obvious de-tuned break-down, and pointlessly convoluted
drumming! "ECH-ECH."
L.O.T.M are all about bazooka-loud bass, spine fracturing drums and guttural , bicep-thick Hellhammer
guitars played in crunching, Doom metal time.
Moments into the "so-metal it must be written by Ronnie James Dio-style bombast" of 'Wolf' you'll
realise your money is well spent, as along with Usurpers' intoxicating "Kill For Metal" and H.O.F's "Blessed
Black Wings" the metal song book has a new anthem, which whilst incorporating a healthy
dollop of irony, the track is nonetheless replete with murderous G-Tar riffage that crashes into your
flinching body with the splashy, bone-liquidising impact of a mercury-filled bullet. Besides, any
metal track that is pre-fixed by a Hammer horror-esque intonation of 'The Wolf', gets even more DIO horns
in my book...
But whereas the diminutive Ronald Mc Metal tends to weave a more flowery tapestry, L.O.T.M author a
brutal Homeric odyssey, where mythical behemoths do furious, sanguineous battle in
perilous, byzantine mazes, or crouching malevolently in a dank, shadowy, torch-lit ossuary, where
the murderous creature's hateful eyes patiently scours this Stygian domain for it's next
unsuspecting victim.
Fortunately vocalist, Steven Rathbone [please name your firstborn, Basil] eschews the excruciating
dullardy of screamo ranting and pitches a gutsy Tom G. Warrior roar that is guaranteed to
inflame the most jaded of hearts.His is the throaty bellow that outside of fronting a thunderous heavy metal band would also be
ideally be suited to that of a blood-mad gladiator moments from hacking his broadsword deep
into the flanks of a bruised and bloodied opponent.
Come on, how can you question the glistening metal pedigree of tracks entitled, 'Carnage Fucking Carnage' 'Demon
Serpent' 'Caravan of Blood Coated Rentaroi'??? amongst all the locomotive, sturm und drang -you also get a couple
of bona fide Doom metal, bludgeon-athons, with the crawling, serpentine grind of 'Lion Killer' which
follows in the tarry footsteps of doom misanthropists 'Grief' and 'Winter', stirring, head swinging
stuff indeed.
Followed by the 'Caravan of Blood Coated Rentauroi' and both times Rathbone's battle-ready guitar
tones are so mouth-wateringly charcoal black and fleshy that any gluttonous sludge-metal fan should
happily gorge themselves blind on L.O.T.M's unguent fare.
What I love about L.O.T.M is that outside of the untenable metalosity of the music I imagine that
the men behind this gleeful racket are unpretentious metallians whose only agenda is too fill the
listeners skull with brain damaging sonic frequencies, that encourage one to drink more
beer and head bang violently until your carotid artery juts out like a bloated conga eel.
At no point during 'Carnage' do you feel cheated as all 8 tracks deliver virile, unabashed
heavy metal thrills and there are sadly many other higher profile bands garnering much over-zealous
praise that don't have anywhere near the fortitude of 'Lair of the Minotaur's ballistic carnage
album'. Devastatingly aggressive war metal for the oncoming apocalypse.
For fans of Mistress, Celtic Frost, High on Fire, Entombed, Iron Monkey.
MAXIMUM GLADIATORIAL DEATH-BLOW STANCE.
jason
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