REVIEW: GURT / LIMB - SPLIT ROAST

I don’t always review albums song by song, but when I do, it’s usually a Witch Hunter Records release. The newest album from the DIY label based in the UK is a truly collaborative effort from two filthy sludge bands with varying approaches to the subgenre. On this split EP, both bands include, in order, one new original song, a cover of their choosing, and a cover of a song by the other band sharing the split. I absolutely love this approach, as it invites some playful competition and camaraderie as well. Here are my thoughts on each song:

GURT

1) Sophisticate - Gurt start the hunting party with a throbbing rhythm and a thick, mucky sound that invokes Slabdragger and the bluesy flourishes and brawny chugging of late-career Pantera. Take old Chicago electric blues, channel it through an Orange amp, then dip it in hot tar and vulture feathers. The vocals from Growth/Gareth Kelly sound like the crusty howls of a swampland degenerate from a Cormac McCarthy novel.

2) Psycho Killer - Yep, a Talking Heads cover. There’s the initial, beard-growing bass tone from Spice/David Blakemore, then the novelty of hearing David Byrne’s voice replaced by the caustic roar of a gutter demon. Parts of the song feel a bit rigid (the fa-fa-fas don’t work quite as well as the ay-ay-ays, for those  familiar with the moments of non-lyrical vocals), but the last minute of sprawling, trippy rock is totally inspired, and Gurt own this song and make it their own monster.

3) Gift of the Sun - Covering the title track of the last Limb EP, Gurt extend the psychedelic rock with shades of Church of Misery’s quietest moments, and then rips a hole in the earth’s crust with a riff that could summon Cthulhu for its turn at the hookah. This song is seriously, supernaturally heavy.

LIMB

1) Plaguedoctor - Groovy sludge that’s closer to stoner metal with its hallucinogenic bounce, like Electric Wizard without the occult, just a perpetually loaded bong and a bathtub full of homemade swill. Great song, catchy as hell is hot. Rob Hoey’s vocals remind me of LG Petrov from Entombed, if his throat was shredded from acid tab paper cuts.

2) Son and Daughter - Covering a supremely heavy Queen song from their debut album, Limb explore gender roles with a strong, Sabbath stomp. I was expecting some harmonica to join the fray, as this song feels like it’s dressed up in a denim jacket with fringe. They cut the hacky synth effects that plague the original and trim it down to basics, resulting in awesome throwback heavy rock with raw-doggin’ attitude.

3) Soapfeast - Choosing a Gurt song from another split, the shared EP with Dopefight, Limb soak in the joys of profanity and all its unexpected combinations, as the vocals are the most diseased on the EP as they chant the mantra “you really don’t give a cunting fuck.” The song itself has a surprisingly low-key, smoke-a-spliff-in-the-van’s-back-seat energy, apart from one dangerously bombastic release of fury.

In summary, I had a blast with this entire release. Sludge is often considered one of the more misanthropic genres, riddled with tales of addiction and hatred and self-loathing. But on Split Roast, Gurt and Limb both scoop their sloppy, delicious gruel onto the listener’s plate and growl with a grin, “Eat up, you cunting fuck.” And that’s music to my ears.

Listen to Gurt and Limb over here, where Witch Hunter Records always makes the albums available as a “Name your price” download. Then buy the CD, which is made with a completely DIY mentality, and features artwork from the bands:  http://witchhunterrecords.bandcamp.com/album/split-roast

Add Gurt here on Facebook, and follow their swampy reign:  https://www.facebook.com/GURTsludge

And do the same for Limb, while convincing them to record the Queen epic “The Prophet’s Song” in the future:  https://www.facebook.com/LimbTheBand

REVIEW: SEALCLUBBER - STICKY RIVER

I’m gonna go out on a flimsy limb and guess that the seal this band threatens to club (jokingly, they revealed in a recent interview), is the semi-aquatic marine mammal and not the singer of “Kiss from a Rose.” Both acts are illegal, but the imagery here is important. Sealclubber are from Black Country, UK, which to an ignorant American like me sounds exactly like what I picture Cormac McCarthy novel landscapes look like: Brutal deserts, harsh temperatures, and unforgiving rain droughts. After some investigation it’s totally the opposite of some barren cowboy wasteland and is one of the first heavily industrialized areas of Britain.

The idea of the ground covered in black soot and the air thick with gaseous pollution totally makes sense when you hear this band’s music, though. On their two-song debut EP, Sticky River, Sealclubber dips crust punk in hot tar and drags sludge through toxic, black water populated with fanged, mutated fish. There is nothing manufactured about this music and it doesn’t fit perfectly in any mold, but it’s deformed, disgruntled, and ready to throw you into the gears of whatever machine will pulverise your bones the quickest.

“Losing a Fighting Battle” opens the show with harmonized guitars before diving through a landfill wall of garbage and discarded rotting pets and blasting into a greasy crust punk riff. The guitar parts groove with inspired flourishes that invoke dusty rock’n’roll and swampy sludge that would fit in the Savannah, GA scene. The heaviest moments remind me of The Abominable Iron Sloth if they grew up listening to Cro-Mags, but with less predictable structure. Simon Blewitt’s vocals are husky, harsh, and could give a colony of seals cardiac arrest, making them easier to subsequently club.

“Pissing in an Open Wound,” besides being at least mildly uncomfortable for the recipient of the urine, is also a noisy little patchwork of twisting post-metal, nasty knuckle-bruising punk rock, and the same black-water sludge appearing in the first track. Blewitt’s vocals drop an octave as his growl guides the song into darker territory and the band’s second Simon (Ingram) provides stand-out drumming as the song writhes riff to riff. In the most discordant sections of the song it sounds like the guitars are being played like a cello with a bonesaw, and that someone could step into one of these songs and drown in the muck.

This is a great teaser from a new band that likely doesn’t hate seals with enough zeal to club them, but will settle for clubbing eardrums instead. If you follow this blog you’re familiar with my label-crush on Witch Hunter Records, and this is another example why. Each band on their roster flashes originality, ugliness, and intensity, and none of them feel like clones created to fill a need. Sealclubber don’t care if you’re offended, and luckily I’m only offended by uninspired music. This nasty slab of scuzzy sludge is so good even the most hardcore seals would wear their logo as a backpatch.

Sticky River releases on August 2nd, but go listen to it now over at Bandcamp: http://sealclubber.bandcamp.com/music

And follow them on Facebook for news on merch and gigs:  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Sealclubber/473306152706632

REVIEW: CONFINE - SETTING FIRE TO THE WESTERN HEMISPHERE

Take a breath before you listen to Setting Fire to the Western Hemisphere, because it’s the last time you’ll taste air for almost eight minutes. Depending on where you live, that could be a good thing. Here in Brooklyn the air tastes like old deli meat, diesel fumes, and sun-baked dog shit.

Written and recorded in a span of four days (that probably saw black clouds raining rusty nails and suicidal stock market traders onto the roof of their UK recording compound), Confine assault listeners with a relentless blast of grinding powerviolence that strips extreme music down to the bare essentials: Loud and heavy. I’ve never seen a picture of drummer Rich Speakman, but with his gatling gun fills I’m guessing his arms and legs have bionic components. The riffs may share DNA with the dirtiest strands of punk, but Confine are to punk what salamanders are to Komodo Dragons. If this music bit you the bacteria would kill you within the hour.

While most of the album feels like the blur of a hollow-tipped bullet racing towards its target, there’s also the drum’n’vox breakdown transitioning into murky hardcore of “Perception,” the filthy sludge intro of “Abstraction,” and the queasy roar of “Formation and Transformation,” my personal favorite track that feels like it’s high on white phosphorus. But the band excels at grind, and cuts the oxygen supply while Chris Reese siphons just enough air to peel the skin from inside his throat with possessed shrieks that bring to mind Todd Jones of Nails. The only song that didn’t work for me was “Legacy,” with its jarring stop-and-start rhythm. This is still a vicious release from Witch Hunter Records, and would be perfect for a grindcore picnic with a portable stereo, accompanied by Napalm Death and Full of Hell LPs in the picnic basket. It’s officially summer here in the states now, so I hope I’m not the only one having grindcore picnics.

Listen to Setting Fire to the Western Hemisphere over on Bandcamp here:  http://confine.bandcamp.com/

And follow Confine on Facebook for news and merch:  https://www.facebook.com/confinegrind

REVIEW: WRAITHS - EP 2012

So Wraiths call themselves “hell metal,” and despite the unreliable nature of most self-applied monikers this is actually pretty god damn apt. I would be tempted to substitute “hardcore” for metal, but when it’s this heavy and bruising that’s me just mincing words and being a genre-humping elitist douche. While they’re from the UK, Wraiths’ sound exists somewhere in the combined headspace of Travis Bickle and Richard Ramirez, mixing the horrors of urban isolation and suicidal Satanism in a bucket of bleach, ammonia, and goat blood, resulting in lethal fumes and grotesque hallucinations.

Their 5 song EP is completely dedicated to creating a mood of total hopelessness. These songs are the sounds of life hitting a dead end. If you’re looking for music that soars across the whole kingdom of emotion you’re in the wrong neighborhood, pal. There’s no triumph or love or positivity here, just riffs that are down-tuned, punishing, and blackened with gutter grime. A lot of the credit for the convincing unpleasantness can be attributed to Rae Robinson’s chilling roar, which seems genuinely tortured and resembles Sammy Duet’s supporting vocal work from Acid Bath/Goatwhore when he reaches into the higher registers.

Outside of crust punk bursts in “Black Vultures” and “Monolith,” most of the EP lurches forward at a mid-tempo stomp, a pace matching the somber tone crafted throughout. Despite the overwhelming bleakness there’s still a lot of texture here, from the gang-shouting on “Pyramid Head” to an audio clip from Devil’s Rejects that confirms that Wraiths’ music is here to do the devil’s work. Oh, I should also mention that this may qualify as a concept album, as it seems to follow the same character’s descent into violent vengeance as he pursues a future, following his likely suicide, as a demon in Satan’s horde. Maybe I’m incorrectly analyzing the lyrics, but I have a feeling when the words “I can’t wait to fucking die” are screamed over a sledgehammer of distortion it’s entirely literal. I guess it’s possible he means “die” in the Shakespearean way, as in having a totally killer orgasm, but this EP seems to enjoy shouting fuck more than actually fucking. What can I say, depression sucks.

But these songs, despite their themes, will push depression aside and invigorate fans of loud, ugly music. Nothing makes you want to punch God right in his/her/its face more than Wraiths’ bludgeoning attack. This is another raw, uncompromising release from Witch Hunter Records for any fan of music with a black heart and a mean streak. Also, it looks like they borrowed Slayer’s logo for a little while, with promises to return it as good as new. But after hearing this EP I know that when they give it back it will be burnt like a Norwegian church, slick with new blood, and stink like an unearthed prostitute. Such is the danger when making logo-swap deals with Wraiths.

Listen to this nasty slab of hell metal over yonder:  http://witchhunterrecords.bandcamp.com/album/wraiths-ep-2012

And “Join the Pre-Order” by grabbing one of these bad ass T-Shirt/Tape bundles:  http://witchhunterrecords.bigcartel.com/product/wraiths-ep-2012-tape-t-shirt-pre-order

REVIEW: KORESH - CHUMP

I judge books by their covers all the time. Albums too. Luke Drozd’s cover art for Koresh’s new EP Chump perfectly captures the music’s brutal, impish mania, with rage-possessed unicorns dueling for unknown reasons, but probably for something ultra-important, like to impress a nearby unicorn chick who totally digs blood-slicked horns, ‘cause really, who doesn’t? Koresh, who have been churning stomachs with punk-infused sludge for a decade now in London, kick out ugly, nasty tunes that smirk at you the whole time if you’re in on the joke. And the music ain’t the joke.

This release from Witch Hunter and Withered Hand Records, a follow-up to 2010's excellent Crippledriver, crackles with the reckless punk energy of The Stooges or Junkyard-era work by The Birthday Party while dishing out crusty sludge overdosing on groove and grit. The Paul Newell/Donny Hopkins vocal tandem reminds me of Weedeater’s Dave “Dixie” Collins, if his vocal cords were grafted with cells from Nocturno Culto’s throat. There is definitely a sense of fun that permeates Chump, from the celebratory “woo!” in “Straight Edge Till Midnight” to the hilarious audio clip from American Juggalo opening “Wogan” to the T-shirt worthy song title “Adolf Hipster.” Also, “You Can Call Me Gaahl” is my favorite title parody since Carcass’ “Keep On Rotting In the Free World.” Koresh, named after the Branch Davidian leader involved with the infamous Waco incident, share a twisted sense of humor that’s absolutely on my wavelength. You know the friend you can send any joke to, no matter how offensive and reprehensible? Yeah, that’s Koresh. This music is like laughter at a funeral, the type of chuckling that’s contagious and soon overtakes the crowd of mourners.

“Cheer Up Glasgow” shows Koresh at their most bleak, offering tortured doom until it blasts into hardcore punk and a stoned groove that brings to mind the slimy tempo shifts of Eyehategod’s In the Name of Suffering. Koresh crash into jagged noise-rock territory in “Bin Juice,” ripping worlds apart with catchy, spastic riffs that skip gentle head-nodding and go straight to tearing your own head off and tossing it in the air in celebration. The bass-heavy rock of “Shitbird” seems a bit rigid and lifeless compared to the rest of the album, but the final minute still slithers to awesomeness thanks to a killer bass line. Chump is the soundtrack of a bender destined to go bad, the sort of party where hundreds of laws are shattered and at least one person loses a limb. Then years later, when the traumatized partyers break vows to never speak of that night again, everyone admits that secretly, despite the debauchery and limb-loss, it was the best party they ever experienced. Koresh is not polite. They will make fun of your mom, even after you tell her she’s dead. But the joke will get you laughing, and their music will make you swear off civility.

Listen to Crush now and order an awesome CD/Shirt bundle over here:  http://witchhunterrecords.bigcartel.com/product/koresh-chump-cd-and-t-shirt-bundle

And check out the Koresh website for more information:  http://straightedgetillmidnight.blogspot.com/

REVIEW: END REIGN - SUICIDE COLLECTION

I did some quick research on Durham, UK in preparation for this review of End Reign’s Suicide Collection, featuring the band's compiled releases over the last several years, and was greeted with a ton of tourist information regarding lovely coastal strolls and picturesque castles. I did, however, also come across a nearby mining museum appropriately called Killhope. This is where I imagine End Reign perform their brand of crusty, dark hardcore; deep in the dusky, dusty bowels of a subterranean labyrinth savaged of its precious metal and left dry, now just a series of cold tunnels waiting to implode under the weight of the earth above. I can safely say the music contained in Suicide Collection is heavier than all those layers of rock and soil above the mine. I won’t say that being in an End Reign mosh pit is more dangerous than being a 19th century lead miner, but the two could be a draw.

Witch Hunter Records has put Suicide Collection together in preparation for a new LP from End Reign expected later this year. The track listing is chronological, starting with the newest tracks first. The opener, “Sacrifice,” is a nasty cut of blackened crust and offers a sneak peak of their new material as the sole demo from the upcoming record. It’s manic and razor-sharp and single-handedly creates buzz on its own merit. The rest of the album, gathered from self-released demos, split albums, and EPs, is consistently awesome, proving that End Reign is not some flash-in-the-pan hardcore group lucky enough to hop on the hype train. Release to release, the material is reliably ornery and absolutely bruising. This music will never, ever wake up on the right side of the bed, and it’s very interested in sharing it’s bad mood with you as loudly as possible. If you’re like me, you’re happiest when you’re listening to others in a bad mood.

Other highlights include the sludgy re-recording of “Release the Wolves,” the versatile ripper “Azrael,” and my personal favorite, “Dream Eater.” Starting with a clean guitar intro that lures the listener into an apocalyptic doom riff, “Dream Eater” mutates into a d-beat thrasher before settling back into a grimy hardcore stomp. When End Reign play at their fastest they remind me of Young and in the Way, another group of misanthropes who make blisteringly heavy music. End Reign leans more into the hardcore camp than punk however, with fist-pumping tempo shifts and chugging breakdowns joining the crusty fray, and use a wider variety of stylistic approaches to shape their songs. Occasionally a riff overstays its welcome (like in “Horror” and “The Freeze”) but even these songs finish strongly after they splinter off into faster paced directions. Geoff Cairns’ vocals sound like they have been scraped raw and now only pure, primal rage remains. You can’t teach or fake the sort of passion on these songs, they feel totally, and terrifyingly, genuine.

I’ll be impatiently waiting for the new End Reign LP to surface, listening to Suicide Collection and urging others to do the same. This collection makes you feel grimier than the black soot and mud covering the original Killhope miners. Forget oil, this music is the real black gold worth digging for.

Check out their entire discography here:  http://end-reign.bandcamp.com/

Pre-order the Suicide Collection tape and keep track of the upcoming LP over at Witch Hunter Records:  http://witchhunterrecords.bigcartel.com/product/end-reign-suicide-collection-tape