Showing posts with label Sludge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sludge. Show all posts

Thursday, June 25, 2015

Superjoint Ritual - The Introvert


0:21 mark.

As Pantera, one of the biggest metal bands of the 90's started having some internal issues following a cancelled European tour at the end of 2001, Phillip H. Anselmo returned to several of his numerous side projects, Down and a band that he had formed in 1993 with Joe Fazzio, Jimmy Bower and Kevin Bond, Superjoint Ritual. Billed as a hardcore band, which was supposed to take the listener back to the days of early Agnostic Front and Slayer, Use Once and Destroy was released in 2002, although the bulk of the material is culled from the bands 1995 and 1997 demos.

From minute one, SJR developed a reputation for their live shows, but not the kind you might expect from an Anselmo fronted vehicle. The vocalist became notorious for stopping the show because the crowd was not "going off" sufficiently. Either the pit wasn't wild enough or there weren't enough stage divers or crowd surfers or all of the above. Anselmo would stop mid song and proclaim that if that was all you got, they were going to pack it in. In addition to pausing mid song to incite further moshing, he would also call out anyone in the back who happened to have their arms crossed or wasn't into it, calling their heterosexuality into question. It is unknown if Phil's threats were tongue in cheek or serious, but to my knowledge the band never actually left mid set.

SJR toured several times between 2002-2004 including a headlining run with Morbid Angel, Danzig's Blackest of the Black tour and a main stage appearance on Ozzfest, opening for Slayer, Judas Priest and Black Sabbath. After releasing their second record A Lethal Dose of American Hatred, Phil's stage antics seemed more and more drug addled which was even more apparent during interviews. In 2004 during a show at New York's famous CBGB's club, he seemed to altogether forget whole verses in some songs. This was later explained by Phil as a side effect of the large amount of pain medication he was taking prior to having an operation on his spine in 2005.

Regardless of the drugs or antagonistic banter, the music speaks for itself. Hard as nails riffs that slam back and fourth between fast thrash riffs and blast beats to neck-breakingly slow sludge riffs and hardcore stomps that leave a trail of crushed skulls in their path. And no matter what can be said about their live set, the recorded material is an aural assault delivered like a continuous curb stomp from a skinhead parade. Phil's attempt at time warping his audience to the depths of a abandoned squat on New York's lower east side circa 1982 was a bit of a miss however, due to their fan base consisting of mostly Pantera faithful. Perhaps a tour with bands who weren't just a who's who of former Pantera tourmates (Morbid Angel, Dez Fafara etc.) might have sparked interest from a more diverse group of people.

The band recently reconvened sans Hank Williams III (scheduling conflicts) and Joe Fazio, and are forging ahead under the moniker Superjoint, presumably for legal reasons. Given Phil's mostly sober state these days (at least no heroin or painkillers), their upcoming tour dates should snap a bunch of necks and chants of SUPERJOINT SUPERJOINT SUPERJOINT will be heard echoing from clubs all over the northeast. 


Wednesday, April 1, 2015

Acid Bath - Paegan Love Song


Riff mark: oh man just get a load of it all at the beginning



Best of luck finding another band anywhere who can debut two 70-minute (Note: secret track for this one bumps it up roughly 17 minutes) records back-to-back with such poise, perfection, and poetry. Paegan Terrorism Tactics is the exact follow-up you feared would ruin When the Kite String Pops yet didn’t. Admittedly, it’s less-recklessly structured, seeming to know when to hush and lull rather than thrash and seize. Dax, the serpent king, with his skin-bound bible of tongue-twisted murder gospels, gleams in sheen black velvety funeral pipes more than the previous record, crooning cleanly because it is required to disarm you. For all my snake skin, he’s the best front man you’ve never heard. Fingers aren’t pressed too hard to lips for headbangers like opener Paegan Love Song (a lyricist’s wet-dream) and New Corpse, but the honest-to-rot-ness beauts just bloom from ugly like Graveflower, this album’s version of Scream of the Butterfly, a beating, deliberate, scarring box-cutter, six minutes of funeral hurt. New Death Sensation and Dead Girl just leave a few instruments behind at the wake and play whatever is found at the casket to get by, drifting, drowning, and softly waving goodbye to a town and home state that seems to loudly parade one’s passing with brass. Then a car accident (not drugs, not a wife) happened and the band split. So it goes: two forgotten studio relics and a pile of demos and bootlegs. Super-bizarre album painting by Dr. Jack.

Update 4/3: Of all the bands posted on our blog this is the first one whose videos are removed from Youtube due to copyright laws. So, have a bootlegged live rendition instead.

Sunday, February 22, 2015

Harvey Milk - Death Goes To The Winner


1:38 mark.

23 years is a long time, for some like Creston Spiers & company, that's how long they have been playing music. For others, like a few reading this for example, it will be how long Harvey Milk has existed before you heard their music. I myself, did not hear of them until 2009, the year after Life...The Best Game In Town was released.

Describing the record or even the band is trying, because they don't fit into conventional genres very well, it's like trying to hammer a triangle shaped peg into a round hole. This record touches on sludge, hard rock, punk, acoustic singer/song writer weirdness and pop all rolled together into a dripping southern barbecue sandwich of sound. Thunderous drumming can be heard throughout and is very much a driving force behind a lot of the songs. The band makes excellent use of pauses and other quiet passages, letting the last bit of a riff ring out until it fades completely, before crashing back in with another monolithic dirge. The record also features an impressive take on "We Destroy The Family" by LA's FEAR.

The band or at least singer Creston Spiers believes that this is their worst record. However, many fans, critics and myself strongly disagree. I feel as though I am failing to describe how great this band truly is, however in a few searches of the internet, most other reviewers have the same problem. The music speaks for itself and ultimately that is what is most important. Check out the links below to let the music speak to you.

"I am alive and it's good to be alive"

Monday, February 9, 2015

Dystopia - Leaning With Intent To Fall


4:17 mark.

Everyone has experienced that moment in their life when things get too real. That first time you watch Requiem For A Dream for example, or maybe that moment when you realize you aren't a kid anymore. The first time I heard Dystopia is one of those moments in my life. This eponymous release just so happened to be their last, and the first I had heard of them unfortunately. Wanting to make up for lost time, I dove right in.

What happened over the next 33 minutes was rather unsettling, and a bit unnerving as well. The record immediately set the tone with a sampled monologue by Eckhart Tolle, ranting on about how mankind continually poisons the present by looking too far into the future. That present suffering will some day pay big dividends, if we can just make it through until then.

For some this mindset either works for them or they fake it and self medicate, and then there are people who just self medicate. The particular track I have chosen begins with a sample of a heroin addict explaining his habit to an unidentified person. The man explains how as his addiction progressed, his money ran out, his friends money ran out and then he ran out of friends. Singer Dino Sommese growls and wails, vocal chords throbbing with anger. Some might say the lyrics are a bit insensitive towards the disease of addiction, and that may be true.

But to me, it sounds like grief. Words pouring forth in frustration and sorrow at the body laid out in front of him, either on a morgue slab, an open casket or maybe even the living room floor. The pain of not being able to save someone who didn't want to be saved. You cannot help someone who does not want to be helped. This is a horrible truth and this record is chocked full of horrible truth.

Thursday, November 13, 2014

Seven Sisters of Sleep - Almighty Black Talons


1:36 mark.

The concept of being crushed to death is not the most appealing way one could imagine to die, to be sure. Why you would want to up the ante so to speak is beyond rational thought, but being crushed to death BY A MOUNTAIN OF LOOSE ROCK is what you can expect for the next 3 minutes and 23 seconds.

An endless avalanche of limestone, pouring over your body. Suffocating clouds of dust fill your lungs as your body is constricted ever tighter as the pile grows in size to mammoth proportions. Joints begin to shudder and bones splinter in the vice of earth's grip, your body being slowly returned to its creator.

With a final gasp, the last of the air escapes your contracted lungs and your skull is compacted to dust. Your remaining organs are squeezed out through your neck like a tube of toothpaste and the circle of life is complete.

Listen to Seven Sisters of Sleep/Children of God Split
Listen to Seven Sisters of Sleep - Opium Morals LP

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

The Melvins - Joan of Arc

0:45 mark.

Moss in the morning may refer to any number of things, who really knows. 

My theory is that it is a reference to Buzz Osbourne waking up in an abandoned building, shaking the bugs out of the fuzz mop attached to his head and lighting a 3 foot long joint rolled in newspaper and unleashing a cloud of smoke that can be seen from space. 

Hyperbole? Maybe, but don't come crying to me when you're in traction after being run down by a hemp powered 1960 VW van with a shirtless Mr Osbourne hanging from the window screaming MOSS IN THE MORNING MIGHT BE WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!