Labels: Dropping Like Flies
Review by: Alex Deller
Good grief, a handmade brown paper sleeve, fastened with that bastion of primary school papercraft the butterfly clip which isn’t, and I repeat isn’t an emo record? What is the world coming to? Will the next indie rock LP I buy be bedecked with pictures of mutilated corpses just to further skew my poor preconceptions?
So stoner rock would appear to be an appropriate enough tag but I don’t know if these folks would really appreciate it: after all, I don’t know if they are stoners, but I sure as hell do know that they ROCK, oh yes. Albeit, it has to be said, very fucking slowly, each track a dirge-like instrumental akin to Earth, Sleep or the Melvins, grinding, churning, dark and hideously oppressive, though certainly with no shortage of monstrous grooves. Plenty of ominous feedback and languid drumming, bassplaying like the words being chiselled into your fucking tombstone and absolutely no happy head-bobbing bounciness to be had whatsoever. Ace!