W.O.C.C.

Human Gene Therapy
by Scott Hefflon

What do you get when you blend sensuously dark, Alice in Chains-esque vocals with heavy groove bass, trippy/funky guitars, and a funky-ass drummer? A buzz. And that’s what W.O.C.C. (the thankfully shortened version of World of Concentric Circles) is – a really nice headrush. While a few of the songs stumble through that band-struggling-to-finding-themselves syndrome, hell, they are a pretty new band, so I’ll cut ’em some slack. Far be it from me to criticize a young band for trying to incorporate the four member’s obviously diverse influences into one cohesive sound… I’m sorry, my nose just grew a few inches on that one. W.O.C.C. are at their best when they don’t try so hard, when the just let the energy flow, and jam on a rock groove hard, mean, aggressive, and passionate. While I really dug the singing-through-clenched-teeth, word swallowing style of “Mere Existence” and “Maggots,” I wished it would open up by the last song, “How Psychic.”

While saying an unsigned band reminds you of Alice in Chains is probably a nail in the coffin, I refer to the best elements of Facelift and Dirt as reference points. The singer can sing, the players can play, and all they need now is to ditch the pleasant cruise control songs, drop the fucker into overdrive, and open the engine up on the long stretch.