Drain S.T.H.
Horror Wrestling (The Enclave)
by Scott Hefflon
Cut & Paste Intro: I didn’t realize this was an all-female band until halfway through the review. No Lita-Ford-poses-nude-behind-a-guitar photo spreads in the CD booklet, and what self-respecting rock journalist (a contradiction in terms, I know) actually needs to read the flaccid bio when dealing with a band as descriptively powerful as Drain S.T.H.? I only dug into the sparse info source to find out where in Sweden they’re from (Stockholm), who else this talented producer (Adam Kuiman) has worked with (doesn’t say), and what the hell S.T.H. stands for (Stockholm international airport, as if that clears anything up).
Opening with a head-slamming riff, produced with a distinctly Eurometal crunch (think a cleaner, more rock Entombed guitar snarl), leading to layered, inhumanly processed vocals (I’m thinking Faith No More enunciation and the almost effeminate vocal darkness of Hollywood Vampire-era LA Guns), and a looping, total rock chorus droned almost apathetically, “I don’t mind/ I don’t care/ I can’t see the sky from here. What have you done?” Lyrics courtesy of Sjöholm, who shares penning chores with Axén. Both are top-notch. “Smile” opens with a wahing guitar and richly vacant vocals so similar to Facelift-era Alice in Chains, you realize how much you miss the heyday of the early Seattle dark grunge daze. When mainlining a steady stream was more important than streamlining for the mainstream.
Whether the vocals are seeping through clenched teeth, swallowed in frustration, or allowed to belt out, reaching futilely toward the cloudy heavens, vocalist Maria Sjöholm layers her pain beautifully, like the texture of multiple coats of paint. And beneath it all is the fat, rolling of bass, the steady firing of the drums (like a muscle car idling at a red light), and the rumbling-in-the-throat of a lion in the grass just outside the perimeter of a clearing. The pace of the songs on Horror Wrestling is consistently just slower than the beating of a heart, thus having a relaxing effect. Perfect music to accompany an isolated, nighttime contemplation session, whether it be atop a roof looking down upon the scurrying figures who never look up, or atop a hill in the middle of a field, starring up at the stars wondering how you let yourself get so caught up in the human rat race. Thoughtful and relaxing, without being a mind-laxative, Drain S.T.H. draw heavily from the dark, cold, moody sounds (it’s a climate thing, I’d guess) of pre-raped Seattle and dig deep into themselves to provide what I hope is another wave of lush, honest hard rock. Far from the corruption of the greedy music biz, Drain S.T.H. built upon a glowing inner strength, the turmoil of being self-aware without being the least self-conscious. Now it’s just a matter of whether they can withstand the buffeting force of popularization and media over-hype – the true blood-sucking forces of the universe.
