Clawfinger
(TMC)
by Scott Hefflon
Clawfinger is a wild hybrid of metal, rap, and screwin’ around in the studio. But before you groan and move on cuz ya finally got that fuckin’ “I’m The Man” song out of yer head, allow me to say Clawfinger have Faith No More tendencies, not to mention the ability to blend dorky pop choruses with samples, scratches, Meshuggah-ish riffs, and more stompin’ and rompin’ then, um, well, a lot of bands. I still have ’93’s Deaf Dumb Blind (Metal Blade) in my personal fave pile with such timeless wonders as Slayer’s Reign in Blood, Strapping Young Lad’s Heavy as a Really Heavy Thing, Clutch’s Transnational Speedway League…, and so forth. And this self-titled record, even after only a few listens, is better than Deaf Dumb Blind. Seeing as most of us, even die-hard fans (ya know, the ones that buy albums, imports, and pay ungodly prices for mail-order simply cuz they need an album) never got that middle record, Use Your Brain, nor the first EP I hear is out there somewhere, this is a piece to add to your collection immediately.
Clawfinger have the uncanny ability to mix simple, down-to-Earth lyrics (that’d mean trite if I were talkin’ ’bout anyone else – think Fear Factory stage banter or when Sepultura yells “What goes around comes around” as if it’s really profound – metalheads just aren’t the brightest bulbs, no matter what the press kits claim) from both larger-than-life metal and I’m-so-fuckin’-bad rap, yet you cut it slack cuz it seems to work. While Grip, Inc. (and a slew of others, natch) rant about going crazy, being killers on the loose, and all that happy horseshit, hell, I can’t stop thinking how bad-ass I thought Metal Church’s “Ton of Bricks” was when I was, like, younger. “My world will not cave in/I will fight and I will win/I hear the time bomb begin to click/I’ll hit you like a ton of bricks.” Something like that (it’s on vinyl and I ain’t that curious, OK?). Yet Clawfinger can also do choppy rhythms and all that start/stop stuff like few others. Borderline uncomfortable (like Meshuggah, the best of the best when it comes to that stuff), these are songs you’ll stumble to, or stutter and false-start if you try to beat the beat on a table or fist-bang, if you’re so inclined to do that kinda thing. So there’s a mixture of respect for the songwriters, the musicianship, not to mention the irrational desire to shout pretty dumb lyrics at the top of your lungs along with the guys. (They might not be dumb, but rigid rhyming often sounds contrived, vague [“open to listener interpretation” I believe they call it], and silly.) Another change this time out is that Zak sings. As in, like, powerful verses and choruses. Good stuff, too. Personal favorites include the guitar shuffle of “Nobody Knows” (combined with a sing-along Sugar Ray coulda written if they’d stop posing for Teen Beat), the Faith No More-ish “Not Even You” about breaking up cuz “Nobody loves me like I do… Nobody needs me the way I do… Nobody knows what I’m going through…,” each verse ending with the vehement “Not even you!” Clawfinger has a way of hitting pro-me, fuck-you sentiments, so if you have issues with people climbing in your shit, making demands, telling you what you should and shouldn’t do and feel, this is the band for you. A proud swagger, a self-assured strut through various topics and musical styles, Clawfinger is a record that once you connect with it, will be a constant companion, even when everyone else around you sucks.
(106 West 32nd St. 3rd Fl. New York, NY 10001)
