by Brian Varney
Metalled-up turbo-punk, the obvious template for which is Motörhead. The singer’s probably late-20s/early-30s but wants to sound like Lemmy at 55 and is willing to snort speed off the blade of a Bowie knife until he accomplishes said goal. The rest of the band plays what is essentially a high-speed, high-energy version of rockabilly with just enough guitar wankery to letcha know they’ve got metal chops. Still, I imagine this appealing mostly to the hard rock-inclined segment of the Estrus/Crypt garage-punk crowd, the folks who love both The Oblivians and Supersuckers. Flamethrower are the kind of band whose idea of songwriting dynamics is to have one guitarist start out a song by playing a riff for a few bars before having the other guitarist join in by playing the same riff. If this kinda “no bullshit” approach to songwriting excites you, delights await you within. The 16 songs are gone in a flash, a striking moment jutting occasionally from the dervish, but only for a moment before it’s gone, leaving only cigarette butts and broken beer bottles as proof that it was here in the first place.
(PO Box 470153 San Francisco, CA 94147)