Too bad I like grind as much as I like vomiting and blowing diarrhea out my ass at the same time, with my dick in a blender and my head in a trash compactor.
Yeah, they’re one of “those bands.” They wear eyeliner, have moppy hair, and sing all pussy over kinda heavy guitars, and people probably call them “metal.”
In the fertile middleground between synthpop and EBM. They don’t stray into the harsh, over-distorted rage of some EBM, they don’t overdo the anthemic drama.
A fraction of the metal thrashing mad fun, and the humor is all but gone. Some evil thirds singing sweet Slayer, but the majority here seems played out.
East Coast punk rock, pure of spirit like Bouncing Souls, but with more consistent songs. A little gruff, but not all gargled glass or hard-living street punk.
Part ’70s hard rock with wet production and layered choruses and stoner riffery, part punkified glam with way more wild-eyed bottle throwing than I remember.
They write originals that sounds like the kinda stuff you’ve heard all yer life. It’s solid, like hearing the Stones when they were still vital and pure.
Brimstone Blues was surprisingly glammy for stoner rock, but tuneful. Fuck The World has a chip on its shoulder. It’s a heavy, snarling, pounding slab of metal.