The VIIth Coming is full of heavy guitar riffs sure to satisfy the doom punters, but I don’t remember the earlier stuff being quite this, well, groovy.
The indulgent repetition owes to ’70s blues metal and prog. Ironic genres are presented as higher art, but are in reality embraced by couch-surfing stoners.
I can’t believe how annoyed I am with Sheavy’s crippling debt to Black Sabbath, especially Steve Hennessey’s uncommon vocal similarity to Ozzy Osbourne.
The tempos are generally on the slow side, the emotional tone one of contemplation. There’s none of the screaming that passes for emotion in modern rock music.
Fast rocker punk with a Stooges quote, a Motörhead rip, and a non-pop presentation that works great. Imagine a hardcore band in ’83 playing sped-up Nuge riffs.
An odd mix of high-octane gonzo rock produced noisy in places and high-school metal band shitty in others. Pure American yahoo: Guns, booze’n’titties dirt rock.
Picking up where his previous band (Unsane) left off, Chris Spencer bores into the space between art-noise, explosive groove-grind punk roots, and death’n’roll.
Nine blows to the head that up the intensity of the already crazed studio performances, driving everything faster until you feel as blurred as the cover.
A new collection of previously unreleased performances, contains different (in most cases, inferior) performances of five songs that also appear on Live Album.