That's right. After just over a year, I lost patience with Blogger's interface screwing me about and have decided to now transfer the site to Wordpress. Thanks for supporting us here, we hope you'll continue to support us there.
Deathwank/Wheelchair Wheelchair Wheelchair Wheelchair Your Scene Means Fuck All
Deathwank emerged from the grind cesspool last year as Scotland's answer to Anal Cunt. Their songs were so ridiculously titled you couldn't help but thinking they were perhaps aping them a little too closely, especially given that their songs struggled to even reach 30 seconds a time. Here, they play the title track, their only track, at precisely six minutes. It's here they prove they can be more than pure imitators. It could well be the case that this is several songs rolled into one track, given the high number of time changes, stick clicks and paces on show, all nailed in one take. Whatever, its fucking genius. It's insane. It's sounds like the bloated offspring of Melt Banana and The Afternoon Gentlemen, getting bounced from wall to wall, with only the briefest of respites before getting submerged back into its torture cell with no true means of escape. Put simply, this is one of the grind highlights of the year so far.
Conversely, Wheelchair Wheelchair Wheelchair Wheelchair contribute tracks, and in comparison to last year'a fantastic 'Contraception', is altogether more concerned with brevity than concept. This despite an intro and outro track, both sounding suspiciously like a TV theme tune in structure bookending their side of the split. It's rampant and chaotic, only truly letting up with a truly phlegm-wretching snarl during 'A Film That No One Ever Watches', the only post-minute track they post.
It's two very different approaches to grind, though the end product is still the same. If it were a boxing match, I'd perhaps hand it to Deathwank on this occasion, simply for breaking out of their micro-shackles in favour of a singular take rollercoaster of insanity. Still, 'Your Scene Means Fuck All' is ridiculously great stuff all the way through, and has left me greatly anticipating each band's next move, particularly the new Wheelchair x4 album, which promises a sexual concept. Nice.
Let's get one thing straight before we continue here; one given with 'Torture' is that there's no real surprises to be expected. Everybody knows what Cannibal Corpse brings to the table, and that's brutality, riffs, blastbeats and buckets and buckets of gore. That they're still doing this on their twelfth studio album and still remain at the top of the death metal is testament to their merciless delivery time and time again.
'Torture' quite up there with recent albums 'Kill' and 'Evisceration Plague', but those two albums were mercilessly brilliant and that doesn't mean 'Torture' is a slouch in comparison. Far from it. There is an ever so subtle shift in dynamic without dramatically cutting at what Cannibal Corpse do. There's more than one occasion where they're almost in groove territory, which, if you've not heard the new album yet, is not something to be alarmed by – the riffs are still ultra heavy and George 'Corpsegrinder' Fisher delivers his guttural vocals in much the same fashion too. There's also some sterling bass work by Alex Webster on here, the highlight being a ripping bass solo during 'The Strangulation Chair'.
Cannibal Corpse - Encased in Concrete (official video)
To sum it up with various tracks is futile because Cannibal Corpse is Cannibal Corpse. But once again, Erik Rutan's has turned out a sterling production job and captured Corpse's bloodthirst on record supremely well again. One or two outlets have proclaimed this album as a career best although, once again, I would still take 'Kill' from their recent output, but even if you've heard everything they've had to offer before, this is still a worthy pick up, and you're one of the few people on this planet to have never heard Cannibal Corpse (where have you been?), now is as good a time to start as any.
So today’s the day of our
Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations. It’s also my second wedding anniversary!
Enough about my personal life though. Here’s some
things you need to know about Motörhead’s cover of one of the Sex Pistols’ biggest
1. I’d wager it’s
better than the Pistols' original. It certainly rocks more.
2. They bothered to
make a video for it. And it’s quality, as they perform on a flotilla around ol’
3. Lemmy. Without a
beard! But still the coolest frontman you’ve ever seen.
4. Yep, definitely
better than the original.
But that’s my opinion.
You can weigh in with your two pennies below. Once you’ve watched the video,
that is. It’ll only take around three minutes of your time and it’s more fun
that the day’s celebrations, that’s for sure.
I'm not going to review this EP properly because although it doesn't contain me as a band member, it does contain fellow contributor Mike as well as my other Poison Dwarf bandmate Phil. They are now part of new band Wort, and play diabolical blackened sludge/doom metal. Completing the line-up is Sanhedrin drummer Sam, who I must say takes my place in this offshoot band and puts in one hell of a shift. Their debut EP 'Worts N'All!' was released recently and I unashamedly can say it rules. Four tracks of face pummelling sludge channelling the usual suspects of Black Sabbath, Bongzilla, Electric Wizard, Dragged Into Sunlight, Grief, Eyehategod and more besides. If I didn't have obvious bias I'd give it a full review – nonetheless, tracks like 'KDK12' and 'Plumplestiltskib' absolutely slam with all their misanthropic intensity – I personally love the whole thing and ain't ashamed to state it right here.
For some reason, I feel compelled to devote time and energy to the subject of tribute bands – a niche of live music that really doesn't normally interest me and has no relevance to me as it's not a representation of incoming talent. With the greatest respect to these bands, as good as what they provide might be, I want to hear what the likes of Iron Witch and Zillah have got coming next, and not how good an impression of Phil Lynott a Thin Lizzy tribute act can do.
What has stirred the hornet's nest, so to speak, is my own gullability. I was drawn in by my local rock bar, The Parish in Huddersfield, putting out a status on Facebook asking how many people liked TURBONEGRO. The post got a fair few appreciative comments with one or two people perhaps wondering and suggesting The Parish were about to announce something big. I certainly did, I'm embarrassed to say. I wish I hadn't.
Maybe it was the fact Wheatus had just played there. Maybe it was because they'd had big acts in the last year or two. Maybe its because Turbonegro, much as I love them, haven't had as great a profile in the last couple of years as they did around the middle of the last decade, owing to ill health and the departure of frontman Hank von Helvete…to scientology. I'm fully aware they did recruit ex-Dukes of Nothing singer Tony Sylvester to replace Hank and they're doing the festival circuit this summer in support of new album 'Sexual Harassment'. But I could dream. Aside from the aforementioned Wheatus, the venue had recently lured Ginger Wildheart and Fleshgod Apocalypse among its big names to perform there. Surely, surely this was going to be the epic announcement the tease suggested.
Not so. Instead, what was announced was Turbonegra, 'the world's number 1 all-female Turbonegro tribute!' Several people appeared to like the announcement, others said they'd be on it in a shot. Out of respect I declined to comment further simply as I didn't want to appear to be criticising the venue's booking strategy (which I have no say in at all), and wasn't intent on upsetting good friends with my brutally honest assessment.
Which is as follows: Aside from the irony of an all-female Turbonegro tribute potentially singing songs such as 'Denim Demon' and 'I Got…(which I'm sure isn't lost on them), I really don't see the appeal. I've already seen the previous incarnation of Turbonegro three times, once at the Cockpit in May 2005 which I remember very well due to being on the verge of fainting from sheer sweat and heat exhaustion. That will probably be the Turbonegro experience for me that will never, ever be topped. But more importantly, the real Turbonegro are still very much active – why would I want to see a tribute act when I can wait for the real thing to come around again? And why would I want to tarnish such a memory by watching a band who, as good as they might turn out to be, will never be as good as the band they are imitating?
TURBONEGRO: THE REAL THING
Surely that's a conundrum that most music fans that live in towns that bands don't visit very often face. Do you save your money for the day your favourite band announces a tour within accessible reach? Or do you take a wild stab at that really similar sounding tribute act who play the area often? Who knows when Kiss will be back around town? The temptation to instead see Kiss Alive! Or Hotter Than Hell, for example, will always linger for those wanting a Kiss experience but not wanting to fork out the high prices the real Kiss charge. But again, I was lucky enough to see Kiss when they performed at Donington in 2008, an experience I will never, ever forget as long as I live. I even have the copy of the show on CD if I ever get reminiscent.
I'm not a rich guy. I'm comfortable but that's through hard work and prudent financial sense. I've saved for the gigs I want to go to and more often that not, get the necessary bang for my money. I will never disrespect what bands like Turbonegra, Limehouse Lizzy, Hotter Than Hell, Slack Babbath, Motorheadache, Live/Wire et al do, and one day, my opinion may shift. But, while their heroes/heroines are still going strong, I'd rather sit back and wait. I'm not going to regret missing any tribute. I might regret it if I didn't take my chance there and then to see the real thing live while they were in the UK, or while they were going. Fair enough if the actual band you're aping isn't around any more. 101% Pantera is one good example, considering the real Pantera will most likely never perform again owing to Dimebag Darrell's death. Even then, I'd never feel desperate to want to go and see them.
Maybe I'm being a prude. Maybe I'm losing sight of the fact that a tribute band isn't really going to make a lot of money out of their fan service, and that what they do is something they do well. Putting the effort in to be their heroes, performing to a range of spectators, not all of whom will regularly chuck themselves into a moshpit and more than likely have only the most passing of interests in rock music. More likely than that, they probably just want a good time, and who can blame them?
I'd love for people to chip in with their opinions. It's not the most pressing of topics on a blog that is constantly championing fresh new bands. But I personally feel I needed to put it out there, because my own gullability certainly set me up for disappointment – disappointment at which I needed to vent.
It feels like ages ago since Primus released 'Green Naughahyde', their first album in 11 years. At last, however, they have released an official video for the song 'Lee Van Cleef', which asks the eternal question burning on Les Claypool's mind - whatever happened to Lee Van Cleef? The question was apparently born out of Claypool's curiosity as to what became of the late Van Cleef, against the clamour for living legend Clint Eastwood, whom he starred alongside in some of the great Western movies in years gone by, including starring the villainous Angel Eyes in 'The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly'.
The answer apparently lies here. You see, if you watch 'The Good, The Bad and The Ugly' right through to the end credits, you'll see Angel Eyes reincarnated as a zombie. Apparently.
The term 'punk' is more loosely defined than ever. Once a defiant statement of rebellion, its label has been applied to some many undeserving things that the lines of what is punk and isn't punk are more blurred than ever before. Evolution is a welcome thing but the watering down of punk's description certainly hasn't been. These days, unless you really sound and look the part and chime in with an acidic bark and a sheer defiance of authority, the next best attributable thing is probably to acts which exudes a hint of apathy and a smattering of could-care-less what you think attitude blended with a penchant for excess. That's perhaps how I could at least best sum up Baltimore's Dope Body, a quartet whose 'Natural History' is perhaps one of the finest dangerous, reckless and indeed careless statements of arguable punk today.
Deary, deary me. Now it seems its getting personal between the four men at the center of the pending lawsuit over the Kyuss name. As you may remember, Josh Homme and Scott Reeder filed a lawsuit against former bandmates John Garcia and Brant Bjork over the use of the Kyuss name in relation to Garcia and Bjork's reformation of the band under the name of Kyuss Lives! Garcia and Bjork have remained largely silent. Until now that is, with this revealing e-mail exchange courtesy of Rolling Stone.
Some of the more interesting exchanges are listed below:
First of all I would like to highlight the predictability of this "review", which can't realistically be called a review, because that would imply it was an objective analysis. Attempting to write anything too derogatory about Black Sabbath might be compared to asking a devout Roman catholic to sodomize our good Pope Benedict XVI. This wouldn't be a good example, because Black Sabbath are the creators, not an implement, secondly, I cannot vouch for the extent of sexual deviancy within the Catholic church.