Review Summary: In which an album is reviewed
*** yeah. Shoe gazey for a bit, then post-rock for a while, this album is eclectic yet flows nicely. The closest comparison I can think of is Palms, though Fleshwater is in there too, and no duck is found sadly. However, this band has waaaay more hardcore bits than both bands put together if they wore battle armour and declared war against the universe. So the genre is closer to post-metal, I mean, those drums thud like pushing ladders down the stairs. The guitar tone, though, is a skull ripper. This tight, crisp production makes every instrument pop to the point of exploding every vein in their body, but not quite. The rhythms and flow suggest a focused storm, like the Third Reich infiltrating a church: the only difference being that the infiltrations here are invited and lovely.
Man oh man, the growl man goes crazy in this album. Holy *** bruh this ***ing *** is damn fire! He screams with the piercing shriek of the giant spider in Dark Souls 2 with a laser in their mouth. Just like the boss fight, the laser blast is inescapable. Indeed, these vocals will pierce through your soul and wave it front of God at the gate, boasting that they killed the last pleb. This kind of album makes you wanna invite the band over for some warm sausage.
In other words, this album farts on your mom’s face while you watch with glee. The guitars are slapsexcellent and ungodly af. There’s a lot of guitar sounds in the world, but this one will remind hipster softies that guitars exist, and do in fact throw boogies at grave sites. Buckle up boys and men, this ride’s about to burn all the hair off your body. In terms of Sputcore, this will blow Jayender’s mind and potentially even make Dewinged hold a blankie for comfort after this rip snorting chaos machine. Let’s gooooooooooooooooooooooo
