Album Review: Man The Machetes – Av Nag

For a large proportion of fans, Man The Machetes are a band that require deep consideration before you attempt to tackle their music.

Q: Do you mind if there’s not a jot of the Queen’s English in your lyrics?
Q: Do you insist on a variety of attack or styling between tracks?
Q: Do you balk at any one of punk, groove or rock n’roll?

If the answer to any one of these questions is a resounding “Yes” then step away from this review. As much as they’d hate to admit, this fiery sextet play tightly-focussed, unrepentant Norwegian punk n’roll and, by association, require their English-speaking fans to have open minds, open souls and open hearts to make any kind of impact. Thankfully, here at Ave Noctum we do have acolytes of the band and we are determined to absorb all others in our joy-fuelled drunken party that breaks out every time someone slaps on a Man The Machetes track. Is album number two just as fun though?

Yep, it’s a cracking album. The band picks up where Idiokrati left off, with the new tracks whipping along at an equally dizzying pace. With the vocal tightened up and brought to the front of the mix, which coincidentally reduces the impact of the chord power, the whole feels punkier, more visceral. It certainly solidifies their position as bright young things on the scene. It doesn’t hold as many stand-out gems as their startling debut and there isn’t any sign of them experimenting with their established system of riff, chug and adrenaline-coursing roar. And yet it’s still a total mosh.

Going at this from a different angle, let’s analyse what makes the band a tour de force. In a word, it’s the “groove”. With every instrument, driving towards the same end goal, the result is an infectious, rhythmic machine like no other. It starts with the drums and in Per Christian Holm they have a pumping, pistoning machine. He drives everything with a vicious snare strike and an inate aptitude for colourfully patterning the music with cymbal strikes. The other key component is the triple guitar attack of Morton, Erlend and Markus which are layered into the music to give a startling effect of having the chugs and mini-riffs work like ripples as they each bite to the front before fading to the back or over to the left or right ear.

Also, like all good masseurs know, the key is to always retain contact with the intended recipient. Consequently, the songwriting is structured so that whenever the music drops out there is always one finger of instrumentation still tickling the listener at all times. It could be a lone, gutsy bassline, a trickle of cymbal strikes or a bare vocal but the band make sure they are always on it.

Standout moments come with the stepdown in pace to the crawling lead and sweet rock-a-bye riff on “Tung Luft” and with the crafty, constructive forethought that has gone into the humdinger “Orkenmarsj”. It’s still lagging behind their debut when it comes to hooks, raw grunt and staying power but with ever-improving production values this still knows how to throw its weight around. To this end, Av Nag clambers over the writhing bodies of Kvelertak, Feed The Rhino and Cancer Bats to grab at you. Fear not though, these boys don’t want to fight, they want to dance, chant and sing at your side – as comrades in arms.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2015/09/man-the-machetes-av-nag-indie-recordings/

Album Review: Death Alley – Black Magick Boogieland

Well, dang, here’s an album with a full-blown strut-worthy, stomp-happy boogie backline. And yet Death Alley isn’t exactly a moniker that you’d associate with such a stone cold groove is it? It turns out that Black Magick Boogieland wasn't, in fact, created by a bunch of full-bearded rednecks sippin’ beer and drivin’ Cadillacs. No, these fellas hail from Amsterdam and have a bit of a dark side. Amongst their cultish brethren is ex-The Devil’s Blood guitarist Oeds Beydals and former members of niche punk band Gewapend Beton and psychedelic doomsters Mühr. Considering their love for a boogie and a good freak-out as much as they do a bit of rough-and-ready, they clearly form a bit of a unique marriage of styles. It’s a sound that draws influence from both past and contemporary music  – bands such as Down, Humble Pie, Audrey Horne, Blue Öyster Cult and Foghat.

From the off, they set a breakneck pace with “Over Under” gifting frontman Douwe  the opportunity to begin firing out his snarls and yells over the feisty, warm string-work of Beydals’. All good so far, yet it seems they’re not quite the “psychedelic protopunks” they claim to be either. However, there is a dark underbelly to this that should be confronted.

They really are serious about that Black Magick part, you see. There are haunting moans lurking in the background and there’s a significant degree of menace in the way he yells “You’re gonna get it!” Oddly, there’s a definite backing drop-out which accompanies such a vehement statement - it’s suddenly all a bit unnerving. Then, for the swinging title-track they invite you to peek “behind the curtain” to a place where they practice the dark arts. Here, there’s tripped-out lines such as “You’re impregnated with a magical charm, cross-contaminated to make you small” to contend with and also a real seedy tone struggling to fight through the sashaying rhythmic vibes.

As the constituent parts of the music diametrically oppose each other, it’s easy to find the vocal tone something of a jarring hindrance to the glowing bluesy wash of what lies beyond it. However, when Douwe slows his roll, as he does for “Golden Fields of Love”, it all finally begins to mesh and “Alles Komt Goed” as they say in the ‘Dam.

They do finally concede to Beydals will for the closing seven-and-a-half minutes of the album allowing him full rein to jam, solo and consequently send us grooving into a state of utter bliss. It’s the icing on the cake that makes the track “Supernatural Predator”, with its rich kaleidoscopic exterior and thick black heart, quite the formidable act to follow – headline acts beware.

There is a potential for their music to experiment and dig down deeper into the occult and summon even wilder sounds. What’s most surprising of all is that I can’t think of a safer pair of hands to get us to that point than those of Death Alley. Whilst other retro bands recreate the past, these lads pay due homage to it, then give it a damn good shake. Perhaps next time, they’ll shake a little harder.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2015/05/death-alley-black-magick-boogieland-tee-pee-records/

Album Review: Barren Womb – The Sun’s Not Yellow, It’s Chicken

Digging into the backstory of Barren Womb, one might be intrigued by the bold statements of their biography. Here, they claim to “blend hardcore punk with elements of black metal, grindcore and country.” Hell’s teeth, that sure sounds like an exciting prospect. Having investigated further it appears that the “elements” are incredibly subtle ones and these Norwegian noiseniks don’t, in fact, sound like Black Breath butchering Lynyrd Skynyrd songs. Happily, their more general description of them being “a nasty swill of noisy punk” is bang on the money.


As a duo, consisting of guitarist/vocalist Tony Gonzahl and drummer Timo Silvola, there is little mental conflict between them and their main aim, yet plenty of aural conflict in their combined delivery. The unrefined passion and the vital edginess that they pour into their music means they stand a million miles from most folks’ preconceptions. Yes, you may have spotted the words “Norwegian, hardcore and punk” in that introduction and be expecting another Kvelertak-a-like to plop off the end of the conveyor belt (those fans can skip straight to the neck-snapping swagger of ‘Assmasters of Reality’), but Barren Womb are, in fact, the chalk to Kvelertak’s cheese. They don’t sing in their Native language, they replace bottom-end grunt with mid-range scrawl, and they pay lip service to the concepts of groove. These edgy punks just don’t wanna roll.

The production, throughout, has been stripped and stretched to within an inch of its life. Peer too closely and you’d swear this thing was see-through. Consequently, it’s all piercing tones and cacophonous chaos. The ride bucks like a mule and spins like a tornado with the path and direction indeterminate and the destination unknown. An exciting prospect but, in reality, you’ll be sweating throughout. Listening to The Sun’s Not Yellow… is the equivalent of jumping from a plane blindfolded and without a parachute. From the introductory line of “It was like this when we found it!” screamed over the top of a hissing, firecracker riff through to the last few feet of ‘Live Fast, Die’, the total wall of noise that Gonzahl imposes on the listener is daunting.

Frequently, the music collapses into a wall of feedback and an avalanche of crash cymbal strikes. There’s even a guttural undercut of black metal discord, especially noticeable in ‘Evil Prevails’ and ‘Nexus Diplomis’, which is like listening to The Sex Pistols sucking on the exhaust pipe of Belphegor. Here, Gonzahl summons up a few gargles and an imaginary upturned claw. There are busy leads, like the ones that lurk in ‘Nábrók’ and ‘From Robot Jobs To Robot Homes’, that crush into Silvola’s piston-like drums to form the spine. As a rule, it’s a nifty tool that allows the vocals (gang chants included) to really let rip and the result is, well, eclectic.

The unexpected smack of the ocean surface that breaks this album’s fall is staggering. Track 9 is that watery grave – ‘Bong Aqua’. It introduces a section where the reduction of pace gives all a chance to draw breath – that is gratefully accepted. Here, there is a sample of crashing waves with children splashing and yelping with delight and a gentle, laconic rhythm that completely releases the listener to soak up the acoustic tones and lush colours. Switching into the equally soft wash of ‘Zombies Never Go Out Of Style’ we get chanting and a disembodied narrator, mulling over the downside to “eternal life”, mashed into our first hint of country swing.

Take all this chicanery into account and you’ve got an album that just about manages, albeit without a good deal of unseemly pushing and shoving, to cram in a huge variety of styles. It may be messy, it’s undoubtedly indulgent, freakishly thought-provoking, part-spasmodic, part-impenetrable vitriol but, like the greatest of extreme challenges, it’s a total adrenaline rush. The Sun’s Not Yellow, It’s Chicken is an album that requires total commitment and, consequently, one that might not get much “ear time”, but you can’t argue with the fact that (graphic band name, ludicrous album title and comic album art also taken into consideration) it shines out like a beacon.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2014/02/13/barren-womb-the-suns-not-yellow-its-chicken/

Album Review: Servers – Leave With Us

In an age when an embattled music industry has sucked up hit after hit, record labels and their artists have found solace in the art of advertising. A brash band t-shirt, a solid tour slot, an enticing line of blurb, one fanatical album review in the right place and a strong social media presence. Any of these things can be the making or breaking of a band these days. With that in mind, you’d honestly believe that the UK trio Servers were rank amateurs. An instantly-forgettable and distinctly internet-unfriendly moniker, a face-concealing “promotional” snap and music video and a few lines of biographical waffle about cults – that’s pretty much it. It’s certainly a back-door approach to self-promotion.


Take a closer look though, because lurking back there in the shadows is an absolute behemoth spouting musical ear-worms that boast grit, melody and muscle. Some groups may mesh a couple of genres together to create something fresh and dynamic – Servers are an octopic rock band with a groping arm in every pie. They are the very definition of the band you simply cannot pigeonhole. Song by song, their chameleonic music takes in grunge, dark rock, screamo, sludge, cult metal, new wave, industrial and punk n’ roll – there are even a few 70s prog touches here and there.

The keystone here is vocalist/guitarist and former GU Medicine frontman Lee Storrar. His “all is lost” melancholics and soaring Jaz Coleman-esque (Killing Joke) throat-ripping wails lock themselves seamlessly onto his portly chugs and wild riffs, but there is solid support from Ant Nettleship’s pounding drums and Lee Wilde’s fizzing bass. This here is a debut album loaded with viperous intent, an intoxicating dark quality and shedloads of melodramatic attack.

Opening with bleak menace, ‘Save Me From Myself‘ is two-parts Cancer Bats and one-part Five Finger Death Punch. It burns with an intense heat and Storrar’s hoarse yelping rises to a scream with the crecendoing chorus whilst the pistoning rhythm rumbles beneath like a detached and hopelessly lost soul. ‘Universes & Supernovas‘ and ‘Run With The Foxes‘ are their two epic firecrackers with vast riffs that will suck you in. Both Foo Fighters-esque in construction and tone, they feature big, sparkly choruses that will aggressively weld themselves to your brain. Wedged between them the intensely gothic, Icicle Works-friendly comedown of ‘Claustrophobia‘ is utterly thrilling and it’s tonal brother, the dark, sultry creature that is ‘King Things‘, is a pulsating beauty with a powerful “breathe in, breathe out” suckerpunch.

‘Mega High‘ ups the ante as Lee Wilde’s fat bass strings combine with Storrar’s buzzing, sludge-flinging guitar to take them powering into Orange Goblin and Fu Manchu territory. This gives licence for the vocal to dial up the snarl and caterwauling as the shit-kicking rock licks come out to play. The joy of the stomp is used to great effect for the raging bluster of the QOTSA-esque ‘Do Gooders‘. Here, their bleak cult ethos that they seem to thrive on adds another more sinister tone to their appeal.

Layered deep enough to give it a potent attack, the strong production also slaps on a slick finish and yet it’s been handled lightly enough to give it real character. Listen closely enough and beneath the power and precision, there is still the odd pop and crackle that bursts forth. No matter which track you shuffle to, there is a resplendent joy prevalent in the construction and an undeniable swagger in the delivery. Here is an album that you sense is alive and breathing. It’s dark purpose may be there in the background but, thankfully, it has not been consumed by it. Rather it stands silently within the crowd, yet with arms open, ready to wrap you in its warm, loving embrace.

When the songwriting is of this kind of quality, there really is no need to go through the standard ritual of self-promotion. If the South Yorkshire trio continue along this path, focusing solely on the creation of the music alone, the rest will simply take care of itself. As their final track clearly points out with its (rather tacked on) spooky soundbite from the “Heaven’s Gate Cult Recruitment Tape” – “The only chance you have to survive is to leave with us”. One listen to this album and you will surely want to follow Servers to the ends of the Earth.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2014/01/24/servers-leave-with-us/

Album Review: Murmur – Murmur

After plunging the depths with their raw, feedback-abusing, drone-heavy and, at times, utterly inaccessible debut album, “Mainlining The Lugubrious”, this Chicago quintet have pulled back their black metal curtains and allowed in a little more light for their sophomore self-titled.

They have undoubtedly veered towards more of an intensive drone and psych experience, with only suggestions of their former Nachmystium and Burzum stylings shining through. Expect plenty of rhythmic anomalies, staccato attacks and even a little touch of punk nous thrown in to the mix. Tracks such as “Bull Of Crete” and the hellish dirge-into-mayhem of the two-part “Zeta II Reticuli” and “King In Yellow” form the bloodied fists of malcontent. It’s like finding the atonal nadir where These Arms Are Snakes’ vicious howls meet the avant-garde lunacy of Kong.

Retaining their love of ambience, you’ll discover amidst the dying paroxysms, dark bleatings and discordant noise, fresh shoots bursting forth from the dangerously jagged 11-minute monster, “Al-Malik”, and the soulful Latino flourishes of “Recuerdos”. Elsewhere, the album is only memorable for its lack of hooks, curiously liquid segueing between tracks and inconsistent tonal patterns.

What does ring true is their choice of bonus track. If Murmur’s ultimate fetish hadn’t been obvious before then the closing cover of King Crimson’s “Larks’ Tongues In Aspic, Pt. 2″ will nail that thought into your mind. Faithfully performed (though without the original’s kitsch instrumentation or warm blue tones) it seems a shame they neglected to insert as much of their heroes’ gnarly groove or deap-seated psychoses into the rest-of the album.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/01/murmur-murmur-season-of-mist/

Album Review: Antlered Man – This Devil Is Them (New Heavy Sounds)

The PR blurb for London’s Antlered Man describe their new album as “dark” and “weird”. Though they might not be the most complimentary descriptors, they’re not a million miles off with that. You’d certainly have trouble boxing them up into a genre. For the sake of argument, let’s have a crack at “artsy punk/rap meets rock/sludge in an explosion of psychotic avant-garde posturing”. Yes, that’ll do.

After firing out their debut album, Giftes 1&2, last year the band wasted no time hitting the festivals and managed to squeeze in 15 last year. Fairly impressive when you consider the 100 other tour dates they managed in 2012. There’s a definite hint of the on-tour in-jokes in the theatrical writing style of this sophomore album – the song titles alone suggest that much.

They’ve definitely gone in heavier here with This Devil Is Them as the ludicrously-titled opening track, “The Ballad Of Hamhock Fullsleeve” attests. The lunatic fringe is properly out in force as something akin to Melvins meets Tool meets Tomahawk meets These Arms Are Snakes emerges like the thrashing, writhing, triple-headed, multi-tentacled behemoth it is. You try and pick which limb or mouth to focus on first out of that little lot. If the panic-stricken drum rolls and carefully-placed guitar pings don’t explode your noggin, then the gut-busting bass, twinkling chimes and unhinged vocal (which waits until well over 3 minutes to pitch in) undoubtedly will.

All too often Antlered Man ask too much of their listeners. No-one in his right mind could like the entirely dislikeable character of “Claude The Ideal Bloody Gentleman” with its dissolute, padded-out structure or the 2-minute skittish mania of “My Surname, My Cum” – a last-track “fuck you” to the listener that isn’t appreciated.

Elsewhere “GDZ” oozes along the soft buzz and fluorescent tonal mix of Torche, “Ian Will Break Again” bristles like Kongh whilst speed-rapping like Senser. “Phony Tough” settles down and flies true with a beautifully hewn groove which “Salute Da Calm” follows with an echo-laden acknowledgement to the shoegaze of Slowdive. Star of the show, however, must go to the stoned drone of “Audition Tapes For Hades” which, whilst obviously overstretching itself to reach the 10-minute mark, glows with an eerie menace as Damo Ezekiel-Holmes finds his true calling as a softly-spoken angel of death.

Lyrically, when a band is firing mucky, attention-seekers like “My surname, my cum” and “This practical genius-like yeast infection” it’s very easy to dislike them (though vocalist Damo does apologise with “Sorry sorry sorry, what a criminal last line / There’s a mean streak in me when these fuck-ups are mine!”). However, when they do pull out hooked doozies like “Sweetheart, I couldn’t protect you / No matter how hard I tried” or “Girls couldn’t hit us with a running jump, Gods couldn’t hit us with a death-defying stunt” they know to ram them home with concerted repetition.

On the plus side, the groove on this beast is vast when it settles down – the latter half of the album should please the sludge fiends amongst you. The first half will sit pretty with the punks. Most will agree, the odd burst of rapping is more for show than it is essentially integral to the music and a high degree of patience and diligent attention is required to fully comprehend their ADD-afflicted concept. With so much content packed into such a small space, like a boxer on amphetamines, it’s generally going to miss as many times as it hits.

Also online = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/10/antlered-man-the-devil-is-them-new-heavy-sounds/

EP Review: Black Tusk – Tend No Wounds

Black Tusk have always had that “spur of the moment” feel about them. From the minute guitarist Andrew Fidler and bassist Jonathan Athon knocked on their neighbour’s door and asked if he wanted to be in their band, there has been this sense of freedom about the way they operate. Their music is the same. It is almost flippant in its design – oozing simplicity; laughing in the face of their Savannah brethren’s experimentalism. Consequently, they have very rapidly built up a consistent catalogue of thrash-streaked punk n’ sludge that, when performed, can lay waste to any venue.


This latest EP is more of the same. It rolls its way into town like an unwanted tumbleweed and will inevitably depart with a trail of running, screaming, laughing fans behind it. It is essentially another big call to arms and its two-minute instrumental opener ‘A Cold Embrace’ is the no frills ringleader. Of course, they’ve gone for nothing more than a thundering drum roll and a scampering riff to start snapping necks – they simply aren’t a band who ever over-eggs their pudding. From here, they quickly lay their cards on the table and like some messed-up cross between Hatchet and Black Cobra they proceed to trample over any resistance you might have left. Immersed in this crushing sludge, you get a feeling for the force and the fury they are capable of producing. Being such a straight-up blueprint, the only guide you have along this journey, is the hollow, ambiguous vocal of Fidler – the semi-crazed lunatic laughing at you from atop this impenetrable wall of scrawl. He has a trick or two, but he’s no magician; there is no puzzles to be solved here.

As with all their releases, there are those moments when you know the band are merely toying with you – do listen out for these mind-bending anomalies that seem to pop up from out of nowhere. Here, they come in the form of elegantly-bowed violins on the curiously anomalous intro to ‘The Weak And The Wise’, and in the dense, slothful majesty of the Mastodonic two-guitar, two-chord riff that jump-starts and powers ‘In Days Of Woe’. When they throw in things like these it seems to matter not that the bulk of their EP is unlikely to be committed to memory. Their faster, punkier material is music written to be played live anyway – they are the songs that will get you banging your heads. These other standout curios are the songs that will strike the match that lights the moshpit touchpaper.

Tend No Wounds isn’t an essential purchase, yet this unspectacular EP serves its purpose as a nice little stop-gap between albums. Certainly with tracks like ‘In Days Of Woe’ and the vicious, call-and-response bludgeon of ‘Enemy Of Reason’, it does have material that will ignite their future set-lists – fans take note. It looks like further proof that Black Tusk do always write the music that they want to write. It matters not that, over the years, they have played second fiddle to the majority of other sludge metal bands out there. They aren’t ambiguous, they don’t do pretentiousness. What you see is what you get and most see an outfit rapidly becoming a much-loved institution.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2013/07/25/black-tusk-tend-no-wounds

Album Review: Phantom Glue – A War Of Light Cones

Kurt Ballou gets around. When he’s not blazing a trail with Converge, he’s hunkered down in his own studio at God City, working the sound-desk for various noise-making machines who’ve all requested his producing expertise. This is where he could be found during the months of April and August 2011, twiddling the knobs for Boston, MA’s Phantom Glue. The result of those sessions has taken two whole years to see the light of day, but now Black Market Activities have stepped in to save A War Of Light Cones from staying buried from view.


Phantom Glue are a band who, very much like the now defunct These Arms Are Snakes, sound like two different forces welded together. One half is pure punk — all fast snarling bile and sharp bites of anguish. The other is a heavy-lidded twin guitar stoner — all loping chugs with evocative, interlocking riffery laid over the top. On top of this, there is something darker tucked away in the music and lyrics. It’s interesting to note then, that vocalist/guitarist Matt Oakes describes this edgy album as “a nightmare/occult alternate history of Colonial America”. Here, there is very much the sense of a band wanting to have their cake and eat it.

When they are not battering you with violent crushers like the fiery opener ‘Perils’ or the ear-damaging, High On Fire-esque rip ‘Bow In The Dust’, they are seeking out an effervescent top-end to stir things up. This latter styling brings them more into line with the kind of thrilling post-rock-cum-sludge material that Steak Number Eight and Mastodon are keen on putting out there. ‘Biocult’, for instance, spends less time bawling at you and languishes longer in the musical combination of bubbling top-end bass and deep, sludge-flinging stringwork. When it does shift, it is into a dynamic, cleaner phase that does feel a little tacked on. One track that follows this and the more-driven ‘Arboreal‘ to a fine conclusion is ‘Test Pattern’. It’s a song which wastes no time digging out a sloth-like groove onto which is built a network of memorable riffs. In these lighter places, they seem happiest; free enough to throw in clean-heeled arpeggios and solos to their hearts content.

Having been left rotting on the backburner for all this time, you’d imagine the band to be a bit more generous, but they still only seem willing to stretch themselves to 6 tracks and 28 minutes. That’s a pretty paltry return when parts of what is here simply passes you by. It’s also true that, in those two years they have spent trying to secure that label release, various riff-loving scaremongers have stepped forward with fine albums – bands like Black Cobra, Burning Love and High On Fire (all Ballou’s other projects) and others like Steak Number Eight, Saviours and Family (US, not UK). The void that was there, following These Arms Are Snakes (and, to an extent, Isis‘) sad demise, has now well and truly been filled. Now, it all feels a little crowded in this space and Phantom Glue’s somewhat muddled second album is going to struggle for air amongst some of those monster releases.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2013/07/16/phantom-glue-a-war-of-light-cones/#more-42189

Album Review: Melvins – Everyone Loves Sausages

Sausages – traditionally, a smashed pig piped into its own stomach lining. Pig – the food that the whole western world devours with such gusto. Bacon, ham, pork chops, sausages. That “wonderful, magical animal” that Homer Simpson refers to when contemplating such a variety of tasty offerings. What an album title, then, to make folks sit up and get heads moving. The carnivores amongst you will all be nodding them savagely, whilst meat-abstainers worldwide may well just sadly shake them. End of the day, there’s nothing to argue about. This sizzles either way.

Now, You’ll probably, like me, struggle to identify a fair few of these songs but I think it’s fair to say that they weren’t ever going to be straight-up reproductions. This is The Melvins (the “The” is silent here), after all, linking their influences and favourite tracks together, throwing their eccentric nous, twisted musicality and a few friends into the mix and emerging with an assorted jumble of flavours that should get your tastebuds churning.

Initially, Everyone Loves Sausages hits hard and heavy with Neurosis’ Scott Kelly guesting for a tear-up of Venom’s “Warhead”. Its mighty vocal lead will have heads bobbing and horns up. Soon though the band shift gears to relocate to something a little less gritty. Appeasing their rock and pop urges, they plump for The Fugs’ “Carpe Diem”, complete with its original warm 60s wash and jinking vibe and the stonking all-in rocker “Black Betty” (Ram Jam). There’s also a grating rendition of Queen’s “Best Friend” with tacked-on, plinking electro-fizz which Melvins develop, flesh out and turn into a hacked rendition of “Heathen Earth” (Throbbing Gristle). Sadly, they do take it a step too far with a 3-minute intro of gruesome ambient noise which kicks-off a preciously reedy version of Bowie’s “Station To Station”.

When they do find their punk muscle, they really set about tearing shit up for a twisted, rough-and-ready rip of The Jam’s “Art School”, complete with ex-U.S. marine Tom Hazelmyer’s anarchic Mockney accent causing much hilarity. There’s also “Timothy Leary Lives” (Pop-O-Pies) and a snotty-nosed cover of The Kinks’ “Attitude” (featuring Blondie’s Clem Burton) to gob all over.

Album highlights are undoubtedly Mudhoney’s Mark Arm giving his all to grunge-up “Set It On Fire” whilst, at the same time, giving The Scientists’ original a run for its money, and a big-bass, lush, loping, bluesy version of “Female Trouble”, the theme music to the infamous movie of the same name.

Refusing to completely ditch the impact of the originals, Melvins have stuck pretty close to the same tones and textures for the majority of the tracks here, but that’s not to say they aren’t worthwhile renditions. Not by a long chalk. There’s plenty that will provide some shocks and maybe a little awe. Some undoubtedly squeeze out above the others, but the whole, with its mainstream classics and underground rarities, stands proudly as a fair representation of the Melvins’ wide and varied record collections. In many ways, a true alternative Best Of The Melvins. Hungry, anyone?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/melvins-everyone-loves-sausages-ipecac/

Interview: Man The Machetes

The rise and rise of the Norwegian punk scene, and the media attention it has attracted of late through the furore surrounding a certain band called Kvelertak, has thrown the spotlight in the direction of many new names. One of those, Man The Machetes, are the band responsible for recently making one member of the Ave Noctum team get especially excited (resulting in the award of a 9.5/10 to their debut album Idiokrati). We duly sent him in to the ring to conduct a battle of wits with their lead guitarist, Erlend Sætren.



AN: Firstly, may I just say your debut album is staggeringly good. How would you describe your own style of music?

ES: Thanks, man! Much obliged! As for our style, it’s obviously inspired by a lot of different good shit. Everything from ballsy rock n’ roll à la Hellacopters and Turbonegro, to more punky anthemy bands like Comeback Kid and more metal-ish acts like Cancer Bats. In general, we like to say it’s all about the party tunes and letting out some steam. In short, the energy! We only make music that gives us goosebumps, no matter what kind of music that is! Style-wise, that leaves us with goosebump-inflicting energy – as if that makes sense.

AN:  The album title, Idiokrati, is proof enough of how aware you are of your surroundings. What particular social or political factors did you draw on to create the music? 

ES: I guess Chris [Iversen], our vocalist, tends to sing about things that make him angry, be it people refusing to give away their seats to old ladies on the bus or stupid politicians wanting to close our borders to everyone but rich jetsets. All in all, unfairness makes us discharge. Still, we’re a somewhat positive bunch, so we feed on fun things as well, like the beauty of playing hardcore music.

AN: Were there any musical genres or bands that you found yourself listening to whilst writing this album?

ES: Yeah, definitely! We went with Eric Ratz as our producer because we love Comeback Kid and Cancer Bats, especially their latest stuff. Apart from that, we were obviously inspired by the Kvelertak record, but also things like Jethro Tull and Rolling Stones. Deftones was there, Rage Against The Machine, Refused. Things like that.



AN: Idiokrati‘s guitars, in particular, stand out. Tell me about the riffs and particular tones you were generally aiming for.

ES: Thanks! Morten [Dischington Carlsson, guitar] is a huge fan of the Rolling Stones, so he’s all about the bluesy stuff as well as the solos. As for myself, I’m more the rhythm dude who brings out the punk riffs. Per [Christian Holm], the drummer, often hums something really melodic and Eric [Andreas Larsen], our bassist, contributes with more sombre black metal stuff. A lot of the songs are in D – we usually play in drop D – which is a sympathetic tone. Our aim for Idiokrati was melodic but hard and intense riffs. That was a challenge to get across on record, because a lot of light stuff on the guitars left a space to be filled in the mix, a space important in making the music rock hard, so the bass was really important to fill that gap. When coming up with riffs, we try all ideas, but only go for what makes us tick. That is, heavy and catchy things.

AN: Although most of the vocals are sung in Norwegian, it sounds like there are a few in English. Is that true and, if so, what was the thinking behind doing that?

ES: Actually, it’s mostly in Norwegian, some words may be in English, like swearing and words that are similar to Norwegian, like “Sudan” and “doomsday”. Ratz really focused on the rhythm and accentuation of the singing, so that might have given an English sound to it. We’d love to be understood lyrically abroad as well; maybe the next record will be in English, but for now we’ll settle with getting across the infamous goosebump-inflicting energy.

AN: What would you say the advantages are in having screamed vocals?

ES: Haha, there’s no hassle with singing in tune! Also, it adds a harder element to the otherwise, at least at times, almost pop-like riffs. A harder and more energetic element, so to say. Not to mention that it leaves room for the melody being conveyed by the guitars and the bass.

AN: Tell me about the track “Mageplask” (which I think translates as “Belly Flop”). That made my Scandinavian friend laugh! Why that particular title and what subject matter does it cover?

ES: You’re right! It means belly flop. The lyrics are about daring to take the next step instead of whining about what one could have had and envying others for whatever they might have. The message is just do it, I guess, but not in the Nike kind of way. “Belly Flop” is a funny title, it is in Norwegian too, but belly flops also hurt a lot. Like the title implies, the song is like a happy-slap in the face. At least that’s what we were going for.

AN: How did you come to choose Steven Pierce for the album artwork? Did you work with him closely on it and did you get the result you wanted?

ES: We were super-happy to work with Steve. He’s so dedicated and wanted to make as good a cover as possible. We tend to be really, really picky with things, and that went for the artwork as well, so he had to change things quite a lot. He always did though, with a smile on his face – we like to think anyway. We heard about him when we played a show in Toronto with Skies Beneath, a bunch of super-cool dudes from Ottawa. They told us about him, showed us some shirts that he had made, and then we just went for it. Even though we haven’t met him face to face, we know he’s a good dude and a skilled artist too. We couldn’t be happier with the artwork. Our initial ideas were challenging, to say the least.

AN: I’ve been watching your studio reports on YouTube. You flew to Toronto, Canada to record. What advantages did you expect to get from doing this as opposed to recording in Norway?

ES: Without wanting to hurt anybody, there’s a totally different level of record-producing in Canada. It’s bigger, in all ways. Sure, you can get a more than decent result in Norway as well, but we wanted that Ratz’ sound; that big and ram-the-wall-like sonic assault. So Canada it was. Besides, they have good burgers there and we got to go on a trip together.

AN: What was it like working with Eric Ratz? Did he have much of an influence on the finished product?

ES: He is a great guy who broke the ice right away. Great humour, that guy. He and Chris ended up speaking dubbed Japanese martial arts movie-language between them. He also encouraged us and made us believe in our music. He gave us a professional and constructive perspective on things, helped us cut off all the dead meat, making things catchier and so on. At the same time, he always listened to us and let us know that we had the last word. He used the word “we” a lot, and we like that; being a team, going for the same goal. We were relieved to know that he would never put his name on something bad, so we gave it our all.

AN: You recorded 10 tracks in 23 days. How intense was the process and did you get a chance to record any other songs?

ES: Pretty intense. We had one day off, we went to see Niagara Falls and the city of Toronto, and then went back into the studio. We were there to record, so that was cool. All our time went into these 10 songs though, recording everything as well as we could, testing different amp sounds and cymbal sounds before deciding on just the right one for the different songs. We actually ended up recording most of the gang vocals the last day, listening through and recording the final intro on “Slagen” just two hours before our plane left. Ratz and his team were really good guys, focused and cool at the same time, making our time in Toronto intense, but also really great. We have a lot of spare vocal things recorded though, but no-one will ever be able to use that. It’s nasty.



AN: From the videos it looks like you still had a blast recording. Tell us, especially, about your love for the fast food restaurant, Five Guys.

ES: Haha, we have some genuine burger-lovers amongst us! But no kidding, those burgers were fantastic! As for the videos, I guess it got to be somewhat of a band joke – always going to Five Guys. We had a blast recording. At nights we relaxed, had some Canadian beer. In the mornings we stopped by Tim Hortons for doughnuts. Haha, I think some of us gained some weight during those days.

AN: What has the feedback from friends, fans and the media on the album been like so far?

ES: A lot of good reviews and some not so good, but that’s life. Putting a record out there is like putting your head on the chopping block, as we say in Norwegian, so it’s been a nervous time. But in the end, we realize that it all comes down to the fact that we’ve given it our all, and that all we want is people listening to our record and hopefully liking what they hear. We’ve had some interest abroad, which is cool, and now we just want to get out there and play for whoever wants to listen – and those who don’t! Back home in Norway as well as in the UK, Europe and other parts of the world. Playing is a huge part of it, showing people what we’re all about live as well as on record.

AN: Right now, heavy Norwegian punk music is getting plenty of worldwide attention. What’s it like being part of the scene at this moment in time?

ES: It’s quite exciting because there are a lot of bands that you can play with, learn from and get inspired by. They make it clear that there’s a place for Norwegian punk rock on the international scene.

AN: You often can be found sharing a stage with your Norwegian peers. You must know each other pretty well by now. Do you ever play tricks on each other and does the drinking ever get out of hand?

ES: We don’t know everybody, but we know some, and they play tricks all the time. We do too – to get revenge. But not only tricks, we also share in singing tribe songs backstage and of course every now and then drink a little bit too much. We haven’t experienced the worst things yet, I guess, like being left behind by the tour van somewhere in the Dutch countryside or something, but it’ll come, surely.



AN: What’s the real story behind your band name?

ES: Haha, tossing a lot of suggestions about, landing on the one which sucked the least! We’ve gone through some terrible ones though, like Mageplask and Sudan. Imagine googling “Sudan”! You’re not going to find out too much about the band, that’s for sure. Besides, MTM has “Machetes” in it, and I and Chris are huge fans of the Blood Brothers’ record “Young Machetes”. We actually came up with the name in Canada, and people there told us it was catchy, and they know their way around, so we went for it. You can shorten it too, which is a cool thing.

AN: Do you guys have a strong work ethic?

ES: Yep. We have to. Because we’re divided between two cities, we all practice by ourselves with metronomes and so on, before getting together at weekends and rehearsing for hours. Playing music is what we want to do, so we have to work hard, and we expect each man to do his part. The songs on the record have gone through a long process, changing, adding, and cutting, to make them as good as we are able to. Of course there are times when we just hang out, doing stupid stuff, but in general, we work quite hard. If people show up on our shows, we want to give them something in return.

AN: What bands did you grow up listening to?

ES: Stuff like Pennywise, Millencollin, Rage Against The Machine, Nine Inch Nails, Refused, Enslaved, Emperor, Turbonegro, Kyuss, Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, etc. Good stuff!

AN: What’s your best/worst band experience to date?

ES: We’ve played gigs without being able to hear ourselves. That’s always interesting. We’ve also played venues where we’ve had to sell tickets and do everything ourselves. Not too bad though. We’ve gone on stage with an intro song on the speakers and a lot of smoke onstage, but had to go off again because there was something wrong with the PA. We’ve played in front of one person. Not too bad at all really, just a few minor Spinal Tap moments. I guess we’ve been lucky.

The best experience must be being able to release our debut album. Both the recording and getting to work with Indie Recordings are highlights for us. As for gigs, we’ve played the Hove Festival and the Pstereo, which was cool. We’re hungry for more though.

AN: You’ve nailed your debut album . What are you hoping to achieve next?

ES: Thanks, man! We really appreciate it. Our next goal is to get out there and play our music for as many people at as many places as however possible!

AN: Cheers for answering! Any questions you have for me?

ES: What would you rather choose for your ideal punk concert, pyro or laser show and why? What do you think Norwegian brown cheese is made of?

AN: Pyro, every day of the week. Lasers suck. No self-respecting punk wants to be made to feel like they’re at a 90s rave. And having your face melted off is far cooler than being blinded by stray lasers every couple of minutes! As for Norwegian brown cheese – I’d have to guess it was whiskey or beer-flavoured.

[Actually, brunost or mynost is caramelised cheese – a process that involves boiling the milk, cream and whey until the water evaporates and the milk sugar turns to caramel. A side effect of the process is that it becomes a highly flammable substance as Norwegian firefighters found out when they had to attend a recent tunnel fire that burned for 5 days.]

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/interview-man-the-machetes/

Album Review: Man The Machetes – Idiokrati

Oh, I love me some punk n’ roll. It’s so gritty and groovy and grimy and great. If you’re not moshing, you’re dancing, and if you’re not dancing you’re drinking! Throw in a viciously roared vocal and I’m in seventh bloody heaven, me. There’s nothing finer than watching a decent punk band sweating themselves dry and then launching their own broken bodies at you. The whole principle of “Give everything, leave nothing” always applies and, yes, that’s infectious, but most importantly, it’s something you can’t help but admire.

Norway’s Man The Machetes, like their fellow countrymen and perennial touring buddies, Kvelertak, have all of the above in spades. Now, even the best live bands have trouble translating these live qualities onto record, it’s a widely-acknowledged problem, so quite how MTM have nailed it first time around is beyond me. There’s no getting around it – Idiokrati (a cheeky reference to the concept of a government run by idiots) is all-but-perfect. It sports a suitably post-apocalyptic black-and-yellow album cover which is certainly going to help this stand out on the shelves. Diggers flattening buildings and a little girl in a gas-mask with a flower and the obligatory machete in hand – these are images, although a little obvious, that should stay with you awhile. Let’s just say you shouldn’t miss it when browsing.

The fiery opener “Sluk Det Rått” (in English, “Eat It Raw”) drives through a pistoning opening foray, before softening into a swaggering roll. Both play along with Christopher Iversen’s wall-of-howl until the band suddenly inject a surge of bass and smother the bastard. This goes at you like an attack dog – ripping bite after bite out of you. There is just no let off from the sonic assault. Album highlight, “Slagen”, is quite possibly the finest thing I’ve heard in years. Best described as a storm of rich, dissonant melody, this takes everything that’s gone before and hones it to a point where the gang chants and short rhythmic pauses for breath create a trigger for the chorus to fire its irresistible hook into your brain – “Down with the slagen!”

The crushing groove that this band generates is like an almighty weight on your chest; its acidic edges bleed into every pore. When listening to this I actually find myself struggling to breathe. It’s a monster. There is no room to think when MTM are laying down. The gunshot snare drum; the menacing sequence of minor chord changes; the harmonics that play around a central key; the crushing riff in “Karma å Brenne” (or “Karma To Burn”) – they all roll around inside your skull, endowed with the same mass as the strongman’s Atlas Stones.

If I was pushed, I would suggest that Man The Machete’s music falls into the gap between Kvelertak and Fucked Up or, in other words, between a rock and a fucking hard place. Additionally, parts of “Maktesløse” (in English, “Powerless”) put me in mind of Skindred’s ragga venom; the vocal delivery and the patterning especially, but only a hundred times more deadly, and there is a fistful of Cancer Bats lurking down in the twisted grooves that the melodies dig out. The big difference here is that Idiokrati washes away the disparate attack and quality of all these bands and replaces their filler with absolute killer.

Some will listen to this and hear too much similarity between tracks, whilst others will sneer at its measly 30-minute running time or, idiotically, balk at the Norwegian content. These people would be missing the point. The over-riding value of this album comes from the way it instantly makes you feel. That factor transcends every other. I haven’t found a moment when I’ve not been energised by Iversen getting his beast on for “Sudan” or the guitars doling out their thick menacing riffs for the homecoming of “Hjemkomst”. Point is, if you want to get pumped and you dig the idea of some scowling, spitting carnage fed through a startlingly melodious selection of strings then you simply have no choice. Man The Machetes want to own your soul and you’d be a fool not to let them have it.

Special thanks go to Swedish Max for his help translating the titles.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/02/man-the-machetes-idiokrati-indie-recordings/

Album Review: Funeral For A Friend - Conduit

The Welsh band Funeral For A Friend have never been ones to rest on their laurels. Generally accepted as a hard-hitting rock group, they have explored a penchant for the alternative and the emotional, to one that conjures easily-accessible, enigmatic, heart-bursting anthems. Now with Rise To Remain’s old drummer, Pat Lundy, on board, they appear ready to travel the Conduit to locate their inner punk.

Without doubt, it’s an album that still features, to some degree, the band’s driven melody, gorgeously rich harmonies and addictive choruses but there is a definite shift of focus towards metal and hardcore. Vocalist Matthew Davies recently neatly summarised the change with the words “it’s a post-hardcore record that is not afraid to drop into some hardcore for good measure.”

Former band member Matthew “Snowskull” Evans has painted a startling cover for Conduit that is oddly reminiscent, like some of those old Slayer albums or Trey Moseley’s artwork for The Chariot’s One Wing. Rest assured though, FFAF’s songwriting hasn’t gone anything like as deep into the chaos as those particular bands regularly do. Despite Davies’ assertions, these additions to the music do feel somewhat forced at times – initially, you may wince at the irksome slips from boisterous verse into slick chorus (lead single “Best Friends and Hospital Beds” and “Travelled” are in a league of their own), but ignoring this, it’s still a clear statement of intent and one that does need multiple plays before sound judgement can be passed.

They certainly don’t go off half-cocked at this crossover monster – even their usually high-end production has trimmed a little off the sides to make way for the added gristle. It’s a full-bore attempt to interweave both their rough and smooth edges and when they manage to segue the two styles effectively the songs can invigorate you. Some go in harder (bruisers like the title-track, “Death Comes To Us All” and “High Castles”), but there’s still plenty of rousing sing-a-long choruses to grab onto. They come thick and fast with “Spine”, “Best Friends…” and “Nails” all liberally doused in colourful, soaring harmonies. What the contrast has highlighted is the minor limitations of Davies’ vocal. There’s no denying his passion, but every now and then, when he peaks and reaches up to hawk out another yelp of anger, his pitch and tone become painfully strained – as an example, the line “How many friends can I lose before it all makes sense” catches him out every single time.

Thankfully, the complex, technical guitar melodics do help to bolster this weakness in his delivery. They form the kind of backdrops that Sylosis would be proud of. One particularly memorable example lies in the jarringly-angular closing segment of “Nails”. The gentle build, tight-as-fuck chorus and crushing ‘core elements are all implemented magnificently. It’s these multiple hues that stick it on a pedestal.

As you journey through, there emerges a noticeable overall lack of track variation but it’s hard to deny the momentum that FFAF build throughout. You do have to wait for “Elements” to provide the deviation the album craves. It really would be the perfect closing track; not overstaying its welcome and melodically-enduring with a gently warbling fade-out. Well, it would be, except that the Hatebreed-lite metalcore tactics of “High Castles” take the honour – “Our words are weapons, they are our shield, our words are weapons, fist by fucking fist” – with over-eager call-and response chicanery.

Having screamed back from the edge of the creative abyss with 2011′s cracking Welcome Home Armageddon, to head back to their EP days and begin re-establishing their love of punk and hardcore makes Conduit a risky album for FFAF to write at this moment in time. Even more so, when you consider just how much metalcore influence there is on this and how much that particular genre has taken a battering over recent years. Thankfully, none of that matters much. There is just enough true grit and spirit powering this offering to really warrant that risk. Conduit is a whole different beast but, most importantly, it’s an album that’s honest and committed and deserving of your attention.

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/funeral-for-a-friend-conduit

Album Review: Clamfight – I Versus The Glacier

You might think Clamfight would be named by a collection of mollusk-loving foodies, but I fear their name comes from something far more seedy. The revelation that “the name was conceived whilst watching an influential movie” isn’t a complete surprise then, nor the tit-bit about them not wanting to “get into which movie or what scene”. I bet they don’t, dirty boys.

These East Coast crushers display all the hallmarks of both High On Fire’s shouty, sludgy, all-encompassing thrum and Saviours’ punk quirks and strong urge to break into galloping rhythms. It’s a hefty combination and one that deserves the good head-jerking that you will inevitably grant it. As is the case with both the aforementioned bands, Andy Martin’s wild vocals often gets a good smothering and as a consequence the lyrical content is often tough to pick out – I believe “I vs. The Glacier” has a peek-a-boo line that sounds like “Winners for years” or it could be “Witness four ears”. Your guess is as good as mine. It does however feature an enigmatic, visceral lead and a spot of downtime that wobbles and howls as it plays its psychedelic mind games.

“The Eagle” is pure riff; crushing, vitriolic and Neanderthal. It is the beast that will carve a mile-wide rut across your mind, whilst “Sandriders” thunders along at a fair lick, the vocals snapping at your heels, the drums’ reverberating thunder, the whole vehicle careering from side to side before slipping back into a swagger. “River Of Ice”, on the other hand, steadily chimes along a single chord, pulses like a heartbeat and features some neat, warbling cosmic touches. Every element, including that nagging underscore, all scream out Mastodon. These tracks are all hefty statements of intent; slaps of the glove across the cheeks of their peers.

Other highlights come in the form of the rock-a-saurus mosh of “I vs. The Glacier” and the much angrier blast of “Shadow Line”. This latter monster displays Bison B C’s tendency to stray mid-song – part-groove, part-braying, roaring insanity – it’s also the sound of Motorhead’s Lemmy being trampled underfoot. There’s the odd weak spot, glaringly the odd instrumental “Tower Of The Elephant II” (named “The Green Gods Of Yag” on this promo) which adds very little to the pile, but you couldn’t really accuse them of using it to pad out the album because of the variety of attack on offer.

Also, I haven’t seen an album with such an intriguing tracklist as this in a long time. Seriously, run your eyes down that list. Even before you’ve heard it you just know “Age Of Reptiles” is going to sound swampy, stompy and like its full of teeth (it does) and “Stealing The Ghost Horse” will undoubtedly get its blackened doom on (it does, in a Crowbar-y sort of way). All the song titles get the mind racing, conjuring enough images to demand further investigation. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to eventually get hold of a lyric sheet. All that remains to be said is… you’d better have your flamethrowers at the ready, folks. This is one mean opponent. I Versus The Glacier – Round One. Ding ding!

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/clamfight-i-versus-the-glacier

Album Review: Vera Cruz – SkinAndTeethAndNails

Meaning “true cross” the French band Vera Cruz (yes, we’re not talking about the place, the film, the computer virus, the football club or the canyon here) are a group who wear their music influences as badges of honour. They have melded the classic punk of Black Flag and the timeless hardcore of Sick Of It All to the contemporary conglomerate metalcore of acts like Unearth or Evergreen Terrace so that what pours out of them falls somewhere between moshpit crush and raging chaos.

Their debut album, SkinAndTeethAndNails, besides providing the acronym SATAN whilst flaunting an anarchic graffiti-scrawled album cover message imploring you to “Fuck Cops”, goes off with one hell of a bang. The dynamic 1:32 build and crush of “Hopeless Knights” fires up the gang vocals to belt out the chorus for the enigmatic “The Last Of A Dying Breed”. The clean harmonies that mark out “The Family” pitch themselves as a sweetener for lead vocalist Flavian’s furious scrawling which continues to bite on through the speeding mania of “Black Walls” – a track that comes close to touching the crazy of label-mates The Chariot but with a hint of fellow countrymen The Prestige thrown in for good measure. The purposeful, yet ludicrously over-extended, circulating banjo at the track’s end leads neatly into the chord structure of the awesomely menacing “Open Your Eyes”.

From this point on, Vera Cruz rather lose a bit of steam. A large proportion of this latter material has a tendency to disappear from the foreground as the band begin to wander into familiar structures where neck-breaking speed, breakdowns and gang vocals rule. The exciting bone-crunching smack of those first few hits, the sinister psychological edge that was wielded so readily is filtered-out and the insistent metal guitar chugs begin to dominate (they even try to wedge an Iron Maiden gallop into the complex farce that is “The Last Parade”). Only the opportunity to “Walk Alone”, a track whose chorus is strongly reminiscent of Unearth’s “My Will Be Done”, and the dark atmospherics and dense bark of “Dunwich” allow them to come close to leaving another impression.

French metal bands seem to have a knack for imagination and, with SATAN, Vera Cruz have proved they are no different. What they appear to have a tendency to do is suppress it in an attempt to find a crossover metal edge and subsequent parity with their heroes. If they thought bigger, perhaps had a real crack at playing the wildcard that they are clearly holding, they could really blow some minds.



Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2012/11/vera-cruz-skinandteethandnails-season-of-mist/