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/

EP Review: Lazarus Blackstar / Black Shape Of Nexus – Split

For this eagerly-awaited Split LP, the North-West of England meets the North-West of Germany as two storming merchants of doom crash headlong into each other for half-an-hour of immersive Sturm und Drang. From an early pressurized melting pot where Bradford and Liverpool’s Lazarus Blackstar’s crust-coated doom and blackened death-drone brews inside a morphing structure, the record steadily winds up the tempo until Mannheim sextet Black Shape Of Nexus take over and begin to introduce experimental layers of feedback and replace grit with groove. It all adds up to a wonderfully wretched experience that aims to bury you deep beneath six-feet of stinking, blackened soil.

Setting off through the sludge and buzz-heavy riffing of Lazarus Blackstar’s “Command and Control”, Mik Hell’s growl and dissonant rage pitch us downwards until they find their spiritual nadir in a ponderous hole where two sets of layered vocals tear lumps out of each other upon a bedrock of whining drone. From here they dust themselves off and settle into the patchwork quilt of sections that form “Whispering Through Broken Teeth”. Reminiscent of St. Vitus and, to a point, Eyehategod there is also a moment where, disconcertingly, it all begins to sound a bit like a slowed-down Iron Maiden tape. Walking you through, we’ve got an introductory riff that cuts abrasively into a rumbling verse, before heading down to half-time for the chorus and then out into a displaced, yet memorably upbeat riff. Rinse and repeat ad infinitum.

Experimenting with much more success, B.SON tug at their Neurosis chain and flush out a tongue-in-cheek offering to the Gods of doom. The 11-minute “Honor Found In Delay”, littered with psychedelic hits of feedback and noisy electronica, gets you deep in the gut with a thunderous, soul-shaking series of chords. The construction is much more organic here and stands in direct opposition to Lazarus Blackstar’s harsh segues. When they find their chug-friendly two-note doom boots they stomp about in them like pigs in muck with Malte Seidel screaming blue murder from, what sounds like, the other side of the street.

Best of all, closer “Always And Only” spends its entire 9-minute length revelling in the joys that a simple-spined, steadily evolving, quality tongue-and-groove doom song can supply. And who better than George Orwell to provide the LP’s morbid epitaph? His soundbite taken from the BBC Series “The Life Of Orwell” plays this intriguingly miserablist LP out – “If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face… forever”.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/01/lazarus-blackstar-bson-split-alerta-antifascista-records/

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/

EP Review: Colossus Of Destiny – In Lesser Brightness

Who fancies a nice, big, juicy steak?

If you’ve got your hand up then allow me to point you in the direction of Colossus Of Destiny. With a band-name that comes from a Melvins’ live album and being bona fide fans of the Relapse roster, it’s no surprise to discover that this Parisian quintet are all about the meat. With velvety-rich production, beefy drumming, fat strings and a chomping vocal attack that hits like a bloody mallet, In Lesser Brightness is a T-Rex T-Bone of a record.

It’s a beast that digs in early and signs off in style. Opening the six-track EP up with “Dismay In Empty Eyes” and its crashing wave effects, sonorous riffs and cascading toms, they cleverly strip their attack back only to build it all back up again. As a multi-part behemoth, it’s hugely reminiscent of Steak Number Eight’s progressive thunder. It is the ultimate statement of intent. Closing proceedings, the lurking melodics of the title-track and its chaotic brother, “Naked & Unbound”, are similarly brave in structure. Here, the band tug at antagonistic threads that shine a spotlight on Jérémy Le Formal’s drumming as he drives the staggering motion ever onward when it seems the songs may implode.

Conversely, their shorter tracks, like “Unleashed” and “Get Lost”, seem determined to blindly batter away with the guitars ripping out some fairly hefty sludge metal, taking them tramping down the same paths as bands like Bison B.C. and High On Fire. Deep in the mix, Guillaume Taliercio’s bass still displays a magnificent wanderlust whilst vocalist Adrien Guilmoteau has a crack at tearing off a slice of that Matt Pike snarl. Here in the record’s mid-riff the tracks lose some of their individuality as their fleshier parts tend to bleed into each other which is a shame.

A future album release should help nail down whether their intentions are to favour pace and power over a softer, more experimental touch. That opening track here suggests they do, indeed, have the songwriting nous to help them, should they so wish, build up an exciting, expansive style. Whichever way they go, it’s clear you’re going to have to bring a big plate and a sharp knife if you want to dine at Colossus of Destiny’s table.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/01/colossus-of-destiny-in-lesser-brightness-hellbound-records/

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/