Ringworm – Hammer Of The Witch

 

pic scott schumacher

pic scott schumacher

    I think it is safe to say that the ferocity and sonic viciousness of metallic hardcore protagonists Ringworm has not abated or diminished over their twenty plus years brawling with the senses. The indisputable evidence comes with new album Hammer Of The Witch, a towering and vindictive slab of destructive raging and antagonistic creativity. Packed to the brim with thirteen vitriol spewing tracks that just as venomously unleash a range of uncompromising riffs and addictive grooves, the album is a commanding onslaught of spite and animosity, simply unadulterated hardcore excellence.

     Formed in 1991, it is fair to say that Ringworm has left an indelible mark with their fusion of metal and hardcore, debut album The Promise in 1993 setting the Cleveland band as a sizeable proposition before a hiatus of sorts was ended by the unleashing of the critically acclaimed Birth Is Pain on Victory Records in 2001. Subsequent albums like Justice Replaced By Revenge four years later and the following The Venomous Grand Design of 2007 reinforced and strengthened their grip on passions and scene. Scars three years ago continued the stretching of the band’s creativity and power, the same pleasing accusation you can throw at Hammer Of The Witch, the band’s debut on Relapse Records. Recorded with Ben Schigel (Chimaira, Walls of Jericho) producing, the album is a merciless tempest chewing up and spitting out everything from ears to emotions.

     Opener Dawn of Decay emerges from a cinematic intimidation, a sense of epic danger spawning a weave of carnivorous 12 Jacket (3mm Spine) [GDOB-30H3-007}basslines, rapacious riffing, and combative rhythms, all honed into a prowling entity which sizes up its victim before exploding into  fire of musical causticity and vocal threat, the tones of frontman Human Furnace as always living up to his moniker. The song stalks the senses from start to finish, the guitars of Matt Sorg and John Comprix abrasively ravishing air and ears whilst drummer Danny Zink gives them a further mighty battering.

  The excellent start is potently backed up by the corrosive wrath of Bleed and the nastily venomous Leave Your Skin at the Door, both individual tirades of inventive riffery and precisely sculpted contagious grooves courted by the deliciously dark hearted tones spawned from the bass of Ed Stephens, his opening of the second of these songs a mouthwatering provocation. Each track is also marked by keen sonic endeavour from the guitars; theirs an acidic play within the riot which even in brief colours raises the potency of the anger.

    The toxic Exit Life rails against ears next, its narrative and approach singular in venom and hatred but fully magnetic, before Psychic Vampire belts and engages the senses with rhythmic violence and a deceptively seductive groove which winds around and recruits the passions. The track is a maelstrom of vehemence, lyrically and sonically, and rich infectiousness. It is an intrusive antagonist that is hard to have enough of, the same that can also be said of King of Blood, another unbridled onslaught which savages and ignites the emotions with dramatic grooves, temper driven riffs, and bitter rhythms. The track in many ways is similar to its predecessor, the one trait you could lay against the album with a regularly familiarity across some songs, though it does not reduce the pleasure and power of the release one iota.

    Through tracks like the torrentially consumptive I Recommend Amputation and the predatory We’ll Always Have the End as well as the raging causticity of One Of Us Is Going to Have to Die…, band and album abrases and sears with compelling efficiency and enterprise even if each lacks some of the spark of previous songs, though amongst them the title track takes its victims on a hellacious ride of physical and mental ferocity which simply ignites the passions, it’s almost demonic poisons irresistibly and dramatically enthralling.

     The final trio of tracks starting with the flesh and synapse scorching Vicious Circle of Life lift the album back to its opening plateau, the fearsome slice of tempestuous hostility scarred with great guitar acid soon thrown under the shadow of the brilliant Die Like a Pig. The bass of Stephens digs deep for its strongest guttural growl whilst HF soaks every syllable and rage spewing sound with bile spawned malevolence and passion to match the creative rabidity of its partners of dispute.

     The album closes with slab of prime hardcore/punk jaundice in the riveting shape of Height of Revelation. The uncivil and rigorously inciting melee of sonic and rhythmic rancor is a thunderous and thoroughly incendiary last triumph for passions and album. Hammer of the Witch is a breath stealing, bone splintering furnace of acrimony and virulent contagion. It is masterful and thrilling assault on the ear which if not the pinnacle of Ringworm’s career is certainly right up there. Hardcore has never sounded better in the hands of the ‘veterans’, and they show no signs of losing their devastating anger and invention either…Happy Days!

http://www.ringworm13.net/

9/10

RingMaster 19/03/2014

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Weekend Nachos – Still

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Unleashing another blaze of their particular form of hardcore seeded fury, Weekend Nachos continue their accomplished antagonistic brawling with senses and emotions through new album Still. As expected from the band, their release is rife with anger, a record driven by an intimidating confrontational spite but also one with moments of inspired invention which lights up a thoroughly satisfying encounter. Still is an enterprising slice of viciousness, not maybe the band’s finest moment but one which leaves enjoyment and rich provocation the order of the day.

The Chicago quartet of Aaron Ross, John Hoffman, Varg Campos, and Brian Laude have never relented in their annihilatory venomous assaults from early EPs and split releases through debut album Punish and Destroy, and every unleashing up to 2011 album Worthless and beyond. The Relapse Records released Still as stated is an equally intensive and ferocious incitement, one which leaves the listener breath-less and contented even if not blown away.

A sonic call opens up first track Sickened No More, its piercing lure the entry point to a squalling rage of vocals and corrosive riffing exploding into an all-out intensive riot. The track is forty three seconds of violent sonic mayhem, group vocals scowling from the song’s ‘terraces’ whilst bass and drums provide a raptorial maliciousness which buckles knees and withers defences by look alone. To be honest the song is too short, there barely being time to full offload the fullest passionate submission before it passes its belligerent baton onto No Idols and No Heroes. Addictive rhythms start things off here and fuel the following combative passage of uncompromising energy and rancor, the core of the track another vindictive assault of nasty hardcore vitality but one hinting at certainly from the guitar, a sense of exploration not always making its voice heard across the release.

Both next S.C.A.B. and Satan Sucker ravage the senses and thought mercilessly, the first with a primal sonic pestilence which switches between unrestrained ferocity and a sludgy prowl across its brief storm and its successor through the thrash kissed savagery it expels in sound, vocal, and lyrical irreverence. It is a masterful slab of brutality, the first major pinnacle of the album and a predation which consumes the senses and sparks the passions to their strongest reaction yet. Its sonic wind outlasts the hellacious maelstrom to lead fluidly into next up Late Night Walks, the track another straight-forward, eye balling tsunami of hostility. Like a few of the songs it provides what you want but also expect from a Weekend Nachos’ track which is not a bad thing but does provide the only ‘issue’ with the album, not enough surprises and adventure from their skilful but expectations feeding recognisable assault.

One of the long tracks on the release at over three minutes, Watch You Suffer is a rapacious stalking of the ears which does provoke an enterprise and invention lacking in the previous song; its besieging moments submerged into a crawling heavily weighted smothering of intensity and dramatic, intimidating sound. It is another big highlight of Still which at twice the length of most songs, provides a though provoking and emotions twisting bewitchment.

The likes of Wolves with its ferine ferocity and the blistering You’re Not Punk continue the fearsome ravaging, both thrillingly and virulently destructive whilst the unpredictable Ignore with a wonderful carnal throaty sound to the bass and the unsurprising yet grudgingly magnetic Yes Way both corrupt eagerly as they work away at existing wounds with an energetic rabidity and preying intent. All the songs contribute attention gripping presences to ensure that ears and emotions continued to be enslaved and engrossed in the ‘fun’, something the album at no point lets slip.

The barbaric Broken Mirror ejects its magnificent animosity next before letting the title track bring Still to a close with arguably the most intensive part of the release. It is a final tortuous rage of craft and energy bringing a compelling and pleasing abuse to a formidable end. The release is nothing short of what you would expect from Weekend Nachos, in quality, voraciousness, and sound. This means it maybe is not the band at its most potent to date but certainly Still short changes nobody on strong and uncompromising hardcore bruising and lyrical antagonism.  It is simply a release for fans to devour and newcomers to be noisily intrigued by.

https://www.facebook.com/weekendxnachos

8/10

RingMaster 13/11/2013

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Toxic Holocaust – Chemistry of Consciousness

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Eagerly on the heels of the must have From the Ashes of Nuclear Destruction album, a career spanning retrospective covering Toxic Holocaust rarities from the past decade, as well as The Yellowgoat Sessions  from the excellent solo project release from TH founder Joel Grind, the band unleash new album Chemistry of Consciousness. It is a rampaging beast of an album, a brutal tempest of punk edged thrash and rabid rock n’ roll which comes with the expected and richly familiar Toxic Holocaust stamp but also sneaks in a vein of contagion and addictive toxicity to move the release apart from previously albums and maybe more importantly the outstanding Conjure and Command yet still easily sitting within the distinctive, arguably expectations feeding course of the band. It is fair to say there is nothing ground breaking from the album for adrenaline fuelled metal but just as potently it provides one exhaustingly exhilarating and irresistible confrontation you will never tire of.

The Portland punk metallers as always are open with their inspirations, essences of the likes of Bathory, Venom, Slayer, Municipal Waste, GBH and more the additive to their own brew of creative petrol powering an explosive aggressive vehicle, in this case the raucously confronting Relapse Records released Chemistry Of Consciousness. The Kurt Ballou (Converge) mixed album has little need for niceties with opener Awaken The Serpent bitch slapping the ears with rolling rhythms, predation clad riffing, and the ever caustic tones of Grind scarring air and senses form its first breath. The addictive groove which swaggers throughout brings further temptation, showing that earlier mentioned intensive infectiousness to the uncompromising bait offered whilst the rhythmic assault of bassist Phil Zeller and drummer Nick Bellmore helps sculpt an enslavement which only Toxic Holocaust seems able to cast.

It is a senses stunning start soon taken further by the excellent Silence, the track a rapacious nagging of Grind’s guitar riffery and the chemistryofconsciousness_1500inventive rhythmic antagonism. A heavy metal flame is ever present across the song, a heat which explodes through incendiary sonic enterprise in the brief solo and the continually teasing melodic invention of the track. It is a refreshing and vibrant attack firmly backed up by the mighty Rat Eater. Opening with compelling, prowling intensity and rabidity, the guitar chugging purposely alongside similarly cagey rhythms, the track builds up a fiery and intimidating presence before throwing off any shackles to stomp rigorously through the ears with acidic sonic scythes and punishing rhythms behind squally gravelly vocals igniting further the already in place hunger.

   Salvation Is Waiting explodes with the same stance and power as its predecessor at the start, the track like many upon the album closely related in structure and intensity to others but inserting imaginative and in this case torrential outpourings of striking enterprise and riveting twists. The mix of familiar and new continues as a tsunami of unbridled rhythmic provocation marks out next up Out Of The Fire, a voracious crafting ripe within a sonic causticity which breeds greater appetite for the evolving cantankerous adventure and power that is Chemistry of Consciousness whilst the excellent Acid Fuzz simple provides another pinnacle for the release. With a fire of melodic metal and cataclysmic rhythms driving the song instantly into the passions as spirals of sonic addictiveness and Grind’s scowling delivery not ignoring his appetite filling guitar flumes turn the track magnetic, the encounter strides forth as a thrilling blaze of heavy metal sculpted thrash.

Every track is a lingering gem upon the album, very few striking up the turf of new pastures admittedly but all revitalising well-worn destruction littered fields, the likes of the carnivorously honed Deny The Truth and the punishing Mkultra continuing the persistently satisfying presence of the album whilst songs such as I Serve… and International Conspiracy almost bruise the listener into willing submission whilst feeding all thrash metal wants with that Toxic Holocaust individuality.

The album finishes with the exceptional title track, a song which certainly bids for top honours and maybe steals it with its rhythmic ravaging of the ear and savage riffery guided by the constantly combative delivery of Grind. It is a compelling brawl of a conclusion to a typical yet ridiculously satisfying Toxic Holocaust album. Chemistry of Consciousness may not quite be the album of the year in the cold light of day but without doubt it is one of the most enjoyable and arousing to cross our thrash lit paths.

http://www.toxicholocaust.com/

8.5/10

RingMaster 31/10/2013

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Red Fang – Whales And Leeches

Red Fang "Whales and Leeches" press photos 2013

Back again to send heavy cascades of thumping rhythms, demanding riffs, and exhaustive rock ‘n’ roll contagion down upon the senses, Oregon’s Red Fang unleash their third dramatically compelling album upon the world. Whales And Leeches is a commanding storm of what the band does best, making intensive and rapacious heavy rock with more barbs and hooks than an angling convention, and though arguably it does not bring anything strikingly new from the Portland quartet it is undeniably pure Red Fang and a definite highlight of the year.

With the past two years or so a constant round of touring and shows, the foursome of guitarist/vocalist Bryan Giles, bassist/vocalist Aaron Beam, guitarist David Sullivan, and drummer John Sherman have at the same time written a collection of songs which rampage on adrenaline and hunger and seduce with a virulently additive expanse of temptation clad grooves and incendiary riffery. Featuring guests Mike Scheidt (Yob) and Pall Jenkins (The Black Heart Procession), the Relapse Records released album outshines predecessor Murder The Mountains to stand almost side by side with Red Fang’s explosive self-titled debut full length in stature, an album which always has the passions inflamed.

Opener DOEN immediately tells you all you need to know about Whales And Leeches, a spiralling guitar tease across rabid rhythmswhalesandleeches_1500 bursting from a discord kissed introduction to lay the seeds for a groove cored flight of predacious energy and adventure. As you would expect riffs and drums command and bewitch the ear whilst the dual vocal attack is a pleasing magnet within the tempestuous assault, but there also seems an extra dose of mischief and infection to the song which subsequently permeates the whole album, a fun or devilry which has lips licked and anticipation brewing an even stronger hunger.

The following excellent Blood Like Cream is a thrilling feisty dance with a strong Queens Of The Stone Age tantalising to its breath whilst its chorus is epidemically captivating and the trigger to its recipient’s vocal and feet shuffling contribution. The song is a magnificent temptation with a punk rabidity to its urgency and enthusiastic swagger whilst its successors No Hope and Crows in Swine add their individual flavours to continue the terrific start to the release. The first of the two has a snarl and bruising quality which again offers a punk essence but this time within a Black Tusk like causticity whilst the second digs up the depths of the dirty side of the band to clad its sides in Mastodon like filth and aggressive enticement. With a wonderfully niggling presence to the serpentine grooves and sonic licks, as well as excellent unpredictable invention over a torrential drum attack, the song is one of the major pinnacles of the album especially with the Eastern mystique which seduces from within its enthralling climax.

     Voices of the Dead is next to keep the passions enslaved, the song a gentler sinew framed persuasion with great vocal harmonies providing a sweltering gentleness across  the more intimidating sounds. It continues to hold the imagination as firmly as the previous tracks before passing over the task to Behind The Light who then sends the baton into the eager hands of the Black Sabbath skirting Dawn Rising. The two tracks again leave attention and appetite fully satisfied but do miss the heights of their predecessors in many ways. There is plenty of gripping adventure to the songs but there is a lack of that killer aspect which makes them leap from the speakers into an infernally persistent and welcome long term instigator.

There is no such problem with Failure, the track an irresistible lure with broody shadows and a spellbinding menacing temptation. Slowly stalking senses and thoughts the track is a heavy prowling joy, riffs and rhythms crowding the ear into submission whilst the vocals add their demonic tension as guitars sculpt a mesmeric sonic web of invention and sultry desire. It, as many of the tracks shows the diversity and maturity within Red Fang’s songwriting before letting 1516 take the album back into a primal insatiable heavy stomp of blood curdling intensity.

This Animal ensures the album delivers another major highlight before its end, the song bringing again a QOTSA like twisting of inventive sonic diablerie and pulsating metallic predation which at times reminds of Therapy? whilst the final song and latest single from the album, Every Little Twist provides a smouldering , endearing slice of muscular rock with melodic caresses. It is a very decent conclusion though personally not a song I would imagine being the strongest pull into the album compared to much stronger infection soaked tracks upon Whales And Leeches. It undoubtedly brings the release to a fine finish and helps leave exhaustion and pleasure the overriding emotions and thoughts from one exciting album. Red Fang seemingly constantly create music you just cannot get enough of and their third album is another prime example; maybe not a classic but pretty damn close.

http://redfang.net/

8.5/10

RingMaster 17/10/2013

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Windhand – Soma

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Pic Tony Lynch

    Soma is undoubtedly not for the faint hearted; not that the new album from Windhand is vicious or openly destructive, but with a scintillating oppressive craft and an impossibly heavy intensity the six track, seventy plus minute leviathan of doom clad sludge pervasion is one of the most exhausting demanding presences heard this year. As extensively consuming as it is expansively involving, the debut release with Relapse Records from the Richmond, Virginia quintet is sheer downtuned, rock gaited drama and despite its merciless lumbering ravishing of the senses is as captivating and magnetic as it is thrilling suffocating.

To declare Soma epic is almost whimsical, the mountainous riff rugged terrain going beyond that description to thrust the senses and imagination into an unventilated stuffy swamp of corrosively persuasive intensive sonic fog. The five piece of vocalist Dorthia Cottrell, guitarists Asechiah Bogdan and Garrett Morris, bassist Parker Chandler, and drummer Ryan Wolfe pregnate the senses immediately with an antagonistic slowly pervading riff from the first second of opener Orchard. The lone intrusion is soon joined by further grizzled guitar and barbed rhythms guided by the same intent, the forestry of sonic scenery and immersive atmosphere soon a tight restrictive smog around the ear and thoughts. The almost mystical haunting tones of Cottrell offers light, an escape from the intense ambience though it is a deceptive lure leading the listener into a maze of acidic melodies and guitar enterprise. Evocative and controlling the track is a magnetic call on the passions, a seemingly instinctive response in return embracing its fearsome muscular offering.

The following Woodbine soon engages a melodic and harmonic mist within its persuasive occultist like overwhelming breath, a GD30OB2-N.cdrpsychedelic glow shimmering off of the tar thick energy infiltrating every pore and thought.  Like its predecessor the song seems to go on and on in height and depth, the Sabbath inspired riff tanked absorption of the imagination an ever widening pull through an air sucking, senses flooding tide of fuzz lined malevolence. Its successor Feral Bones is much the same but with an even more predacious labouring rabidity which chews and swallows thoughts and emotions into its terrifying dark underbelly of again drone driven animosity, though once more the vocals of Cottrell offer a line of comfort even if soaked in sinister intrigue.

From distinctly different songs but ones with a mutual surface intent and feel, Evergreen steps forward next to provide ‘an eye of the storm’ moment. Predominantly acoustic guitar walking alongside wonderful vocals and harmonies in a tender ambience, the song is a folk autumn breeze but one which is no stranger to the shadows and darkened air which skirt its beauty from first to last evocative note and syllable.

Cassock soon preys on the calm with a terrific sonically snarling temptation evolving into a leg staggering thunderstorm of electrified sonic scythes and mountainous cascading beats prowled from within by sinew heavy, riveting ferocious riffs. Like being chewed alive by a tsunami of ravenous intensive jaws whilst fallen angels serenade the wounds, the track is a magnetic triumph which impales the passions upon its rhythmic shards and sonic spires.

The closing Boleskine is a thirty minute colossal journey all on its own within the album. An acoustic start deceptively draws in the senses and mind before once fully engaged they succumb to a blood chilling doom soundscape of severe and stressful provocation entwined with seducing melodic mastery and the ever lingering almost ghostly vocal presence of Cottrell. Ever evolving with drone spawned intensity and folk sparked elegance repeating their persuasions amidst ever changing and senses suffering imagination, the track is a long winding fall through aural purgatory and thoroughly absorbing and thrilling, if debatably over long by the time it leaves its Siberian like winter on the ear.

Soma is simply an outstanding confrontation which needs and offers numerous excursions through its edacious depths to explore all of its startling textures and depths. Windhand has created a suffering which may in time go down as an important doom metal release; certainly in the now it will feature on the end of year passions of so many.

https://www.facebook.com/WindhandVA

8.5/10

RingMaster 16/09/2013

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Primitive Man – Scorn

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As psychologically damaging as it is compellingly addictive, Scorn the debut album from US blackened doomsters Primitive Man, is a rewardingly intensive examination of the senses that has thoughts and emotions cowering before its malevolent rage. Seven tracks of intrusive, venomous sonic consumption, the release is in no way an easy listen, its uncomfortable intent and presence devastating in the extreme and corruptive in it ‘lighter’ moments, but throughout there is a lure and niggle which just will not let go of captivation and excitement.

Hailing from Colorado, Primitive Man was formed in February of 2012 by Ethan Lee McCarthy, Jonathan Campos, and Bennet Kennedy (current and former members of Withered, Clinging To The Trees of A Forest Fire, Death of Self and Reproacher). Creating an invasive sound bred one suspects from the darkest malevolent corners of the psyche, the band opened up awareness with the initial release of the album last year and then a self-released demo, but it is now with its full release via Relapse Records that Scorn will surely expose the strongest hidden fears of the world to torment and soundtrack. The founding trio (Kennedy having since having left the band after the album recording and replaced by drummer Isidro Soto) take no shortcuts to the inner most depths of mind and senses, each track a crippling but rewarding expulsion of peace and safety which breeds the most potent post-apocalyptic, post sanity expanses of noise and atmospheres.

The title track wraps the ear in a sonic rub of sinister and persistent heat before collapsing into a lumbering intensive prowl of doom scorn_1500drenched black metal seeded incivility. Sculpted from a thick sludge dripping web of roaming inciting rhythms and corrosive guitar enterprise, the track is as caustic as industrial lime upon the senses and as provocative as the blackest claustrophobic night towards thoughts and emotions. Menace soaks each labouring predacious note whilst the sonic croon of the track flays air and flesh with each insidious second.

The long devastating start is followed by Rags, a track which toys with the mental debris reaped by its predecessor with another leaden crawl of slow voracious riffing and rhythmic caging immersed in a weight of intensity which alone suffocates the senses. The bass finds a ruinous tone to its growl to add to the barbarous snarl within the infernal smothering but all along there is again a sonic temptress to the sound and niggling enticement which coaxes the heart of the burdensome assault and leaves passions hungry for more.

I Can’t Forget opens up yet another disturbing soundscape to be explored, its blood curdling ambience as cinematic in its touch as it is stifling and best described as the voice of rooms within Hostel that were too vicious and carnal to go near. The track is fuel to the imagination and in its own distinct chilling toxic way as ravenous on the psyche as the previous tracks and its successor Antietam, nine minutes of excruciating vehemence cast through a captivating mesh of enticing melodically blessed sonic temptation and thunderous drums coaxed by the continually impressive bass growl and the guttural vocal severity, which throughout the album brutally and impressively narrates the hellacious maelstrom honed heart of the release. Unpredictable and wholly riveting as it twists from and in to itself, the track is a fearsome venture which alone makes the album a must hear proposition though not one for many to be undertaken alone.

Undeniably the best track on the album it is surpassed in favourite stakes by Black Smoke, a piece that reflects the listener’s  gasping for breath up to this point whilst sending additional sadistic hauntings through the ear via evil bred whispered voices and their reserved yet bedlamic persistence. Like I Can’t Forget the track opens up a wealth of thoughts and imaginary scenarios to almost mesmerise its recipient into its clutches before passing them on and into the jaws of Stretched Thin. A blur of grind, hardcore, and thrash like tendencies crafted into a swarm like wrap of sonic distrust and metallic barbarity, the track is a scintillating blizzard of sonic bait and ravenous metallic scalding leaving the senses alive yet  severely damaged.

Closing with Astral Sleep and its impossibly slow heavy riffs and intense plodding rhythmic feet, Scorn is a scathing pungent delight which thrills and pleases just as evenly as it hurts and punishes. Primitive Man will not find a home in the hearts of melody driven fans for sure but within extreme metal they and their album are one richly satisfying grievous encounter.

www.primitivemandoom.com

8/10

RingMaster 20/08/2013

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Nothing – Dig

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    Recently signed to Relapse Records, Philadelphia-based Nothing release new single Dig to celebrate the link up with the label who will release the band’s debut album Guilty Of Everything in 2014, as well as their current tour with Whirr. Combining a mesmeric and stirring mix of shoegaze, metal, and progressive invention, the single is an imagination capturing temptress walking the same seduction as found from Deftones and Palms but with a unique potently evocative sonic elegance of its own.

Nothing was formed in 2011 by Domenic Palermo, a musician who previously brought us hardcore/punk act Horror Show. His former band was held at stop when Palermo was imprisoned for a stabbing which saw him away for two years. Once released, he took time away from music before releasing a demo called Poshlost under the Nothing name. Then followed a union with Brandon Setta, who brought his craft for creating lush and rich evocative soundscapes to the intent and vision of Palermo. A 300 ltd edition 12” EP called Suns And Lovers followed on the Japanese boutique label Big Love Records, with the band donating its share of the proceeds to the label for a Tsunami Relief Charity. The release was then followed by a five track EP Downward Years To Come in November of last year which again caught the imagination of a great many.

Recorded with Jeff Zeigler at Uniform Recordings the single is a scintillating hook not only to itself but the forthcoming album, an inspiring playmate for thoughts and visions to immerse and wrap themselves within. Dig opens with a crisp but gentle blaze of guitar and resonating ambience which only needs the entrance of the outstanding vocals to secure total attention and plant a seed which brews to ardour by the song’s end. It is impossible not to think of Deftones during the track but it is doing the song an injustice such its individual fascination and melodic charisma burning magnetically from within the caustic yet equally alluring steely wrap. Vocally thoughts also drift to House Of Love whilst the song itself explores a skilfully fermented sunset framed by the outstanding rhythmic cage and spellbinding guitar guile and craft.

Dig is a must check out release though it should come with a warning as there is no doubt it will be the instigator of strong unrest as the wait for Guilty Of Everything and its joys seemingly promised by the single bears down on patience.

http://www.bandofnothing.com/

9/10

RingMaster 20/08/2013

 

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