Having been enlisted into their dark rock sounds with the excellent Blue Light Circus EP of 2008, Finish industrial punks Cold Cold Ground have continued to whip up our passions here but now really gone to town on them with their new album Lies About Ourselves. An intensive brew of seductive atmospheres around a carnivorous predation which stretches and pushes the release the release is a riveting mouth-watering furnace of energy and startling noise sculpted invention, an industrial punk/metal fury with a devilishly twisted intent. It is the Helsinki quartet’s finest moment to date, ten rapaciously ravaging slices of heavy, dark, and exhausting brilliance.
Cold Cold Ground was formed in 2004 by Hauptmann D, NooZ, Mr. Bunny, and John Paul Jr, and was soon grabbing attention through their trio of EPs, the Lamb and Custom Built EPs of 2005 and 2006 respectively as well as the previously mentioned Blue Light Circus. With an all senses engulfing live show and their well-received debut album This Side of Depravity of 2010, the band only enhanced their stature and fan base which Lies About Ourselves now takes to another level. On their second album the band quite simply is at its most inventive, volatile, and furiously impacting yet.
The album instantly is savaging the ears with opener My Fist And I, the track a tornado of energy and aural spite from its opening second, and though it has moments where it takes a step back in aggression it feels like it is merely taking closer straighter aim for the next tirade of thrilling voracious intensity. The vocals of Hauptmann D prey on every syllable given, fuelling them with a venom which matches the hunger of the riffs from Mr. Bunny and the prowling bass of NooZ. With the unforgiving rhythms of drummer Hoker Dine puncturing the punk storm brewed, the track is a stunning slab of intensive defiance and industrial antagonism. It rampages like a blend of Pitchshifter and Rabbit Junk with essences of Rammstein and Lard, but equally has its own rabidity driven uniqueness.
The following Welcome to Hell has a less intensive and more electro based presence but is still fuelled by a punk voraciousness which snarls at and chews the imagination excitingly. Less instant and commanding than its predecessor the track still grips a wildly attentive appetite for the varied and inventive sounds offered. Its successor Suck and Pay feeds that same hunger with its exceptional fire of cantankerous energy and invention. Like Fuckshovel does Fear Factory whilst on a sonic hallucinogen, the track is a glorious charge of ingenious enterprise and daring, unpredictable and wholly addictive.
The pleasure and ravenous craft of the album continues to excel, through firstly Model Citizen where thumping rhythms frame an intensive brawl of riffing before taking centre stage whilst coaxing in further scythes of guitar and electronic teasing. The bass also finds a new darker growl which excites the ear and helps create a Marilyn Mansion toned presence as the track hits its stride. It like the following venomous We Are the Sun slip a little below the plateau set by the album but with bodies of inventive hostility and imaginative provocation neither leave satisfaction or hunger wanting, the same as the contagious Tourist, another song which cannot quite match the highest pinnacles but forges its own memorable dark rock heights.
The brawl of the insatiable punk fuelled Cocaine In My Ass slaps another major highlight down on the senses and passions, the great bass taunting and esurient challenge of the riffs and rhythms colliding for an illustrious aggravation which is viciously anthemic and barbarically addictive. The song puts up a real test for those following to equal which none do but certainly they all make valiant impressive attempts, Drive the first stepping up to take the listener on an exhausting and highly satisfying charge of caustic rock ‘n’ roll to be followed by the stalking and compellingly imaginative title track, a song with melodic flames and bold textures as gripping as its extensive intensity, and finally the smouldering electro embraced Things Fall Apart. The last offering continues the great diversity across the album, its melancholic beauty and seductive balladry mesmeric if maybe lacking the wonderful addiction brewing toxicity of previous songs.
Lies About Ourselves is a scintillating confrontation, a thunderous and greedy assault of industrial seeded punk and rock excellence. Cold Cold Ground just gets better and better.
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