Pic Courtesy of Madylen Photography
True uniqueness is a rarity in modern times though you can certainly get very individual takes on the familiar to feed the insatiable appetite for something new. It is fair to say that Wood Chickens have a handle on the former more than most, their sound within new EP, Must Die, a sonic scourge which simultaneously defies the breeding bearing its rapacious presence. It makes for a hellacious infestation of noise which had ears joyous and the imagination spiralling.
Hailing from Madison, Wisconsin, Wood Chickens descends on the senses through the scurrilous antics and prowess of Alex Wiley Coyote, Griff Chickens, and Justin J. Johnson. Their new EP is our introduction to the trio but hindsight has found that across a host of releases their sound has boldly evolved from its country/cowpunk breeding. Must Die is their most extreme offering yet; a cauldron of feral noise and imagination gloriously spoiled with the toxins of punk and metal as well as psych and noise rock.
Five tracks barely touching five minutes in length, the EP immediately has ears cowering and thoughts disoriented with Sados. Its corrupted entrance eventually bursts into a rabid onslaught as guitars and rhythms join vocals in scarring the senses. It is a maelstrom of dissonance yet has an instinctive undercurrent of catchiness bred from its punk natured seeding.
We Skate in Boots swings in next, psych sighs accompanying its brewing contagion loaded garage punk tainted punk ‘n’ roll. Primal and anthemic, the track roars and incites participation as easily as it savages the senses surging through ears with rabidity to the fore before Return of Skunk Ape unleashes its own untamed caustic virulence across 46 seconds of subversive temptation and creative devilry embracing similar choleric hues to its predecessor.
The EP closes up with the psychotic animus that is Y2k Pt. 2, undiluted ravenous noise and intent corroding the speakers, though there is also an untitled unannounced track after that which is, well just bewildering and indeed magnetic.
There has been little if anything which comes close to the sound and invention of Must Die, indeed it seems nothing in the Wood Chickens discography previously like it either. If it is a new turn in the band’s music we for one will be overjoyed though their previous encounters are nothing to ignore, and if just a one off certainly something to be greedily devoured by all with an appetite for the contagion of noise.
Must Die is out now via Crush Grove Records; available digitally and on cassette @ https://crushgroverecords.bandcamp.com/album/must-die
https://www.facebook.com/woodchickensband/ https://woodchickens.bandcamp.com/
Pete RingMaster 14/08/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
Fair to say as soon as the opening hook and subsequent rapping on wood of Knockin infested ears we were hooked, the track swiftly showing all the virulent slightly dirty traits of our first lusty affair with The Elixirs. Dan teases and flirts with the senses through his guitar as Whitt and Nate simply incite attention with their tenacious rhythms. The track is a fiery blend of psychobilly and punk ‘n’ roll; a mischievous almost salacious incitement about the struggle of being chased by temptation and sin. In the words of their press release; “when the lord makes it rain the devil makes it pour.”
The great start is followed by the similarly boisterous Comin’ For You. Instantly it had a firm hand on attention with the flames of Feigh’s harmonica rich enticement. Its melodic heat echoes the tenacious gait of the surrounding sounds, essences of garage rock and fifties rock ‘n’ roll aligning with blues punk adventure. It is a mix and invention which escalates the strong start of the EP before Kiss Thy Hand brings more of a seventies psych rock air to its lumbering saunter. Though the song does not ignite personal tastes as potently as its predecessors it quickly feeds an appetite already brewed, nagging away with every note and fibre of its creativity to ultimately be just as memorable.
From the contagious mayhem of the opener, the album intensifies its temptation through Like a Bat. It uncages an even more intensive nagging of body and senses, its rousing persuasion and infernal swing cored by a delicious hook swiftly infesting the imagination and passions with vampiric hunger before 8% uncages its own attitude loaded roar. Like a mix of Demented Are Go and Zombie Ghost Train, the song has the body leaping eagerly in union with its own physical prowess. A cowpunk spicing just adds to the fiercely agreeable romp, the album getting better and bolder with every passing minute.
something eccentric and compelling yet true to their inspirations be that the likes of Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Carl Perkins and Hank Williams musically and also vocally. The opening title track instantly proves the point, the opening blood soaked sample replaced by a resonating rich twang from the guitar of Miller soon joined by the provocative beats of Wise. Ripe with a slow compulsive groove and throaty ambience to the sound the track lays a mix of psychobilly and cowpunk sculpting on the senses and visual evocation to the imagination. The drums of wise persistently frame the emerging red hued thoughts with accomplished incitement allowing Miller to tease discord and melodies with his guitars distinctive flavour. Though it never explodes beyond its impending dangerous breath it is an excellent start to the album and indication that we are about to have a real ride.
