HIDDEN VALLEY RANCH
I’ve taken on the thankless assignment of the noise rock beat for Metalsucks and I couldn’t be happier to share my undying love for this savage and atonal subgenre with all you closeted Disturbed fans. From vile legends like Big Black and Helmet to beady-eyed upstarts Pissed Jeans and The Austerity Program, I’m your man; shabbily attired, inconveniently hirsute and altogether uncouth. (I briefly considered taking on a Hebraic pseudonym, as is customary here, but opted against it despite my own Word Jumble of a heritage. For the record, it would have been Moishe Milquetoast.)
Let this first installment of Scraping Genius Off The Wheel (get the reference, win a freaking door prize) serve to remind you all that while the inglorious glory days of Amphetamine Reptile and Touch & Go lie behind us, we socially awkward and hideously acned admirers of this type of music still have plenty to get excited and inappropriately erect over.
Qui’s Miracle
My cholesterol addled heart is truly gladdened to hear that the scuzzy merry gentlemen of Qui have recovered from their respectively tragic and unsettlingly timed medical crises enough to press
proverbial rubber to proverbial road for a proper European tour commencing in late August. Love’s Miracle, the group’s first album as a David Yow-fronted trio, grew on me pretty quickly, though I foolishly hesitated to purchase it until after they had already laid waste to New York’s intimate Mercury Lounge. Our pals abroad should be advised that if a collapsed lung (in Brooklyn, no less) couldn’t take down the virile former Jesus Lizard front man, little else will. Be prepared for a wang in the face.
Melvinocalypse
Prancing with masculinity and a renewed affinity for their metalroots, Melvins are currently rocking out with their caulks out on a bona fide, red-blooded American tour with half of the band opening the show as Big Business. A sneak preview of the setlist reveals classic cuts like “Honey Bucket,” “Roadbull,” and “Boris” alongside the obvious obligatory selections from (A) Senile Animal and the recently released Nude With Boots, the latter of which has met with mixed reviews from critics and fans alike. That latter category of fiend will likely be far more elated by the rumored three (3) disc Live in Minneapolis that may or may not appear on the merchandise table at some of these shows. Still to come this year is a comprehensive limited edition boxset of the band’s work for Ipecac, a Fantomas Melvins Big Band DVD, and probably some other stuff of varying quality.
Make Out With Babies
Look, I know we all love Made Out Of Babies because HOLY CRAPS THEYS HAS A GIRLS FORS A SINGERS! I kid, I kid, though we really haven’t seen women in this scene since Kristen Pfaff overdosed in a bathtub just before she could reunite with Janitor Joe fourteen years ago. Not even remotely a novelty act, this band packed inventiveness into The Ruiner like so much fudge. And if you don’t like my chocolaty innuendo, you can go sit on a tack. But seriously, folks, why don’t you already own this album?!
Young Widows To Tend To Old Wounds
Temporary Residence stands poised to deliver the long-awaited sophomore effort from Louisville sluggers Young Widows. Produced and therefore endorsed by Converge guitarist Kurt Ballou, expectations are high, but if the tasty morsels available on their Myspace profile can be trusted, Old Wounds promises more mouthwatering massacres from the trio. The label appears ready and able to bleed fetishistic fanboys dry by offering a colorful panoply of limited formats the likes of which have not been seen since Death Magnetic! To ease confusion, they’re offering a neat little package with everything vinyl, bundled with a gratis CD copy of the album. How generous. Still no details on the planned quartet of split 7″ records between Young Widows and heretofore unnamed acts.
Why Haven’t You Heard Of DRUNKDRIVER?
I would be derelict in doing my duty if I didn’t enlighten you about the existence of talented noise rockers making a joyful racket under your Blabbermouthy radar. Drunkdriver are unquestionably worthy of such a mention in my prestigious column, thanks to a clever combination of disquieting menace and a sadomasochistic neglect for production values. Expect a full-length album out whenever these guys feel like it, but if you’re tough enough to endure the bombastic squealing cacophony of “Product” or the semi-coherent sludge of “To Whom It May Concern” then, like Randy Newman said, you’ve got a friend in me.
Until next time: left foot, right foot.
-GS
Gary Suarez is a destitute former running back for the Denver Broncos in dire need of a liver transplant and some scotch. He also writes for Brainwashed and manages a consistently off-topic blog called No Yoko No.
