I really hope that the reason Absolute Power exist is because some of the band members witnessed another (not to be named) power metal band making complete dicks of themselves on stage. Featuring the really scary looking bassist from Napalm Death, Absolute Power are: swords smashing against wooden shields; lances splintering as they crash against bodies, dirt flying from the hooves of mighty steeds, horns raised high in the air – yes, battle metal, possibly the greatest music ever. Absolute Power completely kill it; they make me instinctively reach for 2D6; think about how many goblins I can afford in a 2,000 point army and whether I’ve washed recently (there’s even a song called ‘Standard Bearer’). It’s a clash of styles however; there are some fairly pop-rock moments, particularly ‘Secrets’, which is that strange mix of sugary, bouncing hooks, whilst still retains some mighty 80s-style metallic riffage and some wonderful harmonies. But then they’ll push the boat out with some truly over-the-top thrash excellence, sounding like Iron Maiden jamming with Judas Priest; with vocalist Simon Efemey slipping into BRIAN BLESSED mode. Hammy? You bet.
For something that sounds so cheesy, Absolute Power really do shred – changing from quick-tempo heavy metal onslaughts, through to glammy-80s soft rock, back to trashy battle metal frolicking and then into early Megadeth-thrash and Halford-style wailing lyrics, it’s some of the best classic metal and rock I’ve heard this year. Also, are you seriously considering not listening to a band that have the track titles ‘Full Metal Roar’, ‘Land Of Steel’ and ‘Faster Than The Speed Of Evil’? Come on!
Additional: the album art is nothing short of incredible.
Additional: the album art is nothing short of incredible.
Of Legends – Stranded
Luis Dubuc is a monster. I seriously wouldn’t believe someone if they told me this was the wimpy guy from The Secret Handshake – but it is and he’s angry. Of Legends are pretty metal, like nasty, Johnny Truant-style metal. The guitars on this record howl and I mean HOWL – they sound like they’re screaming in agony, such is the twisting, contorting shriek they emit. Dubuc himself is no shrinking wallflower – his bark is a rattled, shredded cry, mixes the talents of Jeffery Moreira and Matt Caughthran into one big ball of rage and bleeding fury. It’s fairly groove-orientated; when the guitars aren’t sounding like they’re being tortured, they’re cutting some quite shred-worthy lines. I suppose a similar artist would be Killswitch Engage – it has that same dense, bludgeoning attack on the senses, but retains an slick nu-metal tinged rut and enough hardcore experimentation so as not to pigeon hole. Actually, a lot of the sound on ‘Stranded’ reminds me of swamp-metal titans, Blacktusk – that same dirge of scraping sound, buried beneath a crusty bass hum and battering drum beats. Of Legends create this insane, barbaric noise, especially on ‘Cannibal King’, which is a stop start shudder of stabbing, taunt metal alongside some spazzy, mathcore styles. The kind of bile-spitting, contemporary metal I can get behind.
Zombi – Escape Velocity
Luis Dubuc is a monster. I seriously wouldn’t believe someone if they told me this was the wimpy guy from The Secret Handshake – but it is and he’s angry. Of Legends are pretty metal, like nasty, Johnny Truant-style metal. The guitars on this record howl and I mean HOWL – they sound like they’re screaming in agony, such is the twisting, contorting shriek they emit. Dubuc himself is no shrinking wallflower – his bark is a rattled, shredded cry, mixes the talents of Jeffery Moreira and Matt Caughthran into one big ball of rage and bleeding fury. It’s fairly groove-orientated; when the guitars aren’t sounding like they’re being tortured, they’re cutting some quite shred-worthy lines. I suppose a similar artist would be Killswitch Engage – it has that same dense, bludgeoning attack on the senses, but retains an slick nu-metal tinged rut and enough hardcore experimentation so as not to pigeon hole. Actually, a lot of the sound on ‘Stranded’ reminds me of swamp-metal titans, Blacktusk – that same dirge of scraping sound, buried beneath a crusty bass hum and battering drum beats. Of Legends create this insane, barbaric noise, especially on ‘Cannibal King’, which is a stop start shudder of stabbing, taunt metal alongside some spazzy, mathcore styles. The kind of bile-spitting, contemporary metal I can get behind.
Zombi – Escape Velocity
This is probably my favourite album at the moment; I gave it 10/10 in a review I wrote for planet-loud few weeks back, so it must be something I really dig, right? ‘Escape Velocity’ is an absolute mind-bender of sound; like Adebisi Shank, I describe them as ‘future music’ mainly because, being someone who listens to three chords and beatdowns, hearing something outside of that spec is pretty damn revolutionary. There’s tons of build on this, most notably the title track that grows and mutates with such pulsating energy and tribal drum blasts. 'Slow Oscillations' is an almost Martin O'Donnell-worthy slice of bending, trippy atmosphere and being a fan of the Halo series and the music, this struck a particular chord with me. I said in my review that ‘DE3’ is one of the best songs I’d heard all year and I stand by this. Part elements of Justice mixed with Goblin, part experimental noise, part "let's make music: IN SPACE." something about it really gets to me. Maybe it’s the fact it sounds like an old trance song at half-speed; or maybe it's the key change around the 6 minute mark. ‘Escape Velocity’ buries the listener in loops though; layers upon layers of synthesised build and it makes me feel good. I can’t explain it, but Zombi really do make me feel like a better person and there are very few records that lift my spirits, but I'm happy to say that this is one of them. For something built around just drums and keys, it's an incredibly deep and mesmerizing body of work.
I have no idea if emo is still a dirty word, but Snowing don’t seem to give a shit and nor should you. Formed from the ashes of Street Smart Cyclist, Snowing make me feel good; their music is rooted in mid-90s emo-rock, where guitars were held together with masking tape and were tappier than a room full of sinks and actually poured their heart and soul into their recordings, instead of dull, lifeless unit-shifting compositions. ‘I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted’ is so bleeding-heart in all its pent-up earnest and frantic nature, it’s hard not to be warmed by it. The themes present revolve around drinking, loss, love and overall, just good times and that’s what Snowing want listeners to get from their music; a sense of connection, a sense of warmth and high-fiving each other in a packed mosh pit, in a venue that holds 50, but is full to 75, kissing your sweetheart and more importantly, getting drunk on Miller lite.
The Heat Tape – Raccoon Valley Recordings
The Heat Tape is Brett Hunter from The Copyrights (pop-punk done really, really good) and two other dudes, who have swapped out production values for the sound of a bunch of wasps in a biscuit tin, whilst someone plays a Marked Men record in the background. Yeah, it’s well garage – but garage punk done superbly. For one thing, while the unrelenting hiss of a furred-up tape recorder is consistently present, at least Hunter and Co. has bothered to write memorable and catchy songs to counter-act the fuzz. ‘Quotes From An Unopened Letter’ is a snotty ball of punk energy, reminiscent of Wavves, while ‘Spend It’ is dumb grunge rock apathy condensed into a minute and a half. Hunter’s lazy, almost bored vocals, sneer with despondence, regret and self deprecation for the duration of this 25 minute record and fit nicely with the deliberately scrappy production and early 90s recording values. ‘Idle Man’ sounds like and outtake from the first Thermals album (‘More Parts Per Million’) – a relentlessly sunny, yet jangled mess of smothering cymbal crashes and vibrant punk-pop bounce.
Weekend Nachos – Worthless
I genuinely thought this band were a complete pisstake. Maybe they are who knows? WEEKEND NACHOS – I just like saying it. The artwork seems to have been cribbed from the photo series ‘Great Waterfalls of Our Times’ or was perhaps supposed to be the next Explosions In The Sky album cover, and there was a mix up at the post office. Musically, it’s completely dumb-as-fuck punk rock, loaded with ten tons of aggression and venom-spitting fury, minus any melody, chorus or catchy bass lines.
There’s an air of a “don’t give a shit” attitude, which I like – it’s free of any snobbish airs or graces, Weekend Nachos are more content with burying the listener beneath filthy riff after filthy riff. Aggressive determination, plus rusty vocal barks, detuned-bass scrawls and some farily tight drumming (and blast beats) hold it all together. ‘The Meeting’ is a fairly guttural piece, relying on feedback and clanking guitar chugs, whilst the title track is a bottoming-out piece of sludge-metal intimidation. ‘Jock Powerviolence’ is rapid-fire drumbeats, with rap-metal taunts and this staggering metallic gait that doesn’t know whether it should be pure hardcore or not. In any case, if you’re looking for some machine-gun fire crust-hardcore, that mixes elements of punk, grind and sludge-metal then Weekend Nachos can do that in about 26 minutes or your money stuffed down your throat.
Snowing – I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted
I have no idea if emo is still a dirty word, but Snowing don’t seem to give a shit and nor should you. Formed from the ashes of Street Smart Cyclist, Snowing make me feel good; their music is rooted in mid-90s emo-rock, where guitars were held together with masking tape and were tappier than a room full of sinks and actually poured their heart and soul into their recordings, instead of dull, lifeless unit-shifting compositions. ‘I Could Do Whatever I Wanted If I Wanted’ is so bleeding-heart in all its pent-up earnest and frantic nature, it’s hard not to be warmed by it. The themes present revolve around drinking, loss, love and overall, just good times and that’s what Snowing want listeners to get from their music; a sense of connection, a sense of warmth and high-fiving each other in a packed mosh pit, in a venue that holds 50, but is full to 75, kissing your sweetheart and more importantly, getting drunk on Miller lite.It’s scatter-brained, disorganised but a relatively short blast on intense rock music that has been created with that tender honestly and passion that a lot of acts who fit into a similar genre, fail to achieve and Snowing manage it with such ease and drunken cheer it’s hard not being impressed. Also, the album is available for free download from bandcamp; what’s not to love?
The Heat Tape – Raccoon Valley RecordingsThe Heat Tape is Brett Hunter from The Copyrights (pop-punk done really, really good) and two other dudes, who have swapped out production values for the sound of a bunch of wasps in a biscuit tin, whilst someone plays a Marked Men record in the background. Yeah, it’s well garage – but garage punk done superbly. For one thing, while the unrelenting hiss of a furred-up tape recorder is consistently present, at least Hunter and Co. has bothered to write memorable and catchy songs to counter-act the fuzz. ‘Quotes From An Unopened Letter’ is a snotty ball of punk energy, reminiscent of Wavves, while ‘Spend It’ is dumb grunge rock apathy condensed into a minute and a half. Hunter’s lazy, almost bored vocals, sneer with despondence, regret and self deprecation for the duration of this 25 minute record and fit nicely with the deliberately scrappy production and early 90s recording values. ‘Idle Man’ sounds like and outtake from the first Thermals album (‘More Parts Per Million’) – a relentlessly sunny, yet jangled mess of smothering cymbal crashes and vibrant punk-pop bounce.
Weekend Nachos – WorthlessI genuinely thought this band were a complete pisstake. Maybe they are who knows? WEEKEND NACHOS – I just like saying it. The artwork seems to have been cribbed from the photo series ‘Great Waterfalls of Our Times’ or was perhaps supposed to be the next Explosions In The Sky album cover, and there was a mix up at the post office. Musically, it’s completely dumb-as-fuck punk rock, loaded with ten tons of aggression and venom-spitting fury, minus any melody, chorus or catchy bass lines.
There’s an air of a “don’t give a shit” attitude, which I like – it’s free of any snobbish airs or graces, Weekend Nachos are more content with burying the listener beneath filthy riff after filthy riff. Aggressive determination, plus rusty vocal barks, detuned-bass scrawls and some farily tight drumming (and blast beats) hold it all together. ‘The Meeting’ is a fairly guttural piece, relying on feedback and clanking guitar chugs, whilst the title track is a bottoming-out piece of sludge-metal intimidation. ‘Jock Powerviolence’ is rapid-fire drumbeats, with rap-metal taunts and this staggering metallic gait that doesn’t know whether it should be pure hardcore or not. In any case, if you’re looking for some machine-gun fire crust-hardcore, that mixes elements of punk, grind and sludge-metal then Weekend Nachos can do that in about 26 minutes or your money stuffed down your throat.
