Thursday, August 18, 2005

I don't know if any of you guys got the cajones (with apologies to my three regular female readers) necessary to appreciate the bleak doomain that Khanate lords over, but my friends, my brothers and sisters, the mini CD, "Capture and Release" (Hydrahead)--a 50 minute two song mini CD mind you--is worth the trudge. It's among the most sonically visceral heavy rock albums I've heard with its thick aural soup of looped feedback, amp squelch and buzz, bass groans conjured beneath the most demented shrieking vokills ever ripped from a set of damaged pipes. The mix is what I really can't get over. The performances are all controlled torment and blistering subharmonic assaults every step of the way, but the layers of industrial screech, drone, multitracked vocals and more are at once horrifying and totally enveloping. Deeply textured, intricately assembled with a production value that fully honors the blistering rawness of Khanate's live sound (one of the most incredible live bands around, click here and scroll down for a live review at SXSW last year), but goes further out than most so called doom bands will ever dare to. This owes as much to Throbbing Gristle as it does AbsoluteGo Boris. Then there's the lyrics, which are either exaggerated to the point of absurdity or disturbingly accurate in their portrayals of sadism, hatred and disease. This mangled mass is closer to "The Silence of the Lambs" than "Lord of the Rings," with psychotic screams and repetitious whispers offering a deep look into one very sick mind. But it's all about perspective. You see/hear what you bring with you. Wolf Eyes meets Fushitsusha? Not a stretch...

Speaking of industrial wasteland skronkists, I listened to this Comets on Fire & Burning Star Core 12" on Yik Yak a few times the other day wacked out on formaldehyde and wam bam thank you Rapeman, it works really well! Utterly devastated, blown outside sludgeoid stupidity passed directly through the vermilion haze of the Burning Star Core. I like it raw and bludgeoning as much as the next guy, but too much of this sort of thing can dislodge molars and loosen rafters. Listening to this 12" has me staring up at the ceiling and waiting for the cracks. That being said, something demands my devotion. It could be Comets' singular desire to pulverize as much as they actually rawk out. It could be the rabid guitar squalls, the punishing crunked up Funkadelic rhythms, the caveman drums, deep fried vocal hoots and hollers. It could be the fucking shitstorm. Burning Star Core's injection of grime and crackling decay further tips the scale towards infinite waste and likely plays into the equation as well. The last track in particular is over 13 minutes of primal psych punk skree and splatter that sounds like Simple Saucer in a gangland scrap with Skullflower. All these could be reasons I find this so fascinating. But I'm gonna go with the formaldehyde.

No comments: