US miserabilists Fister reside in a dank, filthy corner of Doom, with a sound that is downright evil. It should come as no surprise that their touring buddies include the monstrous Primitive Man, peddling as they do a similarly hate-filled, toxic crawl. Continue reading
Having stolen the best band name a gothic metal vampire act had never thought to use yet, Cape Of Bats have spent the last six years belching out a slew of independent releases and splits; fully espousing a DIY ethic and ethos before arriving at Violent Occultism (Broken Limbs), their debut full-length, a thirty-six minute speedball chaser of blackened punk.
On first impression, Violent Occultism is like being forced to endure a series of particularly noxious bottom burps in a small enclosed space, caught, every two minutes, in the ever-regurgitating waves of the putridity. At first it’s hilarious and more than a little impressive, but it doesn’t take many occasions before the joke, unlike the air, begins to wear a little thin and things turn a little stale.
But just when you feel you need a change of scenery and to get some cleaner air in your lungs, Cape of Bats drop another air biscuit of horrid proportions, but this time including some surprising flavours such as the Kveltertak-getting-done-over-with-studded-maces-in-the-car-park ‘Ultimate Evil’, or ‘Follow Me (To Death)’ with its early second wave of Black Metal riffs and atmosphere; the former followed up with the 37 second punk-blast of ‘Blue Hands’ as if to get things back on track, and the latter by the manic start of ‘Buckets of Blood’.
Cape of Bats deal in sloppy, aggressive raw music with black metal, crust and loose thrash permeating their riffs. Add in Francis Kano’s deranged yelps and throat-rips, Cassidy McGinlay’s drumming switching from D-beats to gakked out surf rock grooves, Matthew Geary’s B-movie carnivalesque keys sporadically appearing and some speed metal frantic soloing and Cape of Bats prove an uncompromising and coarse outfit who are particularly effective when they flirt with the more black metal side of their arsenal, and songs like ‘Damned To Sands’ and ‘Grand Evocation Of War’.
Cape of Bats take raw to other side of the lathe, sinking their filed teeth into still breathing vermin carcasses and expectorating abrasive, unrefined, spiky stabs of punky black metal. A fucking mess of chaos and feral as all hell, nonetheless, there’s something worthwhile in their uncultured savagery.
6.5/10
STEVE TOVEY
With bright, trebly intent ‘De Sier Nie!’ brashly hurtles out of the speakers before Christopher Iversen’s raspy shouts pick up the intensity, kicking off Av Nag (Indie Recordings), Man The Machete’s second enthusiastic blast of slapping you round the face with blackened punk n’ roll.
While their debut Ideokrati (Indie) drew accurate comparisons to fellow countrymen Kvelertak, it was nonetheless a well-received bundle of energy and brattishness. In terms of their continued similarity to the Stavanger sextet, differences are starting to emerge, though this is more due to the ‘tak’s own progression and development than any deviation on the part of Man The Machetes, whose open chord attack and full-throat abrasiveness continues unabated and in similar vein.
And Av Nag is certainly a vibrant and vigorous beast, with the Machetes aware that to maintain interest on an album where most songs do sound remarkably similar that they have to pump the six-strings with diesel powered strumming arms, keep the energy and belligerence high, and each hell-for-denim magic carpet ride short and not-so-sweet.
The triple axe attack of Morten Dischington Carlsson, Erlend Sætren and Markus Lind Aase provide plenty of melody, with leads and licks swirling in and out of the maelstrom molten chord battery that powers tracks like ‘Mennesketrapp’, while the rhythm section of Per Christian Holm (drums) and Erik Fossmo (bass) bring a nautical swing to standout tune ‘Tung Luft’ and a stoner fuzz and bounce to ‘Ørkenmarsj’.
Av Nag is an album that abounds with melodic aggression; short and sharp, but providing no shock as it competently rides the Kvelertak coat-tail train. A capable, proficient and enjoyable roll in the knives.
6.5/10
STEVE TOVEY