Showing posts with label guitar misery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label guitar misery. Show all posts

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Rizoma-s/t EP (2013)

New in the "less talk more rock" category, Rizoma is Madrid's answer to Chicago's bratnoise outfit Birth Deformities. Succinctly stated, if you've been mourning the demise of Government Warning as much as I have, you'll love Rizoma. On their debut, Rizoma shouts, strums, bangs, and kicks their way through six mid-tempo shout-along bits of bratpunk, tailor made for those of you still living with your parents. Which is half of the Europeans between 18-29 reading this, apparently, according to the Guardian.

If I had any experience in said subject, I would heartily agree with the proposition of the second song: "It feels so good to kill my neighbors while listening to the Stooges." As it happens, I only have experience getting blackout drunk and throwing bottles at them while "Death Trip" blares from my bedroom window, but whatever.

Point is, as March's winds usher in the pissant spring downpours of April, why don't you download Rizoma's debut EP and let your miscreant misanthrope misery burble over like fine wine? You know you want to. 

Friday, May 18, 2012

Wild Moth-s/t 10" (2012)

Wild Moth is a new band from San Francisco that plays contorted, bummed out pop suitable for dark days and darker nights stewing in your own misery, often self-induced.

The instruments fight for space in the mix, until spilling over into crescendoes of howling guitar and stuttering drum fills, while the singer howls in the background. He sounds like he's having an argument with someone in the other room, who we can't hear. The mix is muddy (deliberately, I think), with the instruments sorta melting together during the choruses. "Morning Sickness" is one of my favorite guitar songs of 2012, so far. "Guilt" almost veers into stoner metal territory, with a plodding rhythm section and heavily downed out guitar sludge: the core of the album sequentially, it also plumbs the depths of squalid 20-something angst with aplomb. I have a skullcrushing, beer-induced headache as I write this, and it sounds like the violent apathy swirling around my brain.

You can download the EP here. Then, be a standup gent and/or lady and buy it from Suitors Club Records, here!