Buns of Steel
The Oklahomos are a southern rock band headed by a fat, egotistical
bully that we all know and love. He can’t sing (Looney
please don’t punch me) but his scream is vicious, as
are the bass lines and crunchy riffs that make up the four-song
release appropriately titled Buns of Steel.
With song titles like Satan’s Onion Ring, Looney and
the gang humorously blend demented bits of rock-a-billy fervor
with backporch anthems and cock-rock fury. The demo doesn’t
really do their live set any justice, but it definitely gives
you a taste of what these guys are cookin’. The guitar
and bass work is tight, with a succinct southern draw, while
Looney’s nightmarish cry often brews silent during a
song’s country-esque, knee-slapping intro before abruptly
bursting at devilish pitches that ring gaudily loud and piss
in the face of anything nice and ambient. This kind of music
is all too necessary in a town where many poofy-prancin’
artists have forgotten how to rock. Go see the Oklahomos.
You’ll get a kick out of the band and you might even
find yourself pumping you’re fist to the sounds of these
twisted, anthemic stoner showmen—I did. -Smitty
1989 again. Skinny Puppy, MOEV, KMFDM, Cris and Cosey and
Ministry rule the dark, drug-soaked interiors of the discos
and the minds of the lost and confused swaying apathetically
to the computerized melodies of a collectively imagined Hell.
Nine Inch Nails and Depeche Mode make a bid for the throne
and when the dust from the ensuing war amongst the fallen
and dirty angels settles, Lust Murder box stands alone, a
fragile, delicate seraph coated in dust and ash at their head.
local studio 4-piece, Lust Murder box have taken every Industrial/Goth
clich from the last twenty years, thrown them into a hell-fire
fueled kiln, reworked them slightly and given them to a cute/depressed
chick to sing. The songs all feel familiar, and after a few
listens, it is apparent that the band wears their influences
on their black, metal-studded sleeves.
the utter lack of forward thinking, this full-length release
is eminently listenable; the production is as good as any
Marilyn Manson recording, and the melodies and interplay between
electronic and organic instruments are enough to keep interest
piqued throughout the thirty minute, 9 track CD. The lyrics
are accessible through the bands web-site http://www.lustmurderbox.com
, and, unlike the lyrical content of many bands of
this nature, are actually decent. It's dark, post adolescent
poetry worthy of a club-footed Edgar Allen Poe, sure, but
it manages to be brooding and despairing without being pretentious.
quite the Marriage of Heaven and Hell, but a good copy. -Trevor
Small Stone Records
With Secret Alphabets, members of both Dozer and Demoncleaner
offer their second record under the appropriately named Greenleaf
and when the thick smoke clears, these rock-revved Swedes
leave your bong water brown and remind us that the riff-based
crunch of the 70’s should never die. Yes, this is stoner
rock kiddos and Greenleaf do it without the seeds and stems.
There are some moments of groovy organ effects and digital
sound inserts but overall the shred and dredge guitar fuzz
of Daniel Jansson and Tommi Holappa tightly holds down this
record. On the fourth track, Never Right, lead vocalist Fredrik
Nordin howls about his lover with Ozzy-esque tones while the
rest of the band rips in Sabbath fashion themselves, leaving
no question as to which decade they would crown as king. The
psychedelic blends and beefy leads on The Spectre are illuminating
sounds for your smoke-filled cranium, while the bluesy riffage
and gritty vocals on Black Black Magic make you want to quit
your day job and wear bell bottoms just because it’s
the cool fucking thing to do.
Any Kiss/Nugent/Cooper will give this one the appropriate
rock-out-with-your-cock-out nod and if you’re into newer
acts like Kyuss, Queens of the Stoneage or Dixie Witch, you
should definitely load one of Greeleaf’s records into
your pipe and smoke it. This bong rock five piece from Sweden
won’t disappoint. -Smitty
Clocks & Calendars
Trust Issue Records (2003)
The Sleepwalkers are an odd band. Though impossible to categorize,
the easiest way to describe them is as the hulking homunculus
issue resulting from the alchemical marriage of the Velvet
Underground, Talking Heads and Syd Barrett. Work with that.
With the new record, Clocks and Calendars, former Ringling
Bros. clown, Aaron Tucker—along with former librarian
Alan Gill on lead guitar, Tom Bombara on bass and Ric Furley
on drums—again bends genres and breaks barriers with
the same glee as a bratty child wantonly destroying a sibling’s
most cherished plaything. From the opening hillbilly stomp
of “Awkward,” Clocks and Calendars is thrill ride
across the entirety of the rock ‘n’ roll landscape
with frequent stops at various points along the way, allowing
the listener to fully appreciate the sonic view.
The country/folk element of the band is at the forefront this
time around. The quieter moments act as hostels where the
listener can sit and appreciate the beauty around him or her
before again boarding the rock ‘n’ roll rollercoaster
and enjoying a noisy, guitar-screeching rocker. And the freak
show is never far away.
So, come aboard. A splendid time is guaranteed for all.