So, Long Gone Records just sent me their trifecta of new albums. That’s fucking awesome. All the albums are better than peanut butter brittle slathered in cocaine. That’s fucking awesome. And all the albums came out on cassette. That’s fucking awesome. However, I am pressed for motherfucking thyme! I got exams and study to do, and very limited amount of time to review! I feel like the whitest poet, probably because I am, I just didn’t know it! However, quick change of format: I’m going to do all three albums on one post, instead of a post each. So, instead of 500 words, it’ll be 200 for each, or something. Is that ok for you? Is that cool? Do you mind? Get fucked, I’ll do what I mow-forkin’ please.
Elvis Christ’s ‘And So It Shall Be’ is what I imagine Brad Pitt’s premature ejaculation is like: its heavenly while it lasts, but its still too short, and leaves you wanting way more. Then again, bragging rights. Lustful Pittian dreams aside, its unruly, tongue wagging garage rock n roll. It spits in your face, cleans it with a dick rag, and then laughs because now you have spit and jizz on your dome. Sucks to be you, doesn’t it? Nah, because you just got to listen to the rip-roaring ‘And So It Shall Be’. ‘You Want It All’ features one hell of a fucking guitar solo (think Dave Grohl being fucked by Satan), and ‘I Just Wanna Go For A Ride’ recalls Thee Headcoats and similar hellfire meth bands, which is a really good thing. Like, really good. Super good. Fuck it, that song makes me want to dance. Elvis Christ truly deserves to retain his moniker, and he does the other two guys called Elvis proud. Smiley face!
There’s a lot of manly stuff out there. I mean, you’ve got Metallica, Anthrax, Megadeth, Slayer, Joe’s Bag of Buttpluggs (please let that be a real band). But what happens when you get the Wrong Man? Alfred Hitchcock’s 1956 classic tried to answer that question, but instead of wasting a couple hours of your life, just listened to this self-titled record from Brisbane. This shit is German porn levels of filthy, drenched in layers of bedroom fuzz, and caked in grimy Lux Interior vocals and swagger. Serious props on the opener ‘Virgin on the Hill’ which manages to be both cacaphonic and lustful at the same time. The Wrong Man make music that will make your mother weep and Danzig jack off. Isn’t that a deliriously beautiful image?
I actually knew about Cobwebbs before I was given this album. I had frothed over their previous shit, which I’ll aptly describe as noise rock thrown in a blender. So, imagine my surprise when I find that the band have traded in their awesome brand of shitty death guitar for synths and darkwave. However, I’ll have you fucking know, this isn’t some pissweak New Order imitation. Do you like Buzz Kull, HTRK, Nite Fields, or like minded Australian dark electro bands that drill into your skull? You’ll definitely dig this shit. Cobwebbs have got atmosphere down pat to a creepy Cheshire Cat smile, all knives and no stabbing. It’s like an hour long horror movie buildup that leads to a transvestite vampire party. I especially dig on ‘Elevator’ and ‘Slow It Down’, which are tracks that show an alternate Scooby Doo future in which the whole gang gets slaughtered by a swamp monster. Pretty fucked up, right? You should definitely check out this album.
So, that’s my quick summary of some really, really great shit. I hope you enjoyed it, and want to go buy those records. If you’re the kind of Average Joe who enjoys your Britney Spears with a side of shit, then it’s probably not for you. The rabid Glee fans, top-button wearing faux hipster scum and pinger munching fake-tanned hunks of muscle probably aren’t going to be lining up either. For the rest of you, go shell out three bucks each for these awesome records. I think you can do without your McDonald’s Breakfast Taco for a day. Go here for Elvis Christ. Go here for the Wrong Man. Go here for Cobwebbs. Long Live Long Gone!