Bad-ass name, bad-ass cover art, and bad-ass Bristol stoner sleaze that ought to make Turbowolf the new underground “it” band. Their self-titled full-length debut follows a 4-song EP released last year (three quarters of which appears on this one), and it’s a madcap attack of pure rock fury that’s damn near impossible to pin down. Turbowolf is at once exceptionally heavy and catchy, which is a deadly combination when the majority of it is delivered in two-and-a-half minute spurts, but the crux of this crushing crusade lies in its nasty energy, a sweat bomb of ultra-hip, greasy electricity. Because of songs like “Ancient Snake,” “Bag O’ Bones,” and “A Rose for the Crows,” and the fact that singer Chris Georgiadis’ acerbic snarl will remind you of Chad Cherry, Turbowolf has a tendency to present itself as The Last Vegas leading Kyuss on a midnight run through burnt down planetariums, but then you hear “Seven Severed Heads,” “Son (Sun),” and “All the Trees” and you don’t know what the hell to think. But that’s the beauty of Turbowolf, such as it is, and at the end of the day they’re the kind of living thing Motörhead has been known to take on tour in order to expose (and feed off of) their rag n’ roll attitude.
Check out the video for “A Rose for the Crows” from Turbowolf!
With a band name and album cover possibly invented by someone’s seven-year-old nephew, Diarrhea Planet spew forth an album’s worth of Gamblers’ style garage pop as unpredictable and juvenile as their shitty moniker. Driven by a harmonic cacophony of quadruple guitars and tree-fort song titles, this Nashville band riffs on the Southern skate punk sound in equal parts brevity and bravado; the catchy choruses say, ‘Take our songwriting seriously,’ while the lo-fi nonsense says, ‘We’ll place a flaming bag of dog shit on your front step, ring the bell, and take off.’ There is more to Loose Jewels than meets destroys the eye, though, and that’s the slight whiff of leather jacket sleaze that runs down this album’s proverbial leg, which, noted for both its stink and speed, is over and ringing in your ears before the mess even reaches your shoe.
High Tension Wires Welcome New Machine
Dirtnap Records
Third album from Texas “supergroup” High Tension Wires, led by Riverboat Gamblers’ Mike Wiebe on vocals and Marked Men/Mind Spiders’ Mark Ryan on guitar/vocals (and rounded out by The Reds’ Chris Pulliam and newcomers Daniel Fried and Greg Rutherford of The Bad Sports), and that’s probably all I need to say because I know you’re already hearing the twitchy, over-amped punk rock in your head. Like the music associated with any one of the bands involved in this project, Welcome New Machine is full of catchy, fuzzy songs that playfully mix ’77 snark and Berry blues, and the whole thing will leave you reeling like you’ve been beaten with broken skateboard decks by a bunch of frazzled dudes in sweaty cardigans and black-rimmed glasses. It’s all over in about 26 minutes though, and while each of the 12 songs here last as long as bubblegum flavour, they’ve got exceptional melodic stamina, and the electric effects of “Get Weird,” “Incorporeal,” “Backbone,” “Temporary Gods,” “Lose Face,” and “Handicapped Hearts” will stay in your legs for a long time. Live shows are extremely rare with this bunch, so if you want in on some High Tension Wires action, grab a Welcome New Machine LP before they’re all gone.
Turbowolf
Diarrhea Planet
High Tension Wires