Brandon Bliss, the ragged face on keys and vocals for Canadian band Monster Truck, is this month’s top beard. Bliss, seen below (second from the left) in what I guarantee is a promo shot for the band and not an advertisement for gay bears, is full of so much hairy exuberance that he makes me want to go out and buy up all the rawhide vests I can get my hands on. I want a closet full of ‘em so that no matter what the occasion, I will have fluffy pectorals and paunch to flaunt. I’m actually going to be seeing Monster Truck live in a few weeks and it is my sincere hope that Bliss and I get a chance to rub beards. And paunch.

Oh, and I’m gonna go ahead and give honourable mention to this fine group of neck beards. I don’t know what these Amish criminals did, but these mugshots are fucking hilarious. They do for work shirts what Bliss does for vests, don’t you think?

Monster Truck
The Brown EP
Self-Released

The Brown EP is Monster Truck’s second four-song output in as many years, and despite the fact that they roll through an EP’s worth of mean, 70s-fried rock in the same amount of time bands from that era devoted to one song, it’s still well worth the two beer it takes to get through it. A product of Steel Town, Canada (that’s Hamilton for you non-Canucks), Monster Truck is all hairy chests ‘neath leather vests and The Brown EP boasts a bad-ass, big-wheeled boogie that’ll blow your mud flaps way back. Nationally speaking, I’d put ‘em somewhere between the laid back roots n’ groove of The Sheepdogs and the million man spark of White Cowbell Oklahoma, but the way “I Am Freedom,” “Love Attack,” “Seven Seas Blues,” and “Righteous Smoke” crank the crotch mojo into the red, ride the organ like it was Gravedigger, and preach about souls on fire make ‘em sound like KISS, Grand Funk Railroad, and Mountain mud wrestling at a biker rally. Best part is, you can get this EP, and their self-titled one, for free right here. Boss, right? You bet, just like the tunes.

Listen to “I Am Freedom” from The Brown EP!

Backwoods Payback
Momantha
Small Stone

If there’s any immediate difference to be noted between Backwoods Payback’s 2007 self-titled debut and their 2011 Small Stone debut, Momantha, it’s the production (cheers, Mr. Grotto). That 2007 album was an ugly affair, a quagmire of lumbering stoner rock for hairy-backed troglodytes with revenge-ridden manifestos in one hand and a rusty hatchet in the other. Of course, that’s what made it so great; there’s never been any doubt about who Backwoods Payback is or what they sound like — kind of like Kyuss, kind of like The Obsessed, kind of like Devil to Pay, kind of like Acid King, and kind of like Scissorfight, but most definitely a lot like a boulder being dropped into a puddle of mud. Momantha, however, adds melody into the mix, and flexes a bit more muscle as well, but before you think that means the maniacs are city-bound to chuck curses and get library cards, be assured that this album is drenched in BP’s groggy-riffed pestilence. In fact, the album’s first half, from “You Know How This Works” to “Parting Words,” is a beast and is probably as road-ready and raunchy as BP will ever play it, but the second-half variety courtesy of the Urge Overkill alt-vibe of “Poncho,” the sludgy doom of “Velcro,” and the hardcore-tinged animosity of “Timegrinder,”  will keep you on your toes, guessing when, where, and under what modus operandi the band will strike next. BP aren’t reinventing the kill here, but I just can’t seem to definitively peg ‘em, which is an awfully high compliment to give. But there is something familiar here, isn’t there? Sometimes I think it’s that vocalist/guitarist Mike Cummings’ throaty howl reminds me of Pete Stahl — and, to that end, that BP remind me in some way of a woollier Wool — and sometimes I think that they’re out there all alone in the Pennsylvania thick, just them and the shallow graves they’ve dug.

Listen to “Lord Chesterfield” from Momantha!