Almost exactly two months ago I was flipping out over Glitter Wizard’s madcap rock n’ roll show, and now the one percent club I placed those dandy medieval spacemen in is getting some deserving new members, the equally out-there Los Angeles trio known as The Shrine. To say that you have to hear these psych-garage rangers before you do anything else is like saying you have to grow a beard — it’s obvious to the point of insult. Do it as quick as you can and reap the life-changing rewards. Just one run through Bless Off‘s neurotic, thrashy, fuzzy, riff-packed punk-doom hybrid and beer will taste better, partying will last longer, denim will fit snugger, and your conquests — sexual or otherwise — will be mightier. In fact, all you really need to know about The Shrine and Bless Off‘s influences are flagrantly displayed on the demo’s cover in black and white: Edvard Munch’s The Scream and Thin Lizzy’s Jailbreak. Oh, and in case you don’t know, tapes — yes, cassettes — are making a comeback, and if any band is tailor made for such an unnecessary but awesome underground fad, it’s The Shrine (they actually released their self-titled debut on tape). I really hope they don’t ever upgrade Bless Off from its demo status because any kind of sonic improvements to this dungeon ruckus will ruin the whole stinkin’ trip.
Saviours’ 2009 album, Accelerated Living, was one of the very first reviews I wrote after launching this blog. Now, almost two years and about 250 reviews later, the Oakland band is back with their fourth full-length, and when most bands at this point find a mature, polished groove in which to fit themselves, Saviours, quite unabashedly, are holding on to that ripped-jean, skate-or-die stoner metal sound like it was the last beer on Earth. The raw, basement-grade quality of Death’s Procession is the perfect platform for the dirge of riffs — both chugging and melodic — on display here; the red-eyed mix of NWOBHM mayhem and slacker thrash come together like an old school stink bomb thrown right into the Grim Reaper’s face. But Saviours only ride the traditional wave so far as the sludgy shore, at which point they stomp around in the wet sand, light a raging fire in some boozy deity’s name, and party all night amid a quagmire of bikers, broads, killers, dealers, and wizards. If we’re both around in another two years and 250 reviews, I guarantee it will be the same damn deplorable business, oh so excellent and brutally bad-ass, because Saviours know no other way in which to excel.
Check out the video for “Crete’n” from Death’s Procession!
More of that twitchy Texan fun courtesy of Bad Sports, a trio of electric Twizzlers whose members also play in High Tension Wires, The Wax Museums, and the live incarnation of Mind Spiders, which means they do one hell of a mean Denton dance. That’s like being caught in the crossfire of flyin’ 45s and hipster quips, and if you’re not ready to get down, you’re at the wrong damn party. Kings of the Weekend, Bad Sports’ second album, pipes a heaping mess of three-chord punk on top of a fluffy n’ fuzzy 60s garage pop cake and sprinkles lyrics about schizophrenia and high school sweethearts over all of it, so chances are you won’t be able to resist the urge to dive face first into this box of 14 mini rock n’ roll desserts and feast on their addictive confection. Outstanding flavours include the sleaze-infused “Off Switch,” the MC5-drenched “Teenage Girls,” and the ego-driven “I’m in Love With Myself,” but the whole batch is positively charged and tastes bad-ass.
The Shrine
Saviours
Bad Sports