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!
It’s been three years since we last heard from The Parlor Mob, whose debut album And You Were a Crow successfully cradled the fine line between mainstream exposure and underground appeal, a rock n’ roll record borne of barefoot ideals and mustache machismo that was part Led Zeppelin, part Black Crowes, and all radio play. But the New Jersey band has surfaced with their follow-up, Dogs, which, like its predecessor, should curry compliments from people on either side of the popularity divide. However, unlike And You Were a Crow, Dogs has a more commercially viable edge to it, a darker, heavier hard rock flavour, heard especially on the songs “How It’s Going to Be,” “Fall Back,” “The Beginning,” and the album’s first single, “Into the Sun,” complete with a pop-driven chorus. What Dogs lacks, however, is the hippie groove that packed And You Were a Crow full of dust and soul, and while “Hard Enough,” “Slip Through My Hands,” and “Holding On” capture some of that ol’ feel good vibe, it’s clear The Parlor Mob have kicked it into attack mode this time around. You know, Dogs could have a little more boogie for my buck, but now that Dirty Sweet have rode off into the hazy horizon, it’s The Parlor Mob or bust. And I’m not ready to go down just yet.
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.
Turbowolf
The Parlor Mob
The Shrine