Showing posts with label Rowland S Howard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rowland S Howard. Show all posts

Wednesday, 6 April 2016

Get A Nice Dose Of Deadshred


In what is unofficially becoming Tenth Court week here, here is another Tenth Court release that needs your attention. I have spoken about Deadshred in the past, having them support Roku Music when they launched Collider a couple years ago and their Thousand Yard Staring Competition EP from late 2014. Now they have another EP out called Nice Epidemic. It kicks off with a broken scrawl in '1600', complete with piercing mournful harmonica - it's like early career The Men covering latter career The Men, deliberately badly. The brokenness of this playing style is the point - giving everything a sense of drastic desperation. 'Capsicum Prey' sounds as if INXS were on Siltbreeze; 'XXXOX' is given a playful guitar roll that belies the shattered glass vocals; 'Squat On Wood' is Hank Wood lost in the outback, Rowland S Howard scratching the strings with a nail in a fence post, the bass and drums drunkenly simplistic. 'Odious Dose' does indeed harbour sinister tendencies, a narcotic-riddled stagger throughout the darkened gin and heroin den. 'Can You Taste It?' This acrid twisted metal? Of course I fucking can. Deliciously diseased - you can get Nice Epidemic here.


Saturday, 5 November 2011

Your Sex Grows Over In This Church...



There was a time late last year when everyone seemed to be losing their shit over Sex Church, the Vancouver outfit whose music dealt in masochistic mayhem of the rustiest variety. Their Six Songs release was raw, brutal, and inherently enervating. Since then though, we have seen a surge of acts drink at the same fetid pond - namely TV Ghost and Brisbane's own Slug Guts. But where TV Ghost embrace a more indie-centric viewpoint to the industrial malaise (and I mean no disrespect - I think it is this pop aesthetic that elevates these guys to a much higher realm than most others plying their trade) and Slug Guts are more style over substance, Sex Church really seem to inhabit the rabid viscera contained within their performances. That's not to say these guys are worse than trash humpers - I'm sure they are lovely tea-sipping fellows? Or maybe THAT will be offensive to them? Maybe humping trash is their ultimate pastime? Whatever, the point is that this is REAL.


And on Growing Over, their latest on Load, Sex Church feel a little more cosy amongst the shards of jagged glass and broken syringes. Its insidious. It sometimes feels like Disappears headed by Rowland S Howard, at others like a freebasing Iceage. But comparisons are useless, like they always invariably are. All's can be said is that Growing Over is exactly that - Sex Church have just let the ether take them over to spew forth whatever it sees fit. Such abandon means that tracks either start with intent before tangentially chugging into the shadows, morph from garage staple to oozing wretch, or thrash you with a thousand hammers before kissing you deeply. Its skewed, somewhat brutal and a more than a little unhinged - and very, very real.

Sex Church - Waking Up
Sex Church - Beneath The Bottom