LP REVIEW
THE DEVILS
1. CHILD OF GOD
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Spawned from the vestiges of several noisy UK hardcore bands,
The Devils have unleashed something that
is so aurally destructive, it’s about as detrimental to your wellbeing as
wearing an asbestos balaclava. Once ingested it will moulder at your very
existence from the inside, attacking your morals until you realise just how
inadequate they were, while lifting you by the throat and shouting at you
very loudly. It is great to have bands like these, bands who love to make a statement, who love to shout and scream who take the result seriously but also have one hell of a time in the process. The album has been politically shaped with inclusion of well thought-out samples and loops from films and records, starting and ending songs and emphasising strong lyrics which are often poignant proclamations of man madness. Musically, it's a real bludgeoning, primitive, thumping sound, a mix of hardcore and noisecore, like a hideous cross between Raging Speedhorn and Helvis with just an occasional sludgy nod towards Iron Monkey or Black Sabbath. Featuring dual vocalists, one with a deeper, guttural, growling death style voice and the other who prefers full on screaming. And they duel with each other, both vocally and physically. Surprisingly there is huge variety on the album; it’s not all just straight forward flat out metal songs. For instance, “Pick A Bale Of Cotton” is a strangle kind of vocals conundrum and “Girl From Ipanema” is a more subdued ambient number, an outline of guitar feedback to a backdrop of gentle bass and audibly hushed yet atmospheric screaming vocals. Then there’s an odd Ministry-esque industrialism in “The Stylist Says” and back to “Clothe Fucking Slave (On Your Soul You Reap)” for a mad screamo/noisecore song. There are some very different, even strange songs on this album that helps push it into the ‘very memorable’ category. A canister of rage that is waiting to detonate, the deluge of dark and foreboding musical insinuations that are hurled at the listener leave you feeling like you’ve just sat and watched someone’s innards spill from their stomach - initially it’s a state of shock that slowly turns to horror. Whether you’re hiding behind a tightly clenched pillow or reaching for the mop and bucket, you know that you’ve just got to listen to it again!
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- Rigsby (18th September, 2003) |
