Karp - Self Titled LP

Genre : Noise Rock \ Post Hardcore \ Heavy Metal \ Hardcore Punk \ Sludge Metal

Year : 1997

Do you like the Melvins ? Do you worship Black Sabbath ? The in your face attitude of punk ? Follower of High On Fire ? And yet love your metal to be fun and enjoyable ? Them come, grab a chair, sit down and let's have a little chat.

This band, Karp (short for Kill All Redneck Pricks) is one of those indie, never heard of bands that is in fact a sonic sludge assault of sonic brutality , whose only aim was being serious of not being serious. They are nerds, geeks and wear it on their sleeve proudly (the album prior to this was called 'Suplex'). Above all they want to have fun (the lyrics of the 3rd track are AHHHHHHH I'M FUCKING WITH YA HEAD, I'M FUCKING WITH YA HEAD, I'M FUCKING WITH YA HEAD"), and it it is this characteristic of their music that makes them infectious. With the name of the album being "Self Titled LP", the band merged and innovated all of their eclectic influences and spawned this really enjoyable release, which in the core of the all the fun and frolic and nerdiness is actually a really good slab of well constructed metal. It ironic enough to be hip, dedicated enough to be brilliant.



The old Melvins' formula [if a riff is good enough to repeat once, it's good enough to repeat one hundred times] is adhered to, albeit in a punkish form, which in KARP's hands works pure wonders. With the record's economical thirty minute length, everything is condensed, tight and vividly succinct, and all the better for it. Eight sandpaper-raw, bulldozer-heavy and raucous tracks smash, bash, crash and burn through your right ear, and exite through your other one, but it is the impact on the pink squishy mush between those ears that is worth mentioning, leaving a permanent mark. Each piece is centered around one main riff or a riff sequence, which is then tinkered and played around with throughout the track's duration. And boy, do these fellas know their way around their riffs! They turn and twist, change tempos, build up tension, squeezing just about all they can from these chords in the time allotted, while descending into the gluey, sludgy pits of hell and then rising above to gallop through a vast, wide-open faraway.

What a friggin' ride! Get on it!

Retrospection and Inure

Artist: Inure
Album Name/Year Released: Inure (2004)
Genre: Black Metal/Death Metal/Hardcore Punk
Country: The United States of America

Bring your mind back a couple of Fridays ago to the morning of the 23rd of October. Depending on where you live, you could have been doing anything- You might have been sleeping, prepping for work, or on a commute to college. I found myself embarking on a long trek on foot across my Northern Minnesotan city.

But for the mechanical bustle of morning traffic, the streets were largely devoid of any sort of life, the skies were overcast with a pallor of opressive gray clouds all too commonly cast upon the firmament here in late fall.
I was kept warm only by my thin WitTR shirt, some khaki pants, and a pair of headphones I was using as an improvised set of earmuffs- through which was playing whatever I'd hastily thrown on my tiny 1gb iPod the previous evening before heading out to hang out with my friends. I hadn't slept a wink since then, but a mixture of the gripping cold, and the loud music I was listening to kept me quite alert. Uncommonly alert.

I continued winding on foot through the veritable maze of largely unnecessary pre-winter road-construction (your tax dollars at work, go stimulus!), eventually dropping in and out of a library to warm myself. I passed leaf-shorn trees dotting the corners of sidewalks, people with glazed eyes, long cast in the molds of weary working lives. Kindness made tedium.

Strange waves of lucid introspection.
Extrospection.
The music I was listening to wasn't distracting me from the world, it was allowing me to focus on it. On myself. Away from the grey, meaninglessness of these concrete labyrinths, away from this substantially inert city. This constant slog. This generality.
Not worth attention. Not worth concern...

Dropped into a local organic foods shop, grabbed an application. Worth a shot, even if I'm tired of shooting. Gotta get off the cycle somehow.

Crossing the mainstreet, I found myself walking about with a sense of purpose, so uncommon for me these days.

As I began traversing the bridge connecting downtown Bemidji to the pseudo-suburb of Nymore, my home, and stared out into the brooding, angry, royal blue of Lake Bemidji, the music I was listening to started truly grabbing me, started making me think even more. The album that was by a band from Baltimore, MD. Likely no-one in a hundred mile radius in relation to where I stood had heard of them. And there I was, connecting with their material at the most sincere level. Pounding drumwork offset by mellow acoustics, standout basswork, and multi-person harsh vocals.
Coming to the next song, I instantly recognized the soul-sheering voice of Mis, who after recording with Inure would branch off to front sludge doomsters Moonshine and lend her abilities to the great Wake Up On Fire. There was her characteristic high alto clean voice too...

I was passing the construction sight of the new Bemidji Event's Center to my left, the great hulking skeleton of the thing cutting a huge swath of imposing iron framework into the sky and across the landscape. A monument to fatheaded human impetuousness and indolent, corporate greed. It was an eyesore.

And yet, staring at the glaring visage of the thing I laughed, heartily, and as I did, I was caught by one of the most gorgeous tremelo melodies I'd heard in ages (see the end of "Dos"). I moved on. Pushing forward, through the cold air and empty walkways, accompanied by somber, sober, acoustics, striking vocals, and gripping, layered riffwork; wondering at how odd an occurrence it was that I am so drawn to music like this, how easily I can connect to it, and why it gets through to me.

Enter punkish rhythms, more gorgeous tremelos.

"There's something about underground music, underground extreme music in particular, like this that I just can't help but like. I find it in my tiny local scene too- a mix of artistic integrity, talent, and sincerity. The Baltimore scene has quite apparently had a bigger chance to flourish, and mature, and I see it in the material of bands like these. I love it, and I hope the Bemidji scene someday gets the chance to to progress as much. We're working on setting up the framework. I'll do what I can to make sure it pans out."

Enter more extended acoustics and alto vocals, quick change to furious tremelos...

I was finally passing the last winding stretch of houses before I would reach my own.

A last incredible tremelo, strong riffwork, more vicious vocals...

I found myself within sight of my doorstep. Just as I walked up to it, the album ended. I laughed a last time and walked in, wishing only for the warmth of that house of respite to chase the feeling back into my limbs.

Mediafire

G.I.S.M. - M.A.N. (Military Affairs Neurotic) (1986)

Genre: Hardcore Punk / Heavy Metal (NWOBHM) [Not Metalcore, assholes]
Country: Japan

Japan has a reputation for putting out some weird shit. Whether it's Gonin-Ish, one of those thrash metal bands who were infatuated with Nazi-ism, or the poster band for Japanese-weirdness, Sigh, G.I.S.M. combined punk music, heavy metal, and had their stints with Industrial soundscaping which was unheard of at the time.

After releasing “DETESTation” in 1984, G.I.S.M. returned with the more metallic sounding M.A.N. There are 3 things that make a G.I.S.M. release, Sakevi's vocals, Randy's guitar playing, and the album's production. Each are in top form in this release. While the production on the previous release made the guitar sound like it was channeled through a Nintendo, this album gives it new life with a proper sound. Of course, we're talking about a punk band in the 80's, this thing isn't a cleanly produced piece of art. This album has a very hallow sound. The drums and the vocals are at the head of the mix, but it sounds distant and empty as a whole. Randy's guitar is buried underneath and isn't too loud, making it a chore to pick it out and listen.

When you are able to listen to it, it's a real treat. It's almost as if he forgot he was in a punk band and was a part of an Iron Maiden tribute. Riffs whirl, solos flutter, it all just comes together in a perfect circle. It's hard to choose something as a standout example when all of the songs are of an equal quality, but if I had to, I'd say that the opener “Good as It Is” is the prime example. The vocalist, Sakevi, is also a big part to the G.I.S.M. sound. His use of harsh vocals gives the music a new, dare I say, unique sound. It's a very throaty kind of bark, something similar to what Mirai of Sigh does now, but more of a lower end. Unfortunately, I can't understand a damn thing he's saying. I don't know if it's because he is speaking in Japanese, or I suck at deciphering harsh vocalists, but I can't pick out any iconic broken english commandments. Sorry guys, no “Endless Blockades for the Pussyfooter” or “Tear there syphilitic vaginas to feecees” here!

Closing note: G.I.S.M. Were a pretty special band. At the end of the day, I feel these guys established a better bridge between punk and metal than Discharge ever could. Still, while the G.I.S.M. Discography might not be as essential as any Discharge works (at least before their Glam era), it's one of those albums that is a must listen if you have any remote interest in extreme music whatsoever.

Enjoy!