The allure of extreme music, for most, comes from its roots in counter culture. The hippy-dippy era had no idea what the hell was happening when Iommi picked the first distorted tritone. Fast forward all the way to the present day and a lot of extreme music can be branded and catered to specific groups. Counter culture is consumer culture. Honest extreme music is much more difficult to come by and much more difficult to consume when it finally shows up. It doesn’t get much tougher to swallow than this. Primitive Man are the embodiment of an “acquired taste”; the Denver residents playing doom that most fans of doom can’t even stomach. Consumption of their new full length Caustic is not advisable for anyone of a weak disposition.
These posts are written by: Matt MacLennan
I’ve written and deleted four or five attempts at an introductory paragraph for this edition of Grind My Gears. The…
Metal heads and the Internet have such a peculiar relationship. Rather than embracing the thousands and thousands of hours of…
Oh boy do we have something hot and nasty for you to start off the week. Cobwebs in your ears from a long weekend looking at the bottom of a bottle? Just pissed that it’s Monday and Bob from HR won’t stop chewing with his mouth open? We’ve got something for you. Coming fresh from their upcoming sophomore release Amputheatre, we’ve got a brand new track from India’s deathgrind destroyers Gutslit. One of my favourite tracks from this release, we present you with “From Ear To Ear,” as always, over the jump.
Like any other extreme music genre, grind has a bevy of prefixes that nine times out of ten give the…
There’s nothing quite like a great sandwich. Whether it’s cookies either side of creme, cold cuts stuffed in slices of bread or earnest, driving hard rock with heart stuck between two slabs of dirty, bludgeoning death. We’re going with the latter on this weeks Celtic Connection with Scottish and Irish produce, as per. It tickles my pickle that I get to cover three bands with nothing shared other than their red haired heritage. Sure, the two Scots acts may share the same rough area but they couldn’t be any further apart in terms of taste, style and fans. Throw in some low end loving Irish folks and hey, we’ve got a party on our hands.
Since I started writing Grind My Gears, I’ve always focused on one project or band at a time. This has given me free reign to spew curse words and horrible imagery by the bucket load and I am inherently grateful to the editors and staff here for allowing me this. However, I feel like this column can step up its game. The other regular features on Heavy Blog are a cut above and such, from here on out, myself and whichever poor bastard I rope into helping me will try to match those standards. We’ll look at fresh grind compilations and releases, love letters to classic grind records and interviews and conversations with some of the cream of the modern crop. Maybe more, maybe less, I guess we’ll play it by ear (because it’s grind). Without further fanfare, please welcome your own damn self to Grind My Gears 2.0.
The nihilist music market is a hot market and every despondent soul has a favourite hot property at the minute. The worlds of sludge, doom and core have bore witness to a smattering of acts capable of sapping the complete energy of a room; using just the atmosphere they create with their instruments, implements and voices. As mentioned, there’s enough history with this area of music that there’s always someone threatening to unsettle and threaten with their music. Helpless definitely aim to create a misery of their very own with Debt, a brief but bloody record showcasing the serrated edge of sludge bass and hellish vocals. The music does impose, but the band occasionally take second stage to the wall of noise.
Summer is nearly wrapped up over here so it’s time to get right back into the miserable weather, miserable conversation and general misery of being in a Northern part of the world. Fuck the tanned people and their day drinking, fuck the sweaty patch on the small of your back, fuck the tourists who stop walking every two seconds on the street. It’s high time for the grey, grim and gruesome to rear it’s resentful head. This weeks entry into Grind My Gears might just be the most obtuse and vehemently bleak thing you’ll hear the rest of this summer. I love that I get to write this next bit. Get Fucked.
We’re at a point where a hot shit, flavour of the month band can become old hat moments after they are touted as the next big thing. It’s so easy to lose track of who’s who, what’s hot and not and generally what the hell is happening in music and it’s always gonna be impossible to hear everything good out there. That’s where Heavy Blog, and others like us, come in. We have our core features focusing on specific genres—what’s up Grind My Gears fans?!—but today I’m lumping together bands who’s only similarity is their shared suffix. They’re all “core” in some form or another. To make things more digestible, I’ve even added a strapline for each, covering their sound in one fantastically humorous sentence. Please, enjoy and rock responsibly.