The big difference from their prior output, last year’s
full-length, Sick of It and two EP’s,
Awful and Devout, is low end. Whether they tuned (even) lower or just amped
up the post production. The other material had the spirit, but War is delivered with bombastic terror.
Rig time’s sound on War is ugly,
writhing in fetid disdain. Coming from La Crosse, WI, I am sure the scene is
scant and pushing them to be heard. War
will create waves towards both coasts, especially now as they debut on
Innerstrength Records.
One interesting aspect of Rig Time! is the relationship of
the members. The fluid communication of husband/wife Bryan W. and Rebecca
Fleming (vocals/drums and guitar, respectively) drives the music, rounded out
by Mark Trueman (bass/vocals). Again, calling out the production and of course
the mastering, it is no surprise to find the sonic genius of Brad Boatright at
Audiosiege. But first, War had the
fortune to be recorded/mixed by Pete Grossman at Bricktop Recording in Chicago,
IL (WEEKEND Nachos, Harms Way, Like Rats). The album was mastered by Brad
Boatright at Audiosiege in Portland, OR. Whatever approach Grossman took, it
was the correct channel. Songs are written drenched in vitriol and tension. The
explosive breakdowns pay off. But songs that linger are ooze hit the mark as
well.
Rig Time! nail it with tracks like “Garbage”, “Succumb”,
“Blister” and “Cleanse”. Puncturing their blend of sludge and hardcore – with a
tight embrace on powerviolence – the band kicks fast and dirgy tones,
manifesting unbridled hatred. War is
dripping with rage, vocals are strained and emphatic. The rhythmic pummeling of
a more atmospheric “Discomposure” or “Deserve” show a propensity to manipulate
mood and not just the strings of an instrument. The trio push many two-step
parts spurring ill breakdowns with a groove. Noisy tones and ugly sentiment.
While, going back to “Succumb”, Rig Time! have blastbeats charge with that
double bass hammering away to the howls of “We bow to no one!”.
RIYL: Xibalba, Harms Way, Weekend Nachos, Balaclava, Lowered
AD, Eyes of the Lord
The term “cult band” is usually relegated for lesser known
or underappreciated bands. With Iron Monkey, the term more likely is to denote
their likelihood of spawning an actual cult. I’m not sure of their record sales
but their reputation is revered. And their two albums are in regular rotation
in on my turntable. Ain’t one aspect under appreciated. Iron Monkey cultivated
disgusting and abhorrent sounds and attitude while still manifesting a groove.
On par with Eyehategod, this UK trio repelled listener’s from 1994 until 1999.
A band that channeled repulsion, seclusion, and nihilism could never be
expected to function for too long. And then their singer passed in 2002.
Now it is 2017. Somehow, Satan’s ugliest children have found
themselves spewing further music. Relapse Records released their third full
length, 9-13. It stands with the
classic two, self-titled, 1996, on
Union Mill and Our Problem, 1998, on
Earache. Staggeringly savage, riffs and growls perpetuate every insecurity in
the listener. The members are listed simply and unimpressively as J -
Vocals/Guitar, B – Drums, and S – Bass; recalling John Paul Morrow as “JPM -
Rest In Noise”. 9-13 is a stellar tribute to JPM’s legacy. Jim Rushby and Steve
Watson both were in prior iterations with others, Rushby in all, while drummer,
Brigga (ex-Chaos UK), is new. But the sound is as killer here. There is no gap
in synchronicity.
Rushby’s vocals are beyond growls, not low in tone like a
guttural Death Metal band, but beyond growl in terms of delivery and audibility.
Take “Toadcrucifier”. Rushby snarls like a spastic pitbull, reacting to a
violation with a fevered unraveling. His vocal approach comes from a genuine disassociation
with human kind. The feral evocation is the thread throughout 9-13. The songwriting is tops,
production balancing the ugly with the execution. “Destroyer” driving riffs of
the first section coupled with the fast charge of the middle relishes in deep
focus and nasty tones. But we hear all instruments pushing and pushing.
There is a palpable rejuvenation between Rushby and Watson
in these despondent harvests. While certainly skilled musicians, they keep it
simple. And that’s where the honesty is allowed to shine. It is why I think
hardcore fans can latch onto Iron Monkey’s qualities. They repugnant emotions
of isolationism and self-destruction, the disgust with the world, the visceral
trigger is worth more than any guitar solo or ethereal orchestration. Give me
the sweaty clamor of basking in plodding snare hits and feedback of “The Rope”
any day. Not saying it is all feeling, they sit and write songs. But they know
when to ride a riff, a groove, an emotion – and simply let vocals spatter
wretched noise. “Doomsday Impulse Multiplier” swoons and smashes as its twisted
riffs deliver on its catastrophic tile promises.
9-13 is constructed of eight 4-5 minute romps with a 10
minute closer. The beginning of the album,
“Crown of Electrodes”,
“Omegamangler”, and the title track, “9-13” are all bruisers. So, let’s address
the obvious. Detractors will say – shit, have said, on a youtube comment – “no
Greaves, no Morrow, no Iron Monkey”. And I am a purist with some bands – believing
certain bands should have just taken a new name (Sepultura, Misfits, and a
thousand hardcore bands). Missing Greaves is a loss, in a nostalgic way. But
Brigga kills it on 9-13. Justin
Greaves, whose talents saw him in many bands; including, Borknagar live,
Crippled Black Phoenix (still does), The Varukers (which is a precise parallel
to Chaos UK) and most notably, Electric Wizard for three years. This perched
Greaves to record on EW’s gnarliest (not best or most classic, but
noisiest/ugliest), We Live. Steve
Watson is back here, and played on IM’s first self-titled LP. The detraction
may be in comparison that Iron Monkey recorded as a five piece for their two
albums and the EP. Here they perform as a trio. I don’t hear an outcry for
missing Doug Dalziel. He was on all three records. And hell, if you’re
lamenting an absent drummer – you should really being lamenting his partner,
the bassist. Watson moving over certainly delivers the essence of Iron Monkey.
Rushby, however, has always been in the band, every iteration. As far as
vocals, while missing Morrow is a punch to the gut, Rushby does his job. It
doesn’t have that same black metal, goblin raspy slither; but Rushby has the
same spirit, and certainly the toxic tenacity in his exasperated excoriating of
mankind. And with all the years slinging axe for the band, he knows the
approach that works and exceeds his duties. Shoes filled. Would Morrow have
given the thumbs up? Only the band members know, not some sentimental fan.
The big difference from their prior output, last year’s
full-length, Sick of It and two EP’s,
Awful and Devout, is low end. Whether they tuned (even) lower or just amped
up the post production. The other material had the spirit, but War is delivered with bombastic terror.
Rig time’s sound on War is ugly,
writhing in fetid disdain. Coming from La Crosse, WI, I am sure the scene is
scant and pushing them to be heard. War
will create waves towards both coasts, especially now as they debut on
Innerstrength Records.
Rig Time! nail it with tracks like “Garbage”, “Succumb”,
“Blister” and “Cleanse”. Puncturing their blend of sludge and hardcore – with a
tight embrace on powerviolence – the band kicks fast and dirgy tones,
manifesting unbridled hatred. War is
dripping with rage, vocals are strained and emphatic. The rhythmic pummeling of
a more atmospheric “Discomposure” or “Deserve” show a propensity to manipulate
mood and not just the strings of an instrument. The trio push many two-step
parts spurring ill breakdowns with a groove. Noisy tones and ugly sentiment.
While, going back to “Succumb”, Rig Time! have blastbeats charge with that
double bass hammering away to the howls of “We bow to no one!”.
