“Have you fookun done it yet?”
Cannae see fuck all, got a bag over my head and I’m tied to a chair, naked. It seems as if I can feel wood on ma baws. Last thing I remember is being hit over the nut and chucked in a van. The hood gets pulled off.
‘Where’s ma fookun review yah bash’tuud?’ Cunt sounds like Sean Bean on helium.
Eh? Fucks going on here? An why am I naked? This thing shouting is dressed head to toe in leather and spikes. His face sports a leather mask and his enormous schlong hangs out a hole on his crotch. It’s like a pole-vaulters arm. Cunt must be about six foot eleven. Cunts oot his tits. Wild eyed.
‘Right ya koont. Ahm gunna destroy Frank Turner's hole. You bettuh have some fookin thing fuh me bah the time ah gets fookin bahcht.”
The big gangly creature walks into a room and hits the light switch. I can see Frank Turner, epic folk warrior poet, destroyer of all things cool about Black Flag, tied with wire to the table. The big gimpy fucker pulls down Frank's kegs an parts his cheeks, spits on his starfish and slides his enormous meat into Turners well used anal gateway. While grinding into Turner, the gimp aims a remote at me and shouts ‘ Yuh beta have dis done ya bahstud’ an after clicking it, EARTHRISE comes on. I remember. This was something I was supposed to review. It's that album, 'Eras Lost', their debut or something.
I then hear a voice. "Whats this drivel?" I look to my right, and tied to a radiator are seven guys, naked again. I ask who they are.
"We’re Mumford and Sons and we’ve been raped. Twice." I then decide I better listen to the music and do what the gimp raper wants.
Opening track, 'Challenger Deep' sets the momentum like a rocket taking off. All the tracks on the album follow a similar recipe and this is no bad thing; distorted down-tuned guitars, harmonic leads providing the perfect foil for the serial killer vocals, kinda reminding me of the Cavaleras. 'Former Worlds' tenacity is blinding, with archaic drum patterns and angular guitars grinding and driving us to a unwelcoming place with repetitive patterns. Other notable highlights would be 'Mirova' and 'Transmission', the former being an unforgiving plundering monster of a track - think the relentless pounding of Godflesh, the dissonant squall of Converge and the groove of Pantera at their best. The latter is an instrumental and the only track that strays from the blueprint of a solid, established metal sound. Moody as fuck, this is ideal music to look out the window on rainy days when you have been grounded and you wanna slash yer da.
I really enjoyed this album. I'm surprised that they are unsigned as they sound better or as good as most of the stuff out there. Well worth a swatch from any cunt with a taste of any sort in heavy guitar music.
The only downside for me is the really pish cover. If one of the band members got his hole out of that then fair enough – I can just see the drummer asking the other band members if they could let his girlfriend design the cover. The only reason a cityscape should be depicted on the 'Eras Lost' cover is if it's being sexually assaulted by dragons on PCP.
I finish my review in my head and print it off out my arse. The gimp walks out the room and sees the shit on the floor.
"DIS BETUH BE GOOD AH TELLS YA, OR AM GONNA TAKE THIS PAVEMUNT SAW TO YOU INSTEADAH MUMFORD N SUNNS!"
I go, “Its ma best yet Bibby.” He goes “It fucking bettah be.” and walks over to Mumford and Sons with his pavement saw.
Posted: Thu 6 September 2012