Headless Kross

Chuck Palahniuk once said ‘Nothing of me is original. I am the combined effort of everyone I've ever known’. Ladies and gentleman, I give you Headless Kross.

The prerequisite feedback is present at the opening of ‘From the Dark’, as is that big one note bass riff. You know the one. Then it all descends into a melee of riffs, pounding drums and a man who is clearly incensed at something. If I was 16 and this song was on a cover mounted Metal Hammer compilation, Headless Kross would be my favourite band until at least the next issue.  If a band is going to go to such lengths to show the world their influences, they may as well have torn the sleeves from a distressed denim jacket, grabbed the sewing box and a handful of patches; proudly take a wander around the local Morrison’s and buy some Jaegermeister.

Surprisingly enough, the album becomes infinitely more interesting when they begin to hold back on the sub-Iron Monkey clatter; ‘Anatomy Lesson’ for example is quite an enjoyable head-nodding trudge, and ‘Drought’ tries hard to claw back any integrity the album may have. ‘Bear’ does little to transcend any of those pesky sludge/doom/ clichés; woodland shrouded in moonlit occult mysticism or hairy Louisiana types with Orange amps. Headless Kross appear to be milking the life out of the latter.

Having listened to the release a handful of times I am convinced that if Headless Kross provided the incidental live soundtrack to a night on the beer in my local tavern, I’m sure they’d appeal to my downtuned tendencies. Unfortunately, right now they’re appealing to my suicidal ones.  

#Doom-metal #Headless Kross #stoner rock #Stubble #Rob Wallace