XII Boar

You’re probably aware that making an over-opinionated, sarcastic music writer shut up is a rarely-achieved (some may say even mythical) feat. Self-proclaimed stoner metal kings XII Boar can count themselves amongst the few from here on out, because the first time I listened through their four track debut Split Tongue, Cloven Hoof my mind drew a total blank save for two words:  Fuck. Yeah.

Thankfully, my second listen proved more grammatically fruitful, but I was still left in awe at the sheer ballsyness of these relative newcomers. If you like riffs (check.), sludge (check.), booze (check.) and balls to the fucking wall rock (check to the fucking check.) then this is definitely an album you should be picking up.

The riffage flits somewhere between Sabbath, Clutch and Eyehategod, with twinges of the ultra-heavy making themselves known throughout this bouncy, sometimes bluesy, sometimes chaotic record. It plays like a rock rollercoaster, taking the listener from 70s dipped psychedelia, all the way down to the deepest putrid depths of sludge. XII Boar bang out slow, groove-laden gorgeousness that would make Kirk Windstein cream in his pants.

Speaking of Windstein, the vocals are pure Crowbar; guttural, butch and tormented, they sound like singer Tommy Hardrocks has smoked 50 a day since the date he was conceived. If (like me) you love a record to drink booze and get crazy to, this is the one.  Pure rock and roll for the heavier generation, I’m totally in love. This will no doubt be the sountrack to all my alcohol-fuelled late night mosh sessions henceforth and forever. Good times.

#Hard Rock #Sludge Metal #stoner rock #XII Boar #Stubble #Eóin Boylan