A somewhat restrained form of Hard-Core, Remover, bore early last year
blends the emotional intensity of said style with emotive melodies and
hypnotic hooks -- "So Well," for starters -- or seconds as the running order
goes, has the makings for big time exposure. Definitely in line with
the bass-heavy exploits of a Helmet or Monster Magnet and the rev and
rumble of those classic-Rock influenced Stoner/Psycore combos that have
been numbing listeners for the last several years… and yet quite
oppositely, there's a tranquil spirit on tunes like "Cheating
Satellites" which for all of one quick phrase seems to demonstrate the
logic behind what would otherwise be a perplexing title -- "The smallest
taste would only destroy our lives…" At this point, we get a clear
listen to Brett Johnson manning the mic and a quick glint of Wyndorf
peaks through ever so slightly.
The dual guitar layer works effectively
to add an extra dose of punch -- again returning to "Cheating Satellites,"
"Come For Me," with some gritty Blues licks carrying the moment, but the
best part here definitely comes back to the verse before things get a
little hyper-extended during the chorus. I can't see why more groups
don't do this -- at least those who won't provide the lyrics in the first
place... just place a simple phrase beneath the song title that says all
that needs to be said -- Death Metal bands please take notice.
"Never
Wrong" mellows a bit, maintaining more of a dreary low-level tone with
quick-stepping guitar entries leading again into strong choral bursts
led by increased guitar blur, vocal histrionics and vocal harmonies.
"Falling Forward" is an all out slam and stomp with slow break at the
verse before returning the form -- many of the songs carry similar
characteristics in this regard almost like making a grand entrance --
lulling you to a false sense of complacency and then jarring you awake
with some disturbing guitar chords and dissonant rhythmic patterns.
"Chopper" as the closer follows only one lane all the way through -- the
passing lane down the highway reserved for reckless speed merchants
determined to leave the rest at a standstill. This one's heavy and loud,
much like the heavy seventies' two-wheeler throwback types that've been
dirtying our laundry since Iggy recently became bronzed in the minds of
retro-fitted, turbo-guided musical aficionados.
