CLICK TO ORDER "WE CAME IN PEACE"
CLICK TO ORDER "GUTS OF STEEL"
Press - Pavement PR - Tony Bonyata (bonyata@wi.rr.com)
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Brimstone Howl “We Came In Peace” LP/CD
As an editorial forward, I’ll say that I was in the perceived minority that actually thought 'Guts of Steel' was a great record. The treaded gripe with that slab was its odd mastering – the sonic components all complying to the same mix volume, all pushed just enough into the red to beset a biting edge but make for a confusing, contradictory listen. Looking past that, the songwriting is fucking phenomenal. “Heart Attack,” “I’m A Man,” and “Damned To Judge” are the cream of the Nebraskan harvest, nearly dispersing over a floodplain previously parched with absence of anything discernibly “epic,” just riding on the thin banks of garage punk perfection. So it’s sort of a weird detour for the kings of croon to take a step down to a humbler moxie, opting for a much subtler brilliance that doesn’t pull as many punches in the revival of Ogallala-rock. I’m not saying their catalogue previous to this had many blatant rips (definitely a few!, but at least tastefully done), but it almost rung as a caricature of midwestern cowboys playing unkept rock n’ roll songs between their wild juvenile stints in the name of love and danger. Guns and whiskey and one-night stands and chipped teeth. Select cuts pick right up where they left off: “They Call Me Hopeless Destroyer” (the manic drumming knocking you on your ass during the inaugural seconds of the album), “Summer of Pain” (continuing the ‘Howl’s transpiring tradition of modifying licks of the almighty ‘Stones which began with “Tunnel of Love”s take It Black,” and, fingers crossed, will conclude with an epic career-ending delve into an elongated sleep-paralysis-of-a-“Play With Fire” that they never wake themselves out of, like true martyrs of rock n’ roll, because if anyone has it in ‘em its these guys), and “USMC” (good song in the vein of Nebraskan hootenanny like only these cats know how) in particular. They’ve a cut called “Catamite Blues” (funny name, forgettable ditty) and “Shangri La” (brilliant and already thrown on mixtapes by me) as well. “A Million Years” is a radiant beam, dancing into melancholic territory a la Reigning Sound but with the frayed seems of the Oblivians. Altogether a gradually blooming flower that takes this reckless western-twang tinged garage with rudimentary rock undercurrents from blunt and one-dimensional to a beautiful, multi-faceted, and most notably, mature chapter in one of the best non-shit-fi pigfuck garage bands around. I like this band a lot right now, ‘cause they seem to look past all the immobilizing truisms of garage derivation and just go for it. Like they don’t feel it in their dicks or their cerebellums but in their hearts. And as emphatic emotion is known to do, they transgress many emotive turfs. If “Guts of Steel” was the midday excursion to the watering hole in search of a one-off summer fling with a smooth young gal, “We Came In Peace” is the first day of Fall – frigid while beams of sun poke through deadened branches and teases of past carelessness. And that tends to be the theme: heartbreak and acceptance, with the interjection of a very Christian optimism that promises themselves a Spring to every of their Winters. (BG)**********************************************************
SLEAZEGRINDER
Fermented out in the fetid wastelands left behind in the debris out in Nebraska thee Brimstoners brittle garage-blues with boundless with the invention and devotion that harks back biblically to The Gories and prime-cut Blues Explosion than the spate of no-pedigree plastic pop practitioners cobbled together by pederastic A&R - arse and rimming - perverts in the wake of all that Hives jive and White Stripes, who were uniformly all practised Iggy slur and vacant stare and could doubtful find a cock if the Ig came and stuffed his right in their pockets. Which, gladly, is exactly the sort of obsequious, simpering posturing this howls at until strips willingly peel off to the ground at the untouched Converse before they can be torn off and their bowels exit into the ether. If you had to go to church on a Sunday it'd be one based around this, and those of its ilk, where the brimstone wouldn't bother the true believers whose spirits already resound to bastard blues with a bike-chain in place of a crown of thorns a la Billy Childish and even the blessed Creedence. - Stu Gibson
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MAXIMUMROCKNROLLreviews:
BRIMSTONE HOWL - "M-60" EP An unexpected diamond in the rough from the heartland courtesy of the band formerly known as the ZYKLON BEES. Scuzzy blues-ish punk gone Killed by Death, at times a bit like if early GUN CLUB was lo-fi and art damaged. Sorry to heap on the cliche descriptions, just trust me and buy this thing. (DD) (Boom Chick, 6405 Morrill Ave., Havelock, NE 68507)****************************************************************
CLICK TO BUY
Boom Chick Records
Boom Chick Records Boom Chick Records
Speed Nebraska Records SYA Records
"One Quick Minute"
"M-60"
