Confused Little Girl - Southern Gentlemen

Skeeters are snackin'. They're as big as half-dollars and they'll bleed you dry if you let 'em. The gators are patiently waiting. Some are stalkin' their prey. Shine a light and you can see the battalion of reptile eyes, like fallen stars strewn across the water's surface. Yes, we're in the icky Florida swamp, where it's scary-dark and it's nasty. I lived there once, and it's also where Confused Little Girl  and Southern Gentlemen rose from the filthy muck.

I told Racer that I've been listening to the independent release of this album for almost a year but I clearly wasn't the only one. Rotten Records took notice and signed the Orlando-based group, turning out Southern Gentlemen internationally on Oct. 11. They brought an exceptional and original rock band on board, in my opinion. Here's some information from their bio for those who haven't heard about Confused Little Girl yet.

"Confused Little Girl are a four-piece, deep-fried, southern swamp-rock band from Orlando, Florida. Their songs are filled with themes of drinking whiskey, murdering people and burying them in the bellies of alligators, pigs and the bottom of the water in the Everglades, and of course, selling your soul to Satan. The music that accompanies this subject matter is filled with loud guitars; heavy, groove-based big drums and enough fat-bottom for even Freddie Mercury to be disgusted. Since 2005, these beloved bastards of rock have been working tirelessly to shove their brand of heavy rock and roll down the throats of as many people as humanly possible."

Influences include: AC/DC, ZZ Top, Black Sabbath, Down, C.O.C., Clutch, and Queens of the Stone Age. What more do you need to know? Want details? Too bad. I don't know much else about Confused Little Girl, aside from the fact that Billy Van Muddlestein, David Washburn, Red Reilly and Josh Henry like booze, bitches and barbecue. Hell, who doesn't?

"We come from the Swamp," Confused Little Girl says. "We play rock-and-roll music. Loud, angry, drunken rock-and-roll. Being from Florida, where tons of southern rock bands came from, we have southern music in our hearts. The details about how we met and who we've played with and all of that bullshit isn't important. It's music, you listen to it. So listen to it. "

I have listened to Southern Gentlemen - many times. Too many to count. I'm listening again right now and I'll tell you something: it never gets old. Like I said before, I've been playing this release since the beginning of the year and I'm not stopping now. I won't bother with trying to describe every song because it's all good. The guitars are southern-scuzzy; the vocals are hefty and raunchy, but they're definitely still clear enough for me. The bass and drums are just monstrous. It's everything I love about swamp rock. No wonder I can't get enough.

Oh. And the song titles. Don't get me started on that. "I'd Rather Booby Screw A Walrus" is a favorite, along with "Honestly, Who Gives Their Genitals Pet Names". "Hookers on Horseback", "(Hey Dad) Stop Looking at Porn on My Computer", "Jordan Catalano Needs to Break Up His Shitty Band" and "How Satan Stole My Heart". C'mon. Aren't those some of the most interesting song names you've ever heard? Just reading those names makes you want to listen, doesn't it? Go ahead. You'll be happy you did.

The sick, 12-song Southern Gentlemen was sort of an obscure title earlier this year. Well not any more. I'm glad to see Confused Little Girl get signed by Rotten Records. Now the world has a better chance to hear the swamp-rock I've been trudging through for months. Head to the Rotten Records site for this record and get your copy NOW.

Hail the swamp!

--Heddbuzz


http://store.rottenrecords.com/confused-little-girl-southern-gentlemen.html
http://www.bastardsofrock.com/
http://www.reverbnation.com/confusedlittlegirl

Hail! Hornet - Disperse the Curse

 

If swamp metal (like, say, Black Tusk) is punk, thrash, southern rock, sludge and grunge in a musical stew, then Hail! Hornet are swamp n' roll.

Fitting too, as while I write this it's 96.8 degrees outside, the A/C is half-broken, and on this second floor it's probably 115 degrees. It's hot (and humid) enough that I can actually feel my hair and beard grow out; shit, I can feel them WANT to grow out. I'm shirtless, sweating, unshaved (intoxicated?), and am really enjoying universes align here, really enjoying this synchronicity: my mental and physical worlds have almost perfectly coalesced into this record's sounds.

This record, this Disperse the Curse, perfectly encapsulates where I'm "at" now. Feel me?

No? Then dig this:

Current and former members of Buzzov*en, Weedeater, Sourvein, Bongzilla, Morne and others make up Hail! Hornet-- and if you're reading this site, you can probably guess exactly what this sounds like.
What you might not guess, however, is how much fun they seem to have been having recording this. This is 2011's version of 1955's good blowing sessions. Everyone got together, vibed off each other, and made that alchemy obvious enough to place on wax: dig us having a blast rockin out with our cock[in?] out. This is the dixie sludge metal equivalent of Monk, Parker, Stanley Turrentine and Coleman Hawkins jamming after hours at Minton's.

And Goddamn is it fun stuff.

Disperse the Curse is Motorhead if they smoked more than they drank, it's Entombed or the Cro-Mags if they were from the Deep South, it's...

...you feel me.

It's fun, uptempo sludge: a rickety old beast, bored of lurching town to town destroying all, laying waste, et yawn cetera-- who went and got stoned on an argot fungus in wheat and St. Vitus Danced his  goddamned way to a primrose path of carnage and mayhem that smelled like diesel oil, weed, cicadas and hot amp cable.

Still in? Yeah you are. Don't act like that doesn't sound like mad fun, son-- the album version of mudding, cow-tippin, going shoeless for a season, or nailing your hot cousin.

Specifics:

"Gifted Horse," track 2, is a particular ripper, as is "Glass Roses." "Unholy Foe" slows down a bit --just long enough to crush, you understand-- then "Scars" punishes you with a pear of agony for daring to think Hail! Hornet  had slowed down for even a second.

That last simile got a bit more grotesque than I'd intended.

ANYhoo... go listen.

--Horn

http://www.myspace.com/2hailhornet

Downslave - Cost of Freedom

Nestled in a southern forest where your nearest neighbor is either a bear or that guy who guards his still with a shotgun, you might just find the five guys of Downslave brandishing their own firearms or sucking down their own brew of grain alcohol. Hailing from Knoxville, Tennessee, these guys have some of the sludge-y, swamp-y, doom-y character that we’ve come to expect from hard edged music of the South. The guitar tones are oppressive and immensely heavy, and there’s an attitude of invincibility to the intensity of the music. This is heavy metal done the American way. Music created with complete disregard for the well being of that guy sitting over there minding his own business. Cost of Freedom should have been the soundtrack for every American conflict since the first Gulf War, or at the very least, should be standard issue in every M1 Abrams tank as the sucker goes rumbling across the wastelands of war ravaged earth.

Downslave’s metallic soundings initially had me thinking of the Phil Anselmo led Down, but on deeper reflection, maybe more along the lines of Pantera. The vocals, on more than one occasion, made me think of Anselmo’s deep, guttural, swampy blues croon, but the guitars are more metallic, more cutting than Down . . . so, let’s call this a leaner towards the camp of Pantera. Violent and unrelenting, these guys unload their full arsenal of destructive power on this forty-three minute slugfest. The music shifts seamlessly from forearm straining alternate picked, up tempo riffage to the more slowed down, groove oriented body swaying, grinding sludgery. There are no huge dynamic mood swings on Cost of Freedom, but that’s not what these guys are about. Downslave are the kind of band that assails the listener with one mood in mind: Anger. These guys sound pissed off, and though I’m sure they have their reasons, I don’t need to know what they are. I just believe them. A band doesn’t just come out sounding this honest and fired up and not mean it.

Be prepared. After a two minute musical introduction laced with gun fire, air raid sirens, and screaming bombs from the sky,  Downslave unleash a galloping guitar orgy on “Unnamed” that will have you flying backwards in your chair. The vocals, in Anselmic fashion, croon and grunt and howl about the human sacrifice of warfare and the subsequent psychological effects that our soldiers go through during and post combat. The music is equally as intense as the lyrical content, the drums driving this beasty up and down the mine littered countryside, narrowly avoiding total destruction by inches. The guitar solo is a string bending, flurry of wah’ed out ecstasy, both tasteful and boisterous. The song is fierce and fiery, compassionate and intelligent, and ultimately one of those songs that I can listen to a hundred times over. Walk into the gym . . . play “Unnamed.” Walk into the office to do battle with the accountants . . . play “Unnamed.” Walk through the grocery store with the Mrs. . . . play “Unnamed.”

The title track immediately follows and it’s equally as unrelenting. Fuck. The power that these guys wield is some serious shit! Huge waves of sustained distortion wash over the rumbling of the drummer’s tom assault, and then the chaos ensues. Downslave drop a sweat dripping mid-tempo riff that sparkles through the dinge and despair. Heavy as a box of rocks and just as unwieldy, this gem is all attitude and acts as a sonic beat down. I love the dynamics that they use on this track as the song breaks down in the middle, leaving the brief moments of quiet between explosive charges on music. Then, as the two guitars exchange riffs to bring the song back into its natural gait, you get the sense that these guys have spent a lifetime working, communicating with one another via the power of the groove. Intense song and one that will undoubtedly leave the listener in a lather.

Buckle up, brace yourselves, “Pit Approved” is a rip roarin’, room moving son of a bitch. This is classic thrash metal, the kind of stuff that nods to the old school . . . you know those days when the punks and metalheads performed that dance of destruction in any venue that had the balls to allow this type of music to be played. “Pit Approved” is as high energy and volatile as a song can get. Think Metallica’s “Whiplash,” but modernized and made more relevant. Steamrolling and overpowering, overflowing with that attitude that if you come into the pit with some weak shit, you’re leaving on a stretcher. Go big or go home. Come in strong and don’t be a puss. You fall down, you best pick yerself up quick coz’ there’s a hundred like minded fools stomping their aggression right behind you. Pure fucking violence!

“Hated” is beautiful. Beautiful in that the riffs come from the deepest and darkest place of savagery. Beautiful in that the lyrics and vocals are born from a lifetime of piss poor treatment and angst. Beautiful in that the grooves are so damn infectious that you’ll need a shot of penicillin after you’ve grooved yourself into a sweaty ball of used up energy. The vocals work exceptionally well on this song. They flow real well, the singer hits his marks perfectly, and the passion shines through loud and clear, not forced, not like he’s trying to act like so many of the faux angst mongers out there. This dude is for real. I wanna’ sit back and drink a few beers with this cat to hear the story behind that pain. Fuck . . . that would make the best Behind The Music ever!

Downslave flat out surprised me. I ain’t gonna’ lie. We get inundated with a ton of music and yes, we get jaded to the point where we ask out loud, “Oh great, what’s this all about?” In the case of Cost of Freedom, hands down, this album has blasted its way into my top ten of the year. Maybe it’s the familiar tones of bands like Down or Pantera or whoever that I immediately gravitate towards, but in truth, I think it’s the emotions worn on the shirtsleeve that intrigue me the most, and ultimately won me over. I get the sense that though these guys are young, they’ve felt the pain of life and have figured out how to redirect the aggression into their music. They sound like they’ve been doing this for years. The music is tight and focused, never meandering away from the root of the groove, and it’s performed with youthful exuberance mixed with veteran intensity. I can’t wait to see where these guys go from here. The future should be interesting and I’m eager to watch it and bleed when and where appropriate.  -  Pope

http://www.myspace.com/downslave