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Release Date: 2007 Record Label: Blastafuk Track list: |
Hutt/Noisear/Gate - Crushing The Grindcore Trademark
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| Hutt: Appezzato, Leandro, Choukri |
Noisear: Joe Tapia - Vocals, Bass Alex Lucero - Vocals Bryan Fajardo - Drums Thomas Romero - Guitar Dorrian Rainwater - Guitar |
Gate: Yoshinori Kobori – Drums Toshinori Otake – Guitar and Vokills |
Hutt open up, administering the first of three violent Grind clouts to my noggin. Their material, which is hefty, consists of highly noddable, gig-ready riffs, imposing rhythmic lurch and fervent drumwork, all fronted by some reassuringly raucous roar-along rants. Each composition involves the band propelling a tune in and out of blastin' uproar, frequently arriving at serrated rhythmic satisfaction afore returning to all-out Grind. The vokills add armfuls of conviction to these rampant anthems, because rather than striving hard and straining long for the most strangled, ear-splittin' sound possible, they come across as genuinely incensed and already seething with rage! Though it is undoubtedly blastworthy, the drumwork does not rely solely upon constant kick-cruelty and snare-abuse to drive each phrase, instead workin' quite a lot of deft lil' fills into each high-speed pattern to add variety.
Like many straightforward, balls-out Grindcore records, Hutt resemble a combination of a few favourite forerunners, namely Napalm Death, Terrorizer, Nasum and maybe Retaliation, supplementing it with a few more modern influences like a little Pig Destroyer and other recent Relapse treats. The vokills, in particular the combination of fearsome, fuming bellows and cherry-red spittle drenched screams, reminds me of classick Cripple Bastards, only with a more conscientious microphone technique. In the manner of most of their contemporaries, the band go on a jolly ol' smash ‘n' grab riff-nabbing spree through the back catalogue of these acts, snatchin' the best bits afore hotfootin' it back the rehearsal room to re-assemble their blast-laden haul.
With regard to production, this has a semi-solid sound, 'cos some bits o' the kit sound a little thin and the guitar could benefit from slightly more low-end oomph, seeing as the band would, to these dilapidated ears, appear to be bereft of a bassist. ‘Cos the mix consists just of drums, vokills and one guitar, the recordin' has a clear ‘n' comprehensible sound that retains plenty of power despite its lack of low-end.
Notwithstanding its enthusiastic bluster and short song lengths, this kind o' Grind can sometimes become stale rather quickly; while it may manage to get everything said in less than two minutes, the performers often fall into the habit of saying exactly the same thing in each track of an extensive list containing dozens of those sub-ninety second timeframes. Mind you, Hutt manage to avoid this by submittin' just a smatterin' o tunes, brief and concise enough to keep you wantin' just a bit more. Enjoyable, memorable Grind. <7.9>
Noisear follow with a blast-heavy set of very grimy Grind, expressing themselves by means of destructive riff bombardment and frenzied kit mistreatment, the accompanying vokill terror makin' the experience all the more hideous. This has a similar fast, blurry quality to that of their previous outin' Red Tape Agenda, although the drummin' seems more restrained in its hyper-speed blastulence this time around.
Though songs themselves can become a bit indistinct ‘n' hazy as they rattle along, it can be quite endearin' to hear the band take the time-honoured approach to Grind; a chaotic, overdriven din that can make it difficult to decipher what is happening until the next slightly more comprehensible bit of chaotic, overdriven din clumsily ascends from the sloppy cacophony. There is plenty of variety in the vokills, which range from hysterical throat-rags to very shrill squawks, contrastin' those with a few noxious gutturals and some highly enjoyable gang-screams. The ‘heads down, mistreat your strings, destroy the kit and see you at the end!' side of their personality does of course brings vintage Napalm Death to mind, takin' other primitive Earache dread like Unseen Terror or something, then addin' a large earful of Assuck and the noisiest bits of Discordance Axis to reinforce their ghastly Grindcore onslaught.
The production is so muffled ‘n' muddied, it sounds as though each band member has donned heavy winter pyjamas and fluffy slippers afore swathing themselves and their respective instruments and equipment in heaps of comfy quilts. One can only imagine this was fully intentional, ‘cause everything the laughably inferior representation deducts from their fearsome delivery, it somehow compensates for by makin' the material resemble a brazen ‘n' intractable middle finger raised in the direction of commercial studio recordings.
If you're fond of this kind of raucous, speed-crazed Grind and don't mind straining to hear it thru the masses of thick, fluffy padding, then you ought to get along very well with this Noisear recording. Noisear are possibly the fastest and most frenetic of the three bands, but their production is certainly the roughest. Whether you think this adds to the experience or not is of course up to you. Good, traditional grinds. <7.2>
Messily gummed onto the end of the disc is a clunky, heavy-handed batch of lurchin' Grind submitted by Gate, a two-man band with very similar ideas to Noisear, only with a much heavier emphasis on lowbrow, fuzzy riff-clank, greater vokill gruffness and a more upfront sound quality. Of course, that's not to say this is recorded with sparklin' cleanliness; it's just rowdy, fuzzy and much more offensive to the tympanic membrane.
Songs follow comically simple patterns, hobblin' precariously from one filth-coated, mangled riff to another, leadin' each number in and out of clangy blast, all accompanied by hoarse, inarticulate vokill splutter. The guitarwork itself possess all the subtlety of a clawhammer to the jawbone, stubbornly wrenchin' out some o' the crudest riffs possible with six strings ‘n' a pick. This kind o' Grind paints a picture of a cramped, unventilated rehearsal room within a decrepit basement, the set-up comprising a battered, ramshackle kit; heavily dappled cymbals, rickety kick-mallet and a wan snare, all roughly assembled in one corner alongside an antiquated amplifier held together with tape or elastic bands.
Gate have a similar sound to that of their fellow Japanese grind-nuts, Unholy Grave, in that they terrify the listener with persistent dissonance; chromatic riff buzz-boom paired with catchy, high speed percussion, with corrosive vokills performed by an individual who is likely to start each day with a fresh brew of delicious, hot bleach. Elsewhere, I'm reminded of the more mechanical songs of old Terrorizer, with the simplistic crushery of Agathocles. The also tracklist features cover versions of tracks by Discordance Axis and Assuck. Because of the dense, bulldozin' sound of their own material, Gate have more in common with the latter, lacking the swelterin' speed and total vokill hysteria of the former.
In juxtaposition with the conscientious Hutt production job and the almost inaudible sound of Noisear, Gate tumbles uneasily into the middle; the instruments have clarity aplenty, but their inputs are all pipin' hot, so the whole thing ends up in a woolly crackle-heap. <7.7>
On first look, the title o' this split may suggest that it offers highly innovative, genre-shatterin' content, so I was probably expectin' some impenetrably technical Puzzlegrind with a strong Be-Bop Jazz flavour, or a lot of sample-heavy, noise-driven Electro/Cybergrind sequencin' with a terrifying Harsh Noise edge. In disappointing this audience expectation, the release unleashes a slobberin', triple-headed old skool ogre, clubbin' us all into gravy with some extremely crude weapons.
August 20th, 2007
    
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