Prime era BLACK FLAG vibes going on all over this delicious little slice of agro also known as Dead Arms latest album, Simply Dead.
Vocalist General Waste barks out raspy and angry old school hardcore vibes without straying anywhere near the unfortunate meathead stylings sadly all too common on a lot of so-called modern punk/hardcore. How often do you give a record a spin and for the first 30 seconds think “this is the absolute business” only to feel a Hindenburgesque level of deflation as the vocals kick in and make you question the futility of even bothering with anything anymore?
No such nonsense here, safe as houses with this splendid portion.
As well as the absolutely filthy bass lines being battered out by the endlessly stylish Danny 5 Bands, the melodically chaotic guitar riffs splattered all over every song by super louche Phil Glitter and the fantastically urgent barking vocals of frontman General Waste there’s a real secret weapon to this record and to this band. Too few bands understand that you are only ever as good as your drummer. Seriously if your drummer is pie then fucking pack it all up and go home. If the drummer is over-elaborate and tries to showcase how clever they are then it rapidly descends into pointless jazzwank. If they plain ass can’t play or worse still just spunk out predictable twaddle then equally it’s game over. Drummer Kitty Techno perfectly struts along the line of playing exactly what’s required without chucking in random look at me shite. I dig her playing style big time plus as a bonus she’s always got a tremendous haircut. FACT.
Do you remember a time when FUCKED UP were genuinely worth listening to?
Dead Arms do and the results are brilliant.
No danger of eighteen-minute long concept songs about the struggles of being an inner city vegan single parent squirrel in ancient Greece or similar bollocks.
Simply Dead sounds like it was recorded in a stinking tiny room with carpets your feet stick to and pools of sweat dripping off the ceiling. PROPER.
Other reviews of this record seemingly written by cloth-eared fuckwits frequently inaccurately name check THE JESUS LIZARD which is just utter pish, no sinister jazz vibes contained here whatsoever. The actual sonic road map would give directions towards, Keith/Dez era BLACK FLAG, reduced goth quota EIGHTIES MATCHBOX B-LINE DISASTER a bit of MCLUSKY and a shake of some AmRep style unpleasantness. DECENT.