yow. hank iv. or hiv as they’re occasionally dumbbreviated to. i’ll keep this as short and sweet (or dwarfed and bitter, depending on yr inclincation) like the record, as it’s not new but i just got the vinyl…
feels odd to listen to anything on siltbreeze not buried under an avalanche of muck. but this is all clean and pristine. like a souped up version of their debut third person shooter. not a hint of four track hiss. produced by fucking champ, tim green. mastered by shellac man and sometime trumpeter bob weston. not that it’s some shiny machine pop. there’s still a fuckload of rawk skuzz. just that compared to say yr eat skulls and psychedelic horseshits it’s distinctly hi-fi in it’s aural approach.
oh it howls and swaggers and roars. it’s a kindof throaty blend of garage and full pelt punk that the dudes in volcano suns or pegboy used to batter out. mixed in with the skeezy instigation of all that 70’s cleveland ohio shit i’ve been chowing down on recently. chuck in the odd bit of bar band fun, melody and goddamit hard rock (and why the fuck have these things been rationed in the post-sub-underground whatever?) and you have a pitch perfect dual geetar snarl. like if ac/dc met the saints met jim shepard and they all got hammered and boisterous. all rhythm and strut and shout. all barreling kinesis and gleeful menace. and it’s all over quicker than jackson five reunion. they jam econo.
strange that it’s a distinctly straightforward rock record yet sounds so utterly and wonderfully out of step with the kids. bloody kids…
and to even the siltbreeze scales of noise new seven incher from little claw, race to the bottom. with a sleeve that looks like it was designed by me drunk at four in the morning with a head full of medicine and my hands celltotaped to a broken felt tip pen. two tracks with the overdriven guitar sound of an nice old pink telecaster being gently forced into the anus and guts of a broken amp. some folk holler pop nonsense over the top of this distorto din. it’s frankly fucking ace. and the best silt 7” i’ve heard, oooh since the last bugger. more stuff on ecstatic peace. exclamation mark.
