Grief - The last name in doom, the one that so many bands worldwide give praise to and were influenced by... let's just say, if these guys never existed, Southern Lord records would be down a few bands.
Grief are brutal, slow, and as bleak as the landscapes they paint through their sorrowful misanthropy-ridden landscapes of downtuning. While many of the stoner-doom-desert bands have that "Yeah, baby, nothing gonna stop us now, party, hey yeah, man" mentality, in comes these guys, who just wreck the party while some overdressed scenester in the back is saying, "OOOOOOhhh, they ruined our party"... that's right, baby, let's give them a healthy dose of chaos they can sit on for a while. (Sorry to tarnish your new Budweiser belt buckle...nope it's rusting...nope, it's the plague. Next time wash your hands after leaving the bathroom, you fuck.) Some people play music to get laid, and try to be rock stars, others use music as a form of catharsis because if they didn't, a lot of people would be dead right now. Welcome to the school of therapy through bludgeoning, and using music as a blunt object. Grief comes from the school of rage, alienation, and a buttload of heartbreak from the dark side of the tracks, telling tales of why it's better to be on the outside looking in, and the loneliness involved in being that way. I've got to give this big time praise because it's so uncompromising in its approach. Picture a man in an insane asylum with a straightjacket on (kinda like Bard Doriff in Exorcist 3), or the sight of all those lonely old people suffering from catatonia, their bleak faces and empty eyes staring out at a world that no longer cares about anything but it's self, the big bottle of all the world's pains and woes teetering so close to the edge of a shelf right over their heads, and ready to fall right on the fuckers, well..."Oh, you're instituting a clear invitation to the dance." That is Grief. Fans of Khanate and early Melvins come to mind. Don't expect hooks, or a hint of melody, just expect a slow pummeling on your central nervous system.
Some may pull a screaming "Shut it off!" like that chick did in 'Evil Dead 1' when Ash was playing the tapes of those incantations. Some people would make an escape to the CD collection for a dose of one of those faceless NU metal bands, other guys who read to much Maxim will say, "Hey, can you turn that Sabbath record back to 33 rpm?" Me, I'll just sit there and marvel at how stupid these people are, because they are the reasons a band like this existed.
R.I.P. Grief - Greg Dellaria