Meltdown hardcore made of musical and mathematical equations of hard-drive dissolving, solder-stripping force these dense, lengthy treatises from beyond the badlands of foreboding grip you like an assassins garrotte and leave you walking though some long-mired marshland of the mind like Jack Nicholson in the closing scenes of ‘The Shining’. Perplexing parables of pole-switching ferocity they may be but with the ulcerating urgency of the condemned and a heretics hard-on for the weak-willed the dry-funk heaviness buries any Rage Against The Machine and Soundgarden suggestions in seconds, ‘Subtle Body’ in particular utilising brutalising interrogation techniques from behind cast-iron curtains that would petrify the most ardent communist with a sci-fi guitar squall that takes The Edge’s ‘Joshua Tree’ tangents and lynches them from a helicopter a la South American death-squads. ‘Deer Lodge’ is a rat-infested tunnel of claustrophobic sensory desecration. Throughout the shadow-boxing drums keep the tension tight as a claymore mine whilst somehow defusing and diffusing it locked in with intermittent sub-dub bass to spread these sinister songlines slithering into your brain through your nasal cavities. However strangely cinematic in a decadent documentary on micro-chip cybernetic implosion sense These…Snakes are they’re yet to factor in the enjoyment quotient to their elegantly loose socio-core, leaving the whole somewhat akin to running an army assault course with a bear-trap round your ankle while a drill instructor demands answers to percentage questions from you at every step.
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- Stu Gibson