|
 One way’er anutha, Smutstrutta always gets her hands on any new
fresh-faced band. If you don’t believe me, you can take a gander at my CD
and record collection, or take the tedious time it will take you to count
the notches on the bed post. What we have here in
Cincinnati,
OH, and across the sewer stained river that starts in
Pittsburgh, down
into Covington, KY are full metal racket members slaying on some double
bass drum pedals. Not really, but mine and probably every other living or
dead metalhead’s initial thought would be of metal when they first think
of Angels Of Meth. Instead we find a downright wound-out raunchy town
sound with a hint of stoner-smut tuckered under their fingers. It’s all
the more reason to start engraving their and my initials on a picnic
table. AOM’s widespread amp heads have came together, and it will be
through loyal efforts to stay together, along with a little cramped
road-tripping that could revive their marriages and murky waters into the
next Downriver Rock City. In the meantime, we’ll find Reverend Jim living
in a posh KY community; The Goochman wrenching on his ’67 Olds’ starter
with Scraps the cat helping; and Tony Pero focusing a lot of time and
energy on his tattooing. It’s a wonder how these fellas have time to run
into each other, even at liquor store or Autozone. Over the course of the
past six weeks, they’ve pulled their hair out to cut a demo, and appeared
to have lost a member in the process. They currently have some Midwest
tour dates booked with Trephine MD, and eagerly await the responses of
their audiences that they prefer to be inches away from. If I’ve noted
anything, Cincinnati audiences tend to get up-in-person with a switch of a
box cutter. It would also appear Reverend Jim had his spin of the Wild
Turkey bottle back in his heydays touring with Crowbar. As for now,
though, he’s known to tell Gooch and Phil Anselmo to slow down a little.
That’s highly unlikable for a drummer, though. Gooch is deadest on rocking
all sorts of masses of asses with other side projects, such as Fort
Mitchell’s puke rock, Brody’s Militia, who look as if they would
thoroughly enjoy fist-fucking a schoolgirl. And thirdly, we’ll find him
fronting Cincinasti’s own Katana. As for the Armed Forces that have been
alerted once Pero, Gooch, and Rev hit the road in May starting off a show
with Devil To Pay, they’ll be sure to blast through the barricades with
their gas and bloodlines fueled by high-grade rock octane.
_______________________________________________________ |