BUZZOV*EN
Welcome to Violence Alternative Tentacles ________________________________________________________
No,
they’re not back together. Well, maybe they are, but this is not a new
disc, it’s a collection of early (’92- ’94) Buzzov*en stuff, all prettied
up with new artwork and liner notes from Jello Biafra, Buzz mainman
Kirk
Lloyd, and other notable noiseniks. If you don’t know who these
diabolical, mud-encrusted, dreadlocked superfreaks from the wilds of West
Virginia were, this beast of a CD will certainly beat the whole sordid
story right into your ragged skull. I saw these dudes open up for Gwar one
night in 1993 (?), and they were so loud, I threw up. I thought all my
innards were just gonna unravel right there on the dancefloor. Meanwhile,
the dude onstage, Kirk, kept busting beer bottles on his head. Like, half
a dozen of ‘em. Blood everywhere. And that sound! This low-rumbling
doom-grind craziness rolled off the stage like a poisoned wave, full of
disease and despair, a howling straight from hell that droned on, and on,
and on, for many minutes at a time. Sick shit, Jack. And unforgettable.
After touring the country relentlessly for most of the 90’s and releasing
a slew of increasingly metallized records, Buzzov*en finally screeched to
a halt in 2000. After about a million dollars worth of rehab, they split
off into various Southern grind/sludge bands, but the Buzz-cult endures,
which is where this crucial disc of early tracks comes in. A collection of
the “To a Frown” LP and “Unwilling to Explain” and “Frown” EPs, “Welcome
to Violence” doesn’t quite hit you over the head with a bottle or jam
uncut powder into your arm, but it come close, pounding like an angry
gorilla at feeding time and grinding like jammed gears in a big black
killing machine in equal measure, and reveals a surprising proto-stoner
metal sound that explains the full-on dope rock of Buzzov*en spin-off
Weedeater. There are some solid, dirty grooves buried amongst the
psychotic sore-throat vox, spooky spoken-word samples, and pulverizing
crust-punk guitars, but you definitely have to dig for them. It’s worth
it, though. I am not exactly sure what Buzzov*en actually created back
then, besides a bloody, pulsating mess, but whatever it is, it remains a
compelling, visceral rip-ride through the tortured hearts, minds, and
veins of some seriously hairy, scary, rock n’ roll motherfuckers.
No,
they’re not back together. Well, maybe they are, but this is not a new
disc, it’s a collection of early (’92- ’94) Buzzov*en stuff, all prettied
up with new artwork and liner notes from Jello Biafra, Buzz mainman
Kirk
Lloyd, and other notable noiseniks. If you don’t know who these
diabolical, mud-encrusted, dreadlocked superfreaks from the wilds of West
Virginia were, this beast of a CD will certainly beat the whole sordid
story right into your ragged skull. I saw these dudes open up for Gwar one
night in 1993 (?), and they were so loud, I threw up. I thought all my
innards were just gonna unravel right there on the dancefloor. Meanwhile,
the dude onstage, Kirk, kept busting beer bottles on his head. Like, half
a dozen of ‘em. Blood everywhere. And that sound! This low-rumbling
doom-grind craziness rolled off the stage like a poisoned wave, full of
disease and despair, a howling straight from hell that droned on, and on,
and on, for many minutes at a time. Sick shit, Jack. And unforgettable.
After touring the country relentlessly for most of the 90’s and releasing
a slew of increasingly metallized records, Buzzov*en finally screeched to
a halt in 2000. After about a million dollars worth of rehab, they split
off into various Southern grind/sludge bands, but the Buzz-cult endures,
which is where this crucial disc of early tracks comes in. A collection of
the “To a Frown” LP and “Unwilling to Explain” and “Frown” EPs, “Welcome
to Violence” doesn’t quite hit you over the head with a bottle or jam
uncut powder into your arm, but it come close, pounding like an angry
gorilla at feeding time and grinding like jammed gears in a big black
killing machine in equal measure, and reveals a surprising proto-stoner
metal sound that explains the full-on dope rock of Buzzov*en spin-off
Weedeater. There are some solid, dirty grooves buried amongst the
psychotic sore-throat vox, spooky spoken-word samples, and pulverizing
crust-punk guitars, but you definitely have to dig for them. It’s worth
it, though. I am not exactly sure what Buzzov*en actually created back
then, besides a bloody, pulsating mess, but whatever it is, it remains a
compelling, visceral rip-ride through the tortured hearts, minds, and
veins of some seriously hairy, scary, rock n’ roll motherfuckers.