Bummer
Dead Horse

THE REVIEW

"Bummer" translated into Italian: "pacco", but also "failure".

A more than appropriate name for this trio from Kansas, the miserable Midwest of faraway America.

Disjointed, disturbing music. Seedy visions set up with sharp cynicism.

Eleven very brief chapters in half an hour of impure auditory delirium and the usual corollary of deafening, threatening, murky noise, drawing heavily from degenerate bands of the distant nineties: Cows, Alice Donut, and also Unsane.

With a voice that often owes to the madness of a certain Mike Patton.

Wild noise, megalomaniac bass, rotating, heated guitars. Torn singing, swallowing whole words and phrases, on the edge of absurd cacophony but we love such filth, such trash...

Here you have it then, served this infernal device, launched at illegal speed in a hazy cloud, in the clangor generated by discomfort.

Watch it advance unbothered, as it overwhelms any shred of the shattered American dream abandoned across depressed plains, aimlessly preaching the cosmic nothingness.

Tragic sound paradigm of the ongoing disintegration, defecating flames and vomiting tar.

Abstain proud radical chic intellectuals in search of innovation, they have locked it in the basement of an abandoned farm in Kansas, then threw away the key after belching on it.

Assuming that anger needs new forms of expression to be effectively heard.

Ah … “I Want To Punch Bruce Springsteen In The Dick”? … title of the year.