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White trash.
Shotgun; whiskey and chewing tobacco; Sunday hat, ford cap for the week; boots, belt with a big buckle; jeans, only exclusively jeans. In god, they trust.
Rivers, corn and cotton fields. Mud. Alligators, pigs, packs of dogs and mud. Sludge, to be precise.
North Carolina, homeland of the Buzzov*en is not exactly the best nursery for white hillbillies, but it’s not Wall Street either. Perhaps – or hopefully - for fun, they create to perfection the sound that best describes this kind of people, as well as the environments where it’s nurtured. It might be because the guys live near the Cape Fear.
And there is no white trash stereotype without violence. Whether on the wife, the ne(g)ro next door, the outsider or the forest animals. The Buzzov*en are certainly champions at one thing: representing on the cover what you'll find in the records. This reissue – with some cut and two adjustments – of the first two albums, are just Knocks. Slow, powerful, precise, and uninterrupted series of knocks, until there are blisters on your hands.
The early days of sludge in two albums for the price of one, moreover at a nice price. Later there will also be approaches to more stonered metal, a few more stretches and an even sludgier rendition of the sound. But the knocks that are here, you can only find them in Art Of Self Defense. Years and years later, not even that many and not all that violent.
So: Ladies & Gentlemen, Welcome to Violence. Even if the real welcome would have been to see these four idiots live - perhaps the most terrifying\hilarious experience of life – one makes do with a countryside, grandpa's hatchet with a chestnut handle, and the wood to chop for the long winter ahead.
There’s never an alligator to shoot, when you really need one.
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