Gallows
Grey Britain

THE REVIEW

The water of the Thames is truly dirty, and the grayness of the entire city is perfectly reflected in such putrid waves. This foam is what Gallows talk about. True sons of perfidious Albion, they tell us of a bleak and rotten England through dirt and rust. They straighten the sound of "Orchestra Of Wolves", the band's first work, to deliver these 13 jabs of rochenrolleardecoreniuoldscùl (call it what you want, you can gladly wipe your ass with labels if you like the album. If it makes you want to punch things like this one does, even better). "London Is The Reason" is the cemetery gate, a kick in the ass entrance, straight rhythm, punk tinged with hate towards the City, the flirt with the sound of Turbonegro pays off, and the '77 school choirs (performed by Cancer Bats and Rolo Tomassi) support Frank Carter's hoarse and nasty voice.

"Leeches" starts like a bullet straight to the face, forget medias res, rusted punches, Iron Maiden-like bridges (perhaps reminiscent of the cover of "Wrathchild") and a mid-tempo kick in the ass. Time flows and rumbles until it softens in the drama of "The Vultures", which is divided into act I & II. The first is a ballad under a rain of needles, Carter's voice becomes light in tone but full of emotion, the guitar accompanies supported by distant strings, until it crashes at the sound of ominous bells leading to the second part, fast and epic, taking a violent turn with screams reminiscent of Jacob Bannon. From here, the rhythm becomes even more bastardized, the civil (war) sirens of "The Riverbed" are the right incipit for this mosh pit battering, massive, with bridges of just bass and drum, and a desperate rhythm. The farewell is "Crucifucks", 7 minutes divided into destruction/despair/soul-wrenching, ending epically soaked in tears of lead.

Listen to Harry Potter: these bastards hit hard.