Hella
Tripper

Back to the primitive.

The Hella abandon the idea of an extended family to rediscover a sense in the family nucleus from which they started. Seim and Hill return to two-person sonic terrorism, and hand in hand they throw the box of nails that is Tripper in our faces. And it's all a pleasure/pain.

The vigorous entry of the opener "Headless" immediately makes me smell the "'core'" in this "'math'" machine, the guitar has an incredible density, and Zach frequently inserts fleeting blastbeat outbursts, the polyrhythms are terrifying and the intertwining does not disdain the creation of melodies, precisely not too distant from certain core shores (or metal if you are easily pleased), especially towards the end, where a riff repeated endlessly supported by rhythmic deconstructions brings back to the "melody" proposed earlier only to completely lose control. "Self Checkout" is studded with granitic riffs, in which I perceive a hint of a hardcore base, the guitar moves slowly over neurasthenic rolls, and creates structures of molten metal that climb, alive and pulsating in the disaster left by Hill's artillery. "Long Hair" is the excellent example of this metallic transmigration, composed of sludge-derived riffing, dark and mighty, a """"square"""" piece that only leaves room for escapades in one specific point to return to the muscularity of the first minutes. "Yubacore" is an offbeat lullaby, where guitars, basses, and synths merge to drive to exasperation, a sonic and granitic magma. The splendid flares of noise-electrogen minimalism in "Kid Life Crisis" lead to a melancholic melodic turn (as melancholic as a cyborg run over by a tractor can be).

I don't know about you, but for me, it is the album of the summer. I wonder why MTV plays the Red Hot when there is Hella.