A Frames
Black Forest

Sound-steelwork: as if traces (almost) have been lost for countless years, the one extroverted at full (mega)watt by the Lords (ahem...) Emphysema (guitar), Colera (bass) und Ricketts (Dash drums...); the three ailing Seattle(seriously) ones in question blend and advocate, through a revitalized SubPop, their own (o)dark, gloomy/rocky yet remarkably enjoyable, third offspring, with the programmatic (prurient?) title “Black Forest”.

Monsieur Eric (Emph.) Sullivan, recently said: “Those who listen to punk, hardcore or garage look at us askance [perhaps not precisely for the musical expression, I would add... n.d.miserable de-reviewer]: we're too 'weird' for them; while those who listen to 'strange' music find us too punk”: holy words, one would be inclined to reply to the emphysematous interviewee. With two almost impossible to find self-titled works behind them, marked by a simple sequential prime number, the stern clango-rockers audio-position themselves between filthy and suffocating sound-cynicism of late eighties/early nineties Amphetamine Reptile origin mixed with substantial layers of corrosion of (sound)conformities of Big Black relevance.

The (at times) chilling and impenetrable "Dark Forest" proves to be a (musical) composition solidly intriguing as much as it is worthy of maximum auricular-attention: hard in sounds, angular and challenging in sound-evolutions; in the more refractory and delirious moments it assumes pseudo robotic/lobotomized tones (“Age Of Progress” or “Black Forest III” are far-sighted examples): an impermeable and stern sound-armor exterior, nevertheless (in its naturally low base usability) surprisingly fluid and enjoyable by virtue of a remarkable (albeit cold) vocal/choral construction within the same songs.

“Negative” ejects from the hissing speakers one of the most saturated and sick riffs, as well as wonderfully engaging, (clear the Melvins-like dependency, era “Bullhead”), heard in the past concluding twelve months; or “U Boat” with its muscled yet stunning bass lines and soberly serious vocals, despite and beneath the tough composite crust of raw and scraped sounds, refers to certain and noted Joy Division-like atmospheres of times gone by. An album as (acoustically) disenchanted, intriguing and unpredictable as, conversely (de gustibus) unacceptable from a merely textual point of view: titles like “Death Train” or “Eva Braun” inserted into a lyrical context “dedicated” (by the band's own admission) to the Second World War leave not much room for possible (s)objective, oblique, or differently poetic reassuring interpretations. Hopefully (sincerely) to be contradicted... Do As You Wish. (As usual)