Red Fang
Murder The Mountains

I wake up after a debilitating hangover. I'm certain that I want something to make my headache worse. I don't like to get rid of a hangover just like that without a fight. And I need something that is pure cosmic terror. This happens to fall into my hands. The downside is that I might not stop listening to it for a while. I take the risk. On the third attempt, I insert the disc into the stereo, and here we go.

"Malverde" has the power of a granite slap straight to the teeth. Jolting forward like Mastodon, bastard voice, almost breathless, and guitars full of rust. The deeper I push into this infernal cave in these mountains of madness, the more I realize that we're here. But more than Lovecraft, "Wires", with its desert hues, driven by an interlude that, no offense to Mr. Homme, the current QOTSA can only dream of at night, and a desperate finale to the nth degree, reminds me of Castaneda. Not content with this Sabbatthian magic, an army marching towards Mars stomps in; the tank-like guitars of "Throw Up" are shovels to the synapses, and the melodic guitar counterpoints serve only to delude you that there is a revitalizing light somewhere. And even when they speed up, they give us moments of pure stoner splendor ("Hank Is Dead" and the splendid "Painted Parade"), stuck in the '90s for many reasons, but alive here today and more bastard than ever, disgustingly groovy and with bared teeth ready to devour your ears.

My post-hangover has returned to being a full-blown hangover, I want to check what damn year it is, but I'd rather avoid it, I want to believe I'm in Seattle in the mid-nineties, because the finale "Human Herd" is the most Soundgarden-like I've heard so far, the voice more melodic than ever, and the guitars preparing for a full-fledged black sabbath, making you sink into a painful abyss. So Be It.