Triac
Dead House Dreaming

I approached this (practically unknown) band for a rather particular reason... in fact, one of the band's guitarists, Josh Seipp-Williams, was a part of none other than Maudlin of the Well, which is one of the bands I appreciate the most. From there, the connection and listening to this album, the first and (so far) only act of these five guys (Blake on vocals, Mark and the aforementioned Josh on guitars, Chadd on bass, and Jake behind the drums).

An album that, from the outset, promises to be a ferocious barrage of machine gun rounds, fired one after the other, relentlessly, morbidly obsessive as only the sickest grindcore can be. The album starts well and continues even better, thanks to the variety of our guys' sound, at least compared to the average grindcore group: among ultra-fast blast beats, frantic and precise stops, sudden slowdowns, the band is capable of an eclecticism ranging from sludge to death metal that in many moments recalls the good (and decidedly similar) Pig Destroyer.

Naturally (even though I hoped for it) the fact that Josh played with MotW doesn't authorize you to expect a Leaving your Body Map grindcore version (even though I would be very curious to know how it could sound), although, at certain moments, you will find certain dissonances and curious phrasings that may remind you of the magical ensemble (headed by Witch Sister) and especially the slower moments (atmospheric?) where you will have the undeniable sensation that the riffs are seeping into your brain due to their megatonic power.

Honorable mention to the vocals, never too hardcore nor too growly. And above all, very effective in making the final effect even more claustrophobic: orgasmic that "Fire!" repeated to exhaustion in the unmissable Rust in His Sleep: it starts from a very fast death-like restart, then lingers on an almost melodic riff (!!), pure and angry grindcore attacks, tribal elongations à la Neurosis, and the magmatic, granitic gait of the obsessive riff on which the good Blake screams prophetically, almost ascetically, purely nihilistic, his scream: obsessive, yet human, wounded yet murderous, monstrously lucid yet incredibly instinctive and unconscious; all of this in 185 seconds. Pure grindcore manifesto.

Curiosity: the album closes with a cover of Bauhaus, moreover, of Double Dare, opener of the fortunate In the Flat Field. The crossover between the sound of Triac (I won't repeat it) and the dark-punk-glam '80s of the four horrific Englishmen is quite curious.

In conclusion, this Dead House Dreaming is an sincere, enjoyable, powerful, obsessive, and precise album. Definitely impactful. Mandatory for grindcore lovers and headbangers in general. Others will still find it a well-done work and definitely worthy of appreciation.

7+