THURSDAY JUN 01, 2017
Cusses
Power(house) trio Cusses hails from Savannah, which isn’t necessarily known as a rock ‘n’ roll hotbed but should be on the radar of scene-watchers everywhere if this 2-guy, 1-gal combo is any signpost. That they have Los Angeles roots is immediately evident, however, as the ten tracks on their self-titled debut fairly bleed at the seams: there’s a classic glam-slam punk core here bolstered by touches of hardcore, psychedelic garage and metallic grunge, ocalist Angel Bond yelping and snarling with operatic abandon against Bryan Harder’s massive sheets of guitars and Brian Lackey’s thunderous avalanche of percussion. (Bond and Lackey lived in L.A. before relocating to Georgie, where they hooked up with Harder, an old pal of Lackey’s.)
Recorded with Dan Hannon (Manchester Orchestra) at the venerable Echo Mountain Studios in Asheville, NC, Cusses is a study in controlled chaos with standout tracks including “Blood Everywhere” (anthemic and unerringly melodic in the finest sing-along fashion) and “Memorial” (atmospheric yet earthy, skillfully navigating the light/heavy, soft/loud dynamic axis. The album also manages to conjure favorable images of the alt-nineties before the hordes of Seattle wannabes ruined that decade; check the sinewy “Hey You,” with its cinematic vibe, or the doomy, dramatic “Don’t Give In” – the latter a showcase for Bond, who unleashes her inner Eddie Vedder. It’s a big, bold sound that Cusses unleash, and it’s not for the timid, either. But the sense of psychic exhilaration one comes away with is absolutely worth the physical exhaustion: these folks clearly mean what they’re doing, and you can’t help but be swept up in the sonic tsunami.
Power(house) trio Cusses hails from Savannah, which isn’t necessarily known as a rock ‘n’ roll hotbed but should be on the radar of scene-watchers everywhere if this 2-guy, 1-gal combo is any signpost. That they have Los Angeles roots is immediately evident, however, as the ten tracks on their self-titled debut fairly bleed at the seams: there’s a classic glam-slam punk core here bolstered by touches of hardcore, psychedelic garage and metallic grunge, ocalist Angel Bond yelping and snarling with operatic abandon against Bryan Harder’s massive sheets of guitars and Brian Lackey’s thunderous avalanche of percussion. (Bond and Lackey lived in L.A. before relocating to Georgie, where they hooked up with Harder, an old pal of Lackey’s.)
Recorded with Dan Hannon (Manchester Orchestra) at the venerable Echo Mountain Studios in Asheville, NC, Cusses is a study in controlled chaos with standout tracks including “Blood Everywhere” (anthemic and unerringly melodic in the finest sing-along fashion) and “Memorial” (atmospheric yet earthy, skillfully navigating the light/heavy, soft/loud dynamic axis. The album also manages to conjure favorable images of the alt-nineties before the hordes of Seattle wannabes ruined that decade; check the sinewy “Hey You,” with its cinematic vibe, or the doomy, dramatic “Don’t Give In” – the latter a showcase for Bond, who unleashes her inner Eddie Vedder. It’s a big, bold sound that Cusses unleash, and it’s not for the timid, either. But the sense of psychic exhilaration one comes away with is absolutely worth the physical exhaustion: these folks clearly mean what they’re doing, and you can’t help but be swept up in the sonic tsunami.
Double Ferrari
Double Ferrari is rock and roll electric guitar music. Athens, GA
"This question is one that only a very old man asks. Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. They are paths going through the bush, or into the bush. In my own life I could say I have traversed long long paths, but I am not anywhere. Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn't, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn't. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you."
Double Ferrari is rock and roll electric guitar music. Athens, GA
"This question is one that only a very old man asks. Does this path have a heart? All paths are the same: they lead nowhere. They are paths going through the bush, or into the bush. In my own life I could say I have traversed long long paths, but I am not anywhere. Does this path have a heart? If it does, the path is good; if it doesn't, it is of no use. Both paths lead nowhere; but one has a heart, the other doesn't. One makes for a joyful journey; as long as you follow it, you are one with it. The other will make you curse your life. One makes you strong; the other weakens you."
Motherfucker
"The only introduction Motherfucker (Athens, GA) and their album Confetti need is the kind that includes access to your stereo and roughly half an hour of your time. Forget the headphones. Don't bother to roll the windows down. Leave the doors wide open. They formed initially as a scheme to play a local festival with the concept of an unknown and outrageously confident band that would only play once. So, claiming the wildly abrasive name, Erika Rickson (drums), Erica Strout (guitar), and Mandy Branch (bass) quickly assembled a set of what they called “punch-in-the-air” rock. Then, after that initial audience was fully whelmed and subsequent bookings came at a ridiculously frenzied pace, they went whole hog into owning it fully. And good thing for us they did because it's a damn rare thing these days for a band to have a name on the outside of a record that equals the shock and awe of what's inside. Although Confetti certainly has that new record smell to it, it's still a slippery thing. Try to pin it to a hardcore tradition and you'll fail instantly. Neither is it nailed to the surly Chicago school of 1990s rock to which the band has been compared so many times. What's ultimately distilled here is the work of three individuals who have sweated through multiple bands over the last 15 years until they finally got fed up to the point of blast time."
"The only introduction Motherfucker (Athens, GA) and their album Confetti need is the kind that includes access to your stereo and roughly half an hour of your time. Forget the headphones. Don't bother to roll the windows down. Leave the doors wide open. They formed initially as a scheme to play a local festival with the concept of an unknown and outrageously confident band that would only play once. So, claiming the wildly abrasive name, Erika Rickson (drums), Erica Strout (guitar), and Mandy Branch (bass) quickly assembled a set of what they called “punch-in-the-air” rock. Then, after that initial audience was fully whelmed and subsequent bookings came at a ridiculously frenzied pace, they went whole hog into owning it fully. And good thing for us they did because it's a damn rare thing these days for a band to have a name on the outside of a record that equals the shock and awe of what's inside. Although Confetti certainly has that new record smell to it, it's still a slippery thing. Try to pin it to a hardcore tradition and you'll fail instantly. Neither is it nailed to the surly Chicago school of 1990s rock to which the band has been compared so many times. What's ultimately distilled here is the work of three individuals who have sweated through multiple bands over the last 15 years until they finally got fed up to the point of blast time."