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Remover By: Vinnie Apicella |
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A somewhat restrained form of Hard-Core, Remover, bore early last year blends the emotional intensity of said style with emotive melodies and hypnotic hooks-"So Well," for starters-or seconds as the running order goes, has the makings for big time exposure. Definitely in line with the bass-heavy exploits of a Helmet or Monster Magnet and the rev and rumble of those classic-Rock influenced Stoner/Psycore combos that have been numbing listeners for the last several years. and yet quite oppositely, there's a tranquil spirit on tunes like "Cheating Satellites" which for all of one quick phrase seems to demonstrate the logic behind what would otherwise be a perplexing title-"The smallest taste would only destroy our lives." and at this point, we get a clear listen to Brett Johnson manning the mic and a quick glint of Wyndorf peaks through ever so slightly. The dual guitar layer works effectively to add an extra dose of punch-again returning to "Cheating Satellites," "Come For Me," with some gritty Blues licks carrying the moment, but the best part here definitely comes back to the verse before things get a little hyper-extended during the chorus. I can't see why more groups don't do this-at least those who won't provide the lyrics in the first place, just place a simple phrase beneath the song title that says all that needs to be said-Death Metal bands please take notice. "Never Wrong" mellows a bit, maintaining more of a dreary low-level tone with quick stepping guitar entries leading again into strong choral bursts led by increased guitar blur and vocal histrionics and vocal harmonies. "Falling Forward" is an all out slam and stomp with slow break at the verse before returning the form-many of the songs carry similar characteristics in this regard almost like making a grand entrance, lulling you to a false sense of complacency and then jarring you awake with some disturbing guitar chords and dissonant rhythmic patterns. "Chopper" as the closer follows only one lane all the way through-the passing lane down the highway reserved for reckless speed merchants determined to leave the rest at a standstill-this one's heavy and loud, much like the heavy seventies' two-wheeler throwback types that've been dirtying our laundry since Iggy recently became bronzed in the minds of retro-fitted turbo-guided musical aficionados.
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