Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Members of this band came from this long ass list of bands… Mugwart, Lunch, Beaten Back To Pure, Sourvein, Hailhornet, Electric Frankenstein, and Buzzard…
Hellridemusic.com review -
Recorded sometime last year at Sniper Studios by the dubious Vince Burke (who also shreds his axe here); TMP harness an off putting and unfriendly vibe over the course of these five epics of fucked up doom and gloom. Part Mugwart/Beaten back to Pure southern scum, part Grief/early Buzzov*en slug trail terror and part Yobian, psychedelic glory, the quintet rounded out by Justin (guitar), Ahmasi (bass) and Joey (drums) are one of the most unique entities going in the American sludge/doom underworld right now. The instruments are laden with effects and cosmic ambience, but the riffs, low-end and general groove clamp down on a number of scathing, world decimating moments that will keep your head nodding and your whiskey bottle empty, as this is music perfectly accompanied by a big, plentiful fifth of Wild Turkey.
Beasley is as pissed off as ever; whispering and screaming like a demon beneath a blanket of blown out distortion and suffocation. Drummer Joey is a particularly key component to the mix, locking down the band’s sound with a requisite doomified crunch, but also getting wild and fill crazy in the vein of John Stanier’s tightest Helmet performances.
Beginning with a smoky, repetitive riff and tribal drum pummel in the vein of Enemy of the Sun era Neurosis, “Cigarette Burn” wraps a threatening aura around your head from the very first note. Beasley’s haggard scream thunders in the distance, before the volume kicks in full bore with twin guitars blazing through plundering riffs and psychedelic leads alike, as the effects swirl around your ears from a seemingly inexplicable number of amps and directions. This is a cyclone of endless noise and drugged out vocal shouts, with a grasp on overdriven Beaten Back to Pure metal as played by Kirk Fisher with Mike Scheidt coordinating the affair and offering musical mysticism. There’s a moment of sampling, with cleaner dissonant guitars that frighteningly feels as if the song’s going to come out of your speakers and beat the living fuck out of you, as you sit there knowing damn well the band is holding back for one last outburst at the end, to create a proper emotional catharsis.
I had high expectations for the next track based on the power of “Cigarette Burn” and track number two’s tour de force moniker, “Jesus Crossed his Arms as if to Fight me”. That’s about the most genius song title I’ve ever heard, and luckily the music is even better! Hell, this is probably the best track on the album for my money. Slowly creeping in like The Fog from Carpenter’s underrated ghost flick (I don’t care what ya’ll say, that was a decent film), lush bass lines provide the perfect foundation for Vince and Justin to weave their shimmering, doom influenced chord progressions around. Less than a minute slowly wanders by in this glorious, almost Hawkwind meets Yob passage, before a crushing riff takes brief hold of your psyche. Descending back into the track’s soothing intro, Charlie whispers several distant phrasings before TMP head back into total crush mode for the duration. Musically, this is much in line with Yob/Middian but with all of the fleshy chunks and broken fingernails contained on Berserker Records’ classic South of Hell compilation disc. At the 2:22 mark, the song tinkers with drawn out, bent notes that create a fierce, grating element of depression and all out noise, as the mucky rhythms cut out their own swath beneath the layered guitar shred. Then it’s on to one of those career defining riffs that many bands spend their whole life searching for with Charlie spewing his guts out in his one of a kind, rotten tone that’s another trump card for any band of this caliber.
You want a sick scream you go to Charlie. You want a sick riff/groove and production job, you go to Vince. You get them both here, and with three other giants backing them up…well the sky is the limit. The groove in this part of the song is one that can be effortlessly lumped into the legendary realm, with Joey’s pounding emphasis on fills and complexity adding even more life to the unholy din.
Fans of that whole psyched out doom/sludge movement such as Yob, Soulpreacher, Sleep and Warhorse will eat this tune up for their three daily squares from here to eternity. Fearsomely pushing its way forward with a Grief munching on a handful of uppers mentality, “Oxycodone” is serious about its depression, but isn’t in the mood to sit around and take it slothfully…well, that is after it nurses its early a.m. pill and booze hangover first. Instead it pushes forward with combat ready timekeeping, fetid low-end, feedback and surprisingly uptempo riffs after rolling past its slow, sickly intro of distoro spoken word, 4/4 bludgeon and hopeless knuckle drag.
According to the book, this would be their most straightforward song on the disc, as the remaining tunes “Self Harm” and the 18 minutes of “Crushing Cops’ Heads in with a Skateboard, Suicide by Cop” are draped in psychedelic effects, whirlwinds of sound, completely freaked out vocals and an all around atmosphere of grim, head scratching mystique. The shorter of the two, “Self Harm” is still very rooted in gas huffing doom, with leaden riffs, crashing beats and vicious verbal snarls, but there’s extended segments of gut liquefying bass and psychedelic guitar sounds to keep you thoroughly bewildered from start to finish. The longer of the two, the 18 minutes of “Crushing Cops’ Heads…” is an indescribable maelstrom of samples, synth, psychedelic guitar leads, early 16ish grime riffs and shouted/spoken vocals with a little bit of anything and everything encompassed so far over this LP length outing.
At least two of these tracks will see the light of day as far as an official release is concerned. Actually, “Self Harm” should be available on a box set of 7” releases featuring other heralded acts such as Raw Radar War, Coffins and Fistula among others. “Crushing Cops’ Heads…” is due to come out on a split with Gospel of the Future. Too damn bad the other tracks are going to remain in limbo for the time being as TMP are one of the heaviest bands around. Although nothing about TMP rings as one dimensional heaviness; on the contrary, this shit is tight with great instrumental performances, a heaping helping of sludge/doom nihilism, sweltering psychedelic manipulation and a top of the line Vince Burke production.
2009 - Your World Is Sickening
Genre: Sludge / Doom
Origin: United States (Virginia)
Formed In: 2006
Label: Land O'Smiles
File: 80.4 MB (320kbps) 35:07 Total Playing Time
Charlie Lee Beasley - Vocals (Mugwart, Lunch, King Travolta)
Vince Burke - Guitar (Beaten Back to Pure, Hail!Hornet, Lunch, Sourvein)
Justin V. - Guitar
Ahmasi O. Daniel - Bass
Joey Rudacil - Drums (Buzzard (USA), Electric Frankenstein)
1. Cigarette Burn
2. Jesus Crossed His Arms As If To Fight Me
4. Self Harm
5. Crushing Cops Head's In With Skateboard, Suicide By Cop
Here's one that I have been listening to a lot lately, It's a shame that these guys broke up because this is just AWESOME.