In the past few weeks, I've received three records, all of which are one-sided releases: two LPs, and one 7-inch, to be specific. It's incredibly bizarre, especially when you consider one LP has an etching on the reverse, another has a silk-screened skull, and the 7-inch has, well -- nothing.
Nevertheless, the music's what we're all about here, even if the artistic packaging is interesting enough to warrant a post all its own. The first release I have is Buckshot Facelift's Anchors of the Armless Gods, released on Old Souls Collective. It's cookie monster hardcore that is brutally evil, yet not claustrophobic as many of this ilk are. Part of that may have something to do with the fact that I played it at 45 rpm for the first couple of songs before realizing it was actually supposed to be at 33. There's also some interesting electronic effects on songs like "Raping the Spider Demon" and "Horny Greenfield Dragonbreath" that make this something beyond the averagre bargain-basement crustcore act.
Next comes a slightly sludgier, yet no less demonic act. Jesuscentric, on Tor Johnson Records, play down-beat, epic doom. The songs themselves are proper doom, building to a monster jam in every song, as opposed to bands that just drone on and on for 12 minute, only to peter out at the end. Both the longer songs build, giving the riffs room to breathe alongside the mellower parts, whereas the shorter middle selection, "My Fields Will Be Covered With the Blood of My Enemies," hits from the first moment.
Lastly, we have -- fittingly -- the final posthumous release from the Ergs. Entitled Thrash Compactor, the one-sided 7-inch isn't even three and a half minutes long. The record, a co-release from Grave Mistake and Firestarter Records, is a fitting so-long from a band that dabbled in country rock and instrumental jazz during its short career. The idea of a pop-punk band knocking out five thrash numbers, and doing them well, might seem like a silly notion, and I suppose it is. While the Ergs kick these songs out with aplomb, and these are ferocious as anything you'd hear on a Municipal Waste record, the threesome still has the cheek to throw in a slide whistle at the end of "Society Hill."