You'd need a Venn diagram to understand the "who's who" in terms of Sludge/Doom in Little Rock. Oh, you're probably all like "Hey, Seth! How many Sundays you gonna spend workin' Little Rock's cock, huh?" Well, given the nucleus of killer sludge bands the city and adjacent communities have lately served up, I may stop writing altogether and move to The Quapaw Quarter.
Seahag is one such band that's aiding Little Rock/Fayetteville in giving metal-mecca Atlanta/Savannah a sharp nip at its heels. Formed in 2004, the band melts southern thickness into a murky, molten scheme that hits the brakes just as much as the gas. Their sound can spend seven minutes speeding up, slowing down, rolling in reverse, or crawling into a warm cave to die. Lumbering through seven swollen, draining minutes is the perfect start to a day you almost didn't wanna face.
500 pressings of Seahag's demo infected audiences in 2007, while the crushing, melodic, often putrid Our Presence Here Is In Vain arrived the following September. The album wastes no time in sending rumbling haymakers straight into your senses, but you'll love how unexpectedly cathartic the sound can be. Sure, Seahag love a drawn-out mud bath with snarling beasts as much as the next guy, but the the band shatters labels and molds when the reverb shrapnel burns your face in slow-motion.
Wasted promulgates both Seahag's ever-shifting tempos and Alan Short's dejected tainted-glass bark, with a grind breakdown that promises this band is gonna do more than just get us dirty. Drawn to Darkness is beautifully slow, nearly sounding like snow falling on Christmas eve... as your best friend hangs himself. Guitars roll and drums flicker like candles until a verminous coup drops. Gradually growing muddier and slower, you won't mind getting your wheels stuck here.
Seahag have assured fans a new EP is in the works and can be expected by early 2012. In the meantime, do your homework and check out what's already available (FREE). You'll find the Neurosis comparisons only go so far, and you'll be surprised to hear a little Soilent Green, Isis, and perhaps a brief dance with Amoebic Dysentery (call me crazy, I hear it). But allow yourself to drift with the moods and you'll also realize Seahag effortlessly craft their own sound, shed the skin of influences, and smear a blank canvas with a sound that burns, crawls, cracks its knuckles, and doesn't worry about whether or not you're okay.
Hurry up with that EP, fellas. We're hungry.
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