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Showing posts with label Sea Bastard. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sea Bastard. Show all posts

Monday, November 4, 2013

LP Review "Scabrous" by Sea Bastard


Sea Bastard from Brighton UK are a doom/sludge quartet who have previously been reviewed on Heavy Planet by the more than capable sludge covered hands of Trash Boat and his Sunday Sludge for their S/T album released a year ago. Since then Sea Bastard have released a live EP entitled "Great Barrier Riff" back in June and they now return with "Scabrous" which was recently released on the blackest day of all, Halloween.

"Scabrous" contains 4 tracks of the bleakest of doom and sludge. It is cold, violent and horrifying and it continues in the same face shredding doom vibrations as their previous output. This is doom and sludge to chew on a rock to, feeling the enamel of your teeth splinter and shatter with every crushing black riff that enters your ears in relentless waves of horrific spite.

The violent pummeling begins with "Nokken", a 17+ minute disgustingly heavy heaving of the blackest of sludged riffs that fall relentlessly upon you with vocals that are at first as bone staining black as the riffs are but soon turn to the wild screeching howls of a hell-spawned mad creature which serves only to twist the doom knife further into your bewildered and petrified face. There are no let ups here. Expect no twee breathers or dark atmospheric ambiance to give some little relief from the onslaught of horrifying doom. The riffs, the vocals, the drum smacks, they keep falling on you, dishing out punishing swathes of obsidian spite the further into the track you go. The final section has the track pick up pace with an unleashing of filthy and distorted guitar seizures and a revolving sludge riff that makes this track darkly psychedelic, like having an heroic dose of 5 dried grams of shrooms only to find yourself trapped in an asylum surrounded by the worst psychopaths known to the human race, and you are their prey, their meal.

The nightmare continues with "Nightmares of the Monolith" that comes in a tumble of urgent riffs and growling vocals that spit pure black venom in a celebratory call to those that dwell deep within the deepest recesses of the doom abyss. Again, there is no time to breath as the sludge consumes you without hesitation as you drown in the blackest pool with the hands of the doom abyss dwellers grabbing you by the ankles and they pull you down and down and down.

From the death of the previous track rises the amusingly named "Door Sniffer" with smouldering feedback, bulbous and crunchy bass chugs and tight incendiary drumming that seems to eke out the promised onslaught of black sludge that inevitably lurches into your already broken brain. This is the shortest of the 4 tracks on this LP running at only 8 minutes and 8 seconds and despite its ever so slightly less bleak than its predecessors' moments in doom, the track devolves and sinks into some of the sickest and blackest bleakness and downright fucking skull-splittingly amazing sludge/doom metal that I have yet heard. Simply put; it slays.

Finally there is the 20:22 track "Metamorphic Possession" with a wobbly twang of hopelessness that brings in a big bluesy bass line that jams along with sparse drumming which makes this short moment in "Scabrous" by far the lightest but soon enough the huge crushing riffs and anguished gravelly howls and pounding drums are bashed out in a merciless battering of violent doom. The track lumbers forward, taking mountainous steps that build to devastating explosions of doom and sludge. The track evolves and morphs and twists its riffs to wring out the thickest and blackest of sludge as it descends ever lower into the black pit of doom.
At the half way point the track decays into seething feedback and we hear the return of the jammed out bass line and the tight but erratic drumming that we heard in the intro. This is only a brief respite before the sludge returns with a gradual slowing and desecration of the riffs that turns the track into a slothenly filthy beast that wallows in a putrid quagmire of frothing sludge until the desecration rots the track down into piercing black feedback.

If you already know Sea Bastard and you are familiar with their wholly negative and violent take on doom and sludge metal then you will know all about the crushing punishment that is on offer with "Scabrous". If you are not yet aware then please prepare yourself by first emptying your bowels pre-listen, hold onto something that makes you feel secure like your childhood teddy bear and then proceed to suck your thumb and tremble and weep with hopeless terror at Sea Bastards relentless and intimidating black riff power.

Hear it, buy it, download it, shit yourself and become spiritually tainted forever now at their Bandcamp where the album is very kindly offered as a name your own price download. Be kind in return.

                       BANDCAMP // FACEBOOK


Sunday, November 25, 2012

Sunday Sludge: Sea Bastard


I don't know about you assholes, but I love my sludge served with a thick plate o' doom. Sometimes there's little to distinguish between the two, so we get those Sundays where we need to open the sludge pigeonhole and shed even more epic darkness. Today we balance the angry with the depressive, the filthy with the haunting, and the steel-toed with the horned. And I'm wasting my time even outlining such distinctions; something this good just needs to be handed to you like a slow slap on the ass.

When Brighton doom giants Jovian and Funeral Hag saw their demises, the foundation for Sea Bastard was laid out as the next logical course. Brewing an unnaturally slow, hauntingly despondent atmosphere centered on the riff and balance by the groove, Sea Bastard's long-buzzing passages are marked by gargantuan stoner-doom explosions. On this self-titled release, the band steals over an hour of your girlfriend's cuddle time with plodding bong-rip rhythms blanketing five tracks, none of which manage to dip below ten minutes. Ambitious? Hardly.

There's a molasses-urgency Sea Bastard exercises on these dusty, drawn-out slabs. Smashed by Sunlight is the thunderous, painfully slow opener loaded with sacrilege and tales of malevolent beasts. Unbelievably heavy and ever-evolving, the shifting tempos demonstrate a commitment to allowing fears to emerge rather than brazenly extracting them. Ian Montgomery's scratching, pained pleas grow into ethereal growls, while thudding thickness permeates your air and challenges the bong smoke. You'd better clear your calendar.

Stomping without relent or regard is Ramesses' Revenge, a quicker, draconian fuzz party. Riff-soaked fret abuse is no match for the medieval groove, lifting further toward a grinding pendulum swing sent to kill. The mood dips straight to hell, just as you expected. The eerie buzz of Psychic Funeral is ominous and unsettling, slowly making its way toward an awesome cadence abrasion. The track is less inviting, more antagonistic, and George Leaver's double kick-drum is an awesome change of pace. Demonstrating not only range but also balls, the band keep the track thick and furry until Oliver Heart's sandy guitar wails and weeps into a slow, sad roll. Ultimately, Psychic Funeral lumbers, staggers, crawls, and collapses under itself.

The title track chops and snaps with true doom traditions, upheld with escalating riffs and misty cymbal taps. This is as primitive and guttural as things get. The fuzzy haze becomes a blanketed envelopment, grinding and consuming with hovering buzz and Steve Patton's bass plucks. The entire meltdown of sound is compelling and demanding, an effective lead-in to Masters of Unreality, the disc's sixteen-minute closing opus. The slow, somber sludge oozes low and filthy, marrying the rainy-day doom in escalating progressions. On an endless sea of grinding and plodding riffs, a broken man buzzes and burns toward his demise. Sticky chaos encircles, gravity and fear become paramount, and the crashing wall of sound whitewashes all that is and was on this stunning denouement.

It won't matter if you examine each track based on its own merits or spin the album as a whole; every note is laced with numbing haze. Sea Bastard borrow from their pasts to challenge listeners and honor their influences, fully immersing themselves in stoner-doom tar. The tracks are long, the riffs are staggering, and there's no patience required. You're not trying to get out or get away. You're trying to make this last even longer. Guess you'll have to hit repeat.



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