Chubby Thunderous Bad Kush Masters – Come and Chutney Review

I mean, really. Come and Chutney? By fucking Chubby Thunderous Bad Kush Masters?? Well played, you Chubby London fucks; you have my attention. Billed as FFO Weedeater, Bongzilla, Black Sabbath, and… and fucking Vengaboys?! Well now, I’m as elated as a child at an amusement park. The sonic playground that is stoner doom offers plenty of room for fun to be had, and anyone not even remotely intrigued by that ridiculous namedrop can fuck off all the way to Ibiza. Unless you’re, like, Ibizan, in which case I guess just fuck off further away. Either way, everybody not busy fucking off, follow me. We’ve got some fucking off to do.

So, yeah, surprise surprise: Come and Chutney is not particularly serious fare. From that less than stoic band image to guitarist/vocalist Owen Carty’s simplistic lyrics and the sounds of bong rips being followed by butt rips (farts, if we’re being scientific) on “Gutlads”, Come and Chutney is largely the work of three dudes from London screwing around for 8 tracks. Instrumentally speaking, that time is spent on a burn cruise through desert- and stoner-doom territory, toking on the peace pipes of Motherslug and Father Sabbath alike. With a loose, organic vibe and a warm, fuzzy tone, the trio brings a refreshing liveliness to the doom plate, injecting a jam-band zeal into their riffy stew that shines particularly brightly in “Psychedelic Hallucinogenic Vagrancy”. As riff after Weedeat-ing riff is rolled out, the band’s chemistry and the fun they’re having is audible throughout the entirety of Come and Chutney, and this very unity is essentially the album’s greatest strength.

Fun and frivolous though they are, the familiarity of Carty’s riffs when compared to green-leaf gods such as Sabbath or Bongzilla is undeniable to the point of almost sacrificing originality entirely… Almost. While fans of the genre aren’t likely to hear anything particularly groundbreaking in the fuzzy tone or riffy library, the audible earnestness of the band rings through the sonic shag carpet in every note. Tracks such as “Krones of the Kiln” and “Glue Ear” deliver the goods no matter who they remind you of, aided to great extent by Carty’s Chad Grey-does-Nazareth screech and the punky pentameter with which said screeching is screeched. The vocals on Come and Chutney are certainly not for everyone but damned if it doesn’t sound like the dude’s having a blast with every rusty word. Those words won’t win any awards any time soon (I can appreciate the effort on “Döner Trump”, but those lyrics… SAD!) but sometimes less is more, even in the eloquence department.

Less would certainly be more in the songwriting department of Come and Chutney, as the jam-band nature of the London trio invariably leads to a spot of excess waffling in almost every song; The reefer-riddled, retro-rocking riffs of the record occasionally meander about more dazed and confused than flying high (again), somewhat undercutting the enjoyability of an otherwise fairly fresh and frankly fucking fun take on stoner doom. Riffalicious and irreverent as it is, “Doggy Bag of Slurry” in particular simply has no business approaching the eight-minute mark, and while the song lengths for the remainder of the album are typically more concise 5-ish minute affairs, they still have a tendency to get lost in overdrawn passages of fuzzy fuck-offery. There’s enough going on at any given time that some listeners might not even fault the band for occasionally lolling about aimlessly, but I am not one of those listeners. With so much energy and chemistry at play here, it seems a shame that the songwriting of Come and Chutney tends to render the Chubby goodness just a bit too bloated to abide.

All in all my biggest complaint regarding this album stems from being lied to. Sure, Chubby Thunderous Bad Kush Masters could use some fat-trimming, and I can’t see the lyrics here rocking anyone’s world, but given how fun and honest this record is I can hardly consider either offense too great. No, I really don’t have much in the way of complaints here, but those Chubby fucks sound like Vengaboys for exactly 0 seconds on Come and Chutney, and they’re lucky I don’t give them a 0.0 for breaking my heart like that. However, if you’re willing to forgive them and are looking for a fuzzy romp through a haze of smoke and sophomoric wit, try a taste of… erm… dive on in to… nope… Oh, fuck it, just go check out the album already.

Rating: 2.5/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: 192 kbps mp3
Label: Riff Rock Records
Websites: |
Releases Worldwide: July 13th, 2018

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