“Last we met Howling Giant they were dueling with Somerset’s Sergeant Thunderhoof in groovy stoner split Turned to Stone Chapter 2: Masamune & Muramasa, which deserved a word, not a numerical score, to describe its quality. Howling Giant strung together a fun-loving single track with multiple movements, their meat-and-potatoes approach slightly outdueling da Hoof’s bombastic and flashy performance.” Howling at stones.
“I’ve always rooted for the Reading trio, enjoying their blend of NOLA-inspired sludge and bluesy hard rock. Ultimately, there is little changing about Morass of Molasses’ third attempt at greatness. Aptly molasses-thick sludge grooves meet bluesy melodies and wild drumming, while a bearded bro shrieks into the mic. Inject a lil stoner vibe, and you’ve summed up everything to expect.” Down with the thickness.
“What does it mean for an album to be memorable? Usually we consider it a good thing, as a good hook that sticks with you can prolong the enjoyability of a record, sticking with you even beyond your listening sessions. But shitty third-tier pop music often keeps inadvertently muscling its way into your brain, especially for those who are forced to listen to the tripe during work hours (trust me, I’ve been there.) Conversely, some powerful music may not have a high memorability, particularly when it’s of the atonal or atmospheric proclivity. The latter is decidedly not what Morass of Molasses are attempting, though.” Attach the Stone of Sludge Fuzz!
“Lust. Greed. Pride. Jealousy. Gluttony. Vengeance. Six emotions that I experience on my daily commute to and from work. What’s better than having a heavy-blues inspired stoner album, shaped by these sordid vices, to accompany me on my soulless journey into this sick and weary world? Hailing from my beloved Blighty, Morass of Molasses thrust sexy, groove-laden shock-waves that send old-biddies reeling, cups of tea a-spilling, rich-tea biccies mushing, and tea doilies dampening.” Sounds of a tea party fading.
