“I admit it, I can be a sadistic reviewer. Finding a truly, deeply terrible album gives me a certain perverse glee at the prospect of creatively tearing the malformed afterbirth to ribbons. The feeling is generally strong enough to overpower the dry heaves and stomach-clenching nausea of actually listening to it. But I have found my Waterloo.” The sky is falling (and dying).
“I was raised on classic rock. My three favorite albums as a 7 year old were To You by Dutch blues rockers Brainbox, Aqualung by Jethro Tull and In Rock by Deep Purple. I heard the phrase “Aren’t you a little young for that?” so often in conversation, hearing it on the street didn’t even surprise me when someone caught me whistling “Stairway to Heaven” or wearing a Deep Purple shirt. That love laid the foundations for where I am in music today, and it never went away. But while a lot of bands these days harken back to the age of hippies and vinyl, not many of them manage to truly nail the sound. Swedish rockers Saturn are among the minority.” Rock in an old place.
“As the old saying goes, you can legally coerce Abbath out of Immortal, but you can’t stop Abbath from up and taking Immortal with him in spirit. So instead of taking the ball and going home, Abbath proceeded to take the ball and dunk on the fools who think that Immortal can survive without him.” Abbath is back with Abbath. Hail Abbath!
“It pains me to say it, but the best American rock band hails from Norway. Their name is Audrey Horne and they’re mercy ruling the competition out of the game. This brilliant, idiot-manchild side project of Ice Dale (Enslaved) and Thomas Tofthagen (Sahg) has blazed a shockingly catchy trail of pure rock lunacy since 2005s Confessions and Alcohol. Their eponymous 2010 album was a positively brilliant amalgam of Faith No More and Stone Temple Pilots, surpassed only by 2013s Youngblood for skin snagging hooks and mega memorable rock anthems. This is the kind of band that serves up frothy, foamy good times music with so much swagger they can barely walk in a straight line. That’s right, it’s big pimpin, hard rocking, dirty rolling, greasy rock that sticks to the ribs and makes you cooler just by listening.” Resistance is futile, you will be converted to the Horde of Horne.
