Planks: Funeral Mouth

German sludgers go postal on album number three

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Four years ago, Germany’s Planks did a split EP with New York’s Tombs. Our copy was mysteriously packaged and not only did it take a while to figure out if our turntable was on the correct speed, but vague labelling initially made it difficult to figure out which side was who.

That’s the long-winded way of saying that this Mannheim-based trio sound like Tombs. Desolate Joy Division-meets-Lower East Side new/no wave-meets-sludgy doom features heavily, but they create a fiery vibe.

The issue with Planks is that, like the disgruntled postal worker who snaps and goes on a shooting spree, they have the requisite amounts of hate-the-world anger in ’em and their initial action hits hard, but they quickly collapse into obscurity. So in the same way that few can remember the names of most postal employee rampagers, Planks cause a ruckus, but their lack of depth means they leave little impression.