Sleaze Round-up: September 2015

Sleazegrinder on new releases from Flak Bait, Dirty Black 7, Firing All Cylinders, Cyanide Saints and Manchu Eagle Murder

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Flak Bait: Target For Tonight

Do you remember Deadbolt? Scariest band in the world. Voodoo truckerbilly from Northern California made by sketchy brutes in black with Elvis sideburns and pointy boots dripping with blood. Songs about chopping people’s heads off in Wichita and watching your flesh slowly rot. Holy smokes, if you missed out, you better catch up. Anyway, Flak Bait boast former Deadbolt frontman R.A. Maclean and some dudes who woulda been in Deadbolt if they were brave enough.

At times it’s even got that midnight spookshow buzz, only here it takes a backseat to chugging, late-80s style flash metal. I don’t know how or why, but that’s what’s happening. Imagine if Mötley Crüe were suddenly taken over by a bunch of freshly paroled bikers with handlebar moustaches and a working knowledge of the occult. It’s so delightfully perverse I don’t even know what to do about it. But I’ll probably pledge my soul to Satan. Seems fitting. (710)

Dirty Black 7: 7 Scars

Sometimes I wonder if these bands are just fucking with us. Dirty Black 7 are from New York City and sound pretty much like a suburban Warrior Soul, but would Kory Clarke write a song called Whiskey Is My Woman or Candygram Pornstar? I mean, can this be for real? Whatever. If you like cocaine, you like this record. (510)

Firing All Cylinders: Firing All Cylinders

Canadian bullet-belters with a nasty disposition and a jagged punk edge, like Dave Mustaine fronting Crystal Pistol. They’re not happy with anybody, ever. I Don’t Wanna Know You is the misanthrope self-empowerment anthem of the decade, but really, every song sounds like a mug of beer smashing you in the skull. Everybody hates you when you love rock n’ roll, man. (710)

Cyanide Saints: Cyanide Saints

Working-class biker-metal from Philadelphia with a grunge hangover that drizzles a steady torrent of black rain over the proceedings. It’s 1993 forever, basically. The whole thing really comes together on Brother Sunshine, which sounds like a long-lost B-side from Alice In Chains’ glammier days, but my fave is the impossibly gloomy doom-psych of Emily. Bummer-jam fans take note, this is full of ‘em. (610)

Manchu Eagle Murder: The Long Road To The Desert

Italian dope-rockers named, I’m assuming, after the mid-70s mystery movie starring Uncle Fester. It’s pretty standard stoner stuff with the usual arid, fuzzy Sabbath riffs and songs about making love to demons and scaling golden mountains, but I think their name would look good on a T-shirt, so, thumbs up. (610)

Classic Rock 214: New Albums

Came from the sky like a 747. Classic Rock’s least-reputable byline-grabber since 2003. Several decades deep into the music industry. Got fired from an early incarnation of Anal C**t after one show. 30 years later, got fired from the New York Times after one week. Likes rock and hates everything else. Still believes in Zodiac Mindwarp and the Love Reaction, against all better judgment.