Admiral Angry - _Buster_
(Shelsmusic, 2009)
by: Dan Lake (8.5 out of 10)
No, you probably don't think you'd buy an album called _Buster_ by a band stupid enough to name themselves Admiral Angry. You probably prize your irony-clad hip indie cred far too highly to engage in that kind of weak amateur bullshit. Your dignity -- whatever remnant remains after last week's beer/wine/gin/everclear blackout, the one that lasted -all- week and resulted in two severed friendships, five bruises you don't remember getting, $748 in assessed damages and a days-dead raccoon tied to your ceiling fan -- couldn't withstand the shame of you shelling out cash for such an obviously mediocre fourth-tier thrash-rock clusterfuck. I mean, just look at that cover! They could have called the record _Ass Buster_ and it would have been less gay than that pastel-splashed frill fest. No, you wouldn't even listen to this thing if it came with a personalized note from Fenriz signed in goat blood and wiped with Brent Hinds' post-show ball sweat. (Would you?)

I'm normally not this pissed off. Hell, I was just zoning out to Sigur Ros' _( )_, meditating on fey elfin beauty or whatever. Admiral Angry made me this way. The L.A. band deconstruct Meshuggah guitar tones and time signatures and reassign them to the purpose of spreading Khanate-sized hate doom. The album's prehistoric pachyderm gait rarely achieves the frenzy of the former or the drug-slowed arrhythmia of the latter, but retains the perfect pace for 45 minutes of slobbering rage. Listing individual song qualities is like mentioning that there are multiple ways to use a rusty saw blade to inflict terrifying wounds: each yields its own distinct pattern of frayed flesh and sprayed blood, and how can you know which best expresses your personal state of anguish until you've tried them all? Every track is run through with skull-shearing guitar attacks, gut-thudding bass punches, tempo shifts that occasionally open up to highlight the drummer's dramatic percussive potency, and unflaggingly miserable shrieks. Sparse electronic elements sometimes take center stage, but don't be fooled. The robots conceal rusty saw blades all their own.


(article published 15/1/2012)

RSS Feed RSS   Facebook Facebook   Twitter Twitter  ::  Mobile : Text  ::  HTML : CSS  ::  Sitemap

All contents copyright 1995-2023 their individual creators.  All rights reserved.  Do not reproduce without permission.

All opinions expressed in Chronicles of Chaos are opinions held at the time of writing by the individuals expressing them.
They do not necessarily reflect the opinions of anyone else, past or present.