Review Summary: Bored tooling around carving stick figures in my arms.
It ought to come as no surprise these days that an unexceptional human being shouldn't have the power to attack the cymbals on a trap set at such blistering speeds. However, the scum of the earth
do possess the ability to find methods around performing this kind of exhausting task; for instance, triggers can be utilized just to make drumming easier. The fly in the ointment here – in case if it wasn't clear the first time 'round – is the incoming literal "slap in the face" moment. In the end, these percussionists aren't accomplishing a whole lot at all, now, are they? The answer to this may vary. On the other hand, though, there exist deranged folk who are talented enough to go through some of the more absurd pathways (as in, a drum machine).
The certifiable people in question come together to form the Massachusetts-based metal outfit, named
Agoraphobic Nosebleed. A grindcore band that was established in 1994, these fine gentlemen and lady forged numbers noteworthy for just how much brevity they contained, as well as the inclusion of the aforementioned drum machine – provided by
Pig Destroyer guitarist Scott Hull. The act has so far issued a total of four studio albums and other miscellaneous releases, with one noteworthy affair being the short and beautifully messy
Altered States of America that houses 100 songs. That 2003 album in particular is considered their most well-known release according to general consensus, and not simply for no reason.
Agoraphobic Nosebleed believed the time was right to piss upon every specimen with the contents of a soiled water cooler, just four years after the group's formation. The band's first studio album was released in February 28 of 1998 under Relapse Records. Christened
Honky Reduction, this was a demented starter... if underdeveloped even by debut LP standards. Featuring 26 tracks of nonstop drum machinery and destructive shouting, the CD was recorded with ANb in their duo form: Scott Hull and vocalist Jay Randall. Yes, there were no traces of Katherine Katz or Richard Johnson's vocals to be found (the latter provides bass, too), nor did Carl Schultz contribute yet;
Honky Reduction boiled down to the 'Jay & Scott Massacre Show'.
Stylistically speaking, pretty much every ditty off this album largely consisted of Jay shouting his ass off not unlike a rambling sociopath, joined by Scott's anarchic guitar riffs in tandem with sequencing. To those raring to shoot themselves with a gigantic .22 revolver at any given opportunity, the production quality presented throughout wasn't as overpowering nor aurally devilish as subsequent efforts, so one can rest decently while the tracks coast along. A great majority of the tracks – aside from the vibration-tinged “Acute Awareness (For Wood)” - never even reach beyond the 1-minute mark; hell, most songs stay under that timeslot.
The lyrical subjects which left their droppings of crap inside the album didn't come off all that different when ones compares what's being discussed to the band's later material. More or less there are several Jay Randall liners within songs that had a black comedy-esque feel to them; “Insipid Conversations" as an example mentions something about a character not being bothered enough to [i]"care about your
fucked-up car" –since upchucking on a nice suit makes for a better rendezvous around the cooler at the work environment. Whilst the themes surrounding
Honky Reduction warrant a decent helping of chuckles, Jay's approach to gutturals are so indecipherable that the casual listener will experience quite a hard time figuring out the actual meaning behind what he's sputtering.
Agoraphobic Nosebleed's first studio album featured some appropriately savage instrumentation, with the occasional composition slack every once in a blue moon picked up by Scott Hull's insane chords, method of riffing, and of course the aforementioned drum programming. Jay's vocals fit the atmosphere that was chosen for
Honky Reduction, though if I were putting his talents next to Richard, Carl, and Kat in no particular order, then the guy's initial turn as lead vocalist sounded unimpressive in hindsight. Better safe to assume Randall back then fared more successfully penning words to music than delivering on the vocal front.
The personal memo-placing, chump-slapping, skin-withering freaks at ANb didn't have too much to offer here. Though
Honky Reduction suffered in part due to basking in its comfort zone for a tad too long coupled with the locked songwriting potential, the good is thankfully existent. The album is certainly not on par with what would come after, though it does deliver well in regards to utmost aggression and (relative) simplicity.
Sick.
