GRINDCORE EQUIVALENT OF A REVIEW, LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!!
Release date: August 30, 2024 | Loyal Blood Records | Bandcamp | Instagram | Spotify
“North of Hell” is forty seconds long; I listen to doom and post-metal; how can you call that a song, Rat Lord – whatever, it’s frenetic and an earworm despite its length, “No Dogs, No Masters” is in the same vein, all chants and frantic pacing with some anti-authoritarian chanting thrown in for good measure, “Blazed In The Northern Sky” pumps the breaks for almost three minutes to leave us with a catchy track that vacillates between party-metal stomping and dare I say brief sombre vibes, “Raised On Kneipp” has one of the most infectious riffs and refrains I’ve heard this year, the chant ‘cuz I just want you to die‘ sticking in my head and being the decider to step outside my comfort zone and give Rat Lord a chance for this review, “Now Diabetical” is where I feel the Powerviolence is more prevalent with some blast beats scattered throughout but what the hell does a doom guy know right? “Wo-Tan-Clan” is made for the pit, “100 000” is that guy in the mosh that slams into you and knocks your consciousness into the astral plane, “Hehemoth” is the one that picks you up and drags you along in the circle, urging you to pump your fist along with him, “I Am The Only Punk In The Village” is the dirty old punk that randomly puts his arm over your shoulder and smiles at you urging you to bang your head with him, “Party Like It’s 1349” begins to slow the momentum to let you catch your breath with some sombre yet humorous lyrical refrains, and “bYggdastril” carries this on a little slower and a little more calmly, letting you head back to the bar sweaty and smiling, I feel like a more accurate description for the record’s sound is Party Metal, because Rat Lord pack this disc wall-to-wall with playful riffs, amusing lyrics, a cheeky sense of humour, and a runtime that says that the album is here for a good time not a long time, but what does a doom guy know about Powerviolence, right; all I know is that if I weren’t 42 and expecting a child it’d be the soundtrack to hype me up for a big night out, it’ll have to settle for weirding out other parents as I pull up in the Baby Bunting carpark with all of my windows down, but either way I don’t care because the album fucking rips – oh yeah, here’s a song:
