Artist: Phlefonyaar
Title: Encyclopedia Sociopathia
Type: EP
Label: Digital / Independent
Interesting this. The first few moments of raging opener ‘The Lions Gone Walking’ with its chaos and violence had me thinking about The Georgian Skull (if anyone remembers them?). Low gear rattling which just explodes like a train out of a tunnel. It’s dense, flapping bass heavy sludge. The vocals are wild; just bellowing into the void, probably spitting flies from their beard as they do. It has a huge low end particularly when it slows and when the ddrums power it up it’s like High On Fire playing on concrete instruments.
I mean, look Ma, no head but cool.
I did a teeny bit of research and discover… two of Phlefonyaar are in Zebadiah Crowe, another bunch of noisy bastards who I have a particular soft spot for and whom you will find in my retro-review section. Cool coincidence, but not therefore coincidental that I like this too. There is a bit of left over DNA in the raging violence here.
‘The Lightning Rod Salesman’ calls next (Ray Bradbury???). No polite knock, more a wayward almost chainsaw sound that seems as though its flailing but gets dragged back every time. It’s got a heavy, thumping bounce like White Zombie on megasteroids and some tendrils of hardcore left in it. A weird name flickers in my brain… Bloodlet. And yes after reading my review of Zebadiah Crowe that is perhaps the common DNA; a dark, dense off kilter post-hardcore thread woven deep into the sludge. Whatever the fuck its just beautiful-ugly noise with rusted hooks to keep you engaged continually.
‘The Last Funeral In Town’ has a kind of death metal riff; thick and metallic and crushing but the vocals are the leather bellows howl of the deranged. Wish I had the lyrics, cos there’s the feeling that something ain’t right about this band in the best possible way. Its round this time that you’ve either buggered off in despair or are sat glued to the thick, grimy racket shaking the house and the neighbours.
‘The Curse Of Blackditch Hollow’ is a shuddering sheet metal of a song. A weird noise like nails down steel lurks within this but that primitive, low down riff keeps it pounding on. The band’s name apparently has something to do with a tribe living on the banks of a river in Hell, so yeah, fits….
‘Rust In The Jar’ is stinking of bad booze and hallucinations to me. Like some guy sitting in a chair screaming at the visions he has. The guitar is just a rusting blacksmiths hammer but when the speed hits you have absolutely nowhere to hide. It’s raw but completely, utterly enthralling.
They close with ‘The Window’s Lantern Swings’. The river turned black on a Tuesday night…. It hammers and flails around, caught in the storm as nightmare piles upon nightmare on this night. The moonshine and meth tale of Fifteen Men On A Deadman’s Chest’ maybe… Its horror, its dark and it is insane.
Wow.
Twenty odd minutes trapped in the cockroach scuttling thoughts of someone in a shack on a shitting bump of a hill surrounded by rusting cars and buried things you do not want to dig up. It is cacophanous, sure, but thick as corroded iron covered in tar and hits twise as hard. But it sticks to you, that tar don’t let go cos these brutal, malformed riffs are just bloody brilliant and the howling vocals of a lunatic.
Buy this and bring the nightmares inside…
Gizmo
Walking The Liminal Space 