If there’s one thing that Dublin-based chaosmongers Drainland know, it’s how to use the killing technology. In their case, they use it to smash your fucking face in. Channelling the likes of Cattlepress, Gasp, Playing Enemy and His Hero Is Gone and clearly in the thrall of Voivod circa ‘Killing Technology’ and ‘Dimension Hatross’, Drainland are a dischordant piledriving atom-smasher of filthy sludged-up noise-rock.
Lulling us into a false sense of security, ‘Jellyfish’ opens with a lilting, drifting intro of heavily delayed guitar, before quickly pulling the rug from under us and lurching into a stop-start noise-rock riff and desparate, howling vocals somewhat reminiscent of the greatly-missed Cattlepress, then going thermonuclear on our asses with a scorchingly propulsive dischordant riff-section that sounds not-a-million-miles away from ‘KT’-era Voivod being played by His Hero Is Gone. Blistering stuff. This first track opens out into doom-laden chords and dischords, overlaid with a drilling psychedelic guitar motif and urgent drums, ala Gasp, before dissolving into the aether with those drifting delayed notes again.
Second track, ‘Larry Clark’, Is a shorter, uglier beast betraying more of a Powerviolence influence than the opener, with bestial MITB-style vocals to the fore and rampaging HC riffing all over the gaff and ending in a fade of whirring, bleeping electronic noise. This MITB/Bastard Noise influence surfaces again on the track ‘The Scouring Process’, which consists of a maelstrom of whirring scree and pulsating electronics with ‘Our Earths Blood’-style bellowing as the cherry atop the putrid cake. Nice.
Elsewhere, on ‘Limb Template’, there are ferocious blastbeats, 4/4 rock tempos scawled across with angular, steely guitars and more filthy vocals than you can shake an exceptionally filthy stick at, on ‘Somnial Hex’ the tempo is slowed to a lumbering crawl as the band make like a dirt-encrusted Swans, and the scabrous closing track ‘Weakness’ is a leaden dirge with atonal blasts of shrieking wah-ridden feedback that dissolves into thudding bass and those blattering electronics.
This is dirty, nasty, feeeelthy stuff and I LOVE it. These muck-encrusted reprobates are coming from an area of musick that is very dear to my own heart, and they are doing it like they MEAN it. Go see them on their upcoming UK tour, buy this record, but make sure you buy something to clean the festering gunk off your turntable for when it’s finished playing.
Scribed by: Paul Robertson