Holy Mountain briefly drop their all-out psychedelic hero-worship for the no-nonsense Musk, a band of hard rockers, sludge metalheads and fuzz guitarists making hateful tunes with an unrelenting and quite unkind rhythm section. 'Musk' is noisy squalor, shooting for the rawest sludge approach possible. Whatever genre they are, they have been described pretty uniformly as "dirty".
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Many of my favourite garage rock records of the past few years have one name in common - Chris Woodhouse. He's the production maestro responsible for the likes of Ty Segall's 'Manipulator', The Intelligence's 'Everybody's Got It Easy But Me' and countless other platters by the likes of Thee Oh Sees, Fuzz, Sic Alps and White Flag. The latest quality garage punk release to bear his name is this self-titled LP by noisy bastards Musk.
This lot are rocking a hyper-distorted brand of shitkicking grungey noise rock that takes the pummelling assault of bands like TAD and Pissed Jeans and finds new places to squeeze in extra oversaturated, crumbling sonic destruction. Guitars fizz and crackle and grunt with a manic physicality while the bass clanks ominously alongside simple, violently pounded drum lines and singer Rob Fletcher spits out his snotty, distorted howls and rants with a wild-eyed ferocity. It's a winning formula, a faster, louder and filthier take on the Stoogian proto-punk formula of ritualistic rock'n'roll and gnarly guitar noise abandon. Thumbs up.
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