By Monk

Artwork for Old Dirty BuzzardWhoever keeps repeating the tired old adage that rock ‘n’ roll is dead hasn’t counted on the flocks of carrion birds that keep descending on its rotting corpse and, by sucking out its very lifeblood, bring it back to alive ‘n’ kickin’ reality and inject fresh new corpuscles into it in the process. Take this particular bloodsuckin’ crue from Seattle, reborn from the ashes of bands such as Holy Terror, Zeke and Agent Steel, and exhuming the spirits of the likes of Motörhead, Blue Cheer and Black Sabbath as much as they do garage punk and deep southern grooviness.

ODB specialize in big, dirty riffs – with the emphasis on BIG, DIRTY and RIFFS. You know the sort: the ones that grab your neck muscles right from the base of your spine and get them ‘banging with the fury of a cornered wolf and the impatience of an Olympic sprinter discovering the marathon runners are still in the outside lane.

Dense, doom-laden bass riffs meld seamlessly into sub-thrash guitar lines, over topped by gruff, growling vocals and underpinned by absolutely HUGE percussive beatdowns that resonate and rebound with alacrity and precision to a degree that completely accentuates everything that is going on here. There is a sharpness and finality to every note and chord, but at the same time there is a genuine feeling of commitment and passion, as if the band have so much belief in what they are doing that they know they could give it so much more but also have the commitment to cut off at precisely the right moment in time.

An emphatic debut from a band with an impeccable background, an eye for detail (including that all important element of what to leave out of the mix) and that innate ability to produce a hugely impressive album at the first attempt. I may not die on the weird hill I have to climb every night to get to work, but this soundtrack has been making it an all the more enjoyable experience.