Not sure what they’re gargling in Ontario these days? From first track until last, the vocals ocellate from screamo, shouted barking to gargled, tar thick growling that sounds like a dying victim of a great white shark attack trying to breathe through half a rib cage and a shredded butcher’s block that’s masquerading as lungs. It’s not unlike one of Mike Patton’s ludicrously absurd side projects gone haywire. Its quite disconcerting and whilst it’s quite the gimmick, I would imagine an album worth’s of that would quickly lose its lustre and peter out into mundanity.
So it’s good news indeed that these Canadians know when to ratchet on and off the vocal gymnastics and groove into sludgy hi-fi slabs of rock brutality. It’s also probably worth a mention that the production on offer, on this their third full length effort, is sumptuous and warm, like a bath of freshly made blancmange melded with the fluffy underbelly of a penguin. It sounds massive, a soundscape of epic proportions that pivots on some wonderfully overblown guitar noodlings before divebombing back into those vocals, all grinding teeth and bubbling larynx. It’s worth reiterating how fucking good this sounds from a production perspective, it literally envelopes you listen, like a musical boa constrictor gently squeezing the life from you.
Comparisons have been made to other front man dominated bands such as Oxbow and The Jesus Lizard and whilst I can see where these comparisons come from (and I do partially agree with them), Hammerhands are out in a different league all of their own here in what they are attempting to do. It’s like a heavier Clutch with David Koresh on vocals. It’s like a Faith No More scored soundtrack with the priest from The Poltergeist films peddling his devilment. I really like this and whilst it may not be for everyone and its far from straight forward, there is enough here to engage most.
The guitars swoop and snarl like a flying tiger and the drums thud with a disturbing amount of resonance but that’s when it happens. On about the third or fourth listen, I have a small handle of what this reminds me of. It’s on the wonderfully chugging ‘I’m Not There’ as the vocals scream out their vitriolic defiance, it falls into place. It’s Alice In Chains without the spoonful of honey heroin drizzled vocals. The solid wall of guitars and steady percussive swell, it’s like Seattle’s favourite sons with Johnny Cash on vocals. It makes sense and it’s a joyful thing indeed. This is great genre defining music and packaged with great songs, production values and genuine character, despite the bloody terrible name, Hammerhands on the basis of this album alone do seem destined for great things. Also, I may have found my new favourite song of the year in ‘Dad Sludge’…which really does what it says on the tin…whatever that is?
(7/10 Nick Griffiths)
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