Just when you thought it was safe to listen to heavy music again, it’s the return of Iron Monkey. 2017’s rebirth album, “9-13” was a belter, and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to wonder how a band with such a legendary presence in unpleasant noise would be able to come back not only from the tragic death of original vocalist J.P. Morrow, but also from a very long hiatus. Hats off then to original Monkey-man and wrangler of nastiness Jim Rushby, who has managed to put together another line up of the band to produce this newest platter.
Dean Berry, who played on the brilliant “Our Problem” (1997) and subsequent “We’ve Learned Nothing” EP returns to the fold, whilst it appears that Steve Watson has exited stage left for this album. Meanwhile, drummer erm…”Ze Big” (formerly of Nottingham Stoners, Widow) has come into the fray on the tubs.
“Misanthropizer” is up first, and it’s just what you want to hear from a Monkey album. Feedback-drenched, huge slabs of distorted riffery and a solid bedrock of bad-times blues-based doom. It’s essentially the sonic equivalent of watching a Chimpanzee batter a rival to death in a nature documentary. Towards the end of the track, there’s a confusing, and utterly weird guitar solo that melted my brain.
While you’re still dazed, the churning an insistent strains of “Concrete Shock” rev up, like a motorbike being worked on by a psychopath on an ASBO. The swinging riffs really do bring to mind the bluesier elements of “Our Problem”, and again the vocal delivery is absolutely and irredeemably unhinged. Those stream-of consciousness lyrics are back again, and they are dripping in menace. From this track, the words:
“THIN SKULLS WILL BREAK ON THE SINK. SAY HELLO TO THE MISSING LINK. SICK BARS. I LIVE IN A CAR. I KNOW WHO YOU ARE. A RAT IN A JAR”
absolutely screamed over the grooviest, most nausea inducing riffs that you’re going to hear all year. Just how Iron Monkey have managed to make a set of songs this catchy whilst also being – let’s be frank here – almost offensively hostile, is a kind of alchemy.
“CSP” is a tenser, more contained affair, with the electric energy of a wild beast straining at the leash. It’s here that “Ze Big” really comes into his own, with massive caveman energy smashing down into the drum kit, driving things along. His playing is very much in the Bill Ward school of drumming, only it’s the Bill Ward that was drinking Special Brew for breakfast whilst recording Sabotage.
“Off Switch” begins with a pacing, stomping bass line, while feedback drenches through before a unified decaying chug that would make prime Cathedral sound like Rhapsody of Fire. The main riff isn’t unlike a classic Celtic Frost riff being played across the event-horizon of a black hole, warped and stretched whilst another absolutely nonsensical and paradoxically perfect guitar solo plays across the top.
“Rat Flag” has more of that up-beat, garage rock on very strong medication vibe about it. It was probably here that I was most reminded of the “Dukes of Nothing” school of Motorhead by way of doomed-up-hate songwriting. The infectious nature of the main guitar work here is going to make this an absolute belter in the live arena. (For the record, as an old git now, I will stand by the back of the room while it plays!).
“Lead Transfusion” introduces itself with the kind of echoey noise that once signified a ray gun in 70’s science fiction. An off-kilter, lurching song that manages to evoke a limping and very angry killer (think: the final scenes of The Shining – all leg-dragging axe-man). Lyrically, it’s unequivocally about being shot, but it somehow manages to produce a listening experience that’s almost as painful as the real thing.
“Exlexed” again manages to subvert expectations. The intro is so damn addictive. It’s almost the kind of 1-2-3-4 classic rock beat, but the timing is just ever so slightly and deliberately off. Writhing, it never let you get into a regular rhythm, and is infuriating just as it is intriguing as a consequence. “The Gurges” splutters into life with electric clattering (the sound of an unplugged guitar lead), then the kind of one-two punch that Iron Monkey do best. It’s a feedback and riff salad that’s heavy to an unhealthy degree. It’s certainly the most purely doom track on the record, with a leaden, hungover tempo and attitude.
Album closer “O.D. Rose” is just over three minutes of pure feedback and noise. No riffs, just pain.
Throughout, the production is killer. This is an album that needs to be heard loud, but it’s both mega-filthy with the layers of distortion and feedback drenching each track, but also somehow incredibly clear and powerful. As an album that’s an amazing example of bringing impossible elements together, I have to say that the production is right on point. Songwriting is a little more expansive than that on 9-13, and it leans a little more on the decaying-blues doom of “Our Problem” than before – which to my ears makes it an even better record.
You can’t kill rock n’ roll, and you certainly should never bet against the Monkey. Absolutely outstanding.
(9/10 Chris Davison)
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