Pure Noise Records
Out Now
“These guys have a shit tonne of stuff going on here and to their credit resist the temptation to play their hand completely on each track, preferring to offer an even splattering of unorthodox malevolence that is catchy as fuck.”
I have to be honest straight up here.
I am going into this review knowing not one thing about the band or their music, so fuck knows what’s gonna happen. But when you come across a band who call themselves Drug Church, then surely it would be un Australian for a God-fearing citizen like myself to not at least take a listen?
The album is called Prude and from what I have read it comes in under the 30-minute mark and is the band’s fifth release.
And the band is called Drug Church. Fuck to the yes.
Mad Care will be my very first introduction to Drug Church and after a touch of feedback and some bellowing guitar notes, vocalist Patrick Kindlon fires the first shots directly into the solar plexus with an aural assault that is unexpected and vicious.
Viciously beautiful, that is.
This is hardcore punk at its glorious best, but there’s a strange dosage of hooks and catchy undertones that could possibly appeal to more people than music of this ilk generally does.
Guitarists Nick Cogan and Cory Galusha provide the background of swirling ambivalence, while drummer Chris Villeneuve is either busting to go for a shit or he just hates his kit. And, as you would expect from a 28-minute album, the track dissipates just when you think it’s going to explode, and we move on to Myopic.
A hazy guitar run kicks things off, and already this track feels like it might be about to act as some form of sonic buffer. It is the polar opposite to Mad Care, but in more of a why the fuck way instead of a what the fuck.
There is a difference.
Myopic meanders along at a restrained pace complete with hazy fuzziness, and for some reason I find myself wondering if the band popped a tab of acid while writing and recording this song. Not being judgemental, but it is kind of in the name…
Sensing my trepidation, Drug Church issue the challenge with Hey Listen, which stumbles out of the blocks in more of a pop/punk fashion with a skipping drum pattern that oozes comfort and love. But these guys are called Drug Church, so maybe the acid wasn’t even acid at all but possibly a tab of ecstasy? That would explain the switch from hardcore anarchism to Robert Smith angst in the space of two songs.
Not that it is an altogether negative turn of events, but after an opening like Mad Care, I expected to be climbing the walls by now.
Demolition Man sounds like it could change that, and from the opening chugg of guitar riffage you can sense the tempo rapidly gaining its mojo once more. This track almost has a shuffle feel in parts, with Kindlon ensuring the descent into chaos remains on track courtesy of invasive vocals that seem to combat the relative pleasantries that continue to swirl around him.
I should point out here that I am actually really enjoying this album. Just remember I have come in blind (or should that be deaf) so this is as much of a journey for me as it would have been for the band when producing it.
Drug Church. Just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?
My Business Ethics seem to be slipping a tad, so it’s welcome respite when this track throws another curveball with a wicked bass underlay that gives the song a strut and swagger of contemptuous apathy.
These guys have a shit tonne of stuff going on here and to their credit resist the temptation to play their hand completely on each track, preferring to offer an even splattering of unorthodox malevolence that is catchy as fuck.
Slide 2 Me fires up with a tasty guitar riff that soon has the rest of the band gearing up for battle. Kindlon spits more venom on this one already, and you can almost picture the smear crease his lips as he evokes a rebelliousness and lackadaisical sense of numb anger made popular by a certain bass player by the name of Sid Vicious. And yes, I know Sid was a bass player, but I am referring to the attitude, not just the music.
I could also be completely off the mark here but, in all honesty, who gives a fuck.
About me, that is.
I’m not sure if Chow is about food or if it’s the band’s way of preparing to say goodbye, but from the moment the guitars, bass and drums come together a goodbye is the furthest thing on my mind. Drug Church are actually a lot of fun to hang with, and suddenly 28 minutes doesn’t feel like enough quality time with the band.
But it is what it is. No need to get (The) Bitter (s) about it!
The Bitters arrives courtesy of a drum and guitar battle that soon denigrates into an all in brawl as Kindlon comes at you like a spider monkey, barking orders before regaining touch with his inner compassion for a brief moment of respite.
Brief is the word as things get messy again. This song has enough varying degrees of shade and light to suggest some kind of inner conflict with Drug Church who seemingly want to hate the world and everything in it but manage to calm their farm each time before striking the killer blow.
That must be the Church side of the equation.
Yankee Trails reeks of American arrogance before a shot is fired in anger, but surprisingly this particular Yankee must have found God because he seems quite reserved and withdrawn compared to most Yankee’s I have seen on the trail.
The pub trail, that is.
A screeching and elongated stench of feedback closes this song out, and it seems I may have found my Yankee Trail after all. Sometimes you just have to have patience.
And just like that, we arrive at the final song Peer Review.
A quick, drawn out guitar riff (figure that one out) sets the tone as Drug Church ease back a gear for the album closer. When I say ease back, this shit still has infinitely more balls that a lot of music out there.
These guys just have a way of layering those balls with a thinly veiled coating of ambience.
Which is when I realise there hasn’t been a song called Prude on the album, so maybe the title is Drug Church’s off kilter way of warning us not to be prudes when listening? Music isn’t supposed to fit into a neatly packaged box. It is meant to be nasty, abrasive and dangerous, three things Drug Church possess in spades.
Don’t be a Prude.
