Nerd rap and avian heavy metal are but two of the genres broached in this month's roundup of local CD releases. Read on to learn more about headbanging birds.
This disc comes on like a pinch of novocaine, all guitars, guitars, guitars out to numb every nerve ending. The group boasts three six-stringers, but it sounds more like 10 on tunes like "First Time," where moaning slide guitar and droning organ congeal into a bear hug of distortion and fuzzy melody.
Singer/bassist Louie Thomas and singer/guitarist Aaron Bredlau alternate plaintive mumbles and whelps, waxing about pretty girls and long nights. Their voices occasionally drift in and out of the mix, but that's OK: The guitars do most of the talking, anyway.
"Warship" is a love letter to heavy metal's glory days, back when only the hair was longer than the guitar solos. Now, I'm not exactly sure what an Ultra Vulture is, but after spinning this bad boy, I'm guessing it's a giant bird of prey, forged from steel, with glowing orbs of fire for eyes.
This beast is capable of lung-bursting wails, wrist-spraining, minute-long leads, and husky, groove-laden metal rippers heartier than a steak dinner.
Think Testament riding high on the back of a headbanging griffin. Only bigger. And, uh, more ultra.
This duo is pretty much the real-life version of the white boy MC spoofing "Saturday Night Live" skit "Lazy Sunday."
No, these dudes don't rhyme about Matthew Perry or macking on cupcakes, but they come pretty close in terms of sheer gaucheness, namechecking Tetris, "Lord of the Rings" and "Who's the Boss?" star Danny Pintauro. "Smooth like endoplasmic reticulum," MCs Smooth J and Grammar G are unabashed dorks. "Bounty hunt like Fett / Boba or Jango / Don't stand in line kid, you know I Fandango," J boasts on "We Rock (Geology)."
This is the big bar of Dial in rap's potty mouth.
TRU-GZ, "Souljah Field" (Steel Toe Entertainment)
Minimalist beats plus maximal testosterone equals an album that seems like it was created for the sole purpose of soundtracking a bar fight. This camouflage-clad trio sounds as if they're rapping through clenched teeth, their tough guy rhymes as much a parody of masculinity as Hanz and Franz's incessant flexing.
You know the drill: lots of gang vocal choruses, creeping bass lines and rhymes about how these dudes are way harder than you.
Sure, this military-themed group sounds convincing enough on this disc, but honestly, boot camp seems like more fun.
Jason Bracelin's "Sounding Off" column appears on Tuesdays. Contact him at 383-0476 or e-mail him at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com.
