Some kind of radioactive waste must have recently slipped into Manchester’s water supply – that’s the only reasonable explanation I can come up with for the slew of excellent releases that have emerged out of the city in the last few months, from the likes of Hammers, Esoteric Youth and Knife Crimes, (amongst others) and Swinelord’s ridiculously heavy debut on the promising DIY label Church of Fuck is no exception. Indeed, one glance at the twisted man-on-goat orgy taking place on the tape’s cover should let you know that you’re going to be in for one perversely brutal ride…
The tape kicks off with the molasses thick sludge of ‘Welcome To You’re Doom’ (grammar Nazis, rest assured the mistake there is intentional - it’s a sly reference to the awesome Frisky Dingo), which relapses into an unexpected blast onslaught, before a somehow even heavier d-beat section and crushing breakdown rear their ugly heads. In a mere 2 and a half minutes, Swinelord lay all their cards on the table, and succeed not only in pounding your grey matter into a fine, squelchy paste, but also in letting you know that this isn’t just going to be your standard Eyehategod worship. But fear not, the band haven’t blown their load this early, and the rest of the tape is just as skull rattlingly heavy. ‘The Sandmans Coming’s nihilistic lyrics and strangely catchy refrain of “ I…. Feel…. Fucked!” are sure to have dingy basements crammed full of crusties screaming along in unison. Side B tears into even punkier territory, with 'Phimosis Death' bristling with a livid anxiety, and ‘Morning Beer’ racing along with a rampant intensity that recalls punk deities Doom at their finest.
The band’s sound is hard to pin down, genre-wise. Whilst it shares many similarities with sludge metal, the overall sound is generally more up-tempo; it sounds like crust punk desperately trying to claw its way out of a thick dollop of jet black tar. These guys have no shortage of riffs either, with a generous helping of colossal Iron Monkey style sluggers in amongst the faster, punkier outbursts. The vocals are mostly deep and guttural (with the occasional high pitched shriek being deployed to fantastic effect, particularly in closer ‘Lad’), bringing to mind the terrifyingly harsh bellows of sorely missed sludge behemoths Goatsblood. In fact, in many ways it's almost tempting to view these guys as spiritual successors to that band, albeit with much more of a punk influence weaved into their misanthropic dirges.
To be honest, this tape is practically bursting at the seams with pure, vitriolic sludge hatred. The only complaint I can muster up is that by the time these 10 minutes of filthy depravity have run their course, I always find myself wanting much, much more, and I’m left with no choice but to hit play yet again... Thankfully, this EP is also available for free digitally, which is just as well as I have a horrible feeling I'm going to wear the tape out at this rate! If the thought of Doom covering Eyehategod makes you go weak at the knees then this is going to blow your mind. Good show, lads, good show…
