I have chills. Drunkdriver’s music is the kind of blatant ugliness that we don’t get to hear every day. It seethes with the brutal anguish of The Swans, the celebratory insanity of The Cows and the syncopated dissonance of Leopold. Sadly, this is their final statement – but what a statement it is…
The bass-less trio of vocalist Michael Berdan, guitarist Kristy Greene and drummer Jeremy Villalobos could almost be called NYC’s answer to LA’s 400 Blows. The songs are awash in feedback and the thunderous booming of Villalobos’ drumkit, with the ranting vocals just slightly buried beneath the noise in that evil, sludgy Brainbombs or Drunks With Guns way. It’s an unnerving bad trip through ultra-negative emotions that, like The Festival of Dead Deer, is uncomfortable listening but simply irresistible to those of us who like the sound of nervous breakdowns, confusion and suicidal desperation. Or perhaps it’s the soundtrack to being mugged by a guy who doesn’t need the money – rather he revels in the misery it causes.
Originally, this was to be released as an LP by Load Records, who ended up shelving the album after the band broke up over lascivious allegations that I won’t repeat here as they are all over the internet. Apparently, you need to get it directly from the band (who had some promo CDs and some LPs pressed), if they have any left.
As much as it saddens me to see such a powerful band laid to rest, I can’t help but think it was time. I mean, how in the hell could they top this?
