Gritter, Howl, Cut The Architect’s Hand, Uncle Jimmy
Sunday, March 3 at Strange Matter
The show went down at the ever-present Strange Matter, or Smatter if you are in the know. This venue has legendary status in Richmond. It is the place to play if you are an underground touring band of the extreme variety.
Gritter, Howl, Cut The Architect’s Hand, Uncle Jimmy
Sunday, March 3 at Strange Matter
The show went down at the ever-present Strange Matter, or Smatter if you are in the know. This venue has legendary status in Richmond. It is the place to play if you are an underground touring band of the extreme variety. I have seen doom, rock ,thrash, black, sludge, and an awesome battle grind set by 2 preeminent powerviolence grindcore bands. Sometimes all this happens on one show. The main booker, Mark Osborne, seems to have a never ending supply of awesome bands to mix and match. Kudos to him.
Other than Howl, all the groups were locals. I like this concept since it has the potential to reach local ears, and that is who will lift you up. This was the first time seeing Uncle Jimmy, and their last time playing, as they are breaking up. “This is a funeral for Uncle Jimmy,” the singer said at one point. Apparently they were only at 75% (singer’s words also), as they lacked a bass player. They performed with an unhinged energy, the guitarist seeming like he might as well smash his guitar as play it. What was produced was a mid to slow tempo groove most of the time. Songs were peppered with ample amounts of syncopated breakdowns, and sometimes they broke into some noisy dissonant melodies that I wished they’d expanded on.
Cut The Architect’s Hand were under the radar, but above the fray. Let’s try some metaphors and analogies: Songs written by Hunter S. Thompson and arranged by Daedalus? Like falling down stairs? A cross between Burnt By The Sun and a painting by a mental patient? It all seems inadequate. They are making me fail to connect them to anything so I’ll describe the feeling. Yeah, that’ll work.
There was a forceful nature to their songs. Some were collections of kick ass riffs that were cut and pasted, but didn’t ever feel like riff salad (a bunch of mediocre elements thrown together). Each new part doesn’t get played so much as pushed on the listener like the worst opportunistic scumbag drug dealer. Then they fucked up my ability to catergorize them by playing a slow-burn number that kept the same dynamics throughout and made some nods to Neurosis. I dug every single tortured note and twist they had to offer. Noise metal maybe? Please do yourself a favor and see them live. Final descriptor: Non-sequitur.
Howl is a Relapse band that I first heard of when their Full of Hell record came out. I remember hearing a track or two and it not making an impression, but seeing a band live can create a connection that can’t be duplicated on recording, so it’s never just cut and dried. They have a beefy sound somewhere between Matt Pike’s pre-rehab gut and an Orange amp. Guilt by association, engage… Kylesa, old Mastodon, and slowing down Lamb of God’s mid-tempo noodling might be a good starting place. Add in some well placed doom riffs with choice minor key harmonies and fuzzed out solos courtesy of a dude that looks like Worm Tongue from Lord of the Rings. Unfortunately it fell flat on these ears, but in Richmond, this shit is golden. Everyone else dug it, so maybe I am deficient. Eh, who knows?
Photo by Phyliss Link
Let’s be honest–Gritter wasn’t always one of my favorite local groups. I can’t really point out specific problems I had with their sound, but it didn’t grab me. That being said, the members are friends of mine and are stand-up, super dudes… yes, they wear their underwear on the outside. Ha! Recently, they are evolving into something beautiful. Where once stood decent riffs are now towering monstrosities of sludgey fuck yous. They’ve also picked up an upbeat edge to their arsenal. Sometimes they break into full on speed rock. Bent notes, sour melodies, and other experiments in heavy electric blues.
During their set, they played my personal favorite of their songs, “Black Teeth.” Pester them to play it live, and listen to it. It has a middle section that sees them pulling rank and vomiting forth dark doom underneath the singer’s high pitched howls. Speaking of that singer, he’s the illegitimate son of Bukowski wrapped in a package resembling a more menacing Jack White–and he carries a thesaurus in his backpack. Gritter’s new record, Welcome To The Sinkhole, is out 4/30/13.
