Some people find it difficult to accept Drumm's reverence for metal. Again, there is a resistance to the idea that a deft and furious intelligence inhabits these sorts of sound constructions, that there's more behind it than just a simple beating. Drumm himself has been totally up-front about his love for Iron Maiden and if you look at the amazing inner photo adorning "Imperial Distortion" you see walls of black metal vinyl and a Deicide flag hanging against the wall-it's obvious where Drumm's aesthetic has its roots. And if black metal, at its most base level, is about rebellion, exclusivity, intensity and personal inquest, then there are few records that capture that mission better than "Impish Tyrant." All of the criteria are met, just in a different way. It's easy to make an assaulting noise record. It's easy to make sounds that are harsh to listen to. To actually imbue those sounds with a mood and a philosophy is much harder, and to do so with such a masterful touch while still giving your audience a wink and a nod-as well as an acknowledgment of their intelligence-is almost unheard of. On this record Drumm accomplishes all those things and again demonstrates why he's the unchallenged master of modern noise. Highest possible recommendation.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
KEVIN DRUMM "IMPISH TYRANT" (Dagda Hammer)
Short and brutish blast of assaulting, ultra-harsh sound vomit from the master. Originally released as a super limited cassette years ago Drumm has reissued this slab on his own Dagda Hammer imprint for the express purpose of rebludgeoning the ambient -loving masses, lest they forget the true spirit of black metal that haunts all of Drumm's work. Of all his recordings "Impish Tyrant" comes closest to matching the unparalleled noise majesty of "Sheer Hellish Miasma"; this one is far more spastic and nervous in nature but it is no less confrontational. Guitar is the obvious source here, as you can actually hear Drumm manipulating and laying waste to the strings, bending and scratching and tremolo picking them until they're reduced to a bloody, rubbery heap of twang. This is the sound of pure live electricity, like a downed wire spitting sparks as it dances across a street full of puddles, inching ever closer to total waste and utter obliteration. There is nothing even approaching a drone here-there are sounds akin to being in the eye of a tornado, all wrapped in dust and horror and screaming for a sort of relief that won't come-and while the intensity, especially towards the end, does produce a lulling and hypnotic effect there is never a moment where you feel like you aren't being rendered into some lesser form by the sheer physicality of the music. This is just another example of Drumm at his peak, making it seem so fucking effortless and second-nature.