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| To say that Chickenhawk are merely "rock" is an understatement. It would be fairer to say that they are akin to a mountain. A mountain made of metal. |
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This Leeds-based trio, consisting of singer/drummer Sticks, bassist Ryan and guitarist Princess Fuckhead, have been playing together for almost a year, but the tightness and vision of their songs belie the fact that this is a band in its relative infancy.
First track 'Piglosaur' is bound by a hook that Kerry King himself would be proud of, and drummer Stick's deranged howlings - reminscent of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre's Leatherface - are the sounds of a man driven to the very edge of his sanity by the demon that is rock and roll.
The wonderfully-monickered 'Dr Fellatio' is another behemoth. The gut-wrenching bass and some of the finest guitars this side of the Black Album bizarrely give way to an almost country and western-like finale (sounding infinitely better than you might think).
'Kerosine', the final track, is a twisted, sleazy beast which writhes its way through the backstreets of downtown Vegas until it finds the seediest strip joint in which to ply its whiskey-soaked trade. A pulsating bass line provides the groundwork for yet more riffage of the highest calibre, and by the time Sticks is screaming the final vocal hook of "K-E-R-O-S-I-N-E", you'll be standing on the podium with those dancing girls roaring along with every letter.
Chickenhawk are an awesome force, every last millisecond of their songs is completely submerged in rock, giving them an intensity and forcefulness that's a rare find in modern music. And, as they're even better live than on record, the good news is that with over 50 gigs in nine months since they formed, they'll be doing their utmost to sonically destroy a town near you soon. |
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| James Haddrill |
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