Band: Arms & The Man
EP: …Are Nothing But Animals
Label: Scylla Records
Release date: 1 September 2014
Sounds like: Pulling up grooves/getting even more fabulous, dropping your mic, beer hair, punching wolves
“I think I wished one day we’d all wake up rockstars, but you must have wished harder you motherFUCKKKKKKEEERRRRRRRR!!!!!” roars bearded mouth-piece Ben Davies on the devilishly titled Welcome To Whore Island. His anger is palpable – seething and bitter, but laced with that Arms & The Man madcap humour of crushing beer cans into your skull whilst wrestling a tiger.
…Are Nothing But Animals is their 3rd EP, following hot on the heels of 2013’s Blood Junkie, a 90 second party smasher of gnarled thrash punk and 2011s self-titled EP. Where Blood Junkie reigned in the smirking humour somewhat and concentrated on grooves, …Are Nothing But Animals returns to funny town with a truckload of riffs, self-deprecation, arrogant swagger and er…wolf punching?
“We’re a great disappointment, but at least we’re great…” states vocalist Ben on Shitkicker In Chief; a track that contorts and twists through stages of aggressive bro-core beatdowns, Baby Godzilla-style madcap riffs and sleazy, blues-rock shredding. The breakdown in particular, lurches with drunken, raw-heaviness in all directions, sounding like it’s attempting to tear itself apart through the see-saw guitar-shrieks.
…Are Nothing But Animals returns to funny town with a truckload of riffs, self-deprecation, arrogant swagger and er…wolf punching?
The stand-out track is the aforementioned Welcome To Whore Island – a marvellous, debauched splatter of caustic noise and chaos. From the harsh metallic guitar-stabs and pounding drums, through to the enormous gang-vocal chants, this absolutely kills. Vocalist Ben keeps up the throaty, Gallows-esque shouts with cocksure hostility and vigour, demanding why the listener is “sat at home when you should be out drinking?” By the time the last chorus kicks in, you’ll be ripping your shirt off, thrashing it around your head with one hand, whilst pounding your chest with the other, roaring your lungs hoarse. It’s party time, bitches – let’s all drink to those who broke the mould.
Taking a ticket to sleazy-town, (“I DARE you all to fight me!”) the riffs on Wolfpuncher, are encrusted in filth and Clutch-worshipping fervour. Grooves a-plenty, Wolfpuncher slams together the savage bite of Every Time I Die and thick slabs of infectious rock ‘n roll like a fist to a snout.
Refreshingly brutal and with tongue jammed firmly in cheek, Arms & The Man ask you the question: “What the fuck have you done lately?!!!!”
You immediately respond: “Buying your EP, cranking it up loud, losing my shit.”
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