2023-08-16 07:36:25
Album or still EP? Not really matter! No Volume turns on the dozen Cel Damage–Releases full in the past decade (depending on how you count it…at least quite likely?).
For Daniel Mathews (vocals, bass), his brother Josh (drums) and Riley Tews (guitar, bass), 12 songs in 17 minutes not only mean a running time that is almost twice as long as before, but also more meticulousness and care than ever before, when the math death grinders fuel their spastic chaos with sassy screamo or metallic hardcore gimmicks, to somewhere between the memories of Heavy Heavy Low Low, .Gif From God See You Next Tuesday or Squid Pisser (respektive in Are You Kidding Me especially with The Locust as an imprint, whose no wave madness also in the power violence brute force Medium Talent corresponding patina shows) to harass: “This record is the most fleshed out piece of music we have ever put out. We actually wrote and came back a few times and fixed up the songs. Every other record we would write, record, and put it out.“
While the energy and passion to play urgently as always Cel Damage carries you along (following all, the guitar harassment escalates in front of the distinctively rumbling bass along with the whipping drums and vocals, whose desperate, panic-stricken screams of mania are always counteracted by sporty, rattling growls, not very original, but mercilessly eclectic), the superordinate dynamics and the intoned flow so now actually something more coherent and thoughtful igniting.
Again and once more, in a vaguely more holistic framework (if I’m Taking the Pins Out trading pumping out of the club for a brutal, also roaring, frenzy and I Was Catfished at the other end, as a stomping tirade with handclaps, at least briefly finds its way back to hip circles, especially since in between We Look Nothing Like Ourselves sometimes jogging spontaneously dancing to the mantra) small nuances as accents – not only when They Said I Can Go to the Dance if Face Facts-Guest performance an androgynous synth pop psychosis in latent Panic! At the Disco-00er-Emo-Hirnwut einstreut oder Drez Martinez in George Wilson vomits more death hatches.
If You’re Going to Be a Ghost, Are You Going to Watch Me? (These song titles alone are an associative time tunnel!) winds its way around fidel guitars and thumps in a depressing manner It’s Mathematically Impossible breathes contemplatively on post hardcore or noise rock including doomy stomping sludge hatred before Mt. Moon tried a sedative pounding trance on speed and Such a Sad Monument to Somebody’s Dreams and Aspirations Cut Short starts the wide-legged groove between rabid vortices and stoic emergency brakes.
Which keeps the eclectic trio from California’s Apple Valley fresh and hungry, controlling their variability and extending a long-installed consistency. There is no end in sight: “We already have an EP in the works and might be planning another tour this year or early next year. We just want to be constantly moving and pushing forward.”
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