Published on Sep 19, 2003
These boys perpetuated an adequate amount of Internet chat room
gossip after their inexplicable-albeit short-lived-hiatus a few
years ago. The drummer packed up and left for Berlin, and two other
members hit Denver for whatever reason. They missed one another
enormously though, and a few tear-stained letters went back and
forth. Now the Bloodlet legacy has come back to embalm any “nice”
bands they get booked now with as they tour the planet
relentlessly. Promoters, you have received your official
caveat.
What goes on here — with the help of producer Steve “Nirvana”
Albini — is their attempt to one-up the Melvins, Isis, Trouble,
and Cathedral (who all take turns with the championship belt for
The Planet’s Heaviest Band now that the Swans are finished with
it).
Scott Angelacos sings a good deal about blood and pain. What, do
you want power ballads about loving you all night long, or dancing
on the ceiling? The last time I heard yelling like that was when I
dropped a huge framing hammer on my big toe. I can still see myself
freaking out, as though I were really about six feet away,
watching. The thing swelled like a beach ball, and the skin under
the nail filled with angry purple blood. That first evening was the
worst. I had nightmares the whole time, and they sounded like
segments of this album, especially “Motel Surgery.”
This band actually sounds like they’re doing similar things to
Angelacos for the course of
Three Humid Nights In The Cypress Trees. I won’t be having
them over for tea any time soon, but I wouldn’t mind witnessing
this live (from behind a plastic tarp to keep the blood, giblets
and gristle off of my clothes).