{grate 3}
When you overhear stories about the most-hated band in
help but be curious; piss and blood and drunken brawls earned Clockcleaner
their infamy, and Babylon Rules follows the same depraved path.
The smarmy trio resembles a clunkier, less playful version
of classic Iggy and the Stooges. John Sharkey III doesn’t have Iggy’s pipes,
but growls with ill conviction and throws in the occasional bloody yell to
enforce the group’s explosive breakdowns. At times, a pleasant singing voice
peeks its head out of the trash, then realizes people are watching and dives
back under. The lead guitar squeals as if Sharkey intentionally kicks his amp
with the brunt of his foot at every chord change like a neglected dog.
Most tracks trudge along with the intention of capturing
sludge-metal vibes minus the virtuosity, settling on a sort of brooding
sludge-punk. Tones are relegated to dissonant guitar/bass scuzz for the low
end, creepy noodled arpeggios for the upper registers and beat-to-hell minimal
drums for the skeleton.
“Daddy Issues” bumps like the Sonics but meaner, needing
only a few blasted power chords and a shuffling two-note riff to get its
three-minute sexual release. “Hit hit, boom,” Sharkey barks with a Danzig-esque
drawl.
But “Vomiting Mirrors” is Clockcleaner’s revolting
centerpiece, made catchy by the periodic bursts that all the instruments endure
together, as well as the light piano base. It’s an experience akin to rolling
around in a landfill with eager supermodels; the wild charge of overdriven
chords and drummed insistence, plus the echoplex yelps, poses a moral dilemma.
Fortunately, the gag reflex is overwhelmed by greater urges.
