Formed in 2001, London-based heavy doom / grind quartet Todd lay claim to being one of the thickest and sludgiest bands currently operating out of the UK capital, with their fusion of punishing wall-of noise guitar distortion and neck-breaking drums placing them in the esteemed company of fellow volume abusers Part Chimp and Pissed Jeans. Five years on from the release of 2005’s Comes To Your House on Southern Records, this third album Big Ripper sees Todd making the move over to Riot Season, home of Black Boned Angel and Acid Mothers Temple. Opener ‘Track Side Fire’ pretty much drops the listener straight into the middle of the storm, with snarled, barely intelligible vocals and slamming tribal drumming fusing like a concrete slab with sludgy guitar riffage that pretty much doesn’t shift out of the red the entire time, even as things suddenly drop down into a kaleidoscopic plummet through digitally manipulated guitar harmonics. There’s a brief respite in the form of a hissing background tape noise outro, but it’s shortlived before ‘Happy Easter Florida’ arrives to smash the listener more or less in the face with its relentless blast of thundering metal drums, Stooges-esque monotonous proto-punk guitar chug and distorted, howled vocals calling to mind the Butthole Surfers’ Gibby Haynes wired up on some particularly scary amphetamines as the entire mix heads towards saturated flameout.
On that note, it’s worth noting the particularly ‘distressed’ quality of the overall sound mix here. With the guitar tracks continually reaching into the red and the drums frequently sounding as though they were recorded from the next room, you’re left with 13 distortion-damaged tracks that resemble those huge armoured trucks in ‘Mad Max’ that get shot up and set on fire, yet somehow manage to keep going. While there’s a continual illusion of pure chaos going on, a closer look reveals just how tight Todd are as players. ‘Black Gold’ illustrates this perfectly; while on the surface its lunatic vocal howls and corrosive guitar riffage drift drunkenly all over the place, focusing on a single hi-hat beneath the turmoil reveals the almost surgical precision ticking away beneath the hood. For the unwary, there’s also the odd moment of unexpectedly gentle beauty on offer amidst the flames – see ‘The (R)Wub’s chiming guitar harmonic outro section and ‘Julie B’s employment of almost Lynyrd Skynrd-esque bluesy guitar bends. In the end, you’re left with an album that beneath its deceptively lunkheaded exterior continually reveals new lofi detail with each listen, making ‘Big Ripper’ easily one of the heaviest highlights of my year so far. Brilliant and brutal.
Chris Downton
