Like a dirt-floor Neurosis or Eyehategod with a four-track recorder, El Buzzard lurch and stumble through six songs of apocalyptic, bargain-basement filth. Lo-fi as it gets, with the by-now-obligatory echoed-out samples strewn like broken dolls in a bombed-out orphanage, plus (un)healthy doses of scraping, screeched vocals, sick sludge fuzz riffs and a drum kit that sounds like mallets on soft tissue. The whole thing sounds coated in phlegm and lint and broadcasted out of a broken practice amp about three blocks away, but the ramshackleness of the whole affair is part of its charm.

El Buzzard blare out monsterous riffs and a "fuck this shit" attitude, building some of the most cataclysmic and lumbering sounds heard since the hay day of the Melvins. They pound their instruments into submission, every once in a while allowing them to spew out a contorted Jesus Lizard or Orange Goblin inspired sound, layered in impurity. One listen and you will be done.

~Read reviews of this album?
~Post your own review?