Radge weegie bastards Gout mix crushing sludge/doom with hardcore fury into songs that explore punishingly low self worth to surprisingly enjoyable effect. Hey, ain’t no party like a self hate party, ‘cos the self hate party don’t stop. Right? Actual Bastard brings hopelessness, self doubt, nihilism, psychic dread, social anxiety and all yer best boys over for a bag of cans and a pitch black laugh. C‘mon let’s spiral.
Gout have been praised in previous dispatches here, receiving warm reviews for their sets at Core. Festival the past couple of years, but they really grabbed my attention (flared up, if you will) with their finely balanced reading of the old folk song ‘Newcastle’. Elegantly blending tradition with their own noise tendencies, it suggested they were a band that might have wider horizons than others of their ilk. Actual Bastard does not contain any re-imaginings of folk tunes but it does build on that sense of a band that is not content with the same old genre moves. While the musical ingredients here are a pretty familiar combo they make something of their own with it, the results are rarely predictable.
Similarly, lyrical abjection is a common bedfellow for this sort of bruising noise but Gout have advantages there too. Vocalist Ally is an impressively raw throated screamer but also manages enough control that you can tell he’s singing in his own accent. More importantly he obviously has sufficient belief in his words that he doesn’t bury them in growls, or blur them together. They are surprisingly clear. It is pretty bleak stuff, but leavened by sharp wit as on lead tune ‘I Am a Beacon of Health and Wellbeing’.
He starts out a prisoner in his own skin on ‘Inmate’ and winds up imagining himself the ground others walk upon in ‘Tarmac’. The second track is called ‘Too Bleak’ with what I take to be the sort of bitter self mockery that only makes things worse. Laughter starts latest single ‘Junk Sick’ before it opens on the poetic line “black birds they sing, with blood on their breath”. Moving with an upbeat chug it has a nice sense of space, there’s even something a little Killing Joke about it, a touch of Geordie in the guitar jangle. Closer ‘Tarmac’ is slower and bleaker than the rest, a string of images “I’m a kid in a car in a heatwave, I’m a wasp in a jar on your windowsill.” rolling out on a dry guitar clank in the quiet first half before everything turns up in intensity on a slow swell of noise and pain. I imagine they’re great live. It’s a lot better than actual gout.
