Matt Butler
Motörhead changed my life. Then the Ramones did. And Guitar Wolf. Public Image Ltd probably did as well. Then there was NoFX… and Henry Rollins. And Kyuss. Maybe even Monolord.
Come to think of it, Elvis and the Beach Boys probably changed my life as well, as I listened to them as a child (thanks mum and dad) and still harbour a desire for the former artist’s leathers and the latters’ garish Aloha shirts.
All right, I will admit it: every new thing I hear gives me something – even if it is just nausea. And it is this that keeps me looking. One day I might even find something as life-changing as Ace of Spades was all those moons ago.
Even if I don’t, the exploring is still fun.
Oh, almost forgot. I am a Kiwi, I like long walks (well, runs), socialising (whisky), good food (chocolate and pork scratchings) and cosy nights in (doom metal by candlelight). And I am a Pisces. In my day job I write about people in shorts.
Articles by Matt Butler
The joy each brought to the room – as well as heaviosity in abundance – was fantastic to see.
A beautiful, mesmeric, riff-laden collection of songs with the tightness and musicianship that comes with playing together for a decade.
This is the aural equivalent of beondegi, a popular Korean street food made out of steamed silkworm pupae. It smells something between an old dishcloth and an open sewer – and it is excellent.
Fauna have a storied history and strong adherence to atavistic and ecological values. Which makes it all the more disappointing that this album is dull.
It is fine, but therein lies the problem. “Fine” isn’t an adjective that you want to hear (or write) about a new piece of music.
Ticks all the death-metal boxes, it punches you in the face with brutally fast music, spooks you with sinister lyrics and garrottes you with a few guitar solo wails before leaving you to deal with the aftermath in less time than the Ramones’ debut album.
A straightforward headbanger of a record, with a host of late 90s and early noughties motifs, but lyrically and musically very, very heavy.
If you are a fan of the band you’ve either heard all these songs many times, or chosen not to hear the ones you don’t like. If like me you’re new to them, you are in for such a treat.
On first listen this album appears inaccessible – mirroring the sea in a cyclone. But if you concentrate, you can see the beauty in it.
Fuzz, hooks and big-ballast bass. But this is so much more than a stoner nostalgia trip.
This has a swagger and a groove. All the best bits from their previous works have been crystallised into a quintessential Year of the Cobra album.
Everything is played like a percussion instrument. It is intense, even by the standards of metalcore. And Grief Ritual are very, very angry.
There is so much melody and joyousness in this record – not in an “everything is awesome” kind of way, more of a “you are worthy, no matter what others think” message.
This is as 1980s as Drew Barrymore looking quizzically at ET. But it is from a darker, grimier version of the era, where people in skinny jeans and heavy eyeliner made spooky music.
Undeath have certainly found their voice on this one. And that voice is putrid, groove-pocked death metal that was clearly written to entertain, ruin hearing and wreck necks in a live setting.
Even in the realms of extreme metal, Ulcerate are producing something genuinely original and moving. This will probably be my favourite album of 2024.
The listener is let into a dimly lit world, where you don’t have to put on a mask of cheerfulness, it is OK to sit back and become a puddle of however the hell you want to feel.
Hashtronaut place more footprints on the well-trodden path of weed-themed stoner-doom – but they do it very well and have obviously been listening to the right bits of the best bands as influences.
The songs picked give a glimpse into their musical upbringing – or at least a flavour of the country they grew up in. And it is also a very good Beastwars album.
