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Visualizzazione post con etichetta Drug Honkey. Mostra tutti i post
Visualizzazione post con etichetta Drug Honkey. Mostra tutti i post

giovedì 22 febbraio 2018

Drug Honkey - Cloak of Skies

#FOR FANS OF: Psychedelic Death/Doom
Every evening cars pull up and park in front of my house, yet no one is here to visit. Instead, as the average societal drone prepares for a relaxing night, the twilight shift begins for the human excrement with which I have the misfortune of sharing a fence. Itchy, sniffling, pale-faced denizens of the darkest corners of this town descend upon a hapless sleepy street searching for their choice chemicals. Once in a while, in a fit of desperation through intense withdrawal, the neighbor's yard is invaded with screaming and the sounds of windows being pounded all around the property. This is but a taste of my front row seat to a reality that this band reflects as Drug Honkey directs its delirium through distortion, capturing the dragon and watching it decay in a pit of its own delusion.

'Cloak of Skies' aims to tackle the slow, undesirable, and unending delirium of falling into a drug addled demise. Where Black Sabbath overdosed on heroin in “Hand of Doom”, Drug Honkey has found an even more potent opiate concoction to nod off on. Laced with fentanyl, the band slings junk that is best left to an intimate album setting because “Pool of Failure” would make for a boring live show. Still, many may want to get their fix from the source, and “Outlet of Hatred” visits that skeevy squalid slum, like spending a night in a roach motel bordering an industrial park. Train horns blow by in frequent intervals, the interminable pounding of a headboard against a shared wall keeps generic paintings applauding the local prostitution economy, and the stench of pickup truck exhaust invades the gaps and cracks of the curtained window, intermixing with old cigarette smoke to remind you just how thin a building can be built while remaining within the engineering specifications of the municipality. The only stability one may have throughout Drug Honkey's journey is a knowledge that the possibilities are endless when it comes to scrounging up the cash for a fresh fix. Evenings are spent dining on mouthfuls of dick and ransacking humble homes to hock other peoples' possessions for far lower than an appreciable resale value. Yet with every fresh syringe of vein-pumping toxicity, “The Oblivion of an Opiate Nod” falls farther away as death creeps closer.

'Cloak of Skies' is a journey into damnation by way of self-destruction. The album is slow and dingy with growling vocals, psychedelic moments, and loud gravely guitar rhythms while leads scream in and out of each song in a kaleidoscope of synapses showering in endorphins. There is such a large swath of atmosphere and so much open delirious space that this band would probably not work well in a live setting, but on a recording comes across as addled and hopeless as hitting rock bottom, curled in a corner of a strange basement, and fading away into nothingness. So tie one off and join the epidemic, but don't expect to come back from this binge because Drug Honkey promises no NARCAN. (Five_Nails)