The Inbreds - Groove Drenched Warfare
The Inbreds are a hard-touring, crusty-looking sextet from the deep south (of London). Their debut album, "Groove Drenched Warfare" has been festering on the racks since October 2004, but it's getting fresh attention in advance of the band's forthcoming new EP.
Essentially a mid-paced stoner metal outfit, The Inbreds take the obvious influences - like Corrosion of Conformity and Crowbar - and mix them up with Motorhead's raucous lo-fi metal groove. St. Vitus are also a point of reference - indeed, "Groove Drenched Warfare" often sounds akin to that band's "V" being played at distorting volume levels through cheap speakers placed underneath a swamp. You'll also hear early thrash metal ('Pocket Full of Mindfuck Drugs' shamelessly rips off Metallica's 'No Remorse'), and at times it's even reminiscent of the slower parts on grindcore pioneers Napalm Death's debut, "Scum". That sounds like a potent combination of bands to me, and if it sounds appealing to you too, then I can guarantee that you will not be disappointed by "Groove Drenched Warfare".
The Inbreds' sound is as loose and sloppy as hell (presumably due to all of those extra fingers getting in the way of the strings). A three guitar line-up fattens their sound to crushing proportions, while the bass throbs like an infected tooth and the drums crash and clatter like a barroom brawl. The production is gnarled and filthy, making you feel like you need to clean the pus from your ears after listening to the LP. Vocally, The Inbreds are several steps ahead of the bland shouters who typify the scene: imagine, if you will, that some horrific accident of artificial insemination/sex change surgery has resulted in Wino (St. Vitus, Spirit Caravan, etc, etc) and Motorhead's Lemmy being able to jointly conceive a child. Weaned on moonshine and cheap cigarettes, the greasy-haired offspring of that unholy (and thankfully hypothetical) union would undoubtedly sound just like Inbreds vocalist Joseph Luke Smith I.
Lyrically, the album is concerned with serving time in the joint, the ingestion of drugs and alcohol, and the life challenges faced by those whose parents had a few too many genes in common - "Webbed Feet and Moonshine" is actually quite touching. All of this is delivered with chewing tobacco-stained tongue placed firmly in unshaven cheek, as the hearty chuckles at the end of 'Septic Angel' show.
Buy this album. It's the perfect soundtrack to drinking beer, banging your head, and seducing your pretty cousin. Is there any higher recommendation than that?