Posts Tagged ‘shock’

Greedy Media – 5th June 2026

Christopher Nosnibor

Fuck me, a new album by The Dwarves? They’ve now been going fully forty years. How? How is Blag Dahlia even still alive? They may have reined things in around the turn of the millennium, but no act this controversial, this wild, this excessive has a right to still be here after all this time. But we should be grateful that they are. The 80s were very different times, and while being perverse, gruesome, antagonistic, and all the rest for its own sake is a good thing – and G.G. Allin style shock for the sake of causing offence, disgust, or revulsion was never big or clever, and that we’ve moved on is a good thing… but. The danger is that we’ve come to a point where challenging artistic expression can be too readily conflated with misogyny or other discriminatory practices. No question, it’s a fine line, but confrontational art, at its best, challenges us to confront not only what’s socially acceptable but also our own boundaries and prejudices. Moreover, right now, is fringe art which is ugly and repulsive any more ugly and repulsive than mainstream discourse in politics or social media?

Unless it’s expounding ideologies of hate, is it perhaps not a function of art to test the boundaries still, as was always the case? The very purpose of punk was to raise a middle finger to the establishment, to be offensive to cultured sensibilities. Punk was rebellion. Somewhere along the way, something’s been lost. In truth, much was lost early on, when many punk acts signed to major labels in ’77 and ’78, but the spirit of punk remained, but underground. Now, much of what passes as punk is pathetically tame. Sure, Green Day gave us American Idiot, and used a major label platform to bring us their social and political critiques, but they were essentially no more than Clash copyists and fairly mild in their expostulations in real terms. The extent to which one can call the work of The Dwarves art is debatable, but it’s unquestionably punk in ethos.

The band which gave us gore, nudity, and an actual dwarf on the cover of their 1990 album Blood, Guts & Pussy (which packed twelve songs into just shy of thirteen minutes), and whose guitarist HeWhoCannotBeNamed performs live wearing a jockstrap at most, do what they’ve always done here: short, fast, abrasive punk songs about drugs and death and drugs and more drugs. The longest of the album’s fourteen songs is two minutes and two seconds long (‘Damned if I Do’, one of the album’s most accessible, catchy, and commercial songs, which packs in verses, choruses and a guitar solo); and the rest sit around the minute and a half mark.

And while PC is still not a concern for Dwarves, opener ‘Confused’ takes a balanced approach to gender confusion, touching on hypermasculinity within its squalling minute and eight seconds. ‘We Are The Scene’ melts together The Dead Kennedys and hardcore with some unexpected melody while flexing muscles.

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‘I’m Dead’ (which brings a heavy hint of The Ramones) and ‘I Wish You Were Dead’ seem to offer common thematic ground, albeit from different sides of the fence, and ‘Bad Drugs’ (a poppy tune about prescription drugs like Adderall), ‘Drug Lust’, ‘Too Messed Up’ and ‘Psychosis Tripping’ are all self-explanatory in their focus and frenzy, and much of this hopped-up set sits between The Dead Kennedys and Black Flack. It’s the quintessence of old-school punk, fast and furious, but with melodies packed and stacked, fun takes priority over shock or offence.

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Testimony Records – 8th September 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

‘We are living in troubled times and it is hardly surprising that this is reflected in any form of art including music. On Mazzaroth, Sodomisery have spun a dark lyrical yarn about mental illness in society, religion, and the struggle of the individual, which is running like a red thread through their sophomore full-length. The Swedish melodic death four-piece are underlining their loosely conceptual approach with a remarkable musical evolution’, says the bio which accompanies this album.

There’s no misery like Sodomisery. At least, that’s what I’ve heard. For reasons I haven’t explored, while society has progressed – and I do mean this broadly and generally, being most aware of the fact that homosexuality and many things more widely accepted remain not only illegal but subject to severe punishments in a large number of countries – the word ‘sodomy’ carries brutal connotations which continue to hold currency in the circles of the

blackest of metal and industrial and power electronics. It’s true that Whitehouse’s Erector (with its blatantly unsubtle ‘cock’ cover) was released in 1981 and things have moved on a bit since then, but how much? Many of these bands are, as far as I can discern, less concerned with contemporary perceptions of anal penetration, whereby in permissive western society, it’s generally accepted regardless of sex or sexuality, and in pornography, it’s more or less considered essential, and more preoccupied with the harsh, perverse connotations of the writings of The Marquis de Sade – one of the few writers whose work still has the capacity to truly shock. And in this context, sodomy connotes the worst of sexual tortures, the infliction of pain, a statement of the ultimate power dynamics. It all seems appropriate given the band’s objectives.

This album had an interesting evolution, too: ‘When all the new tracks were written and pre-produced, SODOMISERY decided to create two versions of the album. One mix included keyboards and orchestration, while the other version had no such additions. After an extensive period of deliberation and many listening sessions, the Swedes decided that the new dimension and cinematic feeling added by the keyboards was exactly what their songs needed.’

Without hearing the two versions side by side, I’m in no position to comment, but the fact of the matter is that the keyboards certainly have not transformed this into some twiddly prog-rock effort: instead said keyboards are low in the mix but serve to fill out the sound with elongated droning tones against the relentless, thunderous fury of frantic fretwork and double-pedal drumwork that’s faster than the eye or ear can process.

There are some moments of such tunefulness that one has to take pause and breathe for a moment. We’re not just talking clean vocals or tuneful; there are moments, albeit brief, of outright pop sandwiched between the furious rage and overloading distortion. But rather than diminish the album’s power, I find myself respecting the band all the more. To have a softer breakdown in a song is one thing: to be so unashamedly clean and crisp and tuneful is bold.

‘Delusion’ balances all of the various elements nicely, coming together to forge a blasting yet grand and graceful dirty monster of a track which even packs in a heroic guitar solo near the end. Juvenile snickering ensues here with ‘A Storm Without Wind’, and I know it’s not funny and the delivery is entirely serious. Not least of all the lung-ripping bass that prefaces the throat-ripping vocals which snarl over guitars which alternate between old samples and snippets stolen from the present.

It feels scary, like being left alone on a platform and staring into the abyss. Any minute and it could retreat, and leave you falling into the void, and on the evidence here, you’d incinerate in seconds. Ultimately, we’re all scared. Mazzaroth is a worthy soundtrack to that fear.

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