"Southern Worship" marks the critical 3rd release for the Brothers Francis & Co of Stumbledrunk, and any follow-up to last year’s excellent "Collusion" had best cast a large shadow or be forever doomed as a musical misstep. And the first glance isn’t all that promising – There are only four tracks to this release.
So good thing the Wow factor is there. Somebody congratulate StumbleDrunk on their successful marriage of punk to lofi grunge-ness. No prenup required, this is a marriage made in… somewhere. See what we mean –
First track in, "Psycho Billy", noisily crashes down the sonic barriers that surround the punk genre like… well, a horde of beer-buzzed, mohawked psychopaths. Concatenating multiple guitar-slashing waves down into one fat crunchy-muffled thrust of manic aggression, Psycho Billy ain’t for the faint of heart. It starts with dissonance, the vox squatting almost too low in the mix, and it intermittently blunders into discordant intervals and other aural oddities. But at all times the track proudly projects the Billy in the title, edging towards us in a fear-inducing "he ain’t all there" shuffle.
The next track in, "Con Tajin", feels more like what we’re used to from our punk – the opening drop-dead bass riff and drum pattern are more easily discernable (compared to the psychotic ramblings of "Psycho Billy"). They eventually give way to some excellent fast-thrashing, presided over nicely with some near-metal lead guitar.
"Paranoia, Tx", an excellently-bass-lead piece, rumbles up and caves into walls of crammed-down and punched-up guitars, occasionally swerving into a muddily-mixed mess of noise, then popping out again into some instant-classic jam.
The last tune, "Shotgun Bible", comes at us straight from our rock roots, with the epic chords finished off with those lower-mixed vocals, giving an eerie edge to the take-away track. Perfectly nasty.
Overall, yet another excellent release from Stumbledrunk; a collection that shows you were punk should have ended up, had there never been a PUNK bin in the CD racks at the Walmart Superstore. The occasionally-muffled, lo-down and lo-mixed vox give the impression that they played these in the basement, but Mom recorded it upstairs at the kitchen table on one of those cassette tape boxes where the microphone is built into the case. But don’t take that the wrong way – we’re blown away by the obviously natural progression it turned out to be. –Scott Osborn
Find out more about Stumbledrunk at home (http://wearestumbledrunk.com/) and on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/StumbleDrunk).