If you can remember the awesomeness of DROWNINGMAN in the late 90s and into the early part of the present decade (before they left us with a flaming bag of poop on Thorp Records), then BLUES is going to trigger a lot of happy memories. With their physical brand of spastic metalcore, BLUES channels an obvious nod to BOTCH and the aforementioned brand of thoughtful jokers. Skipping over fourth-run southern-friend riffs for more nerve-damaging pastures, fierce bass undercurrents, and strategically deployed double-bass daggers, Snakepit is as aggressive and terrorizing as its title implies. With all five members contributing vocals in various stages of degree, BLUES harness a fan of screaming voices and the noise rarely comes to a rest. Amid the napalm-infested chaos are coarse lyrics that bounce between politically minded flashes of neocon indignation (“Bruiser King”), and the struggles of the insecure self (“Then, Came The Snakepit,” “The Bloated Mind”). Snakepit does nothing on the cheap, and that is BLUES’ most compelling strength – the band never settles for a predictable sound, and the songs are too ugly to be summarily dismissed. Great stuff.

Corrosive

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