Hot Snakes - Suicide Invoice
(Swami)
When reputation precedes you, expectations can easily outweigh the finished product. Especially when the reputation involves power rock stalwarts such as Drive Like Jehu, Rocket from the Crypt, Mule, and The Delta 72. However, the challenge of exceeding expectation is the fuel of champions, and this is clearly demonstrated on the latest Hot Snakes release. Rick Froberg takes the manic energy of Automatic Midnight and focuses that force with laser-like precision into a fierce sophomore full-length, packed to the gills with more catchy hooks than a national Bassmasters competition.
If there is a signature sound to be found within the churning stomp of a Hot Snakes song, it would have to be the driving, pulsing intensity that fires the twin guitar assault directly from the speakers into the bullseye-painted ears of the listener. The album opens on a slower note with "I Hate the Kids," a none-too-subtle stab at a demographic without a work ethic. The next two cuts begin with an open chord strum, introducing tracks with more punk power crammed into two-point-five minutes than most acts can pack into a ten-year career. "XOX" features thick chords with a buried harmony that sounds increasingly dense as organ is added toward the end. "Who Died" is another brief blast, capped by Rick's anthemic shouts over a blistering progression.
But the real meat of the record is found in the middle third of the songs, starting with the title cut. Jason Kourkounis pounds out a thundering beat as the vocals come front and center during the relatively tame verse before exploding in fury during the chorus. The highlight of the album may be "Paid In Cigarettes" with its odd-time verses and absolutely infectious bridge. The last minute showcases John Reis dueling with Rick as the guitars pile on higher still with each passing second until organ swells up in the background and leads the fade out. "LAX" is here and gone in the blink of an eye, but not before you catch yourself yelling, "L-A-X!" at no one in particular just before a seamless transition into the equally crushing "Bye Nancy Boy." The band reaches maximum riffage on "Paperwork," as the intersecting single-note guitars give way to a reverb countermelody that seems to float above the mix while Jason stabs the toms like a man possessed. You may feel stunned when the sonic mayhem finally subsides.
Even though the drums and guitars tend to dominate nearly every song by manner of their sheer density and fury, Rick's voice is always easily heard, whether harmoninizing with himself on "Unlisted" or sounding painfully slighted on "Why Does It Hurt." The rhythm section may be the coal for the fire, but the shovel is clearly in the hands of the lead singer (singe-r?). It's hard to imagine a band keeping up this level of intensity for an entire record, but when you can lay waste to 12 tracks in 33 minutes, then brevity is a plus. If that seems too short, put the record on repeat, and at some point later on you'll realize that your head has been bitten & burning for days on end. HOT SNAKES!
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