Where they from?
Brooklyn, New York. Wow, what can I say about Brooklyn that I already haven’t in at least a half dozen columns before this? Seems like nowadays every American grindcore band is from Brooklyn, Portland or Chicago. Whatever happened to bands coming from Florida or like, I don’t know, Maine or some shit? When was the last time you heard someone say “Yo, bro, you gotta check out this killer grind band, they’re from Nebraska”? NEVER, THAT’S WHEN!
What do they sound like?
A cartoonish cacophony.
Why the hype?
I don’t use the term “cartoonish” lightly as Vixen Maw does feature songs with full on Looney Tunes meltdowns that would make Tex Avery happy. The keyword here is “experimental,” and not in that catch-all kind of way where it’s just a shitty hardcore band that has a feedback-driven intro that goes on for a little too long. No, I mean EXPERIMENTAL.
Rarely while fishing the internet for new grind bands do I come across a group that I can safely say has an idiosyncratic sound, but a few times a year I come across something rare and unique, and this is definitely one of those times. I feel like the core music of this band harkens back to a lot of those unhinged, one-man projects that were putting out their music through Grindcore Karaoke circa 2008-2012, specifically Nohari, who I still feel are one of grind’s all-time unheralded treasures. It’s a certain mix of downtuned malice mixed with the eccentricities of music that focuses more on psychological despair than on the usual political fare that gives these guys their impact, as well as a flare for over-the-top use of soundscapes that really makes this band a wonder to behold. Also, they found a way to fit breakdowns into all of this?
The Fucking Classic (Demo). If this is only a demonstration of what the band is capable of, then I can honestly say I cannot wait to see what an actual full-length would sound like. These five songs are basically a really bad acid-trip through the darkest recesses of the human mind that still finds a way to stop and kick your ass a few times, like the fight riff at the end of album opener “Annihilation In the Afterglow.” I would pay good money to see hardcore kids attempt to mosh to the cartoonish meltdown in the middle of “Pink Elephants on Parade.” Do yourself a favor and get in at the ground level with this band before your local artsy powerviolence kid does. Depression is only the beginning…