While certain trends in heavy music become dated and creatively redundant within a matter of months, the virulent strain of disgustingly fuzzed-up turbo-punk favoured by Satan’s Satyrs remains as thrilling as it was the first time Blue Cheer plugged into their amps.
There’s no room for subtlety or sonic cleanliness in this world: this is a gloriously raw and wildly distorted rush of red-eyed stoner rock abandon that rides roughshod over notions of modernity while tapping into the feral bite of early Bathory and Philthy-era Motörhead.
The level of distortion on display during heads-down tirades like Electric Witchwhipper and Servitors And Myrmidons suggests that this band have a malicious desire to disorientate scorching through their veins, but this is not just an exercise in flat-out filth; the urgent riffs and nihilistic vocal refrains point to an intensity of focus that nimbly counteracts those startling levels of aural deviance. A despicable journey through six-string Hell that deserves to soundtrack a biker movie starring Lucifer himself.
