Still

Chicago's Weekend Nachos are anything but a one-trick pony. In fact, they pull several different tricks out of their bag, each one of them native to the grindcore genre. Utilizing some of the most extreme varieties of music known to man is one, including augmenting their grind/hardcore hybrid with traces of noise, sludge metal, crust punk, power-violence, and yes, a little death metal (although to a much lesser extent than any of the other subgenres). Next up, like many grindcore titans, the quartet clearly have a sense of humor, too, and are not shy about showing it off. (Just a quick scan of "Still"'s song titles, much less the lyric sheet, is irrefutable proof of this fact.) And, of course, it is a given that jarring, unorthodox guitar figures, nightmarish vocals, a filthy-sounding bass tone, and hyper-active drumming are also going to be staples of the band's sound, which on the whole, is one that falls somewhere between early Napalm Death, AxCx, The Locust, Extreme Noise Terror, and Discordance Axis."Sickened No More" is a vicious, forty-three-second long opening blitzkrieg that begins by fading in with a feedback-spewing intro before jarringly blasting off into hyper-kinetic, lightning-fast grindcore dissonance with brutally breakneck grindcore blasts anchoring squealing guitar noise and NYCH-style call-and-response vocals. Next comes "No Idols And No Heroes," an almost shockingly dense and sludgy number. And while this reviewer will not go so far as to call it a mid-tempo piece, it does feature some actually memorable and sludgy, chug and churn riffs that would not be out of place coming from, say, Soilent Green or Eyehategod. But immediately following it comes another less-than-subtle bludgeon in the form of "S.C.A.B.," which returns the record to its "everybody going bats***" grindcore roots, churning out nightmarish guitar figures and frenetic blasting by the bucketload. The vocals, meanwhile, are of the surprisingly intelligible variety, and feature some Sick Of It All/Biohazard-esque, hardcore-derived gang shouts.Then, following two vicious, face-ripping bludgeons ("Satan Sucker," a head-tearing exercise of dirty, rolling bass lines, grumbling guitar noise, gonzo drumming, and surprisingly low, death metal-esque growling, and "Late Night," a lightning fast blitzkrieg that rivals the album opener in the velocity and brevity departments), "Still" ventures into slightly experimental territory with "Watch You Suffer." Easily one of the album's two longest tracks, this mini-epic kicks off with a grumbling bass intro before launching into hyper-kinetic territory with brutal drum blasts, lumbering rhythms, and frantic vocal screaming. From there, though, this 3 minute and 25 second long piece does return to moderately mid-tempo pacing by a slightly restrained, chugging breakdown, and even goes so far as to venture into a feedback-laced section of near silence complete with quiet melodies and ominously sludgy, churning rhythms.Moving along, "Wolves" might be home to a particularly sludgy and dirty-sounding bass part as well as some booming guitar licks and larynx-vaporizing screams, but is actually mostly a standout on account of it featuring some insane drumming, too. The only time skinsman Brian Laude takes a break from churning out pain-inflicting, stop-start grindcore blasts, it is to lay down some really tight and crashing cymbal rides. Suffice it to say, it is one killer performance on his part. Next up comes a more traditional grindcore cut in "You're Not Punk," an absolutely vicious and head-spinning sneak-attack that takes on the "everybody soloing at once" style reminiscent of Eighties-era grindcore."Ignore," with its big, lumbering, trudging, and almost Meshuggah-sounding riff slice, is another standout, although "Yes Way," which augments sludgy, chug and churn guitar licks with spastic trapkit annihilation, and neck-wippingly fast tempo changes, is an even bigger highlight. This, of course, could be, in a large part, due to the fact that the song also adopts a rhythmically lurching, staccato groove near its end, though, too. And next in line, before the album doles out its closing epic (the title track, which clocks in at an uncomfortable near-four-minutes in length), comes "Broken Mirror," another exercise in totally blown out chaos, as it is a mind-boggling and seemingly octo-limbed blastfest from beginning to end.It goes without saying that Weekend Nachos are certainly not going to be everyone's cup of tea (pardon the metaphor confusion, there). Indeed, even the most straightforward and traditional-sounding parts on here are so extremely far beyond the confines of normalcy that there's just no comparison. But hey, since when has sounding "normal" ever been a really high priority for grindcore fans? As such, the bottom line is that "Still" does nothing if not substantiates the band's growing reputation in the underground extreme music scene.

What a stupid name for a band, heavy or otherwise. That's what I had previously thought. But now I understand, it's perfect. The band is an indulgence to be savored in sparse amounts, hence the brevity of the album. Silly, serious, steadfast and never superfluous, Weekend Nachos get to the point and the point is rocking socks off in a grindcore/powerviolence/hardcore tornado that invokes Nasum, Noisear, Pig Destroyer, Magrudergrind, Gaza, and others while retaining an individual stance all their own. Don't let first appearances fool you, it's worth the gooey cheese inside!