Wolf Eyes 

Burned Mind

The twin demons of happy and catchy loom large over the world of indie rock, so it's been a while since we've had a blast of pure evil like Burned Mind. Wolf Eyes, three Detroit dirt-rockers clearly off their rockers, are determined to make you remember how good a lava enema can be. They make the sort of dark, grubby industrial-noise shards some of us feared everyone outside the Japanese underground had given up on. Cheery pop melodies? Ha! Beach Boys-style harmonizing? You're in the wrong corner of Sub Pop's catalogue. Mind is for those who find a hellish heaven in half-mad screams, prickly Einstürzende Neubauten guitar crackle and synthesized air-raid sirens.

From the futuristic Throbbing Gristle-y abyss of "Village Oblivia" to the final crush of "Black Vomit," there's a drop of bile here for every palate. Nate Young's incoherent, suggestive lyrics sweeten the deal, choosing to shortcut through the left brain to rage, terror and, occasionally, catharsis. Perhaps remembering how structure turned industrial music into mook metal a decade ago, Wolf Eyes smartly lets primal screech and hollow chill have their way with verse-chorus arrangements before letting the record stop with a sudden, terrifying implosion. Wolf Eyes will scare the crap out of you with its wasteland of noise and, more importantly, with the realization that you don't know what the hell you're so scared of.


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