Much has happened in the world since the last Satan’s Satyrs record. We were still in Europe then, the world wasn’t quite as violent or racist, and we didn’t have a clue what fake news was.
They were simpler times.
Much has happened in Satan’s Satyrs since then too. No longer are they the “other” band of Electric Wizard’s Clayton Burgess (he no longer splits his time between the two) and even more crucially they have a second guitarist. Nate Towle has beefed up the heaviness a touch, that’s for sure. But Satan’s Satyrs still sound like the type of band that got themselves in a commune in the 70s and have no real interest in the outside world.
Make no bones about it, Satan’s Satyrs don’t sound like any other band, really. They sounds a bit like a million of them. The cover, probably, gives it away. Two scantily clad women weightlifting over the type of colour scheme that hasn’t been seen since the first Springsteen record. This isn’t a 21st century record in any conventional sense, it’s not bothered with current trends, rather it is entirely concerned with having fun and doing what it wants.
Which is to rock. Hard, heavy and animal (as Krusher might have said).
Over nine songs and 35 minutes, you get a study in riffery. “Thrill Of The City” has a bit that sounds like a turbo-charged version of Elvis Costello’s “Pump It Up” but as much fuzzy lead as the average Fu Manchu record too.
Indeed, they are the type of band that has something just a bit wilful about them. Nothing as weird, say, as Hawkwind, just an air that there’s a bit of danger. The title track goes to some odd places, and does so for no other reason, it seems, than Burgess and the troops felt like it.
“She Beast” is something a bit southern rock (there’s even a slide guitar solo) but it slams, “Take It And Run” likewise, has just a flavour of the Allman Brothers or the West Coast vibe of The Band, but it does so all the while over percussion that has an uncomfortable side, as if to prove a point.
Reviewing the last one, I said that it had “lyrics that no sober man” would understand”. Now, I am not saying that they’ve done anything anthemic here, but it definitely has a more accessible vocabulary on work like the chugging “You And Your Boots” – made all the better by the AIC like guitars.
“Too Early To Fold” even manages a genuine catchy chorus over music that is as driving as Monster Magnet circa Powertrip, “Pulp Star” is only two and a half minutes, but isn’t punk rock. Rather it is proto-metal in the style of Blue Cheer, while the quite brilliant “Trampled By Angels” is somewhere between Mott The Hoople and Sweet – and is all the better for it.
It even finds the time to end with some proper metal licks. “Permanent Darkness” is dry as dust, but it works. Just like everything else here.
There are bands that don’t manage this many twists and turns in a career, never mind just over half an hour. That “The Lucky Ones” sounds so cohesive is testament to the skill of the band and their producer, Windhand guitarist, Garrett Morris. And furthermore, suggests there is nothing lucky about it whatsoever.
Rating 8/10
