Sandrider 

Sandrider

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I'll never forget that moment at Total Fest a few years back. I was just breezin' by the second stage in The Palace to get a PBR when I was stopped dead in my tracks by Seattle's Sandrider, who were splitting minds and rocking so hard that it makes me dizzy just thinking about it. Finally, their debut goods are delivered in seven solid epic tunes that will be wedged somewhere in this new explosive metal/punk/prog/whatever spectrum (Kylesa, Red Fang, etc). Rather than exclusively lean too heavily on those genres, Sandrider raise the flag toward that late-'80s damp tube-amp basement vibe, when scuzzy-sounding color vinyl singles were sent to your mailbox and gigs were a $3 cover charge with beer included. Songs like "The Corpse" could've easily appeared on the Sub Pop 200 comp and "The Judge" could be on the first few rounds of the Dope, Guns Am-Rep compilations. You'll be skating your ass off to "Scatter," the LP's brain-melter. The riffs are uncomplicated and steady, always picking up steam and digging up Jesus Lizard, Pink Fairies and KARP in one short wheezing breath. Hook up your crappy speakers for a listen. Everything I've said so far is understatement.

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