Distorsioni: Thee Gravemen "Thee Gravemen"
[translation by Google]
There have been many bands who look for their borrowed masks and stereotypes of American horror tradition of the fifties and sixties. Think, just to mention the more, the Fuzztones of "Monsters a go-go" (and not only), the warbling of the afterlife of Lux Interior, up to certain degenerations "licantropiche" by Jon Spencer and his Blues Explosion. An aesthetic of halloween trick-or-treating, Tales from the Crypt comics, horror movies of Roger Corman, and a hundred other b-movies, werewolves, zombies, vampires, man-eating aliens, creatures from the black lagoon, voodoo, Vincent Price and Bela Lugosi, Ed Wood and Vampira.
Being in front of a band rather than for its horrific image dusts off the old British Hammer horror with Christopher Lee Dracula-sharpening canines on the neck of some helpless and pale girl of Albion, though it certainly does not shout to the novelty of sure whets the curiosity of those on the front cover of the disc of pop-gothic Gravemen, in which the two shady characters in a top hat and black coat seem to welcome us into a graveyard inhabited by bats. The music and the look of the Swedish duo (Sir Lee Tea on guitar and vocals and Devilish Daz Trash to beat behind the drums) moves all around the themes dear to a lot of horrific play-garage revival and psychoblly ancient and modern, in which the size teenage music shows in the "pleasure of being afraid" of aesthetics from vintage horror films, that Gravemen respect to the letter even in their live performances. My girlfriend is a werewolf, My witch (truly remarkable), Gravemen, Friday at the hideout, the cemetery Six feet down are some of the titles where the fascination with the horror becomes cheeky fun garage rock.
The sound is harsh, lo-fi without excess, rigorously recorded in mono, and favors the primal stomp of the blues, and the sparse instrumentation puts even more emphasis on the pounding tribal drums (listen Let there be drums to believe). The simplicity of the lines reverberated guitar (the sound is unmistakeably a Fender Jaguar) characterizes the groove of the band. The mixture of music has its roots in the riff of Bo Diddley, Hasil Adkins of the gaunt rokabilly, in howls of Screaming Lord Sutch and Screaming Jay Hawkins, shaken together with the guitar Poison Ivy (not random the revival of a song as a Green Fuz, classic garage-sixties already revisited in Psychedelic Jungle, but also Hey there pretty baby Shake it and felt tributes to riff Ms. Interior). This item, in the best tradition psycho abounds with reverb and vibrato spectral evoking the exquisite vulgarity, Mr. Purkhiser, obviously maintaining the proper proportions (God forbid) but listen to Shake it to get an idea.
The end result is fun and the disc you can listen to the end, though not without a few moments of boredom given by a certain rhythmic repetition, but between werewolves, witches and bats the group knows how to make amends.
A perfect album for Halloween: "Thee Gravemen" is a great soundtrack for a night of witches rock'n'roll.