(Sin Klub Entertainment)
Imagine your typical bunch of kids from the rough side of the Bronx or someplace equally unthinkable, bored with lost weekends guzzling rotgut, vicking the occasional escort and taking it for a joyride. Suppose this crew tossing out the first post-Sabbath semi-thrash that popped into their heads and you’d have, well, Agnostic Front or Crumbsuckers, sure, but Michigan hicks Chrome Helmet act and play as if they’d never heard of such bands, taking an angry post-punk approach to all their seriousness that’s endearing after a fashion. Sounds like they’re Misfits and/or Ozzy fans, but Carl Wilson’s vocals are more comic-bookish, often bordering on what Powerman 5000’s Spider does these days. Production is big and fat, meaning it won’t earn indie rocker of the year, but if there’s one person left on earth in the ProTools age who honestly favors boombox production over professional quality, they should think about jumping off a very tall building. All that is to defend Chrome Helmet’s honest effort here, which demonstrates a strong capacity for growth if nothing jaw-droppingly new.
