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Clouds | We Are Above You | review | rock | Lollipop
We Are Above You (Hydra Head)
By Craig Regala
If chugliness is next to godliness, Clouds are tuggin' on the great one's hem, grinnin' and waitin' for free beer. For this's a record of chug built from the whole idea of mid-tempo riff stompin', regular guy bellowin' (about stuff), mated to a grit-eyed surliness of those who shat in many a punk squat on their way to the next gig. One of my imaginary roommates chucked up the snot bomb "Oooo... Great, a buncha guys in their late 20s who wanna remind everyone they had Melvins, Saxon, and Squirrel Bait records from their cool uncle." Now, this is only an insult from an anti-rockist turd who's gonna get punched in his fuck hole for farting out so much pissy attitude. Although the statement does carry enough truth to point towards the hard rock lineage these guys inhabit.
Look: Rocking Hard is important. It's an invigorating, life-affirming action with tempos that match breathing and fucking, two other life-affirming things you've been granted. Rocking bleeds off the blues with its acceptance of the negative bullshit it gulps down and shits out. It arms you to walk out and deal with all kindsa ugliness from humiliation at work to your dickhead, pillhead brother ripping off your signed Kyuss Sky Valley to sell for dope.
We Are Above You (har!) is a power boot up yee olde grunge's ass, without the junkie self-hatred/pity and slovenly, dirty hair. Since they inhabit Boston, let's hope they play the Only Living Witness reunion show and knock out DYS, Miltown, Bullet La Volta, Buffalo Tom, We're All Gonna Die, Mission of Burma, Aerosmith, and Slapshot covers. That'd be fun and appropo. As far as today's peers, they're playing with a couple of'm: Boris and Torche, and it's hard to complain if someone throws'm in the pit with Akimbo.