You might as well pour yourself a bowl of black tar, whip out a spoon and dig in. Primitive Man dish out an unhealthy dose of black sludge with their debut record, getting a wider release treatment courtesy of Relapse.
Reviews: Primitive Man – Scorn
National Music Reviews
Primitive Man
Scorn
Relapse
Street: 08.20
Primitive Man = Eyehategod + Coffinworm + Fistula
You might as well pour yourself a bowl of black tar, whip out a spoon and dig in. Primitive Man dish out an unhealthy dose of black sludge with their debut record, getting a wider release treatment courtesy of Relapse. The riffs are laid on thick here, with an appropriate aural sense of something on fire. It fits the band’s name in a roundabout way––with true primitive man’s focus and lifeblood being fire. The title track and album opener may be almost 12 minutes, and in the land of sludge where audiences tend to tune out, Primitive Man can ensnare audiences to the point of their grimy black goo almost being addictive. While there are decipherable riffs and structure to this mess, Primitive Man fit well into noise metal—not just a downtrodden sludge audience. So lap up this tasty treat of black––just beware of the scorn. –Bryer Wharton
Scorn
Relapse
Street: 08.20
Primitive Man = Eyehategod + Coffinworm + Fistula
You might as well pour yourself a bowl of black tar, whip out a spoon and dig in. Primitive Man dish out an unhealthy dose of black sludge with their debut record, getting a wider release treatment courtesy of Relapse. The riffs are laid on thick here, with an appropriate aural sense of something on fire. It fits the band’s name in a roundabout way––with true primitive man’s focus and lifeblood being fire. The title track and album opener may be almost 12 minutes, and in the land of sludge where audiences tend to tune out, Primitive Man can ensnare audiences to the point of their grimy black goo almost being addictive. While there are decipherable riffs and structure to this mess, Primitive Man fit well into noise metal—not just a downtrodden sludge audience. So lap up this tasty treat of black––just beware of the scorn. –Bryer Wharton
Photos:
