Vultures

Wolverhampton based heavy-weights God Damn make music that appears - initially at least - as curt and brutish as their name suggests. A curse word. A blasphemous affront to Him upstairs. God Damn. A name to be rolled around the mouth and spat out, a rheumy glob onto English pavements. But scrape away the layer of the greasy grime that coats their early singles like bacon fat in a post-hangover fry-up skillet and there is much more on debut album 'Vultures' than just machismo, bombast and bluster. There is nuance and melody. Purpose and meaning. Heartfelt intent. 'Vultures' is a stunning and diverse debut, a dizzying blend of barbed wire guitars, lung-shredding vocals and drums that run away like wild horses and released on One Little Indian Records. 'Vultures' presents a universe of sound, from the low-end melodic boom of sneering anthem 'Silver Spooned' through the sub-dark psychedelic breakdown of 'We Don't Like You' to the unexpected lo-fi strummed opening of the throbbing and utterly tumescent nine-minute sludge epic 'Skeletons'. As debuts go God Damn have nailed their colours to the flagpole and torched the fucker.