“Thought Nest”
Saint Rose Records

If you would like to use this review or an excerpt from it, please credit Aquarius Records.
“After a tiny handful of way too limited cd-r releases, and an endless series of devastating live aktions (including a show stealing opening slot at our 2009 South By Southwest showcase), comes the long awaited full length from this SF boy-girl-boy doom-crush psych-sludge power trio, a sprawling five, track, 40 minute epic, that will definitely hit the spot for all of you hard and heavies that like it slow and low, and dig the likes of the Melvins, Harvey Milk, Boris and other slo-mo dirge merchants. But Prizehog infuse their low end assault with all manner of druggy psychedelia, warped doom pop and blurred blissed out slow-core, conjuring up a sound that pounds and pummels, drift and shimmers, grinds and churns, slipping effortlessly from bombastic Melvinsy howl and chug, to a super hooky heaviness, that reminds us of the warped Buttholes beholden noisepop of Prizehog pals Wildildlife, from a sort of bluesy, blissed out tarpit ZZ Top swing and swagger, to a dark and dolorous black hole heavy slowcore a la Codeine or True Widow, often all wound up into a single song.
Thought Nest begins with “Swayback”, opening with a little bit of harmonica flecked blues fakeout, that quickly transforms into some seriously downtuned heavy doompsychblues churn, lurching and mathy and metallic, but laced with some subtle groove, the vocals a sort of worldless croon, the song pounding away before slipping into a woozy, washed ouy lysergic haze, a blurred starfield of chiming guitars and whirling layered melodies, before returning to a more swaggery, slithery lumbering crunch, only to finally blossom into a skull caving, knuckle dragging bit of slo-mo dirgery, all bellowed howls and keening high end tones, wrapped around a pummeling, drum heavy dirge-metal doom-pop workout, grinding its way through clouds of tripped out FX, and finishing off like it began with a bit of harmonica-y blissed out blues, before one final blast of churn and chug.
“Dunner” is up next, unfurling a stretch of tripped out shimmer, draped over garbled soft focus white noise, all hovering beneath clouds of cymbal sizzle, spidery guitar melodies, a druggy bit of drift, before a flurry of monstrous drumming drags with it a glorious psychedelic metallic cacophony, wild squalls of tangled guitars over intense double kick drumming, only to slip right back into something way more abstract, moody and murky, a sort of blackened slo-mo ballad, some simmering slowcore shimmer, bleary and blurred, almost like a more metallic, more drugged out True Widow, the sound dense, and layered, alternatingly smeared and shimmery, soaring and pop flecked, crusty and crunchy…
The oddly titled “Aykranoid” explodes with a chugging almost Eighties style metal riffing wrapped around some pounding black hole drum pummel, wild swooping and swirling effects, and some seriously twisted vox, the aforementioned vocal bellow, but here even MORE bellowy, drenched in effects and way up in the mix, spitting out mush mouthed stream of consciousness vokills, that add a weird psychedelic avant pop vibe to the otherwise more metallic backdrop, before again shifting into a slow slithery crawl, the sound epic and majestic, but still muddy and murky, warped and woozy.
“1865″ is a bit more introspective, a slowly materializing smoldering bit of chordal guitardrone buzz, spread out into a gauzy hypnotic hypno-dirge, the beats spread way out, each chord allowed to ring out, and fade into something softer and more shadowy and nebulous, a contorted bit of dark dirge droniness, the sound shifting from crash and crunch, to muted thrum, all very trancelike and ritualistic, especially when the ghostly washed out vocals drift in, the sound transforming into a sort of crumbling, super distorted dream pop, again sounding more like a bastardized True Widow or Codeine, although here the sound grows ever more caustic and corrosive, but never without losing that moody pop vibe, just getting louder, and more dense, eventually locking into a more metallic bit of contorted churn, only to bliss out a bit, before a final stretch of lurching, pounding pop flecked pummel.
Finally, the record finishes off with “Rammsong”, which begins in a cloud of grinding guitar noise, and swirls of chaotic buzz, a wild bit of droned out static psych, out of which emerges yet another gorgeous bit of low slung slowcore shimmer, dreamy and druggy and drifty, before exploding in a blast of seriously cruching metallic riffery, the drums a wild octopoidal pound, the vocals that weird Tom Waits / Buzz Osborne bellow, the sound nearly schizophrenic, flitting from pretty drift, to damaged dirge, rife with cool little gnarled guitar licks, streaks of feedback, layers of buried melody, a stuttering sprawl of strangely melodic heaviness, an expansive epic chugscape, that seems to grow more poppy as the song unwinds, and weirdly enough getting darker and more dense, while simultaneously seeming to space out, drifting into something more psychedelic abstract. The song finally begins to dissipate, the various elements loosed from structured song and allowed to float weightless, a darkly delirious night sky of loosely tangled melodies, of overlapping spectral voices, of washed out guitar buzz and deep low end rumbles, soft focus effects and dreamy druggy blissed out ambience.
Fucking SO RULING, gorgeous stuff for sure, crushing, hypnotic, heavy and heady, poppy and spacey, the sort of thing that should appeal to folks who dig the dooooom, or the druggy psychedelia, or the dirgey slowcore, or the warped pop, or the sludgey metal, and just might be your favorite new record if you dig ALL of those. Which we absolutely DO!!
Pressed on 180 gram vinyl and LIMITED TO 500 COPIES!!”

Aquarius Records


Available in black, navy or brown

Alive and Well CD-R
If you would like to use this review or an excerpt from it, please credit Aquarius Records.

“Folks outside of San Francisco are probably unaware of the bitchin’ underground rock scene going on here, and we’re not talking about the experimental / drone / cd-r scene, that scene is happening too but those folks get way more press. We’re talking about the bands, the rock bands, that play basements, play at Thrillhouse Records, a killer performance space / shop in the Mission, who release cd-r’s too, but whose sound is more metal and sludge and rock than drone and drift and shimmer.
Wildildlife when they were here were part of that scene. So are Ovens, THE best pop band in the city (with a record coming out on tUMULt any day now), then there’s Robocop III, who we’ve yet to hear, but like based entirely on their name. And then there’s Prizehog, who have probably played with all those bands, but whose sound is all their own.
Their cd-r is 5 long songs, each one a slow building, brooding chunk of slow motion heaviness. It’s metallic, but not really metal, heavy and sludgey and dark, but with weird bits of epicness and majesty mixed in. There’s definitely a Harvey Milk thing going on, and we’d be WAY surprised if fans of that band didn’t dig these guys as well. Not so say they’re aping HM, more like they’re sort of orbiting the same sonic black hole.
Plus Prizehog have a lot more spaciness going on, lots of swirl and shimmer, long drawn out stretches of dark drift, rumbling low end and ominous dronescapes, often sprawling into moody abstract slowcore drifts, peppered with synths, skeletal rhythms and blooping bleeping effects, that slowcore sometimes sounding almost like a blackened doom metal, before returning to their glacial downtuned pound, impossibly slow crawls through near static metal riffage, and squalls of drum splatter, and a howled guttural voice that sounds like it’s gargling glass and spitting blood, the whole band a lumbering beast, lurching from chord to chord, note to note, occasionally pausing to rest beneath the glimmering starlight, before rising again to continue on its path of utter destruction.
Heavy, fucked up, freaked out, distorted and brutal, space-y and sometimes sorta pretty, bet these guys destroy live, but for now this chunk of filthy heaviness and sludgey crush will do just fine.”
Aquarius Records


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