The Corruptors

With a hellacious rock’nroll momentum, Corruptors, featuring Barry Ward of MDC and RKL, elbow themselves into a kind of sweat'n'biker frenzy formerly associated with the likes of High on Fire, Turbonegro, and Murder City Devils, with a mad wink and romp tucked into their churning tunes like “Crossfire.”


“So Called Friends” lets loose with a lyric about sheer trouble and party blackout / drinking bout mayhem, with a roiling attitude and surging guitar shaping heir intense wall of sound. "Fucking Rad” doesn’t let up either, though it crushes with heavy downstrokes that remind one of the grueling bottom-end of Killing Joke. Although, the American-to-the-bone lyrics are an homage to V8 engines, the sheer thrill of muscle car velocity, and gas fumes belching into the sky, plus they dwell on tough-as-nails ladies with smokes and high heels.


The heightened, ear-pummeling pace of "Holy Rollers," with its writhing guitar and soaring vocals, could force a tectonic shift in the earth. Its lyrics, though, depict all Bible-thumping people as cartoon copies of each other.


Indeed, this band melds purebred rock’n’roll with punk gulps, but beneath the hairy groin action, whiskey breath, sweaty lagoons of keep-it-real feeling, and smashdown power, like the quick-paced hellfire surplus of dangerous "City Woman," is also a kick against the lamebrains and squares that try to maintain an unfun, bloodless, sex-shunning world.