Ulysses Trash is Dez Dare's follow up to last years rather excellent Hairline Ego Trip, this is more of the same very heavy fuzzed to the max stoner rock from Brighton based Auzzie Dez Dare. As this album has a bit of a multimedia approach getting a physical copy is a good idea so you can see the artwork and wonder and what's going on in Dez's brain.
This comes careening out of the speakers as They Scream, My Head Is So Full I Can't Dream that screams to be turned up as loud as you can, as the buzzing guitars are joined by Dez telling us about how totally overloaded he is, as he tries to overload the amps even more.
Tyrannosaurus Shake stomps across the speakers like it's about to go on a rampage in search of every fuzz pedal it can stamp on, as it shakes, shimmies and generally imprints itself deep in your brain, you want to shout it out loud, just how full-on stoner psych rock this is.
Bloody Sea, Holy Fuck is the sounds of exclamation when you realize the sea has turned red and you're not sure whose blood it is, just thankful it's not yours as the guitars romp and saw all over the place like a swordfish spearing its prey with a Kyuss on acid feel to it.
Ulysses 195 opens like the bastard son of The Stooges and early Black Sabbath with slow fuzzed to the max guitars and Dez's almost chanted vocals cutting through the intentionally murk laden production to end up sounding a bit Sacred Miracle Cave.
(Sweet) Exhaustion is a brief plodding welter of noise tune that has echoes of L7 and Silverfish but obviously with male vocals.
188.8.131.52. takes us back to the days when I was still selling shoes for a living, discovering lots of new music, this has more restrained drums and guitars that are just dying to take over and ram there fuzz addled noise into your brain, like your rammed into some sweat and smoke drenched venue hearing the loudest band you can imagine and hoping you'll still be able to hear the next day.
Trashin' is like The Moodists meets Orange Goblin as Dez tells us just how much he wants to trash our politics and move into a better place, after all the Trashin' is done and people start telling the truth again.
Claws has a Pussy Galore welter of noise feel as he tells us who's got there Claws stuck clinging to him, as those guitars just feedback and get put as close to the speakers as he can, as those fuzz boxes get another good stomping.
Outrage, Metrics, Mechanics, Death is thankfully not a modern update on The Godfathers mantra of Birth School Work Death, but in some ways of course the chanted chorus is, but the doom-laden Xylophone laden buzz saw and drill backing takes this someplace far darker, as our current malaise needs us all to avoid those burgers and chips as the insomnia kicks in once more.
Deciphering Momentum could be an article about why the British labour party are so unelectable the Tories got an 80 plus seat majority, how it was all Momentums fault, musically it would fit that, but of course the lyrics are not that specific, this has the rancorous guitars moving things along as bells ring out almost lost in the bass riff and doom-stricken guitars.
Pomp certainly doesn't stand on ceremony as it pummels and plunders the heaviest riffs it can find to bludgeon them into your brain like a slightly less Suicide obsessed Head Of David.
Quanta-Fied is slower than most of the songs on this album but no less covered in fuzz and distorting guitars getting into the physics of psyche rock monsters and how every now and then you must add tambourine to really make a track complete.
Rampage-On-Hi allows the guitars to rampage across your speakers one last time on this far too brief closing track.
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