Rawk! Old-school, leather jacket, faded t-shirt, bandanna-wearing rock. Yup, The 9s deal in no-messin', balls-out, riffmongerin' rock, bristling with guitar licks and sacks full of 'hell yeah, fuck you' attitude. And you know what? It's pretty damn good. Perhaps I've had a glut of weak jangling indie recently and am growing weary of the procession of generic post-rock acts that pass through my aural receptors, because while I never dug all that cliche guys with guitars rock posturing and still don't, The 9s sound exhilarating and fresh. They're more punk than the spandex crowd, and are pretty pissed off for the most part, and that definitely helps.
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From the opening two and a half minute guitar blast of 'Wresting Tigers' to the last notes of 'Guilt, Time, Regret,' some eight tracks and a mere twenty six minutes later, there's little let-up in pace, and 'Here Be Monsters' feels like a cohesive and vital slap around the chops. Ok, so the vocals are a little high in the mix (and perhaps a little average, too), but it's succinct and short on neither hooks nor welly.
http://www.myspace.com/the9srock
http://the9s.bandcamp.com/
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