Dreg – “Who Is To Blame?”
Dregs, definition:
1) The remnants of a liquid left in a container, together or with any sediment or grounds.
2) The most worthless parts or parts of something.
In the early day’s of Boston’s legendary punk club, The Rat-
When the staff wasn’t busy ripping off the bands, or the club’s bouncers knocking people’s eyes out. (That actually did happen once, the club was suspended, shut down for a couple of weeks.)
They were selling pitches of Rat Brew.
Not until many years later, did it come out that what it consisted of, was the dregs of anything left from the partially emptied beer bottles of the night before, just poured all together and served, chilled the next night.
I mention this, partially, because I have no information about this band, except, I believe the drummer of this band- who is indeed named Jake, is part of Goolagoon- Boston’s best power violence band. And I’m willing to bet, he never punched anybody’s eye out.
And with my non-knocked out eyes, I see tags for “crust, D-beat, hardcore punk.”
But to my ears it sounds very close to power violence, the music all the hip cats are dancing to, nowadays, at the happening discotheque-a-go-go’s.
I may be in the minority, but I really don’t find this music danceable.
Though, musically, I feel it’s capable of knocking your eyes out into the socket of a pool table, or refiguring nearly all of your other body parts.
Let’s proceed to the examination table:
Feedback guitar and what sounds like whales emoting introduce “Intro” as a scream leads a rockin’, punkin’ rhythm with what sounds like a nightmare being played over it. Great, chuggin’ bass in the middle, along with snatches of doom and punk and goth and noise, somehow put in one big blender, mixed and divvied out delectably.
“System Of Failure,” starts with some heavy, doom chords and people screaming while they’re, evidently, being electrocuted to death. But soon the mood perks up with an Iggy & The Stooges like groove and echo-ey vocals sounding like ghosts bleating from under a tombstone. The beat stops and starts along with shrieks and what sounds like a Chuck Berry lick from hell. The rhythm doubles up in the last moments, as the goth vocals moan, the scream remain persistent and the guitar feedbacks once again. Great little number.
“Silent War” with it’s surf like tom-tom drum intro leads into a faster tempo with slicing, grinding guitars and other-worldly vocals, all banging and crashing in an energetic, aggressive, ominous, tremendous display.
“Dreg” is the bands’ theme song, much how like the Banana Splits had one, once, too. Maybe not as good as that one, but this one ain’t half bad coming out with a one-two punch of roaring guitars and blasting rhythms ripping the tops (and ears) of our heads off. Brutal, abrasive, hard and uncompromising- but, I guess, that would describe every second of this great release.
Starting with the obligatory, guitar feedback, bulldozer guitars and a warning from the Emergency Broadcast system, “Flesh Stains,” moves forward digging into our minds and ears with a barrage of noise and carnage. The vocals echo down a corridor somewhat reminiscent of an old Public Image record. The guitars buzz, distort and growl while the drums, billy club them into submission while a trilling, grindcore lick descends. All leading to a wonderfully, aggressively, eerie, spooky end.
This band does not consist of the “dregs of society.”
Though, it appears to me, that society is, in fact, the dregs of our life. Lowest common dominator prevails, popular taste is always horrendous and you just have to look at our current political environment for any relevant reference to what I suggest.
But Dreg inspires and looks ahead and falls into the ranks of the current bands that are reaching towards a new style, a future music.
There’s bits of power violence, D-beat and grindcore here, along with vocals that hark back to eighties goth.
But like all these new bands I write about- they combine chaos and confusion, randomness and abrasiveness, guts and passion, noise, despair and anger that to me is, or at least should be, the soundtrack of the reflection of the young people in America looking at the horror of the world that the old ones have left them.
But unlike the pain and ugliness that inspires these young bands to make music that is nasty, hard and uninviting- what lies in the heart of their music is truth and awareness and a light that shines clear and pure and bright.
And it’s, actually, quite beautiful no matter how course and rough it may seem.
Because it glows with art and there’s nothing more beautiful to me than true art, even if it’s ugly in sight.
I feel there’s nothing more great or beautiful than that to experience.
This is beautiful.
(Slimedog)
