Frankenstein have a singer who sounds like he's spent his entire life eating lesser vocalists and gargling the ground-up bones. Their guitarist somehow gives the impression that he lives in a swamp, that he's playing in a swamp
right now, and that he doesn't intend to do very much else. Dark, ugly, filthy and loud, this band is indeed a monster.
The name is particularly appropriate—Frankenstein comprises the stitched-together body parts of countless other horror punk bands. After twenty years of live shows and lineup changes, they've only just gotten round to releasing an album. Still, the
Mona Lisa took twenty years to complete, and her smile was all over the shop.
An Ugly Display of Self-Preservation is a fun album, first and foremost. That's what good horror punk is all about, and Frankenstein don't disappoint. The album
does get a bit too, uh, bogged-down with the "swamp-grind" thing at times, but there enough bouncy, stompy tracks like
She Casts No Shadow and
13th Floor to balance the dirge-esque stuff like
Jesus with a Big V-8.
It's great to see that bands who don't take themselves at all seriously still exist.
Black Lung finishes with a cheeky wee "I see a pink lung and I want to burn it black". Quite.
The main problem with this album is that it gets tiresome to listen to after a while. Frankenstein have plenty of experience with live shows and compilations, and it seems like that's what they're best at. Any and all of these songs would work fine in a playlist with some stuff by The Cramps or The Misfits, y'know, just to lighten the mood a little. Frankenstein lack the groove of the former and the pop sensibilities of the latter, but they're grubby enough to comfortably rub shoulders with both.
Musically uncomplicated, not particularly original, but enjoyable enough. Buy one for your mum this Christmas.
An Ugly Display of Self-Preservation is out now on
Fiend Force Records.
http://www.frankensteintheband.com/
