I’m taking one for the team. Nobody wanted to review this record. Nobody. I mean, come on, who really wants to associate themselves with a band called AIDS Wolf? At least Test Icicles is kind of funny. I don’t suppose I have to explain why it’s a deterrent. So it remained on the review list and languished for weeks. Still no takers. So, out of the interest of having the damn thing done, I’m reviewing this record, and here’s how it goes.
AIDS Wolf, you see, they want to ruffle some feathers. With a name like that, hirsute nude press photos and eight tracks of abrasive, agitated no wave, one can only assume that they’re out there to get a reaction, but not necessarily a positive one. At this point, the reader has probably heard more about their exterior aspects, such as that awful name and those photos, that the music seems almost secondary. But believe me, there’s no forgetting this band’s sonic fuckery.
On “Spit Tastes Like Metal,” the band pounds out a series of atonal guitar chords, that is when they’re not pounding out the same atonal guitar chord, and shouting without any respect for melody. Whether they’re aware of its existence or not is of no matter. This is not pop music, despite how you may prefer to classify it. “Chinese Roulette,” however, is a little more on the accessible side, steering toward the spastic punk of Arab on Radar. “We Multiply” does a similar trick to a slower extent, and from there they keep getting more obnoxious and grating, primarily because there’s no differentiating between most of the tracks. This noise could be more captivating and dynamic had they the discipline to develop it more, but alas, it comes out in short bursts and immediately disappears just as its gotten your attention.
AIDS Wolf, most likely, exists for the sole purpose of making you cringe. There is an audience for this sort of music. Hell, I even have a couple friends who may legitimately like it. But to these ears, it’s more than a little unnerving. It’s clear that on The Lovvers, AIDS Wolf achieved what they intended to accomplish. But as far as standing out among their noise rock peers, they’ll have to spend a little more time on a sound that will do it for them.
Whitehouse – Birthdeath Experience
An Albatross – An Albatross
Arab On Radar – Soak the Saddle
Jeff Terich is the founder and editor of Treble. He's been writing about music for 20 years and has been published at American Songwriter, Bandcamp Daily, Reverb, Spin, Stereogum, uDiscoverMusic, VinylMePlease and some others that he's forgetting right now. He's still not tired of it.