Gorehead - Gorehead EP
On the top shelf of Gregg's bakery there is a pie. A large pie that is largely ignored by the general public because of its manky, almost impenetrable crust. If you were to manage to bite through that hard exterior then you would surely be rewarded with a mouth full of
Maggots, coated in a vile toxic paste that, true to form, would spew a red-hot, radioactive sauce down your chin. Like sucking off the Toxic Avenger. Possibly.
This is Gorehead's recent EP. Formed in 2011 they make vile, 'orrible music for vile 'orrible 'erberts. It’s aggressive, violent and nasty – like standing on a casually abandoned glop-sock oozing with spent population paste. So why would anyone want to listen to their insane racket?
Well, for all the splendid reasons I have just listed. Keep up.
If you want nice, sing-a-long saccharine anthems then go listen to the latest Bon Jovi Nashville tribute or invest in the latest Fickleback tripe. But when you've finished, roll them up into a conveniently sized tube and insert them into your little brown towel holder because, quite frankly, Manchester's Gorehead don't give a shit for pleasant, sugary anthems of love.
They drop the 'oh so offensive' C-bomb a few seconds in, before the music hasn't even started, sampling a classically venemous rant from The Thick Of It's Malcolm Tucker - and it introduces what can be best described as a musical equivelant. They don't care about your feelings and - from the whiplash warfare of Toed In The Hole, with its hellbound trem picking to the ear-grating bombardment of Diarroea of a Madman all that plagues their mind is a hellish musical destruction. In a scene which boasts many bands of seismic, headache inducing heaviness, few bands do it quite like Gorehead, and rise up towards the top end of bills at Rebellion and beyond of late is telling of their accomplishments.
This is not easy listening. This is four pure blasts of intense, heart-felt, granny-punching grindcore. Blink and you'll miss it, but like that spot on my penis, there's enough interest there to keep revisiting it. And remember... it's not big or clever to swear but it's fuckin' funny.
Words: Paul Cooke (penultimate paragraph by Phil Weller)