Droids Attack – Fatal/Error (Crustacean Records)
By Jay Snyder
November 11, 2009

You know, sometimes we just got to get back to what made us squires in the doom n’ sludge realm from the very beginning; big riffs. Born from the same, pot dense breeding grounds as fellow Madison, Wisconsin kinsmen Bongzilla; power trio Droids Attack have more riffs, hoarsely shouted vocals, wah-wah drenched boogie and grooving rock n’ roll rhythms than you can shake a stick at on their second LP, Fatal/Error.

Honestly, this unit fills the void recently left by Sofa King Killer, as the Ohio rock n’ roll thunder outfit has just called it quits for a second time! While that news is a fucking big time bummer in my camp, it is at least nice to hear a record that swings with bluesy crunch in the vein of the geniuses that brought us such classics as Stout Soaked Songs, Lust, Crime and Holiness and Midnight Magic.

At an even 11 minutes of running time, one might think that opener “The Lord” would probably turn out to be a slothful, doom curmudgeon and be better off as a closing track, which is not the case at all as Droids Attack doesn’t really embrace the slower side of doom, instead wrangling with a deviously delicious uptempo boogie. The extended intro does get rather crawly in the vein of classic doom, introducing psychedelic guitar blues, interstellar space noise and steady rock n’ roll rhythm inflections to build an intricately moody opening, but at the 2:40 mark the punk laced, catchy sludge of DA becomes noticeably apparent. Nimble riff after riff of southern-friend, occasionally wah soaked groove goodness and a staggering drunk attitude raise a tallboy into the air, and hook you in to never let go.

Everything from the punchy pacing to the delightfully workmanlike rhythms, bring to mind quality, classic rock n’ roll, touching on a vast canon of bands from Grand Funk to Black Sabbath to Clutch to Bongzilla and Sofa King Killer. It is that kind of heavy, sludge-y rock action that goes down well with a case of PBR and a fat spliff, delivering only the most powerful riffs known to man. There isn’t one lackluster riff throughout the track’s lengthy running time, and I was hooked from the very first note, with that same, tidal wave of energy flowing through every vein of the kinetic, cosmic boogie of its successor “Steven Seagal”. First of all, any song about the action star that features the lyrics, “He’ll take you down, karate chop!”…is pure gold in my book. Bad action movies are close to my heart, although this is hardly a bad song. No way, it is pure riff satisfaction throughout, even more riled up and ornery than “The Lord” with a soulful, blues shuffle that never lays off the throttle; always moving forward and never dragging ass. Each riff and lead out of Brad Van’s guitar is pure southern dirt of the highest caliber. It doesn’t matter that it doesn’t hail from exactly south of the Mason Dixon line, it’s omnipotent in its cantankerous, uplifting groove with the rhythm section going full bore all throughout, and Ben’s sourmash shout adding a great deal of “fun” to the proceedings.

This shit makes me want to get drunk as fuck and waltz around the house, smashing the occasional table or other assorted piece of furniture! The desired reaction from any worthwhile unit of rock n’ rollers you’re likely to hear in a club full of bikers, cheap whiskey and overhanging, smoky haze.

Same holds true for the thick, sweaty grooves of “Malachi Crunch” and “Long Time Coming”. No rocket science here, just big riffs and plenty of ‘em, although “Long Time Coming” does strip away a bit of the harshness of Brad’s vocals for a cleaner yelp and even the music follows suite, dipping into something a little more like Alabama Thunder Pussy in its catchy structuring, driving grooves and streamlined solos; definitely more of a traditional stoner rock number, but with enough grit n’ dirt to make it far from the norm.

Easily the standout for me here is “Dope Smuggler”…it just builds on one riff from the next and blows through catchy, yelling vocals that really stick to the ribs, with an almost Helmet-like staccato stomp taking the reigns, if Helmet was a Sofa King Killer cover band that is. The riffs at both the 1:20 and 3:13 mark literally make the hairs on the back of my neck bristle with delight…honestly there is just no stopping DA in the riff department. They are at the head of the modern class and deliver some of the best sludge n’ roll these ears have ever heard. I hate constantly going back to comparisons, but seriously this shit swings just like the mightiest of SKK and even early Soulpreacher tracks like “Sunday Morning Revelation”, but with less of the depression of the second act, and more booze akin to the first.

“Blood of the Earth” is a quick little train wreck of groove n’ riff dementia, but sadly doesn’t last long enough to make a lasting impact…not that it isn’t a good tune, it is, but it needed to go on for a little bit longer than it actually does. This problem is remedied by the lengthy, NOLA stomp of the largely instrumental “The John Oates Mustache Ride”, where the band trade equal blows between swinging riff rock and subtle, psychedelic noodling; a good mix, as the band is quite deft at getting slightly gentle and spaced-out whenever the mood strikes them.

This mighty record comes to its climactic finale with “Scythe in the Fire”, my other favorite besides “Dope Smuggler”…again there isn’t much in the way of finesse or subtlety, but instead there’s a maelstrom of riffs hurtling at you like Gatling gun fire tearing across a Civil War battlefield. Once again, there isn’t a bad riff in the bunch, as each one is truly exceptional, but the behemoth groove at the 4:00 minute mark is another one of those…”oh shit, what a riff” moments that easily ranks amongst the mightiest riffs to ever come out of a southern sludge sounding outfit’s amplifiers.

On top of the music, the artwork is some of the greatest I’ve seen in a long time, done in total cartoon style with robots stalking around a spaceship and killing off the crew and passengers…a stroke of fucking genius that fits in perfectly with the band name, boogie and just about everything else.

To reduce this overblown fraction to lowest terms…if you like sludge that welds riffs, catchy hooks and driving heaviness to a general ideology of good ol’ fashioned, hard drinking fun, then this is your new favorite band. I’m obsessed with this disc. It blares in the bedroom, on the computer, in the truck and pretty much everywhere I go. Easily, THE band to heal your hurt if the SKK break-up will leave a hole in your heart.

Is this anything that you haven’t heard before? Well, probably not, but who gives a fuck when it grooves this hard? Certainly not this guy, that’s for certain! I wish I would have got savvy to this disc a long time ago, as it has been out well over a year to my knowledge, but I’m glad I came to the party late rather than not at all. Fatal/Error rules, and anyone who digs blown-amp, southern groove, Sabbath smash and ass kicking, high-flying sludge-rock, this album is the equivalent to a pirate’s den of hidden treasure. Fucking phenomenal…check it out if I’m speaking your language!

Visit the Crustacean Records website at www.crustaceanrecords.com