Karate, Guns & Tanning - Concrete Beach
Molten commotion washed in corrosive six-stringed glitter, “Concrete Beach,” is hard pulverized fun from start to finish. Booming beats, funky solos and enraged mayhem steamroll over techno-squeaky riffs pitted against thundering synth-punk struts while snarling, chaotic robotics bolt cosmic breakdowns to well-stocked narcotic-rock caught inside dream-pop dreadlocks. Razorbacked ricochet shoegaze caves into clanging dangers from half-asleep machinery seething in steely doses of sonic implosions, the entire affair flirts with alert apocalyptic urges, teasing crushed industrial sludge bubbling beneath swampy grinds and reverb-drenched chants perfect for strobe-lit mosh-pits or intergalactic battlefields. Armed to the teeth, KG&T’s acid-washed arsenal plant sonic bombs and light cruise-missile fuses while lyrical nun-chucks debunk mind-numbing thunder, launching overloaded goading with heavy angsty energy bringing immense splatter-proof backdrops to backlit satellite cavalry.