It’s easy to slip into that ‘arms folded, frowny face’ metal band cliché, but that’s not how we are as people,” Jon says. “Being super serious doesn’t really work for us. While dealing with hefty subject matter through the means of scalding riffs and roiling sludge might sound like a dour mix, Jon’s tongue is firmly in cheek, and the band aren’t the kind to take themselves (or their craft) too seriously. For those last few minutes, I just get inside my own head and give it everything.” Up until that point in the set I can always keep it together, but the ending to that song is my opportunity to truly purge. We like to end our shows with Last Of The Summer Slime from our Flatcap Bastard Features EP. We’ve had each other’s backs through everything and these songs are a catalogue of that, something to look back on and think ‘we got through that together’. I’ll look at my wife from the stage and we’ll have a bit of a knowing smile to each other. “It’s always an enjoyable experience for me, it’s never difficult to revisit those feelings live. “Standing on a stage, screaming about all the shit me, my family, those closest to me have gone through is the most freeing thing in the world,” Jon says. This feeling of unburdening and catharsis extends to the band’s ripping live performances too. It’s funny because day-to-day I’m not the sort to talk about my problems, but give me a guitar and a pen and paper to write lyrics and I’ll bear my soul. “Those feelings have been hanging over my head for coming up to four years now, and with Noose Almighty I think I’ve finally managed to exorcise some of those demons. Themes including grief, trauma, depression, and betrayal are explored in the trio’s NOLA worshipping sludge, and are heavily present on their debut full-length, Noose Almighty, as he explains. For Jon Rhode s, guitarist/vocalist for Rotherham rotters SWAMP COFFIN, this catharsis is vital. But beneath that, it deals with some incredibly heavy emotional load bearing, and yields a powerful catharsis for those who immerse themselves in its pitch black, brackish waters. On the surface it is unfiltered, nihilistic rage. Angular, ugly, filthy, wilfully inaccessible to the uninitiated. Of the branching family tree of metal sub-genres and offshoots, sludge is among those that lives up to its name the best.
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