It’s always good to see that amidst the commonplace of overproduction and join-the-dots band set ups, there are still those willing to get their hands dirty. Those yearning for the rare thrill offered by groups of this calibre should look no further than the Lubicon Lake Band.
Founded in Lancaster and now steadily seeping through the rest of the nation, this bass-and-drums duo don’t mince words. Their debut Lake EP is an aggressively in-your-face brand of stoner rock that grabs the listener by the maritals and refuses to let up for its brief yet potent fifteen minute duration.
The snappily-titled opening track ‘Krod Mandoon And The Adventure To The Lubicon Lake (Introductions)’ is eerily subdued. Beginning with the first of several samples that punctuate the EP, an unknown narrator timidly recounts the history of the North Albertan Indian tribe from whom the band take their name, unaware of the distorted torrent of sound building behind him. “They are still ours” he states more defiantly, before we are finally exposed to the full force of the Lubicon Lake Band, with a groove as infectious as they come.
The minimalist combination of Alistair Birrell’s bass guitar and Mark Kitchen’s drums form a surprisingly complete sound, whilst the disembodied howling of the former over the first track is gloriously inhuman. Birrell’s vocals return to something vaguely resembling normality for ‘B.D.C.’, as we begin to see a little more structural variety enter the fray. The song’s heavily marching riff is interspersed with call-and-response verses, with the vocals squaring up bravely to the assembled throng.
“It’s obvious…” chuckles another voice, almost taunting us as we wait to see what else the Lubicon Lake Band can throw at us. The band satisfy our curiosity with ‘Layne Hanging’, a tale of someone with an overenthusiastic, morbid interest in a hanged suicide victim. It is here we see the band falter slightly, failing to maintain some of their previous focus. The song contains some fantastic lines, and the subject matter is wonderfully dark, but the pacing is unsteady and doesn’t stay with one idea for long enough to truly absorb the listener. It is by no means a bad track, but it’s not the best the Lake EP has to offer.
However, this flaw is forgiven by the time ‘Granelan’ lumbers into view. Beginning with a much higher and smoother bass tone than the rest of the EP, Kitchen’s drumming is impeccably tight as the duo build in intensity. By the time the band return to familiar territory at the start of the first verse, they have created a foundation for one of the EP’s finest moments, a barely-mobile dirty roar.
Birrell, himself, throws everything into his vocal performance, producing a series of screams and howls which sound barely within his control. The Lake EP closes with ‘Woodface’, yet another solid offering. A pounding introduction leads unexpectedly into the most melodic vocals of the entire EP, before leading into final furious spat between instruments as the breakdown fades away. The track ends on a loop of discordant piano and Roswell conspiracy, providing an unforeseen and slightly disconcerting conclusion.
The Lubicon Lake Band’s debut EP rarely pauses for breath. The enormity of sound produced by this duo is nothing short of astounding, and there’s never a dull moment with the sheer musical brutality they have to offer. The relatively short duration of this record perhaps plays to its advantage.
Although ‘Granelan’ rescues the Lake EP from stalling around the midway point, the band may not have been so lucky with an album format. Further experimentation in sound and style could only benefit the Lubicon Lake Band, if increased variety were carried off with their already strong musical foundations. It won’t be winning any Nobel Prize’s any time soon, but over-thinking would only take away from this EP’s glorious, violent, charm.