Far from the relaxing trundle through tendertown so eloquently posited in both its title and artwork, Dregs is a bone-jarring unkindathon from three Devonian noise rock whelps. As an indicator not only of the groups’ intent, but also of where they might head next, this is a winner.
With all the restraint of the US military, opening track No Dog Has It’s Day starts with that special upper-register feedback that feels like eating used needles, before exploding Mullet Burden-style into a white-hot barrage of screaming and riffs. Its 3.26 feels impossibly brief, but don’t worry, there’s no shortage of punishment on this record.
The spasm-ing, discordant assault that is Choke is a joy for those of us drawn by the thrillingly berserk. Lightly indebted to the skronk of Ten Grand – albeit significantly roided out – this was a personal favourite and genuinely brutal.
The last two tracks here alternately demonstrate Tendrils’ ability to slow right down to borderline sludge, and their desire to exist at the very edge of their attainable speed. Flecks of the Locust, Discordance Axis and Karp leap in and out, as though try to board and depart from a speeding train. In no respect is this a bad thing, and those of you who enjoy being beaten within an inch of your life by everything will find much to admire here.
The sheer incandescence on display is, in itself, commendable. But the band very rarely revisit old ground, preferring instead to move on to new pastures of impossible savagery. Of particular note is the drumming, which is performed as though the man involved was being chased by wolves.
A tremendous, spirited and extremely acidic release, that will hopefully find fans in many people, as it has here.
Grand.
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