Sick Shit – “Thick Spit”
Sick Shit is an interesting name to me.
It’s very ambiguous.
Someone could hear this band playing, be unaware of their name, and say, “Man, that’s some sick shit,” displaying his or her approval. Or like last week in the TNB office’s when Andy Bang barged in and caught me doing some consensual bondage with a penguin- he said to me, “Man, that’s some sick shit,” which he, of course, meant in an entirely different way.
And sick used to mean ill, but now both those words mean “good.”
And shit means different things- like short for bullshit, “Man, I’m not gonna put up with that shit with the penguins.” Or- “Man, that shit you do with the penguins- it’s the shit!”
But there comes the time in every young mans life, and every music review where one must put aside ones whimsical dreams of Antarctica inter-species S&M role play and dive into the subject at hand.
Sick Shit is a female fronted, New Jersey band who uses tags such as grindcore, hardcore and power violence. And, to the best of my knowledge, have no connection to penguins.
Let me add this is highly intense, highly emotional, highly expressive, highly creative, aggressive music made to grab you by your genitals, your heart, by your ears and by your soul.
This is powerful stuff, built to pulverize your ears into dust, let’s proceed with the medical procedure:
Starting with a lone, high, hysterical vocal that reminds me a bit of Cry Havoc or Bikini Kill taken to another level, “Discarded” comes bounding in with a tornado of sounds and rhythms with drums and guitars bashing and blaring in an eruption of pure joy, or maybe pure madness. “Fucking hate you but your voice still lives inside my head. It is hard to concentrate on moving forward.” There’s some death metal vocal response and an awesome, headbanging groove that pops up and is my favorite part. That is until, it returns to the great first part and then speeds up into double time! This song is as harsh as it’s reflective, abrasive as it is beautiful and great on all accounts.
“Wet Lung” starts with an intense, hitting, pounding sound like a sledgehammer banging a spike into a railroad track. Then we slide into a hardcore dash with the energy burning up in flames while the death vocals start knifing in again. This song is powerful and intense while being equally, exciting and emotional at the same time. The lyrics offer a snapshot of an offhand moment: “You’re smacking your gum while smoking a menthol cigarette. You chew it the entire time. I look up at you and catch a glimpse of your expression, distracted and detached. You look bored, we lock eyes and you feign interest with the slightest smile.” The music roars and growls unlike the cool, contemplative lyrics. And ends in one mad rush of musical bliss.
“Trichotillomania” is a bit more of a conventional, rockin’, punkin’ song that is, it is, until the tempo double times into the chorus. This song rocks and in its’ short time sneaks in a great, headbangin’ part before returning to it’s terrific beginning. And by harnessing and drawing on the original spirit of punk, it succeeds greatly and gets my utmost, unconditional approval.
“Clot” is just an unrelenting assault of aggression and venom, abrasiveness and energetic display. It’s in your face, it penetrates your mind, it presses closely against your soul and violates it in an uncompromising but excellent way.
Sick shit has some sick shit and I mean that in the most complimentary way.
They seem to delve into the extreme music of power violence and grindcore while also adding enough punk and hardcore energy, and metal headbanging grooves to some of the more reluctant into their web of sin and despair (but don’t forget the musical riches!). And no, I’m not implying they make their music more palatable or commercial. I’m stating that they make their music better and more strong by doing so.
But artists have to step into some deep shit sometimes, just to show where we are all headed.
I think all the best artists do that- not the pretentious, pontificating, pussy footing fools that sometimes try to sell their craft as art.
But the true ones know, that the true art is sick, oftentimes showing the malignancy of society and coincides with defecation as a release of all you’ve taken in.
It’s dirty and grimy, distasteful and upsetting. It’s not there to make you feel content. It’s there to jolt you, to take notice and maybe make you think or feel in a new and different way.
And I feel that Sick Shit succeeds at this on all levels.
This is some true art.
This is some sick shit.
(Slimedog)
