Review by Rosh on September 9, 2023.

Sludge, more than any other style of metal, thrives on an impoverished and dingy feel that sets the backdrop for a crabby and burned out attitude towards the oppressive world at large, distinguished by a serial inability to avoid derailing setbacks, including encounters with the law and penultimate kidney failure. Eventually, though, all the suffering proves ineffectual at crippling the southern porch-dweller's indomitable willpower, or rather, futile at penetrating their opaque numbness to misery. And really speaking, substance abuse aside, it can be said that the sludge pioneers had their ways of coping with poverty and dejection, namely through playing appropriately sleazy music and getting into unscheduled skirmishes on the side of the road with white-collar douchebags.

Dave "Dixie" Collins' Weedeater, the project he shifted his attention towards after the breakup of seminal sludge band Buzzoven, is far too underrated in this field, most likely because it's not something most healthy people actively seek to indulge in. Weedeater's brilliantly titled debut album, 2001's ...And Justice For Y'all from Game Two Records has, in time, become a classic of the stoner/sludge genre, but back then it was just another example of doom's increasingly cannabis-oriented approach circa the late 90's/early 00's, found among many other labels such as Rise Above, Man's Ruin, and Southern Lord, to name a few. Really, it wasn't until the Season Of Mist reissues of Weedeater's back catalogue came out in 2014 that they became recognized as one of the premier bands of the style, and then only for their debut and their 2007 comeback effort God Luck & Good Speed. In between those popular records, though, sandwiched like the marshmallow in a stale moon pie, you'll find a rather (in)complete package of stoner/sludge in 2002's Sixteen Tons. While not perfect, what with its less exciting attempts at structure and direction towards the middle (this music is supposed to serve time in the middle of nowhere, not lead to epiphany), Sixteen Tons offers up something special in its griminess and general (lack of) attention to detail.

First of all, if I didn't know what "sludge" metal was by definition, a fusion of doom metal, hardcore, and in this case stoner rock, I'd most likely still describe this music as "sludge metal", because that's what it sounds like, with the cheaper-than-dirt guitar and bass tone that makes Born Too Late sound smooth and silky, and Dixie's abrasive, sandpaper-in-throat vocals. The loose working man's blues of cuts like 'Potbelly' that make sludge metal feel carefree, dare I say "fun", are well balanced against the decrepit dirges of songs like 'Bull' and 'Dummy', which are just a notch less suffocating than bands like Grief or Noothgrush. Sabbathian grooves are nonetheless abundant, spicing up the riffs in the sample-heavy '#3' and the more up-tempo 'Lines'. The former 2-minute jam leads into the one track I have mixed feelings about, that being the mellow porch-rocking-chair ballad 'Woe's Me', which is effective at conveying the burned-out hick's activities around late-afternoon once the shotguns have been cleaned and the dogs fed, but the thing is I'd rather BE accidentally shooting my toe off with a shotgun to grumpy sludge metal than be icing it with a cool can of RC cola afterwards. Sorry, Dixie.

Honestly, though, another thing that makes this band feel so underrated to me is the fact that they capture the distinct swing of classic sludge metal tracks like 'Sister Fucker (Pt. 1)' and 'The Blue' so regularly that you know they payed close attention to the parent records of those tunes in their formative years, yet they still have the occasional southern-fried Electric Wizard or Cathedral riff, like on the song called, well, 'Riff'. Album closer 'Kira May' is also actually a lot more successful at what it tries to do than 'Woe's Me', thanks to more prominent bass work and the lack of vocals, as well as by virtue of it being the final track.

Overall, Sixteen Tons is a relevant album to the entire doom genre and a minor classic of the style, being far more authentic and tastefully tasteless than the countless "bong" clones this band and Bongzilla seem to have inspired, who for some reason overshadow masterful modern traditional doom like Iron Void or The Wandering Midget. It's also an interesting snapshot of doom around this time period, since by this point circa 2002, doom metal had already been around for 20-30 years (depending on whether you mark Black Sabbath as the birth of doom as a distinct subgenre of metal, or bestow that honor upon the debuts of bands like Pentagram and Saint Vitus) and stoner and sludge metal had already been around for 10. And yet, there was this crop of now somewhat classic bands in this span of years that combined all three into something so filthy that it's almost surprising when you realize it's a gem to be unearthed. All in all, solid sludge.

Rating: 8.7 out of 10

Review by Rosh on September 9, 2023.

Sludge, more than any other style of metal, thrives on an impoverished and dingy feel that sets the backdrop for a crabby and burned out attitude towards the oppressive world at large, distinguished by a serial inability to avoid derailing setbacks, including encounters with the law and penultimate kidney failure. Eventually, though, all the suffering proves ineffectual at crippling the southern porch-dweller's indomitable willpower, or rather, futile at penetrating their opaque numbness to misery. And really speaking, substance abuse aside, it can be said that the sludge pioneers had their ways of coping with poverty and dejection, namely through playing appropriately sleazy music and getting into unscheduled skirmishes on the side of the road with white-collar douchebags.

Dave "Dixie" Collins' Weedeater, the project he shifted his attention towards after the breakup of seminal sludge band Buzzoven, is far too underrated in this field, most likely because it's not something most healthy people actively seek to indulge in. Weedeater's brilliantly titled debut album, 2001's ...And Justice For Y'all from Game Two Records has, in time, become a classic of the stoner/sludge genre, but back then it was just another example of doom's increasingly cannabis-oriented approach circa the late 90's/early 00's, found among many other labels such as Rise Above, Man's Ruin, and Southern Lord, to name a few. Really, it wasn't until the Season Of Mist reissues of Weedeater's back catalogue came out in 2014 that they became recognized as one of the premier bands of the style, and then only for their debut and their 2007 comeback effort God Luck & Good Speed. In between those popular records, though, sandwiched like the marshmallow in a stale moon pie, you'll find a rather (in)complete package of stoner/sludge in 2002's Sixteen Tons. While not perfect, what with its less exciting attempts at structure and direction towards the middle (this music is supposed to serve time in the middle of nowhere, not lead to epiphany), Sixteen Tons offers up something special in its griminess and general (lack of) attention to detail.

First of all, if I didn't know what "sludge" metal was by definition, a fusion of doom metal, hardcore, and in this case stoner rock, I'd most likely still describe this music as "sludge metal", because that's what it sounds like, with the cheaper-than-dirt guitar and bass tone that makes Born Too Late sound smooth and silky, and Dixie's abrasive, sandpaper-in-throat vocals. The loose working man's blues of cuts like 'Potbelly' that make sludge metal feel carefree, dare I say "fun", are well balanced against the decrepit dirges of songs like 'Bull' and 'Dummy', which are just a notch less suffocating than bands like Grief or Noothgrush. Sabbathian grooves are nonetheless abundant, spicing up the riffs in the sample-heavy '#3' and the more up-tempo 'Lines'. The former 2-minute jam leads into the one track I have mixed feelings about, that being the mellow porch-rocking-chair ballad 'Woe's Me', which is effective at conveying the burned-out hick's activities around late-afternoon once the shotguns have been cleaned and the dogs fed, but the thing is I'd rather BE accidentally shooting my toe off with a shotgun to grumpy sludge metal than be icing it with a cool can of RC cola afterwards. Sorry, Dixie.

Honestly, though, another thing that makes this band feel so underrated to me is the fact that they capture the distinct swing of classic sludge metal tracks like 'Sister Fucker (Pt. 1)' and 'The Blue' so regularly that you know they payed close attention to the parent records of those tunes in their formative years, yet they still have the occasional southern-fried Electric Wizard or Cathedral riff, like on the song called, well, 'Riff'. Album closer 'Kira May' is also actually a lot more successful at what it tries to do than 'Woe's Me', thanks to more prominent bass work and the lack of vocals, as well as by virtue of it being the final track.

Overall, Sixteen Tons is a relevant album to the entire doom genre and a minor classic of the style, being far more authentic and tastefully tasteless than the countless "bong" clones this band and Bongzilla seem to have inspired, who for some reason overshadow masterful modern traditional doom like Iron Void or The Wandering Midget. It's also an interesting snapshot of doom around this time period, since by this point circa 2002, doom metal had already been around for 20-30 years (depending on whether you mark Black Sabbath as the birth of doom as a distinct subgenre of metal, or bestow that honor upon the debuts of bands like Pentagram and Saint Vitus) and stoner and sludge metal had already been around for 10. And yet, there was this crop of now somewhat classic bands in this span of years that combined all three into something so filthy that it's almost surprising when you realize it's a gem to be unearthed. All in all, solid sludge.

Rating: 8.7 out of 10

Review by Rosh on September 9, 2023.

Sludge, more than any other style of metal, thrives on an impoverished and dingy feel that sets the backdrop for a crabby and burned out attitude towards the oppressive world at large, distinguished by a serial inability to avoid derailing setbacks, including encounters with the law and penultimate kidney failure. Eventually, though, all the suffering proves ineffectual at crippling the southern porch-dweller's indomitable willpower, or rather, futile at penetrating their opaque numbness to misery. And really speaking, substance abuse aside, it can be said that the sludge pioneers had their ways of coping with poverty and dejection, namely through playing appropriately sleazy music and getting into unscheduled skirmishes on the side of the road with white-collar douchebags.

Dave "Dixie" Collins' Weedeater, the project he shifted his attention towards after the breakup of seminal sludge band Buzzoven, is far too underrated in this field, most likely because it's not something most healthy people actively seek to indulge in. Weedeater's brilliantly titled debut album, 2001's ...And Justice For Y'all from Game Two Records has, in time, become a classic of the stoner/sludge genre, but back then it was just another example of doom's increasingly cannabis-oriented approach circa the late 90's/early 00's, found among many other labels such as Rise Above, Man's Ruin, and Southern Lord, to name a few. Really, it wasn't until the Season Of Mist reissues of Weedeater's back catalogue came out in 2014 that they became recognized as one of the premier bands of the style, and then only for their debut and their 2007 comeback effort God Luck & Good Speed. In between those popular records, though, sandwiched like the marshmallow in a stale moon pie, you'll find a rather (in)complete package of stoner/sludge in 2002's Sixteen Tons. While not perfect, what with its less exciting attempts at structure and direction towards the middle (this music is supposed to serve time in the middle of nowhere, not lead to epiphany), Sixteen Tons offers up something special in its griminess and general (lack of) attention to detail.

First of all, if I didn't know what "sludge" metal was by definition, a fusion of doom metal, hardcore, and in this case stoner rock, I'd most likely still describe this music as "sludge metal", because that's what it sounds like, with the cheaper-than-dirt guitar and bass tone that makes Born Too Late sound smooth and silky, and Dixie's abrasive, sandpaper-in-throat vocals. The loose working man's blues of cuts like 'Potbelly' that make sludge metal feel carefree, dare I say "fun", are well balanced against the decrepit dirges of songs like 'Bull' and 'Dummy', which are just a notch less suffocating than bands like Grief or Noothgrush. Sabbathian grooves are nonetheless abundant, spicing up the riffs in the sample-heavy '#3' and the more up-tempo 'Lines'. The former 2-minute jam leads into the one track I have mixed feelings about, that being the mellow porch-rocking-chair ballad 'Woe's Me', which is effective at conveying the burned-out hick's activities around late-afternoon once the shotguns have been cleaned and the dogs fed, but the thing is I'd rather BE accidentally shooting my toe off with a shotgun to grumpy sludge metal than be icing it with a cool can of RC cola afterwards. Sorry, Dixie.

Honestly, though, another thing that makes this band feel so underrated to me is the fact that they capture the distinct swing of classic sludge metal tracks like 'Sister Fucker (Pt. 1)' and 'The Blue' so regularly that you know they payed close attention to the parent records of those tunes in their formative years, yet they still have the occasional southern-fried Electric Wizard or Cathedral riff, like on the song called, well, 'Riff'. Album closer 'Kira May' is also actually a lot more successful at what it tries to do than 'Woe's Me', thanks to more prominent bass work and the lack of vocals, as well as by virtue of it being the final track.

Overall, Sixteen Tons is a relevant album to the entire doom genre and a minor classic of the style, being far more authentic and tastefully tasteless than the countless "bong" clones this band and Bongzilla seem to have inspired, who for some reason overshadow masterful modern traditional doom like Iron Void or The Wandering Midget. It's also an interesting snapshot of doom around this time period, since by this point circa 2002, doom metal had already been around for 20-30 years (depending on whether you mark Black Sabbath as the birth of doom as a distinct subgenre of metal, or bestow that honor upon the debuts of bands like Pentagram and Saint Vitus) and stoner and sludge metal had already been around for 10. And yet, there was this crop of now somewhat classic bands in this span of years that combined all three into something so filthy that it's almost surprising when you realize it's a gem to be unearthed. All in all, solid sludge.

Rating: 8.7 out of 10

Review by Felix on August 14, 2019.

It should be nearly a matter of course that people who like thrash and black metal should also have a weakness for black thrash metal. At least in my case, this is true. However, do not jump to conclusions. This does not mean people like me fall in love with each and every black thrash horde, regardless of its exact musical content. Holocausto - stupid name - challenge me with their diary of war. They do not lack aggression, definitely not. The gas mask and the cartridge belt on the promo picture do not promise things the music cannot keep.

Too bad that black thrash is a sub-genre that asks for the right balance between dirt and precision. That's where Holocausto fail on the here presented work. Yes, they fire some effective riffs into the enemy lines, but it happens too often that their songs drown in chaos. Pure aggression can be wonderful, but here it distracts the musicians from the essentials. Coherent song structures are a matter of luck and the iota of melody that even extreme metal needs is sometimes not identifiable. "Guerra Total Apocalipse" has a really diabolic beginning, it almost sounds like the young brother of Slayer's "Black Magic", but the Brazilian combo is not able to make gold out of this start. Instead, the great riff of the beginning gets almost completely lost and that's a shame.

Yes, the band is good in torturing its instruments, but creativity does not belong to its core competencies. The sparse playtime of half an hour speaks volumes. Nevertheless, the vehemence of the dudes is impressive and so it is not easy to make snap judgments about them and their farewell album - M-A says they have called it a day and one thing is for sure: this is no big loss for mankind, because regardless of the individual perspective, everybody must realize that the guys from South America do not offer things other bands have already offered in a better way. This applies for both their merciless attacks and their rare songs that creep slowly forward like a malicious reptile ("Ocupação Hostil").

At the end of the day, the album with the brother of Sodom's Knarrenheinz on the cover rather sounds like the debut of angry teenagers than a work of experienced veterans. The non-transparent production also appears as a sulphurous brew and shows no signs of maturity. Everything is sacrificed on the altar of apocalyptic violence and that's not enough in order to receive euphoric reactions. In view of the competent use of some well-hung stylistic devices and the stubborn nagging of the lead vocalist, a rating of 54% seems to be okay and I add 1% for the German word fragments in the intro. But only people who like to be tortured will give a better evaluation.

Rating: 5.5 out of 10