So, I’ve never done meth. Lets get that out of the way. Nor have I ever found myself at a point of thinking “you know what might be fun? Crack cocaine.”

My brand of self-destructive tendencies (and mental illness!) have certainly taken me to a number of dumb and regrettable decisions in my life, make no mistake about it. I’m no stranger to the extremes of adrenaline-fueled, substance-motivated behavior. I’d dare say that it’s that proclivity for extreme behaviors that partially fuels my love for, ya know, extreme forms of music. But even my depraved, addiction-prone little brain has its limits!

So when I found out that Forcefed Horsehead and Shaving the fucking Werewolf were releasing a split? Together??

Are we sure about this??

 Allow me to briefly remind you that at helm of Shaving the Werewolf is… this guy:

I know we’re not supposed to be judging books by their covers but, some judgements are being made here – especially when the first track of the band’s half of the split is entitled (appropriately) “Smoking the Crack of Dawn,” and comes complete with the ravings of said lunatic screaming “CUT OFF MY BALLS” during the song’s devastating climactic breakdown. Mind you, before we even get to THAT, you find the man ranting about how his genitals often whisper menacingly at him. Apparently, his father also faced the same affliction, and HIS father before that so…. yeah! Go ahead and chop those puppies off, I guess! As already established, Shaving the Werewolf write music like a deranged fever dream, with the aforementioned track containing the kinds of discordant, disturbing guitar flourishes and psycho killer amusement park synths that have become the band’s hallmark, all giving their already chaotic brand of “disagreeable grindpunk” (their words) the listening experience of very quickly going fucking insane. It’s an absolute head rush that, despite better judgement, I cannot walk away from.

“Affordable Victims” keeps the pedal planted on the floor (as if the band had any brakes to begin with), opting for maximum aggression that allows no room for the listener to breath. It’s a straightforward, all-gas attack on your aural senses, with heavy nods to the likes of Converge, Botch and Agoraphobic Nosebleed, but while those bands are amongst the most aggressive and hostile to ever do it, Shaving the Werewolf exists more in a state of outright belligerence. “Complaining in Body Language” sees the band not only turning the heat up to it’s maximum level, but then ripping the thermostat off the wall, dousing it in pure ethanol, and setting it ablaze in a manic burst. Grind has always been about maximum aggression, but this band continues to somehow take it to a thoroughly unhinged extreme. Where The Dillinger Escape Plan gave the world a precise, Einstein-level mathematical approach to chaos, Shaving the Werewolf is the Ivy League valedictorian whose brain broke and now lives in a piss-soaked carboard box in Hartford’s seedier outskirts beyond the confines of Yale University. There’s a brilliant mind in there somewhere, but it’s currently churning out absolute nonsense that only Shaving the Werewolf themselves can fully understand – and that’s okay! I’m still finding it thoroughly entertaining.

Closer “Man Song” showcases the band, and indeed vocalist Ottar Skift at maybe their battiest, throwing everything at the wall from HM-2 drenched crunch, to tremolo-picked, blackened fury, to utterly destructive breakdowns, all wrapped up in a track that, so far as I can tell, is about proving one’s manhood to an abusive father through the most toxically masculine means possible. I don’t know what this man has been through, but for the love of god someone give him a hug. Make sure you’re wearing gloves, though. It’s a fitting, disturbing end that thoroughly cements the band in a league all their own. It’s batshit, it’s completely in-your-face, and I absolutely adore it.

By now, I’m sure you’re thinking “hey dummy, you did this all backwards,” and you’re right! Forcefed Horsehead does indeed kick off the front end of this EP. I can’t really explain why I opted to start with Shaving the Werewolf besides to say, once you listen to this record you’ll understand why they sorta demand your attention front-and-center, but it’s certainly not for lack of effort from the Pony Boys’ grinding attack. Indeed, the Naked Wolf  (I don’t know why we’re going with nicknames now just roll with me) are one of the few bands that could make FFHH seem tame by comparison, with opener “Promisebreaker” hardly taking things easy. The band’s more straightforward, Grinding D-Beat attack, paired with Audun Mehl’s seething, throat-tearing vitriol, is as delicate as a rabid buffalo in a live minefield (can buffalo get rabies? I digress). There’s even a distinctly blackened edge to the mayhem that makes the track cut all the more deep, giving the whole thing a thoroughly menacing and evil feel that I absolutely love.

“The Will of the Many” and the seething “Keelhaul” though, that’s where Equine Buffet really fuckin’ hits its D-Beat stride, the latter featuring some unnamed, but absolutely fucking scathing guest vocals that, along with a blistering blast attack, bring the intensity to a whole new level. It’s like Dani Filth after railing 3 back-to-back-to-back lines of coke and chasing it with a double shot of tequila, and I need more of it pronto. Both tracks hit like a goddamn heart attack and really showcase the band’s ability to go fully nuclear.

This split really ought to come with a Surgeon General’s warning, because HOLY SHIT. I feel like I need to dry out and go sober at an involuntary rehab facility for a few weeks just to get this thing out of my system. I may not have done actual crack or meth in my life, but who needs it when bands like these come together to inject this kind of absolute chaos into your veins. This one’s not for the feint of heart, but if you’re willing to take the ride, you’ll find yourself blitzed out of your mind with this absolute filth.

[Visit the band's website]

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