“No, YOU Listen!” — ¡Gross! by Pleasureboaters

Popping in a copy of ¡Gross!, the searing, thrash-punk debut record from Seattle’s Pleasureboaters, one immediately feels the hissing sense of urgency spewing forth from the throat of vocalist/guitarist Ricky Claudon. The bass guitar of Erik Baldwin chimes in with a chugging line befitting a fast-paced horror movie scene, while Tim Cady clamors his way to a crash-induced drum beat. The chaos found in “State of the Union”, while taking a few breathers here and there, will not conclude until the album is over. The guitar, often busting loose like shattered glass, will persist until the listener has been fully engulfed in audio anarchy. The bass regularly leads the cluster into a foray of hardcore guitar splatter. The drums will fastidiously attempt to corral the pandemonium with a delicious attack on the snare, only to succumb to a commotion atop the crash cymbals.

So I guess I’m saying it’s rowdy. But at the same time, it’s undeniable catchy. I don’t mean ‘catchy’ in the “Young Folks” kind of way—there’s certainly no whistling like on that ubiquitous single from Peter, Bjorn and John (there’s some wailing, though). But Baldwin provides enough funky slaps to reel the rest of the characters in before they go careening of a cliff. For example, on standout song “Andalou”, a good 30-second preamble introduces a creepy bass riff the song will lean on for its entirety, while Claudon maniacally professes his love to Andalou in terms of razor blades to the face. During the latter half, just when you think the song can’t get any more tangled, the guitar and drum kit discharging a scathing squall, back around the bass comes to keep the ruffians in check.

“Deckhand Paterson” is a rapid, 2-minute affair that might be the album’s single if these guys gave two shits about singles (Editor’s note: LB has no idea if they would welcome the single format or not—it just makes them sound more badass this way). It’s certainly more straightforward than most of the other cuts, but still has enough bite to stay true to the threesome’s piercing sound. Another album highlight, “Scramble” makes use of its title in the most obvious way: muffled lyrics, intermittent caterwauling guitar, and a tight bass line to fulfill the musical task at hand. As for the rest of the LP, released in 2007 by Don’t Stop Believin’ Records, there really isn’t a clunker among them, save for maybe the final track. But, hey, 11 out of 12 ain’t too bad for a first go-around.

Fans of Murder City Devils, These Arms Are Snakes, the Blood Brothers, and Mclusky will find much to applaud while listening to this impressive record from a trio of young South Seattleites. Similarities in the shrieking vocals, in the sardonic song titles (“Leopard Print Babyware”, “Cockhair”), and in the song structure point to their influences from the local hardcore scene. Their live show, as well, is rife with physical antics and old school punk sensibility (wait, punks? sensibility? huh?). Make it your duty, friend, to enable their madness.