Misc. Day – East Village Wizards

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In this overexpanding age of punk influence that clashes like metallic boulders into rap and electronic production, Bob Vylan holds a special mantle in the hearts of crust everywhere.

Originating from London, the extremely British accents that shine through the microphone like Ian Dury’s Union Jack teeth, Dread from Bob Vylan is explosive enough to burst concrete but fast enough to strike like an SR-71. Fascinating from the first musical track, “Intro” is a 15-second spoken-word piece that transitions into “Down” where immediately the pit mentality begins.

If artists like Ho99o9 or City Morgue seem to be circulating your playlists, then Bob Vylan is not too far off the marker for being the next big crush. With aggressive lyrics and production from the two-man group, both Bobby Vylan on vocals and production with Bobb13 Vylan on percussion seem confusing but actually make perfect sense.

With the following track, “Join Us” is more ethereal and spends much of the near three minutes surrounded by 808s and rattling hi-hats. With a warped familiar lead of synths, Bobby Vylan delivers Chicago typewriter-esque vocals that capture the ear quickly and dissipates like an apparition. He begins, “They ask who’d you believe in,  that depends on the season. Summer, sun, bring the guns out…” As the verse continues the outro becomes a blitzing swan song of one-two steps where the hook is shouted over a burning guitar framework.

Shouting like a manic and deranged god on the tube, “You should come and join the family, we put razors in the candy. Your savior looks so manly, crucified they cannot stand me.” But the transition that coincides within “Storm In (Interlude)” is the glue to a jigsaw puzzle.

Only a minute in length, “Storm In (Interlude)” is just what you need from a hardcore punk piece. It breaks the bones with the snaps of the snare but then is able to somehow push the breathing room but not for the listener. Instead, that room is more for Bob Vylan to stand back and laugh as the listener dies a slow, monotonous death.

When the amps turn off and the burners close, the framework of ugliness and bitter hell is still in the fragments of teeth in the street. Stomped under shit kicker’s, Bob Vylan is contagious and some of the most innovative pieces of work to watch of recent memory.

Listen To Dread Here!!! – BandCamp/Spotify/Amazon/iTunes

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