Motron

Reviews

Hoax / Motron split LP

Split effort coming from Italy with seven tracks per project, including a cover on each side, supported by multi-cooperative DIY labels. Motörcharged dis-punkers to the fullest, with superb cover art of a dystopian family couch for this album. MOTRON is more on the metal punk side of Lemmy’s moon, holding a grip of darker, gloomier tones in their charging, doom-thriving bass lines, mid-paced, rock-solid drums, and deep, angry, guttural vocals confronting almost mirrored guitar sections and minor riffage. Suggested track: “Lack of Shame.” HOAX goes for faster-paced cadences and sickened, steadier vocals, with a more distorted approach in the strings but keeping classical rhythms in their charged situation. Suggested track: “On Your Grave.”

Motron Who’ll Stop the Rain LP

The second album from this Motörcharged metal punk band from Varese, Italy featuring various members from PIOGGA NERA, KONTATTO, DEVOID OF THOUGHT, and more. This sounds a lot like if you took the gruff-beyond-gruff vocals from CRUDE SS, distorted them even deeper on the EXTREME NOISE TERROR spectrum, and then set them atop a far more metallic and rock’n’rage-driven crustcore peak, with riffs galore and sharp quick solos all sewn together with tight playing. A little less raw and more polished than their first album Eternal Headache, both in terms of the recording and the songs themselves, the fourteen tracks speed, crush, and rock, culminating in their take on a classic NABAT song. The lyrics are blunt: attacking war, scene problems, cops and the ever-relatable punk needs of drugs and a hangover-killing next-day hair of the dog. All in fun, there’s a wild “if you’re only in it for the lyrics…fuck off” warning on the lyric sheet, which is a wild inversion of the ’80s and ’90s “if you’re only in it for the music, fuck off.” Sadly, it’s hard to fathom where punk has landed in the 21st century—anyone is drawn to it at this point by the lyrics, but perhaps there are still (and more power to them) ancient diehards keeping close monitor from their squat somewhere in Europe, whom modern late stage capitalism has yet to pry loose. It’s an odd warning, like “hey don’t judge us too closely,” but with a crust skeleton riding a motorcycle on the cover next to a beer bottle on a chain. I think the party was clearly stated from the outset, and it meets it in, ahem, (ace of) “spades.” It is a fun, raging, rocking listen.