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gregory p. / twenty-eight / columbus, ohio, united states


January 2nd
12:19 am

Another review of our 7” on Terminal Boredom.
"Austerity measures from Columbus, Ohio. Bleak, spartan and possessing a barely-withheld malice, Drose approach metal with an abstract mindset. As twin guitars drone and crunch, ringing out in iron tones like distant industrial machinery, minimal drums thud and crash, echoing the death-throes of midcentury Midwestern dreams. Drose are coming to terms with their own failures and fears, composing heavy music with a discipline rarely heard in such circles. There is an emphasis on silence and space, utilizing the inherent dramatic tension in moments of calm before the storm. In this way, Drose recall Harvey Milk, but substitute the underlying southern-boogie vibe with a stern, crushing seriousness worthy of Swans. Snatches of Godflesh, Melvins, fellow townies Sword Heaven, and little-known mid-90s Richmond VA group Sliang Laos, bubble beneath the surface, but Drose are on their own journey and they seem to have it plotted out meticulously.
Besides this attention to detail, what sets Drose far apart from their peers is mainman and band namesake Dustin Rose’s high, keening voice, which soars above the lockstep skullcrush like a freebird. His singing wouldn’t be out of place on a Sigur Ros record, or even a pre-midnight swim Jeff Buckley session. No one-trick pony, Rose brings his register down to a foreboding rasp on the droning title cut. Live, they nailed it. Zero corny attempts at forced catharsis, just strategically-placed slivers of silence punctuated by huge swathes of jagged, streetcleaning sound. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a Drose album on Southern Lord within the year (Hydra Head has ceased operations, after all), but don’t let the nods to metal form fool you, Drose is more concerned with conjuring a dark night of the soul for their listeners, not throwing you devil horns while you attempt to headbang in your new Venom t-shirt.”

Another review of our 7” on Terminal Boredom.

"Austerity measures from Columbus, Ohio. Bleak, spartan and possessing a barely-withheld malice, Drose approach metal with an abstract mindset. As twin guitars drone and crunch, ringing out in iron tones like distant industrial machinery, minimal drums thud and crash, echoing the death-throes of midcentury Midwestern dreams. Drose are coming to terms with their own failures and fears, composing heavy music with a discipline rarely heard in such circles. There is an emphasis on silence and space, utilizing the inherent dramatic tension in moments of calm before the storm. In this way, Drose recall Harvey Milk, but substitute the underlying southern-boogie vibe with a stern, crushing seriousness worthy of Swans. Snatches of Godflesh, Melvins, fellow townies Sword Heaven, and little-known mid-90s Richmond VA group Sliang Laos, bubble beneath the surface, but Drose are on their own journey and they seem to have it plotted out meticulously.
Besides this attention to detail, what sets Drose far apart from their peers is mainman and band namesake Dustin Rose’s high, keening voice, which soars above the lockstep skullcrush like a freebird. His singing wouldn’t be out of place on a Sigur Ros record, or even a pre-midnight swim Jeff Buckley session. No one-trick pony, Rose brings his register down to a foreboding rasp on the droning title cut. Live, they nailed it. Zero corny attempts at forced catharsis, just strategically-placed slivers of silence punctuated by huge swathes of jagged, streetcleaning sound. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw a Drose album on Southern Lord within the year (Hydra Head has ceased operations, after all), but don’t let the nods to metal form fool you, Drose is more concerned with conjuring a dark night of the soul for their listeners, not throwing you devil horns while you attempt to headbang in your new Venom t-shirt.”

  1. clean-my-heart posted this
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