No wonder there's no bandcamp or facebook page for the Chrome Spiders. If you know the tiniest bit about stompy garage rock or the band that almost exclusively releases singles you will have heard of Detroit's Dirtbombs. The Chrome Spiders are fronted by Tom Potter from the revered band and need no more introduction than that.
A-Side's "Black Butterfly" has beefy trebled up chords screeching with windmills right into a classically rock sound of heavy thud beats while sliding those muted distortion strums right in there. 'Thomas' on vocals starts out in a reasonable low creeper place and then launches into a Sam Kinison yell as the chorus starts to come into view. That's how that lady on the cover gets him every time. He's trying his hardest not to let it get to him, tonight will be different and then it's all out the window again. Dammit. The rest of the guys play a sympathetic post breakdown of this rhythm and then give in to this emotional bent chord sound. A real greaser rock that comes from beer in a can and less than reputable establishments. This power rock happens when the blues get angry. when they aren't OK with just moping around about the situation.
B-Side's "The Whip Hand" opens on guitars in the middle of hum and feedback - the sounds that lead to heavy riffs. That screech and squeal is fine when you smother it like this. The guitars are separated between channels from Sean and Tom has that end of the night drawl, close to the mic here with his smooth velvety Cramps sound. You know that whip hand is just the thing that's going to get you interested, 'Hey, why don't you come over?' and then it's going to smack you into shape. Really you needed to maniacally laugh and crack an actual whip in the middle of the track? Isn't it bad enough I already know I'm screwed? You're just rubbing it in. Dual blues distortion riffs creak from both sides of the room and Tom is slowly convincing the whole track, guitars come back together in a big finish but Tom is just way too eager to break out that whip hand.
Lots of talk of belts on the reverse sleeve notes and portraits of four normal, smiling dudes who are getting you to fall for putting this on again.
From Big Neck Records.
Yes, you have to go hear this on myspace. Don't make them pull out that whip hand again.
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