‘The Desolate’ does the rare thing that intros actually do, which is set the listener up for what’s in store. In this case, a plodding rumble/riff join forces to tumble us headlong into the SIXTY WATT SHAMAN-ic swinging groove of ‘Casket Trail’ {Scott] Fisher retains the hardcore-tinged snarl that’s suited him well as far back as the NEGATIVE THEORY days, and the band has more than a bit of My War-era BLACK FLAG in its sense of the disjointed when it comes to putting a song together, then nearly wrecking the whole thing so as to make it seem it’s a few threads from coming apart at the very seams.

Mary Bielich’s bass runs lead off the staccato riffmonster that is ‘The Vulture Circles’, which shits crust and dirt rock befitting the barely-contained aggression that comes from existing in a landscape littered with the industrial graveyards of NEGATIVE 13’s Rust Belt. Chain Messrs. Broadrick and Green of GODFLESH in a room and force them to play rock with a full band, and this song is what it might sound like. Filthy, and pissed about it. ‘Horizon Divides’ is catharsis in the same way as primal scream therapy, is kicking the ever loving shit out of whatever’s eating you to the sultry sounds of Gluey Porch Treatments while reading Charles Bukowski and fighting off the downs, all the while seeking true rebirth, just wanting to get past all of it.

Bristling with raised hackles, positively sweating with anticipation, ‘Devil In Your Head’ recalls the ripped-off-scab rock of the Akron/Cleveland scene found in bands like FISTULA, but with a more widened sonicscape, as I don’t think those dudes have a nearly 9-minute song in them; and such really shouldn’t work for what NEGATIVE 13’s on about. With an aesthetic this workmanlike, this everyman, the idea of trying to streeeetch a song out for that long should cause nervous tics at the least, instruments hurled against walls and band breakups if they really kept at it. And maybe that’s what it took – or close to it – because Edward’s [Banks] guitar finds places to go, colors to paint with, here crafting ambient tracks for the waiting room to Hell.

The cannonade of [Chip] Reynolds can’t be denied throughout this album, nowhere more evident than in the closing title track. You’re never gonna hear him blasting, but he hits hard. I mean HARD, in that Carmine Appice (see VANILLA FUDGE’s first album if ya don’t believe me) and Dave Grohl way before the latter got all lily-livered and prissy about everything. Minimalist in attack, but thunderous and, therefore, integral to the sound of the band.

Keep listening through the end of Recover What You Can. It won’t be the last time, and that section from 3:35-4:50 is some kind of breathtaking until in come the Neanderthals with their clubs a’ swinging. Brilliant!
Review By: Lord Randall

NEGATIVE 13
Recover What You Can
Independent