Palehorse’s brand of filthy, sludgy, avant-garde doom is hard to pin down, and as such the quintet don’t fit neatly into any one genre slot. They tread the choppy waters of a multitude of sounds and are so bass-heavy that they become almost painful to hear.
Palehorse buck any kind trend by forgoing the standard instrumental setup by doing away with the guitar and instead using two basses to garner a hugely overwhelming sound that allows the band moments of intense crunch while the tight rhythm section gives Don’t Bitch My Shit a heady dynamism.
On this, their third full-length, the band weave electronically weighted samples between Nikolai Grune’s often terrifying delivery and occasionally stripped back – but no less punchy – spoken-word lines. Bird Feed rages in a pit of total disgust and Skin Flick closes the album on a defiantly fiery tone. Harm Starts Here is a murky and grim take on the cultural fringes of the band’s South London home and their music leaves you feeling in dire need of a shower. Get dirty.
