Ordinarily, ‘workmanlike’ has negative connotations, especially when used in reference to a band’s style, but Zolle trade in heavy-duty axe-workouts that are the sonic representation of hard physical labour. They’re only a two-pice, but as is often the case, more than compensate in terms of weight and volume, resulting in a chunky sound that’s infinitely greater than the sum of the parts.
This is solid, heavy-duty stuff that has the sturdiness of steel-toed boots. It thunders like a monster truck, careering full-tilt, pedal to the metal, each track roaring and ferocious: the absence of vocals really isn’t an issue. We’re talking about rough-hewn riffs, bristling with spit and swagger. We’re taking about fucked-up country twisted into the shape of sludge metal, played hard and heavy. we’re talking about an album that comes like a punch to the guts. We’re talking cool.
Zolle Online
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