CoC : Pissing Razors - Where We Come From : Review

Pissing Razors - _Where We Come From_
(Spitfire, 2001)
by: David Rocher (8 out of 10)

Now, this is a surprise. Urticaria usually is the law when the words "nu-metal" are uttered within a twenty-foot circle around me, so a quick look at Pissing Razors' credentials instantly cast a very grievous shadow over the review of their third release, _Where We Come From_; however, a first listen soon revealed a gem which the denomination "nu-metal" cannot hope to encompass. Pissing Razors' music evolves, lives and mutates many celestial spheres above that of Scott Ian's proverbial "Backstreet Boys with guitars", and throughout the massive, powerful and intense 36 minutes of their sophomore release, Pissing Razors clearly prove that they will never need to rely on anything else (like fancy masks, stupid red jumpsuits, or pathetically immature vocalists -- not that I'm pointing at anyone in particular, of course) but their musical creativity and technical proficiency to make themselves a name in the -Metal- (not "nu-metal") world. Even though many a riff on this very political creature does delve into the basically groovy registers of nu-metal, Pissing Razors move with impressive ease in the poisoned waters around Meshuggah, Fear Factory, Sepultura on _Chaos A.D._ or Face Down. Rhythmically speaking, this American quartet are nothing short of awesome -- the shifting, syncopated and neck-snapping rhythms delineated by the string section fronted by Rick Vallez and Cesar Soto are flawlessly backed up by the totally brutal, ruthless skinthrashing of their obviously arachnid drummer Eddy Garcia. As to the vocals, they could scarcely get better in this style, writhing somewhere between early Rob Flynn-style anger and harsh Jens Kidman power. The force that irradiates from tracks such as "Born to Serve" or "Vengeance Is Mine", the cool, thrashing tones oozing from "Opportunidad" or the raw technicality and murderous groove showcased on "Justice Denied" make Pissing Razors' latest effort to date a sheerly addictive chunk of grooving, spine-snapping violence, which displays enough musical qualities to make it well worth a cautious, cursory listen -- no matter how much you loathe any form of metal even remotely related to baggy trousers.

(article published 14/1/2002)