Lizardmen
LIZARDMEN – How do cold-blooded humans sound?
Bleak lower Saxony produces it's own musical drugs – a cocktail of grief and pent-up anger, embedded in stoner you could only escape
if you cut your ears off. Their intros prey in the brush like carnivores – you never know when the attack will hit.
Beasts in disguise invite you to revel in playful melodies or driving rhythms, but as soon as frontman Nikki approaches the mic, the grimy Grunge inevitably cracks the surface.
His vocals are rough and alien, like after decades of silence – but at the same time gripping in his subliminal ire. The hooks implant themselves in your lobes after the first playthrough,
as stubborn as termites in a rotten tree, hollow you out, may yet wrest a tear or two from your eye – would not the bone-dry sound swallow them up in the same instant.
LIZARDMEN – you can hear the social isolation of the cold-blooded, feel the scaly saurian skin that spurns all touch. Sometimes, a guitar solo cleanses you like a venomous fang,
and the white-hot pain creeps through your blood vessels straight into your heart.
