Racebannon Six Sik Sisters

Indiana's Racebannon initiates the New Year by proudly waving their tallest freak flag through 9 (or more like 6) tracks of feedback laden cacophony. Recorded at God City by knobsmith Kurt Ballou, Six Sik Sisters accomplishes a frenetic return to the band's discography; the entire listening experience flaunts a punk rock apathy, but the hopelessness is purely Sabbath-esque. And it's in that spirit that Six Sik Sisters resembles a Mike Patton project, if only more primitive. I guess that's where the "avant" in "avant-noise-core" originates from on the album's accompanying press release. However, it's not all spazz and vocal weird-outs, because the second half is pieced together almost entirely by casual tempos and deceptive blues riffs. Whether or not the record alludes to "Crazy Train" in its infantile seconds, I'm not sure, but "Thee Truth" certainly begins with a droning melody from the Great American Ozzy Osbourne Songbook. Most of the songs, but defined in "Thee Apology," seem destined to implode from their own instability. The brightest moments are in "Thee Desperate." The tune is slightly reminiscent of Dillinger Escape Plan, but ventures off into a linear showcase of their meanest riffs from all over the subgeneric spectrum. There are two intermission style tracks, and one concluding ambiance. The first is quiet noises, with presumably sampled screams--it lasts for about 50 seconds. The next is a repetitive, two-minute long drum solo that emerges from the preceding track's final chord. Lastly, the record closes with relaxing soundscape of New Age synthesizers and soft, running water. In sequence, the duality of the instrumentals vs. the louder tracks is palpable and intriguing. Bottom Line: Six Sik Sisters is a record that begs for you to listen to its whole to appreciate the tracking. Incidentally, the main pitfall is the actual amount of heavy music the disc contains--yet it's that brevity that proves to be the most menacing.