Image of WALKING KORPSES Firehead! CS


This shadowy side project of the TPK/Horrid Red gang, Walking Korpses carve out menacing post-industrial atrocities. While the abstract prose and commanding voice of Bunker Wolf (TPK, Horrid Red) still sits at the helm, and the meandering pulse of bassist Boy True (TPK, Shitty Listener, Social Unrest) still flourishes in the undertow, the rest of the music is filled with the paranoid nuance from John Murphy (SPK, Knifeladder), Ash Wednesday (JAB, Einstrurzende Neubauten), Clay Ruby (Horrid Red, Burial Hex), and mystery visitor RATBAG. It is a subject of legend that to feed a re-animated corpse salt would free it from its voodoo curse, allowing for a return to the grave. But if unable to dig a new resting place once released, the body will repeatedly throw itself against the graveyard soil, attempting to bury itself. The cover art to the Walking Korpses 2011 release “We, God’s Apes,” was an invitation to explore the same luridly sleep deprived themes that greeted you in the mesmerizing stare of a doll-clutching shaman. Reading like a travelogue of grainy field recordings, its mysticism of spoken word, and abstract use of noise was undeniably formulated in the delirium of wanderings through foreboding cityscapes. On the Korpses latest cassette release, “Firehead!” the LP sees the band even more consumed by a ransacking of enigmatic sounds, and establishes them as a cut above just another side project of the Teenage Panzerkorps/ Horrid Red camp. Tracks like, “Black Names” have Bunker Wolf’s scratchy prattle reaching ominous fervor as he interlopes into the eerie chemistry of distorted bass and avant-garde touches. The title track, too, is haunting in its tunnel-like plod led by the hypnotic bass of Boy True (Shitty Listener). Because some of the members’ real identities are cloaked in anonymity, i.e. the moniker Rat Bag, the album can feel like a haphazard séance of repressed inner lurking ideas. Between the contributions of John Murphy (Whitehouse , Knifeladder, SPK), Ash Wednesday (JAB), and Clay Ruby (Burial Hex), the band has a potent cache of blistering electronic refuse to set to purpose. With all of its rough, cinematic grit, and it’s off kilter rules of engagement, “Firehead!” makes us appreciate that these nefarious figures of punk and industrial exist together in one unparalleled effort. For if this gloomy crew of disparate influences wasn’t in agreement, there would be little to stop them for turning on us, the listener