Nervous Mothers are actually four Belgian dudes that have served time in a number of other very fine bands. They unleash some severely harsh riffing that has some blasting, emo-violence tinged, near-grind drumming that often stick-shifts into downtuned sludge action by way of Coalesce-esque walls of atonal noise slabs.

Art Of Burning Water continue their mission to annoy all and sundry with their slightly faster take on their usual off-kilter noise-rock with definite hardcore leanings, like a sped up Keelhaul partying with Motorhead. A brutal slow-burner this time round.

Keep It Fast
Either they’re wrestling or making fuck like Beserker. Possibly both. SuperFi Records have a knack for money-gunning new records like there’s no tomorrow. My Vitriol, take note – it’s good to release stuff, because then PEOPLE CAN HEAR AND BUY YOUR STUFF. I don’t even like My Vitriol, why am I talking about them? Nervous Mothers then – four Belgian dudes clattering through some brutal, raw and bleeding power violence that will make you drop your guts. First track, Op Nul, is a swaying, lurch of droning feedback, sustained by a dragging, wailing riff, a background conversation about apathy and then all hell breaks loose from the dimensional portal that’s opened up. It finds its feet through the punk rock drumming, that quickly morphs into some mosh-tastic hardcore splatter and harsh vocal screeches. Born, is a lumpen, sludge-driven bark of twisted and blackened metal, whilst their final track, the 37 second smash of Waves, tears through like a tornado; in a fervour of Weekend Nachos-aping grind-punk thrash that can’t wait to reach the inevitable and sweaty conclusion. Keep It Fast favourites Art Of Burning Water contribute just one track to this release, but that’s all they need to make their mark really. Peeling the skin back, they reveal to the world what The Melvins would sound like if they only listened to crust-punk in a darkened room filled with meth. At just under 3 and a half minutes, Oppressor takes a trip through the rotting and darkened forest of doom; phlegm-gargling vocal rasps, deep bass cuts that gouge and fester, with this harrowing, rock ‘n roll depression struggling to burst its way out through the mire. It’s menacing, despondent and filled with loathing, ending with the kind of horrific, spluttering scream you’d expect from a 70’s gore-fest. Stomach-churning, ravenous noise right there.

Ringmaster
Creating a union of ferocity sure to see walls tumble and bodies scarred, SuperFire and Vleesklak Records are joint unleashing a Split 7” featuring the raw hardcore animosity of Nervous Mothers and Art Of Burning Water. It is a four track fury taking no prisoners as it rages and abrases the senses. It is also a thoroughly agreeable slab of carnal punk from two bands not too hard to fancy hear plenty more from. The first three tracks upon the split come from Belgian quartet Nervous Mothers. More about the Antwerp hailing quartet of Bart, Hans, Jim, and Rik we cannot find but opener Op Nul reveals all needed to keenly welcome the band to ears. A sonic wash with intimidating hues opens the track, a vocal sample soon wrapped in steely tendrils of guitar as beats prowl within the brewing animus. There is also a great resonance within the stalking of ears, a dulled yet throbbing essence from the bass which sparks the appetite even more before spiteful voice and song descend with raw animosity on ears. Following track, Born is similarly set up but swifter into its sludgy punk infestation of the senses with vocals and vicious rhythms to the demanding fore. Though the opener remains the band’s pinnacle, its successor is a rapacious and invigorating trespass as it leads into the thirty second tempest of Waves. The grizzly growl of the bass steals the show but with a frenzy of rapier beats, flesh scorching riffs, and sheer vocal spite, the song is a short, blunt, incitement of punishment and pleasure. The final song is provided by UK based Art Of Burning Water, a trio described in its bio as “a steroided immigrant noise punk outfit that does not need to be loved to live.” Being musically liked is probably not on the agenda either but as Oppressor soon prompts, embracing their sound is not too hard as Geith, Kunal, and Mike craft it to worm under the skin and venomously blister the senses. Rhythms are hypnotic, the guitars toxic, whilst vocals spill rancor with every syllable; a blend which just hits the spot as it nags, intimidates, and stirs up another twang of hunger in the appetite. Both bands are new to our ears and now the source of plenty of retrospective attention via their bandcamp profiles. As for their Split, that is another infestation of punk violence to heartily recommend.