Calling Racebannon abrasive is like saying piranhas like to tickle bloody flesh. The Indiana collective aggressively corrodes the face of grindcore, metal, and punk, turning voices and instruments into sharp objects that gut rock from the inside out.
Frontman Mike Anderson vacillates between a feral growl and shaky, man-about-to-lose-his-shit breakdowns. The music egging Anderson on is improvised and experimental, coming from a Melvins/ Locust/Jesus Lizard hive where grinding white theremin noise gets spiked by jagged melodies, buzzsaw guitars, and intense squalls of feedback. What sounds like possible sonic masturbation material for dudes chained in dark basements, though, is kept on course by plodding, heavy bass rhythms that keep In the Grips of the Light eerily riveting from start to finish.
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