Torche, from Miami, Fl, play face-melting, satisfying low-end-intensive positive metal that is guaranteed to melt any face it comes in contact with, even jaded faces that belong men of demanding musical tastes like me. Here is a typical scenario:
I cue up a Torche song. I press play. All vestiges of my face are removed by the force, and I begin hopping around the room with a glowing, grinning skull atop my shoulders screaming neon streamers of lipless joy. “Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Motherfucking Torche is melting my fucking face right the fuck off! I’m in outer friggin’ space, right now, man!”
I do this on the subway on the way to work as often as I do it in my bedroom at home, and in either place it is clear that I am not in outer space.
So powerful is the elemental shred of this band Miami bred that I am willing to publicly come off as a guy who believes himself to be in outer space when he might, in fact, be standing in front of the United Nations or standing on a table in the middle of an Olive Garden when this declaration is made.
Look at Torche:
Click on Torche. They will lead you through the swampy wood to their Myspace page. On that page, you will be able to hear songs from all of their releases.
I think they sing the name of dearly departed, beloved Cubs sportscaster Harry Caray in the song “Vampyro” on their S/T. This is quite amazing.
Look at Harry Caray:
Their most recent record, Meanderthal, released April 8 this year on Hydrahead Industries, and they have since been touring with, among others, Boris and Pelican.
Just, holy shit.