Jesus Horse – It Was The Blurst Of Times

Jesus Horse - It Was The Blurst of Times

9.5/10

Every so often a band will hit your ears and give you the uncontrollable urge to ingest your weight in the substance of your choice and scream a mighty “FUCK YOU” at the heavens. This isn’t out of angst or distaste with your life, but with the utter frustration of something so spectacular being in existence and it not coming from you, thus eternally raising the bar. Am I just drunkenly rambling or am I talking about the new Jesus Horse EP known only as It Was The Blurst of Times. How about stop asking questions and read the rest of the fucking review?

Jesus Horse is one of those local Montreal acts that you hear all the cool kids talking about and think “fuck those guys.” Then you hear their music and you really go “fuck those guys.” Loud, fast, abrasive, and honestly better than you. Their tunes might last about as long as I did with morning wood today, but without debate, the nonsensical southern twang of their breath in your ear will leave you saying, “alright fine just this next forty-eight times.” To keep the descriptions mainstream but graphic; Imagine if Everytime I Die and Dillinger Escape Plan had a baby with intense Tourette’s, ADHD, and just a teeny tiny bit of a hardcore substance abuse problem, Jesus Horse is that baby.

To get into the meat and potatoes of It Was The Blurst of Times shouldn’t take too long since the bitch is only about 11 minutes long soaking wet, but if that 11 minutes doesn’t come bursting into your head like the Kool-Aid man without lube, obviously you and I are into different things. There’s not a moment of this EP that doesn’t completely catch you off guard, you’re about as able to predict what’s going to happen next as you are watching Game of Thrones. Now that they’ve gone completely off book (Fuck you too, George). To categorize this as something along the lines of progressive is beyond short-sighted, whereas Noise tends to fit the bill a little tighter. Though the tempo, time signatures and overall song construction might be a little fucky, believe you me when I say the bitch gets groovy when it feels like it. Do I have a favourite song? Fuck no, but I certainly can’t stop letting it have its way with me, nor can I stop drinking. I’m not kidding I need help.

Production value is a whole other conversation. Producer, Guitarist, and womb with which this disgusting piece seems to have been birthed from Luc Sylvestre pushed out something really and truly special here. All the right tones for the right places, all the right punches for the right faces, and truly top-notch mastering value considering to the mass majority of the general population, this is fucking noise. For us more deranged mother fuckers like myself, this is absolute gold despite its shortcoming in length. Any given tune can be put out on display here, so randomly picking “YOLO (Young Ones Love Orgies)” out of a hat as an example of what these fucking dudes do with two minutes and forty-six seconds should disappoint nobody. Where it’s noisy it’s enthralling, where it’s clear it’s intoxicating, and where it’s groovy, you can bet your ass there’s violence not far behind. The string sections bring a spectacular bluegrass vibe before going king fucking Kong on the breakdowns. Drum section leaves you with hemorrhoids, and vocals can go fuck themselves with the dirty catchy-ness. What don’t I like about this EP? The same thing I don’t like about Jesus Horse; Go fuck yourself with your thirty-second albums goddamnit.

Written by Jason Greenberg
*edited Mike Milito

About Jason Greenberg 121 Articles
On the first day, the Lord said "Let there be Bucketlist," and all of human kind then became aware of the incredulity or abysmally flaccid result on their attempt at Art. On the second day, the Lord said "Jason, go review that show you're going to on Friday," and begrudgingly, a review was made. What the world was for Jason Greenberg before that point is either completely unimportant or mildly pornographic, but the world of today after many years of serving his Queen has brought him opportunity, hardship, and a whole lot of Bucketlist patches on indiscriminate pieces of clothing. You may see him lugging your band's equipment and yelling at you aimlessly about the useless construct of time. You may see him expelling a noise not fully understood by humankind at the end of a microphone. You may even see him swimming in an ocean of poutine, but you will always see him as his true self, a sentient and obnoxious Bucketlist Music Reviews Billboard.

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