Chubby Thunderous Bad Kush Masters Come and Chutney

Wed 4th July 2018


/incoming/ctbkmcac.jpgWelcome to the land of silly music and serious riffs.

Chubby Thunderous Bad Kush Masters willfully open themselves to ridicule with their inherent daftness, but seemingly always succeed in bringing you into their party. From the opening Doggy Bag of Slurry, I can't put my finger on why it works, why this has me grooving unnaturally in my chair, when it sounds so familiar, cliched even. But it has always been hard to resist the Kush's charms, even for the po faced. Perhaps the distinction is in what they take seriously, not themselves clearly, but their output definitely so, despite what they may protest.

Cojones Feos combines Fu Manchu's Eatin' Dust's grit and groove with the grime and girth of Melvins' Houdini. And while it might not be as great as that imagines, gives you an idea of why they are so loved.

They vary from expectations on a couple of tracks, and as they challenge your preconceptions they succeed, Gutlads possibly my highlight, with throttle held back it explores new avenues, and on the ten minute closer Psychedelic Hallucinogenic Vagrancy, through keyboard assisted gentle flow psych. It's not revolutionary in the stoner-psychedelia world by any stretch, but adds a nice and new spin to their arsenal. The guest vocals of Vodun's Chantel Brown add a touch of class to the base nature of the usual Chubby cesspit.

Not everything works, sometimes it loses its essential edge, and there there's a threat of a large cliffdrop into worlds of both generic and gimmick which is not a good look. But it's not often. Even the ridiculous Gawdless, as it descends from promisingly weighty intro to cock-rock approved "ridin' with the devil" lyrics / hip-thrusting rhythm, doesn't dilute the enjoyment.

Bad Kush ride through on a wave of contradictory self-assured self-deprication. It is the quality of the music that carries them, as of course it can only be. Come and Chutney will get the heart pumping and your feet jumping, all coated in a wall of loving fuzz. All hail the Masters.


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