With a band name the likes of “The Slaughterhouse Chorus”, one would expect the music composed and performed by said individuals to reside somewhere in the neighborhood of death metal and/or perhaps speed/black metal. Thankfully, for those fortunate enough to have discovered The Slaughterhouse Chorus, the band’s musical stylings more closely resemble punk rock than anything else (no offense to the metalheads in the crowd).
Truth be told, The Slaughterhouse Chorus is a blend of twangy, down-home hillbilly rock infused with a heavy dose of punk and a tinge of folk. (Not exactly what you’d expect from a band hailing from New York City.) If the Supersuckers fucked Larry And His Flask, or vice versa (as I haven’t a clue who would be giving or receiving), The Slaughterhouse Chorus would be their illegitimate love child.
The band’s inaugural self-tilted EP is a 13-track hell-bound hayride through the heart of America via the streets of The Great Apple; and is just as unpredictable. The album sways seamlessly, yet purposefully, like “Amber Waves of Cocaine”, the opening track (which sets the stage for the ensuing managed mayhem). The following three songs, “A Month Without”, “Built for BBQ” and “Let’s Get Invisible” exude more country-esque qualities than punk, but “For God and Country” rekindles the rock ‘n’ roll fervor. “The Full Nelson” is nothing more than pure, unadulterated rock, replete with ample baby-makin’ guitar solos; which ironically segues into a grab-your-partner swing-type instrumental affectionately dubbed “All My Mistakes are Your Fault Tonight”. Coincidental? I think not.
“Fish in a Barrel” is arguably the standout track on the album; a nice little ditty fans will thoroughly enjoy whilst fending off a hillbilly horde in a sweaty mosh pit. “May 21” and “Guns N’ Cattle” draw the album to a close on a honkey-tonk high note, while lucky number 13, “Eviction Day”, sends the self-titled EP off slowly and steadily into the desert/city/backwoods/bayou/country night.
Bringing such a wide array of genres together on a single album, let alone a band’s first effort, is an achievement in and of itself. Cowboy hats and flatbills alike off to The Slaughterhouse Chorus for a job well done.