!Five Tracks to Fuck Up Your Life!
Listen up, you filthy degenerates, ‘cause Gurnslinger’s Who Killed the World? is a five-track shit-kicker that’ll ram a beer bong down your throat and puke pure rock ‘n’ roll all over your sorry ass. This Jersey-spawned beast ain’t from some windswept shithole - it’s like these four scumbags crawled out of a dive bar’s cum-stained basement, dicks swinging, ready to burn the world down. Strap in, ‘cause this album’s a sloppy, balls-out orgy of sound that makes you wanna chug whiskey and hump the speakers.
This ain’t your dad’s girlie rock or some prog nerd’s wet dream - it’s a sonic gangbang. The guitars screech like a junkie’s switchblade carving up your eardrums, all jagged and dripping with sleaze. Drums are like a pitbull humping your leg, relentless and nasty, pounding so hard you’ll shit your pants. The bass growls like it’s gargling motor oil, and the vocals are like a drunk hobo screaming about the end of the world while jerking off in an alley. Think GG Allin if he jammed with The Stooges, but hornier and meaner. No clean genres, just a big, greasy middle finger to anything tame.
They recorded this in some Jersey barn, but don’t picture some sad-sack farm - this was a fuck-fest of cheap beer, weed, and probably some questionable bodily fluids. A weirdo named Lucas Sauner, who sounds like he scams rubes at a carny booth, slapped together a studio like he was rigging a bomb. They had Mad Max: Fury Road on a busted TV, but this ain’t about deserts - it’s like the movie’s spiked punch got these assholes so wasted they shat out pure chaos. Steve Sears Jr., some London hotshot, kept the mix from sounding like a dog’s breakfast, but it’s still got that gritty, “I-just-rolled-in-piss” vibe.
This shit grabs you by the pubes and doesn’t let go. It’s not music - it’s a bar fight where everyone’s too drunk to care who’s bleeding. You’ll feel the sticky floors, smell the stale cigs, taste the vomit in the air. Gurnslinger ain’t preaching about global warming or whatever - they’re too busy chugging lighter fluid and screaming about a world that’s already fucked. It’s apocalyptic rock, sure, but it’s less “save the planet” and more “let’s screw on the rubble.” Every riff’s a punch, every beat’s a belch, and it’s all so goddamn alive you’ll wanna smash a bottle and join the riot.
For a debut, this thing’s got bigger balls than a frat house on spring break. It’s not easy listening - too loud, too nasty, like a hangover you bang instead of cure. In a scene full of limp-dick posers jerking it to retro vinyl, Gurnslinger’s a live wire, sparking shit up and laughing while it burns. This ain’t for hipsters or purists - it’s for the freaks who like their music as dirty as their underwear.
Who Killed the World? is the kind of album that makes you wanna puke, fight, and fuck, all at once. Gurnslinger’s not here to save rock - they’re here to piss on its corpse and light it on fire. Crank it loud, grab a bottle, and tell the neighbors to eat shit. This is the filthiest, most alive thing you’ll hear all year, and if you don’t get it, you’re probably too busy sniffing your own farts. Bow down, bitches - these Jersey psychos just dropped a bomb!
https://www.instagram.com/gurnslinger
Thanks to Grand Sounds PR.
