THE DEAL: Charlotte rockers Grids release latest eight-song effort.
THE GOOD: Some people refer to it as noise rock, but there's a lot more melody than meets the ear here. It's fuzzy and distorted, but if you listen closely, you can hear everything that's going on. It's the kind of rocked-out basement sludge that goes best in a dark club, drenched in energy and fused together with all the sweat you can muster up. My initial reaction was that it sounds a lot like the Butthole Surfers — not the Surfers that brought you "Pepper," but the old-school, acid-soaked group from the "The Shah Sleeps in Lee Harvey's Grave" days — mixed with a bit of Fugazi or hint of Helmet in that the vocals are clearer than the sonic wave crashing behind them. The music drives forth with a plug-it-in and turn-it-up relentless fury, but without the cookie monster vocals or cock-rocking "look what I can do on the guitar" bullshit.
THE BAD: Not a weak track on here.
THE VERDICT: It's grimy and gritty — like it should be. This isn't driving music. This isn't for romance. This is for one of two things — playing it loud and losing yourself in the moment; or seeing it live in a small, dark venue and hoping they blow the fuckin' doors off the place.