What we have is album number three from Californians The Shrine, going by the title Rare Breed, get ready to open your ears to some true dirty, fuzz filled, riff heavy, garage rock n’ roll. It is glorious. It is an album you need to get into your collection.
In a world where auto-tune, triggering and other cheats are on hand to polish any album to within an inch of it’s life, it’s a time where albums sound so over produced that they are diluted and any real emotion is stripped away, this is a breath of fresh air. Rare Breed is from opener ‘Coming Down Quick’ through all 11 tracks ending with the ‘Space Stepping’, totally bullshit free. There are no sneaky bells and whistles, just an album of stomping tracks of pure filth. This could of come off the streets of LA in the 1970’s/early 80’s. It’s punk rock but with a more disjointed stoner vibe. Imagine if Ian Mackaye of Minor Threat/Fugazi had listened to doom instead of hardcore, picked up a bong instead of bringing in Straight Edge and hung out with the guys from Fu Manchu, then he would of been in this band right here.
Tracks like ‘What’s Left For Me’ are played low and with Groove oozing out of every note. Using the word retro may be a cliche but there is a definite retro vibe here and it is, ironically, what gives it Rare Breed it’s freshness and originality. ‘Savage Skulls & Nomads’ speeds things up and really gives that old DC hardcore punk rock vibe of bands like Bad Brains, with a crushing, distorted solo that perfectly rattles through the middle eight.
‘Dusted & Busted’ comes out of nowhere and slows things right down, coming as close to ballad territory as a band like this can get (trust us it’s not a ballad), even though it slows down it holds onto it’s heaviness and at points harks back to the likes of bands like Husker Du, it’s awesome.
This album has everything you want to hear from a band like this, the vocals drawl out of the speakers with a don’t give a fuck attitude that gets you hanging on to every note. By the time distortion fades out and you are left in a deafening silence you feel the urge to throw on your leather, light up a cigarette and head out for a night of cheap beer and cheaper company. The Shrine don’t come across as a band, they come across as a gang who can play music and you wouldn’t want them any other way. This is punk rock n’ roll as it should be played.
