After being pummeled into jelly by Motorcycle Nurserhymes' opening track, the quirkily-named instrumental "New Huevo," one knows everything there is to know about California 'lumberjack metal' posse, the Hitch. Simply put, words like refinement, finesse and, heck, class just don't apply to these here proceedings; only dirty, earthy, crusty: stoner rock of the refreshingly straightforward, space-rock-free, blue-collar variety. Imagine Clutch gone backwoods or the Deliverance soundtrack done hardcore and you wouldn't be far off the mark when it comes to the Hitch's bludgeoning offensive. Rabble-rousing highlights such as "So Fucking What," "Criminal," and "Quadrajunk" torch the cattle, stampede your daughters and rape all the chickens with the subtlety of a crop-duster. And the slow burning closing number, "Camping Tune," merely replaces the band's usual, drooling frenzy with a gargantuan riff and tortured screams. The only atypical element in this delightfully brutish and barbaric L.P is the drums' unexpectedly dry, almost Helmet-like quality, but it all works out in the end somehow -- just when you thought it was safe.
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