If the music of Black Sabbath was meant to evoke the smouldering fingerprint of Satan in our everyday existence, Pissed Jeans are here to show us that he doesn’t need to be evoked — the Devil’s already here, lurking behind the banal and seemingly harmless details of everyday life.
Over the curt 39 minutes of King of Jeans, the Allentown, Pennsylvania four-piece evokes rage, shame, disgust and even perverse love for the steady, working-class lifestyle that permeates their hometown (Allentown is one of the most well-known blue-collar towns in the U.S.).
Each song lurches and chugs forward, strings tearing through your head like a tornado while lead singer Matt Korvette mocks and spits at the warm blanket of apathy (“False Jesii Part 2,” “Half Idiot”) and instant gratification (“Lip Ring,” “Spent”) that threatens to keep him and his bandmates bound and gagged from nine to five.
King of Jeans sparks like giant metal jaws grinding together and stings with the venom of deep-seeded frustration, never daring to pause or soften its sludgy attack to reflect or consider the wild flailing of the band’s bodies and tongues.
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