Six Sik Sisters
Tizona tizona008

[RACEBANNON / Six Sik Sisters]
It's been a scant 3 years since the last salvo from the Racebannon camp, Acid or Blood, but that time has not passed without vengeful fruit. Offering a handful of 12" singlesreleases (most notably the Merzbow collaboration, Merzbannon, and the DJ-friendly Wrap The Body 12") the time draws nigh and the skies turn black for a new full-length from the venerable Bloomingtonian firing squad.

“Contaminate the air we breathe. It's a curse, it's a disease.”
With every subsequent release Racebannon continue to drop jaws and crack craniums with their mind-melt/sonic headfuck of genre-defying proportions, and show the listener that a band can continue to progress while still planting their sonic seed deep inside impure new soil. Acid Or Blood could not possibly prepare anyone for what would be foundon their latest contaminated offering of flesh and blood, Six Sik Sisters.

Akin to their 3rd full-length Satan's Kickin’ Yr Dick In insomuch as the newest Bannon offering is a sonic opus following the tale of a singular theme, this is where the comparisons to any of their previous output end. In 2011, we see Racebannon at the height of their game, simultaneously pro- and regressing, with a refined might indicative of a band in top form. Conventions have been abandoned. Paradigms have been revoked and rewritten. A new deal is on the table. In 2011, Racebannon drown out all life around.

“Many hearts will bleed and sing as the illness grows.”
Helmsed by executive soundscapist Kurt Ballou of Converge, SSS is a stripped-down affair, yet clear and massive sounding. Tempos drop to both their fastest ever, as well as their slowest and burliest ever, in the Racebannon catalog, and with impetuous results. Mark V Racebannon is a bile-soaked conjuration of warped speed-metal riffs colliding with Sabbathesque knuckle-drag, alongside breakneck warp-speed drumming that falls only a tad short of grindcore. As with Acid Or Blood, the "noise" facet of the band is now singularly incorporated into the songs themselves, and not a sonic afterthought. This is a focused beast that feasts solely to sustain itself on unlight, pain, and suffering. This is nowadays Racebannon…lock up your daughters.

“Six lives gone to waste. Like the dirt we place them under.”
Poisonous wasp-stings of riffs batter and ensnare the listener against pulse-pounding rhythms, while resident cult-leader Mike Anderson pushes his usual verbal exorcisms to new heights amidst the occult backdrop of a story cloaked in the black plague. One has to wonder whether resident riffsmith James Bauman has been reviling in Dark Angel, Exodus, and other classic Combat-core staples of his youth in exclusivity, as his speed-picked riffs attain intensity and ferocity never before witnessed on a Racebannon album. And the stalwart rhythm section of Chris Saligoe and Brad Williams plod, heave, ebb, and flow with a vigor that outclasses their own vaulted contributions of records past. Simply put: this is Racebannon at their hungriest, heaviest, and most venomous. This is the Ted Bundy of all Racebannon records. This…is death. (D.Britts)

“Wilt away beaming light. One by one they all begin to cry.”

- Recorded by Kurt Ballou (Converge, Torche, Young Widows)

- Mastered by Alan Douches (Mastodon, Baroness, Misfits, Bad Brains)

- Artwork by Tom Denney (Cannibal Corpse. Kylesa, Black Cobra)

- PR by Carl Schultz (Action! PR)