The Shrapnelles

Calgary, AB

Swinging gaseous Gun Club riffs through a rusty blender of ribald chainsaw shredding, with 4-part harmony-style vocals screaming ever so heavenly over the top, is both a sight and sound to behold. But don’t try to pigeonhole them as a female version of Demons’ Claws, these ladies (and Warren) have their very own saw-toothed punk blueprint they’ve created, sloptastically on their own, and once the dramatically hushed intro kicks in on the first track, it’s all smash and crash from here on out. Everything between the writhing, cavernous guitar thunder to the noisy, shredding cymbals comes together in perfect time. These songs quickly converge in your head and seep in through any available unprotected wounds like the delicious poison that they embody so perfectly, on their maiden voyage into your inner skull and all of its awaiting pleasure receptors.