Who Rides the Tiger

Transylvania Baby

Hard Drugs 2008

Gritty and urban rock spews forth from this L.A. band like vomit down the gutter from a wino on the wrong side of the tracks.  Our journey into the dark underbelly of Hollywood starts with Your Guts, My Glass with its hammer beat and humming main riff which is like feeding a white-line fever under a spotlight.  Exhibiting from the outset the prominent bass drive grooves is Geronimo.  Though it is somehow subtle there is a definite southern vibe to the music here.  Hollywood Hates You creeps like a stalker methodically following his prey down nighttime streets, spouting verbal bile and brawny basslines like a curbside junkie who found god.  Billy is like an angrier version of Smashing Pumpkins after waking up in a crack den after an all night bender.  Next up, Sunshine sways from toxic sludge, not unlike a spit drenched ashtray, to a dreamlike fade.  I could be a believer!  At Home with Wolves grabs you by the throat utilizing riffs that are reminiscent of Black Sabbath lost in alligator infested swamps.  And thusly the album ends with the same sweat-soaked, feverish nightmare that the album initially plunged you into.  Billygeneking's vocals are slurred and throat scraping in their approach and sound as if he has experienced all the harsh realities of street living.  McK's bass lines dominate this album and add a lower-than-low end to each track.  Who Rides the Tiger possess an undeniable catchiness despite its seedy overcurrents.  Their brand of rock is fuming mad with a wild drunkenness.  Transylvania Baby paints a dark and vile world out of the vices and voices of L.A.'s hidden underworld.