Fat, Fat, Fat, distorted blues-soaked, Southern Rock, Doomy riffs inspired by Deep Purple, Cream, Sabbath, Clutch, The Sword, Trouble, with just a pinch of Zeppelin. Their PR people call it Dirt Metal. I guess I get that. . . . you’ll need a stiff brush to get the grit from beneath your nails after listening.

Vocalist, Brigitte Roka, was born in the late 90s, but sings like an old soul (can we stop being amazed when young vocalists show amazing talent?). I’m tempted to say she’s Janis Joplin resurrected. . . . There’s some truth to that, but it’s too easy a comparison. Roka is her own woman. She sings with much of the same coarse firewater and smoke as Janis, but she also brings fierce Metal edge and power; her charisma and star power are fully her own. She also emits this occasional cat-like growl that brings the entire house down. The whole trio need ink, though, for the incredible energy in their songs and their performances of them. When that slide guitar gets going, it’s deep-fried greasy delicious. This album is a rockin’ set that doesn’t set the brow or the bar too high (With song titles like “Ode to Plastic” and “Vinny Got Arrested,” you see what I mean. “Shark Town Blues” is a fun Kenny Wayne Shepherd-kinda jam that sounds like a band practice outtake). In fact, Aboleth’s approach don’t seem to be aiming to venues bigger than the bar at all. This isn’t an insult - - you can achieve greatness without headlining the arena or big theater. The song, “Black Box,” would be great performed by any band, but Roka and Co. turn it into something heartstopping. It’s better than whatever stupid song is currently playing on the hard rock radio station in your area.
Aboleth’s debut full-length comes recommended.