Any self-respecting sludge fan knows that Iron Monkey created some of the best music in the genre during their initial run. With a self-titled debut (1997) and a worthy follow-up Our Problem (1998), the Nottingham marauders made some of the decade’s most infectiously violent and hateful music. With an impossibly groovy rhythm section, riffs both timeless and grating, and vocals that shouldn’t even be possible, it didn’t take long for the band to achieve cult status within the UK scene and beyond. Unfortunately, it also didn’t take long for the band to implode. The story of label issues, unsustainable tour antics, and a general self-destructive attitude has been well documented, and the tragic death of vocalist Johnny Morrow seemed to close the book of Iron Monkey forever.
Many fans responded with incredulity when Iron Monkey returned with a new lineup and a new album. To that effect, 9-13 did fairly well for itself as an album no one expected and many thought shouldn’t exist without Morrow or founding drummer Justin Greeves. Regardless, founding members, guitarist Jim Rushby and guitarist-turned-bassist Steve Watson, did admirable work with drummer Scott “Brigga” Briggs before he was replaced by Steven “Ze Big” Mellor. The downsized lineup (from five members to three) proved, at least, that they could still create music made for getting zonked and fighting people. And now, at least, Spleen And Goad feels like a step forward for this iteration of Iron Monkey.
As corroborated in the liner notes of a re-release of the first two albums, ‘90s Iron Monkey initially wanted to get away from the stoner music in favor of a punkier sound. To that effect, the opening track “Misanthropizer” doesn’t seem to far from what might’ve happened if Iron Monkey’s initial run hadn’t ended. Stripped back, raw, and primitive, it becomes easier to ignore the fact Ze Big doesn’t throw as many percussive curveballs as Greeves did. In the same way, it’s hard to deny how angry Watson sounds as he screams his brains out. It might not be Morrow status, but it embodies that reckless hate that made the band indispensable. The shuffling battery of “Concrete Shock” achieves something similar, embracing a “thud, whack, crash” approach and keeping the punches coming from front to back. It’s like punkey blues, played by pissed-off orcs on a sick bath salts bender.
The death swing buggy continues with “CSP,” further emphasizing Iron Monkey’s appreciation for keeping things streamlined and lethal. One oft-overlooked aspect of the band’s older tunes is how many ideas play out within the sonic fray, so the relative simplicity of their current approach remains a distinctive quality. The good news is, Rushby and Watson come through riffs worth marinating in, like the string-bending chug-fest of “Off Switch.” Backed by filthy guitar and bass tones, along with animalistic caterwauls, this is sludge at its most unfiltered. Though these tunes aren’t as choppy as the old ones, this trio embraces their role as a mean brawling machine.
For all its primal rage, welcome shakeups remain within the plodding misery, like the frenetic hardcore stylings of “Rat Flag.” Again, whereas early Iron Monkey would have mixed in the double time with slower riffs, this song centers entirely on two-stepping mayhem. It’s worth stressing this more meat-and-potatoes approach because Iron Monkey in 2024 clearly doesn’t want to reinvent the wheel. They want to pound listeners into submission with the harsh essentials of sludge metal. Of course, this doesn’t lead to an album with many twists and turns. Hearing the first couple of passages of “Lead Transfusion” leaves little to the imagination the rest of its run time. It’s here where the question can be asked, “Did this song need to be five minutes long?”
At the same time, you have a track like “Exlexed,” which steers closer to the variations within the old Iron Monkey while maintaining the throttling grit of the new Iron Monkey. Some acrobatic fretwork and beat changes certainly contrast with the droning dirge of “The Gurges.” This cut draws more comparisons to the ultra-slow sludgers like Noothgrush or Grief, soaking in every morsel of bile each descending guitar strain or feedback stab has to offer. Lack of variation becomes a weapon, as Iron Monkey hacks deeper and deeper at the soul with every turn of the circle. It’s also telling that after the rising action, the outro “O D Rose” flows naturally as a wall of feedback and gurgling noise. No pleasantries. No nuance. Just anger.
Spleen And Goad finds Iron Monkey sticking to their guns and throwing up a middle finger at anyone who questions why they’re still here making noise. For a band self-described as a way to annoy as many people as possible, this album will certainly repel all but true sludge heads. These guys hit hard and mean, and sutably dispel comparisons to the glory days with pure ruthless aggression.
Iron Monkey’s Spleen And Goad is out April 5 via Relapse Records.