This brings us, after a fashion, to the new release by Loincloth, Iron Balls of Steel. Re-read that title; are you laughing or at least smirking yet? Yeah, when I saw it for the first time the coffee pretty much launched itself from my mouth and out through my nostrils. Later, I shared the ‘title’ with my wife who laughed and asked “Are you kidding?” No, no I am not. The title alone evokes, at minimum, some dunderheaded Manowar tribute band with more beer cans at their feet than brain cells. Or, perhaps the title refers to some long-lost and mold-encrusted demo protruding from a noxious puddle of filth in Accept’s old rehearsal space? All this before even listening to the music on hand; the omens did not bode well. But in the spirit of evenhandedness, benefit of the doubt and all that I decided to do some research instead of allowing first impressions to overwhelm me. 

Loincloth began as an expression of the collective creativity of Tannon Penland (the Kenmores), Pen Rollings (Breadwinner), Cary Rowells (Confessor) and Steve Shelton (Confessor) which initially produced a cdr demo ep and single. Iron Balls of Steel is their first album. The album was completed without the talents of guitarist Pen Rollings who left the band under circumstances that the rest of the band refuses to publicly discuss. Nevertheless, the remaining members have constructed a wonderfully engaging album of technically proficient, instrumental metal. Names like Don Caballero, Gore, and the Melvins are bandied about when the question “Sounds like?” comes up. While perhaps not as technical (or spazz) as a band like Behold the Arctopus, Loincloth definitely have more than enough musical ability to hold a listener’s attention. The tracks on Iron Balls of Steel range in length from 1.15 to 4.54; a wonderfully concise set of compositions. And no embarrassing lyrical faecal matter either.

The plethora of riffs found within Iron Balls of Steel are mighty fine but it all becomes a bit like a heavy metal Moebius strip; chugging along at a good clip, twisting and turning, but not really going anywhere special. But my suspicion is that the listener is just supposed to admire those spiffy, chrome-plated riffs and not worry too terribly much about any sort of destination. Just cruise an endless highway of riffage that is its own reward. Meditate only upon the moment. It is all about the journey after all, right? We all already know the destination anyway.