Maids a heavy metal act from Newcastle in Australia is The Chef, Mitt Jim, Preston Berryman and Missile Dyl.
Were that all, there would be little to write and I would not ask you to spend time with Maids. There is far more as the quartet de-construct the sounds leaving the audience staring at scaffolding as the layers are metronomically stripped away. One is reminded of Metal Box, fortunately far better in my opinion – as you will be more than aware of my intense antagonism towards a clown, advertising butter.
Because of the very nature of the flaying skin the listener can’t help but to become absorbed like a rubber-necker to a gruesome road accident, you know you shouldn’t, but the human fascination with blood and gore just transfixes and so we find ourselves with Maids, just waiting for that next spurt of screeching guitar to lay waste. Stripping away the bones of metal rock we are left in a forlorn space of industrialism crashing through the speakers.
Smartly never stepping away from their home territory, Maids is able to offer fans of the genre much to hold on to, whilst those after different vectors are amply served.
As those connected with me on some of my personal social media profiles know, I try to catch up with a community radio station in Ballarat in Australia couple of times a week – Voice FM – and it was via the Collision Show I was listening to today, that I found myself intrigued by Maids, I trust you will too find something of interest.
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