The Distillers began turning heads in 2002 with Sing Sing Death House. A far cry from the poppy punk rock dominating the mainstream, Sing Sing… provided a fast, heavy, vitriolic sound that many punk fans had been waiting for. Led by the not-so-lady-like, Australian-born Brody Dalle, The Distillers seemed on pace to bring genuine attitude and rebellion back to the punk rock world.

Make no mistake: Dalle’s voice is absolutely brutal. Sounding like she swallowed a box of glass shards, Dalle screams her lyrics out with anger and attitude that perfectly match the words she sings. She is most vicious on Hate Me and Desperate, in which most of her delivery can’t even be called singing – it’s just straight up screaming. Some people will find her vocals hard to handle because they are so abrasive, but fans of raw, gritty music will enjoy this. But just because the music is gruff does not mean that it isn’t catchy. Sure, it's hard to understand the lyrics, but once you figure them out, most of the songs are pretty easy to sing along with.

This is a short album, so they waste no time in delivering musical punches to the jaw. Five tracks last less than two minutes, and the longest is three and a half. They don’t leave much room for slow buildups or long solos – every song is filled to the brim with solid punk rock, nothing more, nothing less. All twelve tracks are fast and heavy, gritty but more tight than sloppy.

Lyrically, Sing Sing Death House is very good. In a time when so few punk bands write songs that really matter, The Distillers go against the grain and write songs with thought and meaning. Seneca Falls pays tribute to Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady. The intense opener Sick Of It All depicts angry, disaffected youths in a more violent and ugly way than most bands do: "I'm a girl/ I'm only thirteen/ My body rots/ Cause I won’t eat." The Young Crazed Peeling, one of the album’s biggest standouts, shows Brody telling her harsh life story while pointing out how thankful she is for what she has, which happens to be all she needs.

One of the most distinctive tracks is City of Angels, in which Brody speedily delivers well-penned lyrics about her negative observations of Los Angeles. Its chorus is probably the album’s most enjoyable to belt out: "They say this is the city/ The city of angels/ All I see is dead wings." I Am A Revenant provides another catchy verse with "We are the revenants/ Yeah-ah/ And we will rise up from the dead." For the most part, though, there is little radio-friendly material here (they would have to wait another year for airplay). On Sing Sing… the Distillers seem to take pride in creating something that can’t be accepted by the masses. Those of us who do like this kind of stuff are all they care about.

The downside though, is that there is not a whole lot of variation on the album. While its follow-up Coral Fang shows the band experimenting with some different sounds and even slowing down the pace a few times, Sing Sing Death House doesn’t change things up very often. It takes several careful listens to begin noticing the differences in songs. Otherwise, things tend to blur together. This album is more for when you need an adrenaline rush and you have no time to waste on variation.

While not a fantastic album, it gets the job done. If you need something loud and fast to crank in the car or at the gym, this works just fine. Sing Sing Death House is harsh, noisy, and vulgar. If you like that, great. If you don't, then the Distillers probably don’t give a f*ck.




Coral Fang



Recommended: Yes