Sex Room = Love And Rockets + Ramones + early Nirvana
We need more rage in this Beehive State and angry punks to fight the power. Sex Room could well be one of those bands. With a name like “Sex Room,” be very careful with your Google search—but if you search correctly, you will discover three hooligans with shady stage names from Ogden that have delivered a treasure of a record in the third volume of InSnaketicide.
The album starts off simply enough with the opening track “Blind Vision.” The recording sounds a little rough around the edges—the way any good DIY punk recording should sound, with that musty, hollow-basement-with-unfinished-walls-and-cement-floors vibe containing the vocal shouts, relentless drumming and a Johnny Ramone–esque down stroke and full-bodied momentum guitars. This could easily be this band’s core sound, but it isn’t, as it doesn’t take long for this record to explode all over the place. Listening to Sex Room spins me around in every direction, with everything but the kitchen sink thrown at me. Just when I feel well-spun and disoriented, the record shoves me forward to check my balance.
InSnaketicide is an album that is angry, anxious and strange, all at the same time. It isn’t a linear record in any way, shape or form—it swirls around you. With repeated listenings, I find myself drawn down different pathways and back alleys I never noticed the first time around. Sex Room are a legitimate punk band that also serves up surf, psychedelic and that Nirvana, Bleach-era grind. They also inject beeps, buzzing, art-house noise, fuzz, hand claps and—I’m pretty sure—at one point, a kazoo. The secret weapon that Sex Room unleash is a Middle Eastern sound that slithers through the entire record. I enjoyed every second of InSnaketicide. Even the album art is glorious. This record will enchant, inspire, engage and punch you in the face. I hope that Sex Room continue to find stages, audiences and inspiration to thrust their unique sound out into the world. –Russ Holsten