CHAPSTIK: ALIVE WITH IMAGES OF DEATH One cannot extol the virtues of stoner rock enough, the oft-misunderstood and critically underappreciated subgenre of rock 'n' roll. In fact, by hurling fistfuls of thunder and speed, bands like Chapstik (in all their blue collar Thor glory) appeal to the baser self, the self that cannot resist the power of the head bang and the flashing of the metal sign -- the self that knows why it feels so good to be bad.
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CHAPSTIK: ALIVE WITH IMAGES OF DEATH One cannot extol the virtues of stoner rock enough, the oft-misunderstood and critically underappreciated subgenre of rock 'n' roll. In fact, by hurling fistfuls of thunder and speed, bands like Chapstik (in all their blue collar Thor glory) appeal to the baser self, the self that cannot resist the power of the head bang and the flashing of the metal sign -- the self that knows why it feels so good to be bad. Chapstik is pure adrenaline. Their latest foray into subversion is the album Fire. Die in it, a brutish cacophony of sternum-splitting bass and fiery vocals. It is, in a word, terrifying.
