From the wilded realms in between, Vile Ent returns with a second EP of institutionalized industrial, mind melted metal, swingin’ hard rock and digitally molested soundscapes that follow-up 2017’s freaky, fun and fucked up Road Rash EP with a sonic glitch-out of equally mangled organic and computerized split personalities.  Ent who has cut a swath across the Canadian underground with 80s thrash/death titans Ligeia, the rabid Violent Christ, sludge/doom overlords Witchsnake and psyche-y baroque punks Bates Motel brings with him his loyal collaborator MrBump and Big John Bates to handle lead and auxiliary instrumentation across the ever-shifting sands of Ent’s tangled world of terror and Mr. Ent himself is a musical player across the board on the EP as well.  The 5 tracks on offer extend the ideas explored on Road Rash and introduce a severe smattering of new textures and maledictions into the mix.

Previously existing in a rotten, blackened sludge/doom form on Witchsnake’s debut LP, “Honey, I’m Home” gets a brand new coat of paint on this release.  Without a doubt it stands as one of this maniac’s all-time best tracks.  Adopting a concrete cracking, blues riff curmudgeon stuffed to the gills with weirdo-wah pedal abuse, sidewinding 70s proto-metal power-chord madness courtesy of Big John Bates and igniting itself to a state of self-combustion via MrBump’s acid flashback lead guitar dementia (played with great effect in the key of Butthole Surfer’s Paul Leary), this song layers on one blistering, rocked-out, metal-laced industrial salvo after another.  Synapse blowing electronics rip through the texturally sound sludgy rock thickness as skybound harmony vocals and blackened background screams weld themselves to Ent’s steel girder lead pipes.  Vocally, Vile’s got a booming, towering lung capacity with a snarling quirk all his own.  A sarcastic take on the workingman’s deadpan suit n’ tie lifespan is handled with authoritative character and bulldozing melodies that got grit comin’ out of every orifice.  Not enough people ram blues and metal up industrial’s backside and this track benefits from its lack of givin’ a fuck, sheer originality and stellar arranging.

“Medication movement covers up the truth,” proclaims the hurdy gurdy vocals on the runaway punk/industrial/noise-metal of “Bipolar Avenues.”  Electronic malice covers every inch of the vocal canvas as the freak-out low singing, punk-rock attitude and murderous shouts echo a hybrid of Jello Biafra, Gibby Haynes and Scott Reagers.  MrBump’s AK-47 fast programming and the hell rave synthetics make for an alternatively fun and truly mental ward friendly piece of factory-pressed mayhem.  As a whacko that grew up on industrial like Front Line Assembly, Ministry and Iron Icon era Clay People, Ent and his nightshift crew strikes a chord with me and also manages to sound completely original in modern times where good industrial is a scarce trading commodity.  “Teenage Mother’s” porno laced samples and PSA statements that warn “It happens 250,000 times a year, where is your daughter tonight” induce listener cackles as the song’s initial, cacophonic soundwaves come off like a 56k modem having digital sex with a cable connection…an aesthetic the track retains through its entire course of play.  “Brogrammer” is a segue track that comes off as legitimately hysterical and deranged at the same time.  It’s not worth ruining the punchline in describing its short mash-ups.  Bump handles all instruments on the wildass, backroads ride of closer “Web Witch.”  Grimy metal riffs tighten the screws on a factory-meltdown musical mission that throws the witch switch on lucid experimental 70s licks and fret-dazzling metal leads.  Vile’s certifiable, diamond sharp vocals toy with demonic pitch-shifting, clean power croons of muscular might and spoken insanity for a caustically entertaining blend of styles.  Lyrically, the words explore the dark underbelly of the Internet with more NSFW sexual tidbits than you can shake an Oak tree trunk at with a particularly belligerent outro couplet sealing the deal as the music is riveted into an even tighter electronic coffin (“Souls have met and magic cast, inside the spheres of God we blast, make music through our copulation, steaming mad, Web Witch Station,” that’s some fuckin’ wicked shit).

Morning Wood is an instant classic for anyone that wonders what happened to good ol’ industrial metal’s playfully insane, anything goes nature.  It’s a crazed proposition that makes every second count of its short-running time.  There’s a real sneering sense of humor and one-of-a-kind insights into the fucked up computer world in which we live running throughout the EP and the heavy use of guitars and varied vocalizations craft an assault that’s tough to draw a bead on.  Another outstanding entry into the Vile Ent canon and hopefully we won’t be wanton for new material in the not so distant future.

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