To help ring in 2009, which should be the best year yet, we have posted three new songs on ye ol' page.
They are as follows...
Ship of Fools
Ambassador
Familiar City feat. Jesse James Madre of Tiger Flowers/Same Deep Water As You

We have a lot brewing in the new year. Expect live shows in your hood, new music, pointless ramblings, slanderous banter, to see our first ever music video that will accompany one of these new songs in which we are rather fond of ourselves... and at the end (of our lives not the music video) there will be a most unbelievable twist. No lackluster here.
Hope you all enjoy and have started your new years as safe and as responsible as we have!

For a super sized blog on the new years follow this URL http://seeshaneblog.blogspot.com/

Thanks for listening.
-mabus

Yesterday I was retrofitted with a boot that allowed me to walk on an ankle that had been recently sprained in three separate places.

No this was not the work of God but rather esteemed Science.

Never mind that I was playing basketball in dress shoes on an immaculately polished court with a bunch of sixteen year olds.
After a failed rebound, a loud stabbing pop suddenly echoed from inside my ankle as I fell to the floor. I staggered to the benches reluctant to pull my right dress shoe off in fear that my ankle might not look the way a healthy ankle should look.

Never mind that I was substitute teaching a gym class at a High School and that they are liable to burst out into hysteria at the drop of a dime upon seeing the only shred of authority fall powerless from beneath the basketball hoop.
Fortunately as soon as my right dress shoe and dress sock came off the class of thirty fourteen to eighteen year olds gathered round what had become a grapefruit sized growth emerging from my ankle.
We all sat gasping and staring at my ankle swell until the bell ring. They wished me better and made off for the hallway to celebrate their four minutes of uproar and anarchy.
I would wait those four minutes, for my foot to turn black and blue and the kids to all be seated in their next class to take my chance at walking.

And so I walked. I was told to go to the hospital.

Yet again an injury! I'm beginning to think it's a gift rather than a hinderance. Since I can't drive now thanks to my giant astro-boot which helps me walk without crutches I am not forced to spend half my pay check on a tank of gas.
In my mad desperate little town the price of unleaded has jumped from three dollars and seventy five cents to four dollars and twenty five cents in just two weeks.
I might permanently attach this astro-boot to my leg. Fuck it. I am going to break the other ankle so I can put an astr0-boot on that one too.
It all begins to swell!
How much longer can we tolerate such a low blow. Complacency is the new American. Debt the new Gold. Time the new War.

We are in the midst of an infinitely long race to presidency and I truly hope we will find some honest to truth change come next november. But it seems november is a long ways away. And we are in the middle of a crisis. Maybe I've been watching too much news. Or maybe it's just real goddamn taxing driving by gas stations with numbers changing daily higher and higher on their gas price flagpoles.

One solution could be Science's very own black holes. (If you made it this far you must be very bored).
The Large Hardon Collider (LHC), the worlds largest particle collider will begin smashing atoms this summer and will reach it's full potential in about a year.

This particle smasher has come under much scrutiny. Some scientists claim that such a large particle smasher will produce black holes upon the fatal collision of atoms that will eventually amass into a major threat to our world. Basically, we would be swallowed whole in approximately four minutes by a hole the size of a penny with a mass millions of times greater than our very sun. Both the nay sayers and the LHC agree that black holes will be produced as they smash particles deep beneath the French border this summer. The true debate is whether all matter truly decays and falls to Earths gravity or if matter never truly decays and can again amass into black holes, fatal earth consuming black holes. The LHC are looking for God or something that resembles God in the form of the HIggins Particles or the aptly titled "God Particle."
Never mind God.

Say we flip the the switch over and over and nothing happens (drat!) and maybe Humans harness the power of black holes.
Then what?
"Mommy!!!! Please Please can we keep it.
We promise we will feed it every day and night and keep it clean and brush it and make sure it doesnt eat your shoes, Mommy please let us keep it!"
If it can somehow lower gas prices or fix Asia's terrible fault lines or feed the hungry or bring back Carnivale season three to HBO or help me find a job or help us get out of debt or make my dog stop barking at four a.m. or help my swollen ankle return to it's natural size... than I'm all for it.

But I highly doubt any good will come from humans toying with black holes. I've seen the news. And I know they will, in four minutes, have the time to tell the world we are all about to be eaten by some SPHERE OF STRANGENESS.
But... I would not have to pay my bills if my new address was SHERE OF STRANGENESS.
So maybe I should peel my proverbial obama sticker off my car and cast my vote for something that stands for even more change. Change I could not begin to comprehend. Change where my mouth is a galaxy and my teeth it's planets. We might be long stringy columns of light... that kind of change sounds relaxing.
Ah, the life of floating space particles expanding and contracting sounds within my price range.
But I do like ice cream and taco bell and high tops and jeans, so much like Commie Russia I doubt any of those fantastically physical things will be there floating with us in eternal space slop.
Who knows? Maybe all gaseous matter dunks in Jordans?
If I learned anything it's that trying to dunk in Jordans is smarter than trying to dunk in dress shoes.

So while you all (not "you" per se) will drive off into the nearest sunset and kiss and cry and run out of gas until you can evade the inevitable no more, I will step on the feeding rabid black hole like a bug with my trusty astro-boot and sweep it under the carpet.
And I'll either enter a new cosmic order or save the really expensive one I can't yet afford.








good fucking twilight.

The evolution of the TV-dinner and People Watching has morphed into yet another hideous display of human interaction.  This time it is too close for comfort. I admit that I have been known to indulge in these two hobbies but the level at which people have brought them today is just plain unnerving.
Today I had a hard time distinguishing myself from another man’s/woman’s meal. 
As I strolled along another congested New York City street I became aware of the endless rows of people who dine in the restaurant’s street side windows for all to see. Whatever happened to eating at the table or bringing it home? No, now we have to sit and share with all the pedestrians our new fangled love for ripping through our fast food as we shower countertops in the crumbs, spying guiltlessly out unto all who pass by.  These eye level countertops have created an entertaining scenic landscape out of the once industrious waste that usually just scatters about in the city wind. Now while you chew on your cheese-steak, you can get the up close look at the pretty girl struggling to fix her high heel (the priceless expression on her face), the sea of bald spots, the crying child, the whimpering dog, the begging bum, and the disabled vet.  Not only are you swallowing your food whole, but America too.  This new attraction begins where the TV and Film industry leave off.  Now you only have to invest ten dollars and twenty minutes into a bottomless list of characters.  No mushy romance, no belated drama.  The character development happens as fast as you clear your plate.  The feasting are given the chance to sneak a peak into snit bits of everyday life… Wait am I for this or against this?
Albeit, I understand this phenomenon has been around for some time.  But why? Why do we feel the urge to engulf our food in such frightful proximity to the street and it’s unassuming pedestrians? 
Because we are animals, as much as our suits and our dresses and our blue tooths try to hide that fact.  But can we not do this in a more civil fashion?
As I walked past the feasting hordes I was so close that I felt their ravenous eyes follow my movements as they bit again and again into their food.  Sweat gathered where one mans receding hairline met his crinkled forehead as rogue beads of perspiration slid down to intermingle with his drool.  The image of cows at the trough fighting for their lick of the salt block was not a distant one in my mind.
But I felt like the salt block.
Obviously we cannot undo this perilous activity. So I will offer an anecdote.
Tint the fucking glass!
If restaurants could tint the street side window their customers eat at we could all get the  best of both worlds.  The customers need to survey while they eat would be completely uninhibited.  This would also work for the pedestrians who might not want to see only inches away a woman lowering a large greasy slice of pizza slowly down her throat, much like a man draws a crowd eating swords.
Or maybe some of you might like that? Fetishes aside, this tactless rendezvous of fast food and people watching needs to change.
I don’t even like when my girlfriend watches me eat.  It is nerve racking.
I’m sure many pedestrians are not bothered by this lude conduct.
It’s bad enough bums and (even worse) the bums by choice (pregnant hipster run aways) beg for my money at every corner.  There are already so many obstacles on the way from ones apartment to the grocery store.
1. Leap over dying bum in apartment building vestibule.
2. Dodge person walking a gazillion salivating dogs who are also in heat.
3. Jump over puddle of sewage rising from the crack in the sidewalk
4. Dance around lunatic Taxi Driver’s and other NYC driver’s sadist driving habits
5. Duck vigilante pigeons
6. Ignore bum begging for change
7. Beat the traffic light
8. Shimmy down narrow grocery aisle
9. Understand grocery clerk through his/her thick accent
10. Repeat 1-8 in descending order
You see there is already enough to worry about.
Why now must my most simple routine turn into even more of a feeding frenzy? I’m baited at every avenue.
The amount of people who live on this planet is staggering.  We’ve built on top of our dead so much, that our dead are running out of places to rest.  We live in feeble skeletons that are starting to buckle under our tremendous weight.
Even space is polluted. And they (good humored scientists) want to construct a mile long NERF ball to clean space up (no lie, google it).
We were, we are, and always will be fucking absurd.
And I love and hate that about us.
But there are small things we can do to bring about change on a greater scale.
Starting with the goddamned window eaters. 
Tint your glass Sbarro and all your sister establishments.
I have yet to sit on the window stool and eat.
But when I do, I will be sure to come back and write a retraction about how much I loved peering into the limitless ocean of vagabonds as they race past my appetite for hasty nourishment and innocent people watching.

After a few glorious days with our new friends John and Paul at Nada Studio we are eager to share our two new songs, Fat with life and Cemetary Man.
If anyone wants to sing along at the next show the lyrics are to be found below...
 
Fat With Life:
Stranded are the unloved brothers of drought. Who thirst prostrate at shallow wells. Heavy tongue in raised hand high like a flag. Beheaded at the spine of the horizon. Scratching from behind the glass of their bottled ship going nowhere. Lusting rapture in the church of mire.
Their disease doesn't turn me on anymore than my own.
Careless are the abandoned. Writhing on the tide carried. Ill fated salvage for the drifts. Without a mistress. Without a home.
Hear my glorified anthem serenade my stumbling greatness.
Ain't this world so profoundly romantic?

Cemetary Man: 
To my jury of heedless ghosts whose blank stare casts a shadow upon us both sentenced to this city, tethered to the skeleton hand stretched across the sky.
Dream, you feasting worms in the devils pocket picked of cold surrender to the grave in which we coil. Follow her smile, big with a million teeth, into the garden of the monoliths.
To my jury of heedless ghosts whose blank stare casts a shadow upon us both sentenced to this city, tethered to the skeleton hand stretched across the sky, like a pendulum, safe from the grave slowly growing with my name.

We hope all your yams, mashed potatoes, wings, breats, and legs were plentiful and satisfactory.
As for me I just ate a hot pocket filled with hope and prayer. It is a new flavor Hot Pocket is testing, each pocket blessed by a cardinal and dipped in holy water. Preachin' Pockets (r). They are delicious and full of penitence.
I will now spend the rest of the day rubbing my ever expanding belly. Offering the image of my bloated self to the thanksgiving gods as I see the reflection of myself form on the plate where a huge piece of pumpkin pie once laid.
Let the salivating subside and the hunger for night time revelry and celebration begin. TCM is doing a thing on James Stewart which means you will probably see a lot of Grace Kelly which means my eyes will feast unto her until the tryptophan takes its toll on my dreary soul.
Enjoy your leftovers and new found second chin or love handle or third ass cheek. I know I will. I am poking and pulling and the new facets on myself as I type.
Be thankful for something even when nothing feel thankful for you.
Very soon we will be recording. We can not wait to share it with each and every one of you perfect little souls. Night.
Always here for you,
Mabus

PUNKNEWS.COM

God damnit.

Last November, I went to the Rhythmden Fest in Poughkeepsie, and saw a wide array of incredible bands including Shai Hulud, Converge, Municipal Waste, and Modern Life Is War. There were three venues connected, and subsequently, there were usually at least 2 bands playing at any given time, forcing you to make a judgement call against one band to see another.

Mabus was one of those bands I hadn't heard of, shrugged it off and said, "ah, I'm probably not missing much of anything." How wrong I was. How very, very wrong I was.

Cheers, To Doomsday Gloom is in my CD player as we speak letting me know just how wrong I in fact was. The fact of the matter is this -- this band rips. Elements of grind, tech-metal, and a heavy jazz influence all come together beautifully to make this record not only diverse, but extremely fluid and extremely cohesive. That's usually the main problem a band like this has -- you can play a million miles an hour, but to make an interesting song, let alone album, is a different venture entirely. Luckily, Mabus have no such problems.

First and foremost, all members of this band are incredible musicians. I'm not talking in the basic guitar wankery sense of things, either, I mean these guys are damn good musicians. Some of the time signature changes on this record are liable to make your head explode out of sheer amazement, and what's more is they aren't gratuitous starts and stops for the sake of it -- they really feel fluid in the path and direction of their respective songs. The band knows when to turn it up to 11, and when to take things back down a few notches and let everyone catch their breath. Wasting no time to let the listener become acclimated with their crushing sound, "One's Nosedive Is Another's Parade" bursts out of the gate with some thunderous drum fills and the raspy scream of vocalist Shane Cashman. Cashman's voice is one of the more impressive in the genre, with screechy highs and lows that sound like they're being echoed straight from the bowels of hell. No matter the pace of the music, his vocals match it perfectly, and that's not exactly the easiest of tasks considering the chaotic nature perpetrated by the band's other three members.

The band is more than crazy time signature changes, blistering riffs, and insane drum fills -- they do have a more reserved side. Think about the jazz that Dillinger Escape Plan integrated on Miss Machine, do a good deal of expanding on that, and you will find yourself listening to Mabus' "Swingin' in Saterlee Grove." A slinky, groove-packed jazz number that integrates some horns, and allows Cashman to do his best lounge singer rendition. What's more is it works. It works very, very well. The brief reprieve from the chaos the other songs offer is a welcome one, and there's more jazz moments sporadically sprinkled into many of the other songs to give it that extra little edge. The band even tries their hand at an entirely instrumental song, as "Canyons for Ribcages" acts as the slow churning prelude to the all out assault of the album closer, "Retire Happy."

It's not enough anymore to be technical for the sake of it. It's been done, it's been done again, and done some more. Fans of extreme music like Mabus are now a much harder bunch to please, but an album like this, one that provides both chaos and structure is bound to appease the lot.
*******************************************************

MAELSTROM.COM

Mabus could be defined as an extreme, yet more structured version of Mr. Bungle and newer Ephel Duath. The genre-changing is constant and harsh, and not at all expected, as Mabus actuallys plays all those styles very well. Take those grind bands that include acoustic interludes or weird parts: you know right away that it's a parody, or at most, experimentation. In this case, however, the feeling you get is like you're listening to many bands playing their respective genre, like Naked City. If we had to name the most important styles played on Cheers, To Doomsday Gloom, it'd be jazz fusion, death metal and post hardcore. It is not the genres in particular but the totality what makes the music a different experience from most avant-garde albums. It's a real example of musical cyclothymia that works as a whole. Saying that Mabus plays jazz fusion well means that they are quite proficient when it comes to playing instruments. In this, no one is excluded. All of the members, including the vocalist, are skilled and impressively technical. Thankfully, Mabus is not a band of musical wankers; everything is there for a purpose. You won't find Spastic Ink-technicality here, though. A high point of the album is the usage of strange time signatures and polyrhythms, while not making it Meshuggah-riffing like many, many bands nowadays do. As opposed to Mr. Bungle, every song on Cheers, To Doomsday Gloom isn't really different from the others. Most mix the same five or so genres so, while it's consistent quality-wise, and it's surely hard to keep up with that level, it detracts from the remarkable-ness. Also, while he's really talented, the singer sings pretty much all the time, even in parts where everyone would like to hear the instruments more, so it gets a little bit annoying sometimes. That, and insufficience of solos can get frustrating. As Mabus' first full-length, Cheers, To Doomsday Gloom is impressive. Fans of the genre rarely ever see so much talent and energy put into play unless it's John Zorn. Even despite the nit-picky shortcomings mentioned above, this is nonetheless an outstanding album. (8/10)

*************************************************** INTERPUNK.COM Mabus dive headfirst into the sty of musicality and entropy with "Cheers, To Doomsday Gloom," their first full-length release. From ferociously heavy riffs to jazz reprieves to spastic noise and power metal, the record runs like a black stallion through all terrains as its rider spurs growls of sarcasm and whips melodious dark jest. Not recommended for epileptics or the faint of heart. **************************************************** Jeff Karbow of SICZINE.COM CII, Q62 Mabus will soon die, then will come, A horrible undoing of people and animals, At once one will see vengeance, One hundred powers, thirst, famine, when the comet will . pass. CVI, Q33 His hand finally through the bloody ALUS, He will be unable to protect himself by sea, Between two rivers he will fear the military hand, The black and angry one will make him repent of it Mabus was prophesied by Nostradamus to be the third coming of the anti-christ, follwing the previous two, who were believed to be also prophesied by Nostradamus: Napoleon, and Hitler. Obviously, no one is sure whether or not the anti-christ will take on the human name of Mabus or rather resemble the name in a rearrangement of letters. Many Mabus scholars believe it will be some one from the middle east. Now that you're aware of the origins behind the band's name you can read on... These guys come from Highland Falls, Hopewell Junction, and Purchase, which are little towns that surround the Hudson River. They have been at it since 2001, and have self released two demos and played many shows locally and nationally. Prior to releasing this full length, the band had lost their guitar player, and had seen a revolving door of candidates. That is, until they enlisted the services of Mike, who has been with the band since the recording of this album... Musically, these guys are all over the place. I mean in any given song, you'll catch a death metal riff, jazz section and even some more pop type stuff. You would think such genre bending would sound really forced and contrived, but that is not the case with these guys. Surprisingly, they are able to intertwine their medley of influences into one cohesive, organic sounding album. "One's nosedive is Another's Parade," shows the band doing something very similar to how Candiria started out, combining crushing death metal with a crazy jazzed out section. It also showcases the vocalist ability to do the low gutteral stuff, which he does exceptionally well. "Don't Mind If I Do," features winding discordant guitar runs through the first minute of the song, and then they slow it up with a bridge breakdown which flows nicely into a great bass driven jazz part. From that song they effortlessly jump into the next track, "Care To Drag." If you didn't know any better, you would've thought it was still the same track. This track showcases the bands ability to play the technical metalcore angle in the vein of Into The Moat. "No More Tricks, No More Limbs," shows them opening up with a real melancholy intro, very similar to what Between and The Buried and Me did often on their s/t album that runs for half of the 5 minute track They than break into an off-timed metal riff and than they slip into another brief jazzy moment with the singer coming out of left field with some spoken/sung jazz like vocals and end the song on a nice heavy breakdown. "Swingin' In Saterlee Grove" shows the band's ability to create an atmosphere for the listener. Between the background noises of a club setting and the live like recording it makes you feel like you're at a jazz lounge with the horns and all."The Hangman's Trampy Daughter" really pulls together the band's pool of influences. You get everything the band has to offer, musically and lyrically. "Canyon's For Ribcages" is an interlude that features the guitar playing over some ambient samples, and sets up the final song of this album nicely. "Retire Happy," like Hangman's Daughter, shows the band going full swing, hitting you with everything they have to off, giving you one last big push before the end of the disc. Lyrically, these guys love to paint an abstract painting with their words. I won't be able to do these songs justice so here's what you get from these guys: Today came a windless skeletal heap, and it's been years since I've felt so homefree...-"Canyon's For Ribcages" And then: Your prized hot shot futurist is my well wretched bone's organ concussing itself into a sarrowed has been escape tune, with wings that sore through other heroes daylight...-"One's Nosedive is Another's Parade" Very good stuff. I shall shower the person who recorded and produced this thing with accolades, because this thing couldn't have sounded any better. First off, the bass tone sounds perfect. Every bassist should strive for the tone found on this album. The perfect amount of warmth, low end, and treble. The guitars are rich and warm during the more clean parts and heavy and full during the heavier, distorted sections. The drumming is nice and dense sounding, leaving little to be desired. Couldn't have asked for better vocal placement. And one of the things that really helps the stand apart is the amazing atmosphere the band creates is amplified by the recording, the little samples of a club atmosphere placed in during the spaced out jazz parts, and ambient droning in "Canyons for Ribcages," all help set the mood. The layout is just as off the wall as the music and lyrics. Half of the layout is based on drawings of people who look like their from the rag time era with the other half sporting random pictures of a street light, abandoned warehouse, and old shed/barn. The band logo looks great, whoever drew it or chose the font did good. Inside the book it's just the lyrics, however they added a lot of little different fonts/shades/shadows/etc on certain key words. Good stuff. Rating: 5/5 Songs worthy of replay: The Hangman's Trampy Daughter, One's Nosedive is Another's Parade, Care To Drag Thesis: I don't know whether or not this is a concept album but it very well could be, especially considering how each song flows perfectly into the next. Or it could just be the off the wall, abstract lyrics and layout combined with the meaning of the band's name. I don't know, if anyone knows, feel free to shot me an email and let me know. But anyway, I'm really digging these guys. Though what they're doing isn't exactly new, they actually pull it off without each song sounding radically different. Although this isn't as hell bent on genre bending as Between the Buried and Me's, "Alaska" was, it sports a hell of a lot more emotion. ****************************************************** neufutur.com love albums that do not look like the music that they are trying to represent. This is the case with Mabus' "Cheers, To Doomsday Gloom". Mabus plays a brand of hardcore (through emocore) that uses a lot of sludge metal influences to create something that is tied both to the past and the present. "One's Nosedive is Another's Parade" has a decidedly eighties metal flair to it that struggles with the screaming done on the track. Throw in some double bass pedals and dungeon metal guitars and one has a delightful mesh of different styles and sounds right out of the gate. "One's Nosedive" is one of the longest tracks on the album, which has tracks that typically do not go much longer than three minutes. The stop-start nature of Mabus during "Cheers" makes the tracks feel longer than they ultimately are. This means that the shorter tracks still feel as if they are achieving normal track lengths, while the longer tracks are perhaps too long to keep individuals interested. Mabus may be an interesting band but they are not an act that can change style and influences at the drop of a hat. "Care To Drag?" is perhaps where the band breaks free of their sound for long enough to really put a strong foot forward. This ability to move to different sets of influences is perhaps the one thing that gives me faith that Mabus will be able to continually come up with new and exciting albums in the future. The band eventually enters back into a harder style that is reminiscent of acts like Morbid Angel, but the opening of the track is where the money shot is. The band has a specific focus to "Cheers" that can be heard through any of the disc's 8 tracks, but when Mabus moves away from this focus, individuals can realize exactly how solid of a band Mabus is. This is shown during "Swingin' In Saterlee Grove", a song that mixes Voltaire/Danzig vocal explication with a bluesy, almost jazzy type of style. Mabus only has listeners' attentions for twenty-seven minutes, but adds enough to each song that individuals will feel as if the disc topped twice that length. Mabus is an act that came out of nowhere, but will undoubtedly be in the minds and hearts of listeners for years, if not decades, to come. Give it a try. Top Track: Swingin' In Saterlee Grove **************************************************** Weird and eclectic band kept crawling out of the woods in upstate New York. The latest is Mabus, a quartet of musicians who proclaim an equal love for metal, rock, jazz, and pop. The band formed in 2001 and Cheers to Doomsday Gloom is their debut full length. Mabus actually remind me most of another eclectic New York based band- Candiria. Mabus have the same open mindedness and attitude, not to mention talent. Shane Brendan Cashman sounds like he's using vocal effects, his vocals have that extreme edge that sounds inhuman. By the second track, the instrumental "Don't Mind If I Do," you can hear how talented and creative this band is. I'm not sure what instrument they use on "Swinging in Saterlee Grove" but it sounds like a sax, and I'm really clueless as to what type of music they're playing on this track. "Canyons for Ribcages" is also very creative but also too noisy. Mabus is a totally unique band and they are striving for originality. They may not be the easiest band to listen to but I give them credit for trying to do something different.  Album Score: 8 out of 10 Reviewed by: Brett VanPut ***************************************************** SKYLINEPRESS.NET Mabus is a band that offers nothing more than an in your face mixture of punk, metal and jazz. Drawing influences from all over the place, it's quite evident upon listening to this band that, they aren't another cookie cutter hardcore/metal band. They bring a new breed of metal to the table in its rawest form, no polished over songs, no triggers, just a new age of jazz metal fit for all listeners.    At an overall length of nine songs, this album leaves listeners with a new view on metal. Whether it's good is up to the listener, but i believe that Mabus does an excellent job of bringing back metal with a new flare to keep all listeners interested. Their album "Cheers To Doomsday Gloom" can put listeners into many different moods. At times it's chaotic, and at other times it has a relaxing smoothed over jazz sound to it. A perfect example of this is displayed in the album's 4th song entitled "No More Tricks, No More Limbs" as the song progresses from a slow instrumental sounding track, it builds up into chaotic riffs and breakdowns keeping listeners on their feet. This band shows listeners how to properly use dissonant chords, not in the Knock-off Norma Jean way.    Other tracks on the album sound like they came straight out of a lounge like atmosphere, one of those songs being "Swingin In Saterlee Grove". This song has lower pitched jazz vocals, with a walking bass line and slow grooving saxaphone parts and is a great example of how Mabus can sound like a new age grind band in some songs and in other songs how they can sound like a Jazz group. At the end of this track, Mabus jumps right back into their Grind-like sound with "The Hangman's Trampy Daughter Truth".    Overall this album has jumped back in forth from Jazz to Metal, with really no in between. To some people, it may seem a bit annoying, to others it's considered clever. I find the majority of the songs very well thought out and soothing in some parts and then in other parts a bit unorganized and thrown together. Either way i think that with a little higher quality sound this band could be something big. I'm not saying polish it up, because with Mabus, I think polishing things up would make it a bit boring. But with overall better sound quality, i could easily see a band like this on tour with larger metal acts including The Dillinger Escape Plan. ~ Drew English June 23 2006 ***************************************************** HORRORWOODBABBLEON.COM Upstate New York has had a thriving heavy music scene for some time, and the talent is in abundance and never in question to those familiar with the underground. Mabus also hail from the same enchanted land and breathe that same stench-filled air, and it's made them dangerous, in fact, very dangerous if CHEERS FOR DOOMSDAY GLOOM is any indication. Much like labelmates Casket Architects, I'm finding it a bit puzzling to categorize Mabus. Whereas CA deal in robotic punk/hardcore/metal/industrial machinations, Mabus sling hash that has equal parts death, hardcore, jazz, and even pop. Call it the extreme omelet if you want. Morbid Angel-like bursts give way to Yakuza/John Zorn jazz excursions at the drop of a hat, and often within the same song. From there, they can crank out BTBAM (Between the Buried and Me) melodic rock into a noisecore epilepsy that screams in adoration of all things Dillinger Escape Plan. If you're keeping score at home, Mabus are tech-metal, but they are not typical tech-metal in that they ignore the importance of good riffs, song structure and the all important catchy melody. CHEERS FOR DOOMSDAY GLOOM is gonna make your head swim and you'll be slackjawed throughout, but you'll also come away from the 8 songs (in under half an hour!)knowing that you've heard some seriously evil geniuses at work. Ultimately, given the style they are going for here, that's all we can ask for... Added:  Wednesday, May 17, 2006 *****************************************************

1.Ones nosedive is another's parade.......Your prized hot shot futurist is my well wretched bone's organ concussing itself into a sarrowed has been escape tune, with wings that sore through other heroes daylight.  From noisy depths we'll have to menace on gargled propellar gasps and failures, then twist until our faces fall off.  Tear up mom, the gallivant floats are looking dynomite. The anvil garb my shovel machinists deemed sharp, march us goners back to that free cold vacant gloom.  Now none here will ever make it to the beach. To the one piece bee hive swims, to summers aluminum cool sun recline.  Hats off to the future, for being there without me. Hats off to the future, for this sirens making me sick with its infinitley loud buzz.  If you never see us again tell the kids life will be same soon. If you never see me again. They'll say we sleep snow like pompeii. They'll say we snow down like pompeii.

2.Don't mind if i do......Well mouthed know it all rant, blurting perverted fancies. Must you always talk in backwards outbursts to yourself. There's nothing left to tell. Only we can scare ourselves now.  I have invented heart play, murder, such as a sport.  Lift this glass stitched splendid and frankly I'm afraid...

3.Care to drag?.....We'd never stop moving. As the floors crash through us,let's keep it slow, and hysterical.  I'll articulate the crushed tongue with the wind of my gaping search party intrigue, looking for a good warm time. Past the blush smears and bite marks you go on so deep.  That smile my sweet slumber trophy wont fool the fame. With such haunt so still and lifelike you'll be bigger then ever. A staple for my skeletons to be. Dearest, this dance has lost itself into a drag. till we see stars..

4.No More Tricks, No More Limbs.....All eyes on us. Simply Stunning in bursts. I caught you catching me, through the spectacular peep hole scenery, i constructed to adore you in, honor you in, spoil you in.  There's nothing quite like enchanting you, and it means much more than the world. Keep those blank blues bright wide on the smudged shades of thick red, cruising down your silly look and charmlacked posture, just like my fevered chuckle and most daring attempt at beauty. My run on design you amaze this mirrored finale. Somebody killed just i god my oh.

5.Swingin' in Satter Lee Grove.....There's a concave where the airs all been coughed, off with the birds while the worms spread out, pale kicking pointy puckered bombs of butchery drool. My axe is a dead mad mans but I'm gonna swing it anyway. My axe is all i know to shake me overboard and swing about.  There's a real stiff scene, where the coins whore one way streets down hudsons fine dimmed dirt dives, but there's no place i'd rather be, in the wheeled chase to the.. butchery.

6.The Hangman's Trampy Daughter Truth.....We must be doomed. FLashing smiles around sunken in ruin .For sakes of grandeur and deluge our heavy set eyes gravitate towards everyone zigzagged through bomb cloud after cloud after cloud. See if we were intended to fly we would have long been winged Shakespearian novels professing in wondrous greats our dread of nothing being on its way to anywhere. You're a ghosts town to me. You've got that whole boogey town bug wrapped around your wind pipe.  I Can Raise The Dead, faster than i dropped Them.  Standing at the edge of the cliff in your eyes with this shake in my heels, i swear i could breathe you all back to life if everyone lusted me, the bamboozling death fool, from my lips, spills an overabundance of Pompous Commentary fit for the likes of any headless roman statue, willing to tell me I'm no better than he, after captivating us from space not there, into space simply making up space that we could just believe to be us. And to think this is all my doing.. The sky that crowned us all lays discarded before an overly dramatic landscape flashing convulsivley. And the whole world wonders if the whole world is still there..

7.Canyon's for Ribcages.....Today came a windless skeletal heap, and it's been years since i've felt so homefree.

8.Retire Happy.....Today carried me colorless along the canyons these lonesome bootmarks have dug up over the years. Oh, gluttonys shambles theres not a soul for miles, faster the fingers faster the getaway. Faster the stroll comes fit with the whistle that blows the billow tilts back.  Another high noon will have come...and gone so fast, i could rope swine in sundays best down before its awesome glare and gaze them greet eachother to smithereens.  FOr the hourglass dream that slept without me, i dug you up, and wished you all the guts i had. I'll keep digging until i find a place to call home.  It gets real dizzying, pushing desserted feet. Say, barkeep how long have you been the swayin doors to an empty saloon. Make it my last hard dry umbrella tipped mirage thats burning this whole place down.  Hurry it up i keep telling myself, the cobwebbed piano keys have begun to tower tall tired me.