The guys in Weedeater don't have a use for virtuosic solos, blastbeats, tormented wails, or any of traditional heavy metal's idiosyncrasies. Frankly, they sound far too zoned out to care—or at least, I imagine they'd like us to think so, given an album title that winks at opiate use and the tar-black, sludgy riffs that coat their follow-up to 2007's God Luck and Good Speed.
Jason... the Dragon is too slow to headbang to, too song-based to zone out to, too abrasive (mostly) to sing along to. Like Saint Vitus and Cathedral before them (among many others), Weedeater's specialty is overdriven, fuzz-coated rhythmic riffs and a lockstep, hard-hitting rhythm section. The band plays not as separate musicians, but a single, titanic entity; when they settle into a groove, as on the one-two opening punch of "Hammerhandle" and "Mancoon," Weedeater sound like a force of nature, satisfyingly heavy and visceral. Frontman "Dixie" Dave Collins' throat-shredding vocals are not so much anguished as sneering and provocative, if occasionally a bit silly when they can be understood.
Weedeater's music is as much an exercise in heavy rock as metal, so who better to sit at the mixing board than Steve Albini? He produced their last Southern Lord album, God Luck and Good Speed, four years ago, so while it's perhaps a case of not fixing what isn't broken, it's a great decision regardless: Jason... the Dragon sounds punchy, primitive and unhinged. It has the same recorded-live-in-the-studio feel that Albini captured for the Jesus Lizard's Liar 20 years ago, but with buckets of rumbling low-end in the mix—thick and sludgy bass that anchors the songs and amplifies Weedeater's attack.
Two songs stand out as major departures: "Palms and Opium" is a shock, trading distortion and sludge for back-porch country twang—a fitting soundtrack not for burning crosses, but roasting marshmallows over a campfire. While that song works in context, a mid-album respite from the surrounding heaviness and devastation, closer "Whiskey Creek" isn't as successful. Croaking frogs, rainwater washing down a gutter, and a single-note bass throb provide a disjointed backdrop for an instrumental banjo piece. One false ending later, a solo barroom piano closes the album in puzzling fashion. "Whiskey Creek" sounds like Weedeater had fun fucking around in the studio between actual songs, but I wish the album closed with a stronger statement.
My biggest complaint with Jason... the Dragon, though, is that it's over far too quickly. While I certainly don't mind albums that avoid filler and stay short and sweet, Jason is more akin to an EP in disguise. It's easy enough to do the math: one intro, one interlude, and two experimental (i.e., non-metal) songs on a ten-track album means there's a scant 22 minutes of crushing goodness here. It has been four years since Weedeater put out a full-length, so I can't help but feel disappointed that Jason is over so quickly. Here's hoping that their next album feels more substantive, especially if they nod off for another few years before recording again.
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