Space … the final frontier, a literally endless plain of discovery and potential. Unless your Atlanta’s Empty Black. For them, it’s the place where they’re going to dig the hole you get dropped in when you kick it on some lonely, desolate, backwater planet doomed to fry in a less than spectacular supernova.
Grim power and brain-fricasseeing fuzz are the name of Empty Black’s cosmically bleak brand of weed-chewing and wayward road-warrior gambit. Where Empty Black are going on their debut EP, they don’t even need words, just sheer, deafening heavy metal thunder and society-defying deviancy in the vein of the lords of flame High on Fire and Chicago’s reefer reapers Bongripper.
Their damnably huge riffs will expand your mind by opening your skull like a hammer hitting a jar full of gravy- spreading it wide and thin until it resembles a sepia-tone photo of a lake you might have fished at as a kid with a beloved relative before they died under unfortunate and mysterious circumstances. Pack it, roll it, light it, and let the heavy vibes flow out of you like a smokestack on the edge of town belching carcinogens into the air to mingle with the clouds and rain down as rain as black as tar.
You’re never going to escape this life or this planet alive, so you might as well smoke ’em while you can—while you still got air in your lungs and the sun’s inevitable suicide is still a billion years off … hopefully.
Empty Black’s self-titled EP is out via The Dregs Records.
