Jason... the Dragon

One day Wilmington, North Carolina-based mega-stoners will run out of cheeky, drug-based puns with which to name their records, but that day lies somewhere in the future, beyond the release of 2011's ("chasin' the dragon," get it?): their fourth studio opus in a decade's worth of vocal, guitar, bass, drums, and substance abuse. Oh, and don't forget physical abuse, because over the two years they spent touring, off and on, in support of 2007's , 's accident-prone musicians managed to tear themselves some knee ligaments (drummer ), break pinky fingers (bassist ) and, best of all, blow off a few toes with a shotgun (vocalist/bassist )! All of which begs the question: does offer its acts health insurance? Whether they do or do not, fact is that the ailing trio still made it into 's Electrical Audio Studio in Chicago just eight months behind schedule, and the resulting not surprisingly boasts the tightest, punchiest (errr, most -esque) production of any LP thus far. Don't panic, now, the new material still comes familiarly slathered in the grimiest of guitar tones, fuzziest feedback, growliest bass, rowdiest drum work, not to mention 's inimitable alligator croak, all of which wrestle for supremacy both on their trademark zombie marches ( etc.) and occasional grinds in double time ( the title track). The only difference from earlier efforts is a clearer separation between all these sonic elements and instruments, without distancing the band from its authentically coarse Southern doom/sludge roots. And, since can never resist including a few unorthodox surprises, features Beelzebub on pedal steel (well, it sounds like Beelzebub; it sounds like pedal steel); pretty much amounts to a brief drum solo (hence the title); and the album-closing amusingly sounds like a banjo taking a shower. Funny guys, , and we're not just laughing at their various injuries, either, but rather 's admirable musical merits, of course. That's entertainment. ~ Eduardo Rivadavia