Ever since I first heard White Reaper, I associated them with the height of night time. As you can gather from White Reaper Does it Again‘s oddly memetic album cover, either they read my review or I somehow tapped into their consciousness.

But hubris and telepathic abilities aside, what you really get from White Reaper Does it Again is the feeling of driving fast at night. Maybe this guy can explain it best:

 

From the get go, yes, this is a drive at night album. ‘Make me wanna die’ wastes no time with introduction, as they are a waste of time. This album will be curt. All extra baggage was left two rest stops ago and all mirrors were dutifully traded for ice cold beer. ‘Wolf Trap Hotel’ is the perfect beer that sashays into your life, with no hangover gnawing your ankles.

The sinuous tracklist allows you to vicariously live White Reaper‘s brutal live show. ‘Pills’ and ‘On your mind’ slow down, hiding beneath a thick haze of reverberated vocals and tambourines, waiting for the cops to lose interest on chasing you. But once they passed and the “wanted level” stars go away, White Reaper unleash hell again. ‘Last 4th of July’ smashes it, just like its video portrays, and ‘Candy’ beckons you to join the pogo dancers, ignoring the bouncers’ warnings. And ‘B.T.K.’ just dives headfirst into whatever wonderful dark figures skulk around at the dead of night. So many hornet nests, so little time…

One of the first pieces by Hunter S. Thompson that I read  described “the edge”. It makes an analogy with motorcycling at night to describe that ambiguous feeling. Well, if you want the musical analogy of how “the edge” is felt, White Reaper Does it Again is a good approximation. Now go break a window with the utmost of hubris and blame it all on rye whisky and petrolheads.

Words: Sam J. Valdés López

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