With its troubling album art of (presumably) dead wildlife xeroxed all up close and personal, Drunk Dead's second 12" Ripper Killer throbs with an ugly, noxious vibe. Kicking off with a squall of gut-churning feedback noise that blasts open the beginning of the Portland band's latest, Drunk Dad sets loose "Five Pack" like some lurching, five-limbed monstrosity, jagged and crushing riffs lashing out over the equally jagged drumming, and everything is splattered with an heavier dose of noise and noisy chaos than you usually get from this sort of neo-noise rock. As these eight songs play out, the band proceeds to batter you with an extreme level of aggression, shifting from their PCP-laced Am Rep worship into passages of spluttery noisescape that almost take on a power electronics feel. That stuff is the product of noise artist Redneck, who layers several of these tracks with harsh electronic noise, and who also leads a few of these tracks into bouts of abrasive junk-metal chaos and almost K2/Hal Hutchinson-style scrapyard mania that ultimately end up in a hypnotic, clanking locked groove on each side. The vocals shift schizophrenically between an affectless muttering and vicious, vocal-chord shredding screams. All of this discordant heaviness definitely harkens back to the classic noise rock of bands like Unsane, Melvins, Hammerhead and Jesus Lizard, while piling on all of that extra shreiking noise and injecting songs like "Fuck In Garbage" with monstrous sludgy grooves. There's also echoes of Bleach-era Nirvana that surface on the song "Light A Fire", right before the band launches into a ferocious hardcore punk assault; elsewhere, these guys belch up big blobs of belligerent blues-scum sludge that your typical Eyehategod knockoff would give their missing teeth for. One of the better newer noise rock albums we've gotten in, ugly and mean-spirited, threaded with wailing, bilious guitar leads, bits of moody jangling melody, and a crazed, thunderous performance from the drummer. Great shit, much heavier than the usual Am Rep-worship that I usually get, while also not sounding at all retro, in large part to all of that electronic noise incorporated into their sound. Limited to five hundred copies on 180 gram black vinyl, includes digital download.