Though this Kurt Ballou produced album is somehow related to the Black Plague, Racebannon mentions it in passing, then lobs molotov-cocktails through 25 minutes of tracks, all titled with "Thee"; “Thee Plea", “Thee Brother”, “Thee Truth,”etc. A veteran group with a porky discography, their prior album Acid or Blood pushed how far the envelope can stretch. Six Sik Sisters rips through that envelope, gives it the black plague, then spits on it.
3 quarters of Racebannon formerly played in Medusa, a darker band yet just as hard. Racebannon sparks up the Medusa sound with a subtle touch of flamethrower and a production that fans the flames. It’s apparent with Six Sik Sisters that Racebannon isn’t reserving it’s tour bus for the headlining gig at the Big Four 2022 show. They obviously don't give a damn about out-selling Megadeth.
This band plays highly-saturated, thermonuclear art rock with muscles, tattoos and an unzipped fly. Their arrangements make Jackson Pollock's art look like paint-by-numbers on GPS. "Thee Plea", the opening track, is a chugfest that lulls with hi-hat tickling then provides a jackboot to the stomach from a sudden thermite blast of guitars. "Thee Apology", is grimy, and then frenzied, sporting blues rhythm chunking before falling apart. No apology intended.
Lyrics are only shadows here, though the crunchy Sparks-meets-Placebo vocals are important elements in the album’s killing fields. Every plague must have its keening cries. Racebannon keens with clownish glee. "Thee Challenge" is probably the best track on the album. It blares, it has epileptic fits, its vocals stutter like a broken Echoplex, and then it ends in breathless collapse. Still there is an odd eclecticism at work here. Racebannon even offers a good ol' drum solo, straight up, no ice.
The album ends with a track astutely called "Thee End", a cheesy tribal pounding exercise with wind and waves that would sound at home in Disneyland's Tiki House. Racebannon's Six Sik Sisters kicks your terrier, craps on the living room rug, then sings Christmas carols outside your front door. That seems to be the point though. It doesn't have a point. It doesn't need one. Its noise for the ADHD generation, performed by guys who have the chops to reinvent...something.
(released January 24, 2012 on Tizona Records)
