Clutch just fucking do it themselves with STRANGE COUSINS FROM THE WEST
Clutch singer Neil Fallon wields the kind of authority that your underappreciated, overworked and oft-ignored mother would kill for. Onstage and on-record, when Fallon parts his mighty beard to open his mouth, the voice that emerges is so arresting, it puts your tits in a vice and your ass on lockdown before you have a chance to pull your finger out of your nose. His passion is so great, his bark so unwavering, he’s comparable to a Baptist minister on the day of reckoning.
But there’s a big difference between Fallon and a preacher. More than half the time Fallon’s at the mic, it’s damn near impossible to comprehend what he’s going on about. In the past, he’s spouted incredibly profound lyrics about the state of humanity in one breath and followed them up with mentions of kittens, bake sales and robots.
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