Put on Oozing Wound and send your mind back all those years to those afternoons when you and Richie sat cross-legged on the floor of your bedroom next to the little blue stereo with Rust In Peace on at full blast (with Bass Boost™ option activated), guitars wedged in laps, trying to snap your wrist back and forth at the right tempo to play along, but not quite moving fast enough. Maybe you’d succeed at every other bar. Maybe. What, that never happened to you?
What about the time Sound Of Perseverance came on the PA before the show and the resulting battle, especially during the double-time parts of “Spirit Crusher,” grew bigger and nastier than any other mosh the space would see for the rest of the night? Dudes got on other dudes’ backs for chicken-fight battles, some lined up against the walls and charged into the center from both sides in a tidal wave of pure brutality. You remember. No?
How ‘bout when all you wanted to do was score just a small and totally responsible amount of well, like, stuff, nothing crazy, before the weekend gets here, and you try to “Call Your Guy” but nothing takes and he doesn’t pick up and just what are you supposed to do?? You call other guys. Nothing. “It’s gonna be OK.” How is this going to be OK, dude?? Look at me, man. Keep it together. I’ll call my guy. “But your guy is my guy, and he’s not there, man. Maybe he’s dead?” What? Why are you looking at me like that?
Chicago-based neo-thrash shred-revivalists Oozing Wound can act out these sweat-stained narratives up there in your brain, if only you’ll let them. Put on “Call Your Guy” and lift a fist during the first riff. Let a few shrieks roll out of your chest. When you reach the halfway point, as the band stops on a dime for the three-note breakdown that repeatedly interrupts the galloping rhythm, feel free to tear off a piece of your clothing. When the coda riff hits, you’ll know what to do.