Formed in 1982, Corrosion of Conformity have racked up sixteen members, released ten albums (with Good God / Baad Man being their eleventh), and gone on two hiatuses (the first, a two-year break in 1987, the second a four-year break between 2006 – 2010). Along the way, they have courted fame with a trio of albums that saw them land on Colombia Records, attracted the attention of Metallica’s James Hetfield (who made an uncredited appearance on Wiseblood), and made their presence felt on a surprising number of compilations and soundtracks.
It’s been eight years since the band’s last album, 2018’s excellent No Cross, No Crown, and the band have once again been through the wringer. Following the tragic loss of founding member Reed Mullin in 2020, which also triggered the departure of bassist Mike Dean, the band recruited Bobby Landgraf on bass and Stanton Moore on drums (now replaced by Nick Shabatura) to record Good God / Baad Man.
Opting to work with a new producer for the first time since 1987, the band replaced John Custer with Warren Riker (Michael Jackson, Destiny’s Child, Sublime, Korn, Down, Cathedral) and, with no disrespect intended to Custer’s typically excellent work, it was a good move for the band to step outside of their comfort zone, for Good God / Baad Man is absolutely stunning on every level, Riker bringing his undoubted skills to bear establishing a suitably wide sonic palette for the band’s imaginative and multifaceted arrangements.
To save you any further reading (and my seemingly endless hyperbole), Good God / Baad Man is one of the best albums you will hear this year. It has been jammed in my player solidly for over a week and I have no intention of removing it anytime soon. No matter how good you think COC have been over the years, this album is their masterwork, and it absolutely captivates from its opening note to its closing bars.
Still here? Well OK then.
A double album, Good God / Baad Man offers two distinct, yet complementary halves, and just over an hour of new music. The first half, Good God opens with Good God / Final Dawn, a track that emerges from a hazy, psychedelic cloud to suddenly blaze into life under the thunderous drums of Stanton Moore.
What.
A.
Fucking.
Start.
This is the sound of a band reborn, referencing everything from Jimi Hendrix and The Doors in its opening bars to Kyuss and Sabbath in the hulking great riffs which pour forth thereafter.
The band maintain the pace on the explosive You Or Me. Reminiscent of Melvins, it’s a hard-edged yet melodic beast of monolithic proportions and it leaves you teetering on the brink, staring into the abyss as it stares back into you – a feeling magnified by the eerie, hypnotic sidestep into doom that dominates the middle portion of the song. With the band barely breaking step, You Or Me neatly segues into the frantic Gimme Some Moore via a burst of ear-piercing feedback. It kicks off with Stanton’s syncopated drums adding a touch of post-hardcore class to processings, and it’s a short, sharp track that finds COC wallowing in Orange Goblin’s crusty basement as Al Jourgensen and Monte Pittman jabber maniacally over the top.
Having comprehensively tackled stoner, doom, sludge, and crusty hardcore across the album’s opening tracks, COC appear to be unstoppable, and The Handler does a good job of strengthening their case. With its wah-inflected opening riff and twitchy, Sabbath-esque vocal, it’s a dark, potent form of doom in which the band find themselves dabbling. If the fade out initially seems disappointing, any misgivings are soon cast asunder as the eerie Beddouin’s Hand slowly phases into view. A Middle East tinged instrumental that somewhat surprisingly nods to Gong’s recent offering, it’s an unexpected interlude that showcases the scale of COC’s ambitions on Good God / Baad Man and it also paves the way for the first half’s crushing conclusion.
A nine-minute epic, Run For Your Life finds COC offering up the greatest song Sabbath never wrote, adding a touch of Neil Young’s expansively gritty guitar work to the mix, and leaving the listener somewhat awestruck. Even boasting a spoken-word interlude from Jason Everman (Nirvana / Soundgarden), it’s the sound of a band in love with the electrifying creativity that flows when a group of like-minded musicians come together in one place, it has the loose-limbed spontaneity of a track that was cut entirely live, and it is simply magnificent.
Ringing the changes, Baad Man opens with the funky title track, which sounds like Butthole Surfers covering Red Hot Chilli Peppers via Clutch, and it immediately sets a whole new tone for the album’s second half. The snappy Lose Yourself has the delay-heavy punch of early Monster Magnet – all heady, spacey noise and patchouli-scented clouds of smoke – and then, following the one-minute segue, Mandra Sonos, Asleep On The Killing Floor arrives to sonically decimate the competition. Led by Bobby Landgraf’s uber-greasy bass and fuelled by Stanton’s nitrous-powered drums, we’re back in Buttholes’ territory as Pepper explores his vocal range. Fast, furious, and with an absolutely killer riff, it should be mandatory listening at metal festivals this summer.
Things take a funkier turn as the band dip into the fringes of country with Handcuff County. Another twisted jam, it evokes images of sawdust floors and stages protected with chicken wire as the band strut their funky stuff, the whiskey flowing and the riffs piling up around Stanton’s loose groove. Things get even funkier on Swallowing The Anchor, which finds the cowbell employed with a glee rarely seen outside of Blue Oyster Cult. A sweet little number with a twinkle in its eye, it’s simply good fun, and it keeps the album moving briskly along on the way to the acoustic Brickman – another track that has more than a touch of Monster Magnet about it. Short and spacey, it’s a sweet interlude on the way to a song, the title of which should surely be the band’s epitaph: Forever Amplified. A monstrous, doom-laden finale, it wraps up this excellent album on a high, with Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph adding a touch of class just as the band are out the door.
Good God / Baad Man is the sound of a band utterly in command of their craft and it is absolutely thrilling. Better still, incoming producer Warren Riker knows exactly when to intervene and when to leave the band to do their thing and the result is a raw, authentic album that frequently leaves the listener with the impression that they’re in the room with the band as the pieces are being laid down. Corrosion of Conformity have one hell of a history but here, on Good God / Baad Man, they sound as hungry as any new band just making their way out of the gates. An easy contender for album of the year, Good God / Baad Man is an absolute belter of a record. 9.5/10
