Woody by Faceache: A Raw, Gritty Punch to the Ears (1994)
Alright, let’s get one thing straight—Faceache didn’t give a damn about trends when they dropped Woody back in ’94. This UK-born, self-released beast of an album is like getting smacked in the face with a brick wrapped in barbed wire. It’s Alternative Rock meets Hardcore with zero polish, and honestly? That’s what makes it unforgettable.
First off, props to Bassist Dan for holding down the chaos. Without him, this whole thing might’ve collapsed into noise soup. But nah, he kept it tight, even when the rest of the band was clearly trying to out-chaos each other. And tracks? Oh man, let me tell ya about “Beaker” and “Conker.”
“Beaker” hits like a pissed-off drunk at closing time. The riff slams so hard you’ll feel your ribs rattle. There’s no fancy production tricks here—it’s just raw, unfiltered rage that grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Every note feels like it’s been spat out through clenched teeth. You remember this track because it’s relentless. Like, imagine someone screaming their lungs out while kicking over trash cans. Yeah, that’s “Beaker.”
Then there’s “Conker,” which flips the script slightly but still kicks ass. If “Beaker” is all brute force, “Conker” adds a sneaky groove that worms its way into your brain. It’s got this weird tension where you’re not sure if it wants to explode or implode—but either way, it leaves you breathless. The breakdown near the end? Pure carnage. I swear, every time I hear it, I wanna smash something. Not sure if that’s good or bad, but who cares?
The album came out on Not On Label, aka Faceache did this themselves. No big-shot execs breathing down their necks, no glossy sheen to soften the blow. Just pure DIY spirit from start to finish. Tracks like “Brush” round things out, keeping the energy high without overstaying their welcome. At under 30 minutes total runtime, Woody knows exactly how long it needs to be before you burn out.
So yeah, Woody. It’s messy, loud, and kinda unhinged—but isn’t that the point? In a world full of polished crap drowning in auto-tune, albums like this remind us why rock music matters. It’s real. It’s ugly. It’s alive.
And hey, fun fact: listening to this record makes me want to grow a beard and punch drywall. Take that however you want.
