Blood In The Gears by The Showdown: A Brutal Blast of Southern-Infused Metal
Man, Blood In The Gears hits like a freight train soaked in whiskey and gasoline. This ain’t your polished, radio-friendly rock album—it’s raw, gritty, and dripping with attitude. Released under Solid State and Tooth & Nail Records back in ’69 (yeah, you read that right), this sucker blends heavy metal ferocity with Southern rock swagger. And let me tell ya, it works.
The first track that sticks out is “Dogma Enthroned.” Holy hell, this one grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Yogi Watts on drums sounds like he's trying to punch through his kit while David Bunton’s vocals roar like an angry wolf backed into a corner. It’s got these killer riffs courtesy of Josh Childers and Patrick Judge—chunky, dirty, and mean as hell. You can practically smell the sweat and smoke from wherever they recorded this beast. Every time I hear it, I feel like smashing something—or starting a damn revolution.
Then there’s “Diggin’ My Own Grave,” which feels like getting sucker-punched by a ghost story told over cheap beer at some backwoods dive bar. The lyrics are dark as midnight, but the groove? Oh man, it slithers into your brain and sets up camp. Jeremiah Scott lays down basslines so thick you could spread ‘em on toast, and when Bunton snarls about digging graves, you believe every damn word. There’s no faking that kind of desperation; it’s real, ugly, and unforgettable.
What makes this album even wilder is how chaotic it feels. Tracks repeat themselves (“Heavy Lies The Crown” twice? Really?), there’s an untitled song floating around, and a hidden track for good measure. Like the band threw everything at the wall just to see what stuck. But somehow, it works. Maybe because behind all the madness, there’s heart—real blood-and-guts passion poured into every note.
And yeah, sure, mastering engineer Troy Glessner probably cleaned things up a bit too much in spots, but honestly? That kinda polish would’ve killed the vibe anyway. This record was meant to be messy, loud, and unapologetic.
So here’s the kicker: listening to Blood In The Gears, you realize it shouldn’t work. A bunch of dudes throwing together heavy metal, Southern rock, and whatever else floats their boat should result in a hot mess. Instead, it’s pure fire. It’s like biting into a jalapeño burger and finding gold inside. Or maybe lead—you decide.
Final thought? If aliens ever invade Earth, blast this album at ‘em. They’ll either surrender or start headbanging. Either way, we win.
