Death Sells. That’s a catchy name for a band in these troubled times but does this make this Dutch band protest singers for our generation with the release of their self -titled EP?
As it turns out, Death Sells is more a statement of artistic intent than a means of transmitting conflict resolution to the world. Undoubtedly therefore, this a band who will always wear black. A band with that underground style ideally suited to the big city basements where sound levels are never monitored and everybody present is cooler than a bus driver wearing sunglasses. These six songs duly exude a brooding intensity with guitars mercilessly riffing against impassioned, even at times angry, female vocals just like dear Lydia did back in the early days of NYC punk with the inclusion of deliciously distorted, arthouse inspired, sonic diversions completing the illusion of invoking the long thought lost spirit of discontent.
There is indeed style to be found in the songs of Death Sells and, if your musical tastes have spent at least some time underground, then this band might well intrigue you. Best played loud, as you might expect.