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This blast from the past is likely to singe the hairs on your mohawk. Stitched together from three of the most legendary names in Houston's hardcore/metal annals, Pasadena Napalm Division — the most excellent name the five members chose after debuting as Krud Krudder last fall at Meridian — unites former D.R.I. singer Kurt Brecht, onetime Dethkultur BBQ bass smoker Mike Lucas, and ex-deadhorse heads Ron Guyote (drums), Greg Martin (guitar) and Scott Sevall (guitar) as partners in musical mayhem. After woodshedding hell-hath-no-fury songs like "Speaking in Tongues," "Failure" and clever Pasadena tribute "100 Beers with a Zombie" at Austin's Room 710 last month, the quintet is ready to unleash its four-on-the-floor thrash-metal rampage on its hometown. Judging by the provocative "Terror Cell," which gives an unrepentant suicide bomber's side of the story, this Division has hardly mellowed with age either lyrically or musically. Come ready to mosh.
- Houston Press
Brand-new (sort of) Houston hardcore supergroup Pasadena Napalm Division, featuring alumni of deadhorse, D.R.I. and Dethkultur BBQ, made a most excellent official debut before a mostly full Warehouse Live studio Saturday night. Rocks Off was impressed by the five-piece's taut, seething songs, which reminded his ears of "Thieves"-era Ministry: overpowering, ear-blistering and surprisingly kinetic. A few more pictures after the jump, and click here to see a mini-slideshow of the pit - click fast enough and it looks like one of those old-school animation flip books! - Chris Gray
- Houston Press
02/07/09 @ Room 710
Pasadena Napalm Division
Dirty Rotten Imbeciles rejoice! DRI’s Kurt Brecht comes loaded for metallic hardcore with the remnants of fellow Houston headbangers Dead Horse, one of Austin’s favorite grunge-era grinders. Greg Martin and Scott Sevall’s twin axe demolition, combined with fellow Horse head Ron Guyote on drums and Mike Lucas on bass, gives Brecht something to vocally immolate. Whorehound, Condemned Unit, and Doom Siren wail first.
RAOUL HERNANDEZ - Austin Chronicle
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Pasadena Napalm Division
Formula:
1 part DRI
Kurt Brecht - vocals
3 parts dead horse
Greg Martin - guitar
Ronnie Guyote - drums
Scott Sevall - guitar
1 part Angkor Wat
Mike Titsworth - bass
PASADENA NAPALM DIVISION really can’t be called an all-star Texas band. Nobody in this band has ever gone platinum, gold, silver or even for that matter aluminum. Unless, of course, you count the 100+ aluminum beer cans piled in the corner of the P.N.D. rehearsal room. Instead, you should think of PASADENA NAPALM DIVISION as a well seasoned, TEXAS ALL-SCAR thrasrasrash BAND!
The popularity of music is notoriously cyclical. Twenty years after a scene is defined, exploited, and then discarded by the music industry, you can expect a resurgence in that particular genre’s popularity... eventually. Only the strong survive and the serious prevail. Because of this industry glitch, now is the time for thrash/hardcore/crossover, whatever you want to call it, to come back with a vengeance. Why now, you may ask? Well, because times are tough and the style of music that P.N.D. spews speaks to the youth. Even if youth is trapped in a bunch of bad-ass old school mothertruckers that hate their day jobs and have nothing better to do than add more bone spurs to their necks, or the kids that still need zit medication. The truly youthful need a revised syllabus in musical education and P.N.D. are here to ring your bell and announce that class is now in session!
The history of this band is short, but the history of its individual members is long and tedious. PASADENA NAPALM DIVISION’s musical pedigree is impressive, to say the least, and their effect on an audience is undeniable. Years of slugging it out in the trenches has built scars on this band that help them bring a reality check to what is the present reality. P.N.D.’s songs are serious, ridiculous and often sublime. But understand this, P.N.D. fuckin’ means it, and that in itself is worth its weight in aluminum. What you have with P.N.D. is a group of seasoned pros that have nothing better to do than drop a big effin’ F-bomb of old school in your city while drinking all the beer in your fridge! You have been forewarned.
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