Even if you didn’t know anything about the Mancunian quintet Barbarian Hermit, the fact that they are signed to APF Records would surely provide all the warning you needed about what you are about to receive. Yes, the UK’s premier label for all things riff heavy is the base for the latest release by the stoner sludge intensity of Barbarian Hermit, who have now been plying their trade for over a decade.
Barbarian Hermit – Mean Sugar (APF Records)
Release Date: 2 August 2024
Words: Paul Hutchings
Six years since debut Solitude And Savagery and three years since follow-up One, it’s time that the airwaves are once more threatened by the intoxicating mix of gravel-throated vocals, infectious grooves, and an overall vibe that switches between good times and unnerving intimidation.
For that is what Mean Sugar provides on first, second and even third listen. This is not music for the faint-hearted. No sir. 
It’s the title track that starts the ball rolling, the first of nine colossal slabs that sprawl over three-quarters of an hour. It’s a riff-fest that you know is unlikely to do anything but increase in intensity as the album unfolds, but even the swirling riff that expands on Mean Sugar is so full of heft that you may need a change of underwear after first listen.
It’s bowel trembling stuff, and as vocalist Simon Scarlett roars out the words “Mean Sugar,” I’m sure there was movement in my internal organs. It’s underpinned by a gargantuan riff that is likely to cause structural damage when played live, and the mass that explodes in the midpoint part of the song rattles the fillings.
Fuzzed-up bass rumbles deep in the low end, combining with such heaviness that it’s only countered by the fade, which sees it disappear over the horizon. The relief is short-lived.
The Battle Of Kompromat follows, and the riff is, if anything, even bigger. How this can be the case is simply mind-blowing, but there it is, a shifting buzz that knocks the grey matter and causes animals to run howling in fear.
The sheer intensity that is balled up in each track is the musical equivalent of constipation relief, an aural enema that provides a full cleansing experience.
And then suddenly there is blue sky, a gentler passage of calm that sees soaring harmonies, and Scarlett easing back on the gruffness – if only for a fleeting moment before the riff rolls back in like a wrecking ball and any peace is distributed into a million shattered pieces.
We are only two songs in, and there is already an aural wrestling match in progress, such is the effect that this band has on the listener. Perhaps adopting a slightly more relaxed stance, allowing the crashing waves of relentless riffs to wash over you rather than try to stand against it, is the way to absorb such a piece of work.
The psychedelic trip that the band launch into on the one-minute interlude Out Come The Boats does provide a chance to fill the lungs. But any peace is quickly scuttled by the next rolling battery of hammering riffs on Who Put 50p In You?
Another gnarly yet expansive track that leads into the almost danceable riff of Deadbolt.
The slower pace of Kick Up The Dust provides an opportunity for some melody to break through, although there is ample lurking throughout the album. This track allows Rob Sutcliffe’s vibrant bass to take centre stage, and the slightly slower pace of the track provides a subtle change to tempo.
Don’t be fooled, though; the intensity hasn’t lessened one bit.
Penultimate track Stranger Than Fiction eases slowly into full bore, the first 30 seconds providing a misleading calm before an avalanche of riffs toy with the mind. It’s got a pleasing Mastodon vibe and works on every level.
There’s more distorted, wailing guitar, massive riffs and the engine room locking in with pulverising heaviness. This is the soundtrack to a hundred megalodons on the move, levelling anything in its path. And suddenly, a passage of cleans emerges, as if you needed another curve ball. This is truly a band who can surprise at every turn.
We slide into final song, Heal The Tyrant, which slips away from the band’s standard approach, bringing a lighter, almost funk-driven flavour which threatens to drop into more familiar territory and after about two minutes of the near eight-minute piece, you’ll be pleased to know that Scarlett is once more roaring at full strength.
A harmonised chorus and a faster-propelled tempo make this one of the outstanding tracks on Mean Sugar.
But hell, there isn’t a bad song on an album that works on every level from start to finish.
