At their best Clouds kick up a controlled chaos of streamlined punky "party grunge"-- as they themselves call it-- best exemplified by the surprisingly titled "Party Grunge", where a rolling Cobain-pumpin' Bleach-era riff tumbles and shimmy-shakes via train-chuggin' hambone beats, not dissimilar from Hot Snakes.  Full text...

Gonna boogie oogie oogie till you just can’t boogie no more.  Full text...

ZZ Top for hardcore/metal kids. The raw production work helps that comparison. Plus, it doesn't hurt that these dudes can seriously shred, likely a result from their work in all those aforementioned bands.   Full text...

Imagine the sleaziest juke joint in America, the kind where prostitutes gamble on live cock fights. Fill it with smoke from all sorts of illicit substances, a couple big burly dudes riding their Harleys across the bar, then dump about two inches of the cheapest beer you could all over the floor. Clouds is about that rock.  Full text...