Yet their debut album Vultures offers more than just machismo, bombast and bluster. There is nuance and melody. Purpose and meaning. Heartfelt intent.

A dizzying blend of barbed wire guitars, lung-shredding vocals and drums that run away like wild horses. It’s all the more effective when you learn God Damn are a stripped-down two-piece.
Their set-up has naturally drawn comparisons to fellow rising bands such as Slaves and Royal Blood (we’re inclined to name-check Winnnebago Deal and Wet Nuns at this juncture too) but really that is where comparisons to duos end. God Damn always call themselves “a band.”

Vultures presents a universe of sound, from the low-end melodic boom of sneering anthem ‘Silver Spooned’ through the sub-dark psychedelic breakdown of ‘We Don’t Like You’ to the unexpected lo-fi strummed opening of the throbbing and utterly tumescent nine-minute sludge epic ‘Skeletons’. As debuts go God Damn have nailed their colours to the flagpole and torched the fucker.