Corrosion Of Conformity’s frontman Pepper Keenan has described Good God / Baad Man as “a weird love letter to all things rock ‘n’ roll”, and without that word ‘weird’, it might be a far more foreboding sentiment. Without it, that’s the kind of line that hacks and chancers roll out to seem legit before dropping their whitebread throwback. With it, it’s nice and in line with C.O.C.’s usual. As one of sludge- and stoner-metal’s long-standing mavericks, now up to their 11th album, you’d definitely presume that no idea is too harebrained to work with. So, how about a double album to invoke the classics and serve as a whistlestop tour along C.O.C.’s decades-long musical timeline? Sure, why not?
In truth, now is as good a time as any for a big ol’ shake-up for Corrosion Of Conformity. Good God / Baad Man comes on the heels of some significant personnel shifts, most notably the passing of original drummer Reed Mullin in 2020. Here, his role is taken up by Stanton Moore (returning after his previous stint with 2005’s In The Arms Of God), while Bobby Landgraf replaces Mike Dean on bass after his departure in 2024. By no means are C.O.C. averse to an infusion of new blood, and you do feel its effect across the album. By the nature of a double album, it’s certainly broader than they’ve been in a while, tackling their hardcore roots, sludgier present and all manner of rock and metal staples in between. It’s a big, expansive body of work, but curiously, it doesn’t seem to be played that way.
Perhaps that’s a result of bands like this falling outside of a ‘mainstream’ purview, so their big swings don’t necessarily have to double as events. It certainly fits with the relative nonchalance of Keenan’s earlier statement. Thus, Good God / Baad Man roils by with a notable ease; regardless of where C.O.C. find themselves, there’s not a forced move to be found. The first big instance of that is on Run For Your Life, whose scorching desert heat spills over nine minutes without even a hint of overexertion. Even more notable is how alive and full of classic-inspired colour the looser pivots are. Baad Man and Handcuff County are awash with Clutch-style zaniness, and Swallowing The Anchor is like if Aerosmith were on DMT in the ‘70s instead of cocaine.
As far as keeping a balance goes between the standing of a legacy act and not being swallowed by its complacency, C.O.C. totally nail it here. They’re clearly still enthused by the music they make, Keenan especially. Even when he’s not putting on half-parodic scuzzball voices, he brings exactly what’s needed at any given moment. Gimme Some Moore, in which the hardcore genesis of C.O.C. is resurrected via fat, frantic steamrolls, has Keenan bring out some credible yells and hollers, in which the crags of age barely register, let alone prove detrimental. On the complete other end of the spectrum, Brickman’s bluesy burr is a bit less natural, but not entirely unnatural.
As for the rest of the band, there’s really no need to complain. They’re in a similar state as Keenan—all of this comes as easily as breathing to them, yet they still impress. Moore makes himself known straight from the traps with Good God? / Final Dawn carrying some of the album’s most impressive percussion (though that’s not to say he’s slacking elsewhere). Landgraf doesn’t have quite the same wow-moment on bass—the closest thing is a few seconds to himself at the end of the interlude Mandra Sonos—but he’s not a negligible presence, either. Overall, the new rhythm section of C.O.C. is putting in some considerable work to keep up with the old guard. That said, a fat slab of guitar-meat from Keenan and Woody Weatherman is mighty hard to beat here. Hell, between the way it’s produced and the skeleton-clattering rev of how it’s played, the back half of You Or Me could be built around a bona fide Sabbath riff.
Altogether, maybe the magnitude of a Severence or a Blind isn’t here, but you can’t grumble about where C.O.C. are now, either. Both of those albums are over 30 years old, and the fact there’s still such a deep creative vein being mined—and executed with real panache, at that—shouldn’t go ignored. This “weird love letter to all things rock ‘n’ roll” is emblematic of a band who know exactly what that should entail—it should be loud; it should be fun; it should have at least a bit of wry nip to it. And on Good God / Baad Man, Corrosion Of Conformity are three for three.
For fans of: Clutch, Crowbar, Down
‘Good God / Baad Man’ by Corrosion Of Conformity is out now on Nuclear Blast Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
