Baltimore's Dope Body deliver a crab pot's worth of dude rock to feast on. They rant like Henry Rollins with a slightly higher self-opinion. They shun cloying political slogans as they Rage Against the Machine. They extol the time signatures of NYC band Battles and prance at the primal pace of Primus. This is testosterone music for experimental jocks or art school flunkies looking to subvert Led Zeppelin's blues by filtering guitar licks through various effect pedals and laptop programs. Dope Body wears its influences on every groove of Natural History, a prehistoric walk through the halls of near-distant musical relatives.
Buy this record if you're looking for a teen version of Sweating To the Oldies.