The Horror Of Beauty

While My Ruin has lost none of the rage wrapped up in 2001'sPrayer Under Pressure of Violent Anguish, it has benefited from the addition of full-time drummerYael. Horror of Beauty (the band's first full-length for Century Media) is still dominated byTarrie B.'s voice and ideology. ButMick Murphy's road case full of riffs finally have a cohesive rhythm section to play off of.Murphy,Yael, and bassistMeghan Mattoxdon't simply build a platform forTarrieto tear new assholes from -- they're four hungry heads in a quartet hardened through cohesion, and they're all gunning for you. Beauty cuts L.A. Whiskey-style hard rock with elements of thrash and sludgy goth. It's not a new sound by any means, but when done this well it'll give a nun a new habit.Tarrietakes Tinseltown to task (the churning "Ten Minutes to Hollywood"), and curses the unclear channels of restrictive radio programming in the subversive ripper "Radio Silence," but it's body type and self-image issues that really have her fired up here. "Made to Measure"'s pull-offs and cymbal crashes simmer at a cock rock rolling boil, and it comes complete with a giddy wah-wah solo. ButTarrie's harsh, screamed lyrics call out every industry hack that ever put a premium on being thin or pretty. "You wanna know how much I weigh?/WHAT?!," she asks a clueless record exec in "Weightless." There's plenty of venom here, obviously (and withYael's explosive drumming, plenty of power). But it's the incredulity inTarrie's voice that sells her message. She's honestly bewildered -- why does how I look relate to how I rock? -- and that makesHorror of Beauty pragmatic instead of preachy. It's pissed-off music made with precision and heart.