Planes Mistaken for Stars is one of those bands right on the border of really hard and past the point of grisly. Gared O'Donnell sings like he
is choking on a chicken bone or is trying to sing while brushing his teeth with a belt sander. It's like a high pitched yell, or a low pitched scream.

Up In Them Guts is the Planes fourth full-length release since they formed in 1999 in the oxygen deprived metropolis of Denver, Colorado. They recorded their first two albums on Deep Elm then switched distribution down to the land of Retirement and Hurricanes - where Florida-based No Idea sent Planes brand of screamitude to the masses. This album seems to be a little more cohesive than the last, Fuck With Fire. An album that sounded like a hurricane with a few black holes that caused the listener to grope about trying to find an exit.

As far as Up In Them Guts is concerned, I love this album - it's the most wicked
barbarian-heathen core money can buy. "Glassing" reminded me of a part in the Tom Hanks movie, The Burbs. The part where Hank's son is looking out his bedroom window during a thunderstorm down at his neighbors dressed in hooded capes like Druids digging big holes with picks. I guess it is the beat of the song that coincides with the rhythm of the digging. "Dying By Degrees" is also a great example of the Plane's gnarliness, but honestly "A Six Inch Valley" is the best song on the CD. The intro, vocals, drums and breakdowns are just perfect.

The first time I noticed how good it was I had to listen to it four times in a row on full blast volume. If Lord of the Rings had modern music, every time it showed the Ring Wraiths trying to kill Frodo and the gang, Planes would be playing in the Wraiths iPods. I've seen these guys in concert and after the show their black sweaty hair is all matted and sick like they just took off all their knight armor upon returning from a Bronco-riding, head-chopping, Coors-guzzling
rampage across the Rockies. Up In Them Guts is some totally epic metallic madness.