When a small clutch of Southern metal bands such as Baroness, Kylesa, Mastodon and ASG rose to wider acclaim nearly a decade ago, Weedeater sat perfectly poised as the bastard son of the sounds and scenes that had collectively spawned them. Hard-living, hard-touring party animals, Weedeater was an incontrovertible monster live, with frontman "Dixie" Dave Collins barking above his nasty bass lines until he'd actually puke and rally onstage. They've seemingly slowed their pace and partying in recent years, and their most recent LP, 2011's Jason ... The Dragon, doesn't bring the same bong-hit bravura as its predecessors. But when I saw them last year, they were still a marvel of imprecise mechanization, with a rhythm section so bloated and perfectly suited for the stoner metal task that even the weaker songs still felt big enough to exert their own gravitation field.