FUNGALPUNK - CD REVIEWS Page 1
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VICIOUS BISHOP - RAINING GUILLOTINES A very articulate and tidy band here who have a very unassuming and melodic approach that may not please the more ensnared caveman-esque cacophoneer but which will undoubtedly appeal to those with varied tastes and of a patient bent. The first release was pleasing, a 'live' Fungal gig was an utter joy and appealed both to my lugs and those of my missus who is not immersed in the punk/new wave scene. After this performance I was given a CD, no question of a review so, a review must be done. Ask and I may well do, don't ask and there is every chance I will do. The Bandcamp pages say this lot 'Formed in 2021 and are a punk/ska punk/punky reggae power trio' - well, this is what I think anyway.
'Lifeline' is a well-considered joy, has a flow that has more intricacies and cute U-turns than first deemed. The immediate impression is of a wonderfully mixed composite with all areas given room in which to flex their own musical muscles and to make a fair and square contribution to the final product. Nothing is overly intrusive or commanding, the acoustic equilibrium is choice and the verbal fluency is neatly delivered. I like the hopeful accents and intent, the positive inflections ingrained deep within the thoughtful weavings. We start with a song that sets a fair standard and one that is a creation with an obvious rewarding 'longevity factor'. I find this a very accomplished piece.
'Take It As A Win' is a sober song draped in a cloak of reality. It accepts the failures of the scene, the ones who tread upon the others and as a result make for one real shithole of users and abusers all playing a game. In the midst we have rays of sunshine, some good gigs, decent people and DIY doofers just having a go for the love of it. Within the texturisation of this tonal treat we have lucid vocals, strong string work and a very stabilising drum rhythm that is dealt with in an adept and reactive manner. There is chameleonised cacophonic manoeuvring that may be a trifle too much of the 'unga-bunga' cavemen racket lovers but for those who like tunes with thought and depth what's not to like? A lovely snippet. The title track comes next, another reality soaked number for those who are feeling ground down and ass-whipped. This overwhelming storm known as life sometimes soaks us through and we can barely move and here we deal with matters in a quite gratifying way. A good strength, a gritty defiance and an unyielding determination are apparent via the first verse that leads into a well-breezed and very magnetic chorus cut, thus reflective of a band laden with sanguinity and sonic insight. From the stubborn and dark-edged to the liberated and tonally fresh this one is another grower that needs your good attention folks. The band are erudite and not following the usual formulas - it fuckin' matters, it is a success.
Offering the fourth which could also be known as 'Pissing On Ones Chips'. The band have been more delicate with tagging the acoustic gift as 'Shooting Myself In The Foot'. A permanently shifting song that is a self-examination based on honesty and once more, a doggedness to not just wallow in regrets and give in. This is the toughest track to digest thus far and although played with great adroitness and crafty musicianship I find it a little tough nut to fully grapple, grasp and get to grips with. The more I listen certain winning essences come to the fore, the complexity of the arrangement is cultured and although a winning number it isn't an instantaneous tickler - I rate this a Fungal mood piece - I gotta be just in the right frame of mind to appreciate.
Next two and 'Drown In The Sound' is a perky number with a good swish in the swing. The intro prepares, a steady cool breeze is wafted with the vocal style opposing the emotive content that is of a body almost beaten and on its knees. A segue into an equally contrasting chorus with an almost carefree lilt and somehow a ray of hope is had. Music soothes the inner beast and here is the reason why. The number moves with a freedom and a tasteful sanguinity and culminates in a very polished punctuation flourish. 'Seconds Out' is of a similar ilk as far as the content goes. The musical arrangement takes a little more adjusting to as it bobs and weaves with an unorthodox prowess. Jabs are careful, punches in bunches are few but the overall attack is consistent and without an overspill of anger. The early chug magnetises, the initial verse is punchy and holds its own with the pursuing chorus cut quite easy in its lilt and with an unassuming infection level that eventually works its way into your attentive glands and gets them throbbing. This is one of those numbers that sits in the shadows and then pounces - do not underestimate the goodness involved and the acoustic articulation.
From here we drop back in time with a nostalgic look at an age that we deemed better. 'I'm A Tiswas Kid (In A Swapshop World)' kinda sums up the slab of grey that is suffocating the colourful, the routine that is damning the unorthodox. Over time the dumbing down has been cultivated and those stepping out of line are forever cursed. In scene and out scene, this state of play is rife and even I wish for a rebalance that will see us see things through a child's eyes when the murk and falsity are overlooked. The Phantom Flan Flingers are rife, these days they throw hateful insults, know-it-all jibes and put-down pastries filled with jacked-off jam straight from their foul souls. Hey ho, the song works well here primarily because of the slant it takes and the content. The music is exact, non-routine and very much of the bands style - it is a 'live' fave too. 'Lit Up' is a better song though, a real educated piece of feelgood momentum and with cute switches and turns that slot into place and keep one involved. The opening thrust is sweet as sugar, the juicy goodness of verse one is laden with pride and a ruddy solid emotion. The words that come are from a ticker taken and hurt but, the determination to rise up, do and take the good from the bad are impressive and my titfer is tipped with respect. Music offers a way of expression, sometimes with true salvation added. The more I listen the more I applaud - quality work here for more reasons than many may think!
2 left and 'Wired To The Sky' slowly sidles in, gently splashes and pauses. A song to contemplate over many spins (aren't they all) with the head focused and the sonic sensors set to level 'high alert'. This is a 6 minute plus song and it is too much for this busy, low-patience twat who cannot get over his love for all things terse, tuned laden and having it. I put in my good time though and find the drift relaxing and soothing. I take this inclusion for what it is and wallow in the sub-doleful, semi-dopamine opening vibes. The impetus is upped, strength is sought, the movement has many fine moments of gracious and gratifying intelligence and hey, for a song of this length ye olde Fungal Twat hangs in and may it be said, enjoys the ride. To be fair I won't be playing this one over and over but I hope I have enough nouse to dabble now and again and recognise the application. We meet the last stop and hail 'Welcome To Whatever's Left' - a song that starts with an old school slow-time drift, these guys will not be rushed. Like an all-consuming blanket of comfort snow the notes fall and cover we humble listener's with a very satisfying cloak of thermally therapeutic solidity that keeps one hanging on in there and having a go (I hope). A song from the heart of a long-term doofer who has been through the mill, the grinder, the mincer and managed to come out the other side and is still trying. The lunatic lottery of life is enough to test anyone's mettle - remember this as you play this slow waltzing anthem. We are in it together - drop the grudges and the hate, move on swinging in a better frame of mind.
Hey, you know what, this stuff here will not be the tick-box punkers favourite fodder. The music may be a little too 'individualistic' for the scene-soaked sozzled, the drift may be too polished for those who like things more roughed up and routinely obnoxious. For me it is a choice cutlet of noise delivered by players in the know and not afraid to do their own thing. In the flesh the vibes work well, the crew will hopefully find their own niche and get due credit and I shall be booking them again real soon (depending if they will play for a low down DIY dog). There are many hues and textures to the tonal table - come join me and have a treat.
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ABSOLUTE RIOTS - ACTUAL DANCE BEATS A wee warbling imp and her crew from Scotland are under the spotlight here, in fact this is my 5th treatment of the Radicalised Rhythms and it has been a while since I last dabbled that is for sure. I am busy, the lass is busy, that is the DIY way and occasionally paths cross and different outcomes arise. I have 7 tracks to tackle and go in gung-ho, with good time set aside to ponder and with the usual anti-creep mode honesty that serves me well.
And to the beginning and the first thing that hits me is the more relaxed, anarchic and naturalistic outpouring that has all the hallmarks of things untamed and utterly impressionistic. With tumbling leaf falls of rapped verbals and the cool controlled bassism, as well as the whispery cymbal play and reactive skins, this is an interesting mix indeed. 'Actual Dance Beats' is delivered by fuckers in the zone, not your zone, not my zone but a zone of their very own. This is no shitty situation to be in, the only rule that music need have is that it is created by players who love it. The underbeat is heavy, the whole arrangement colliding and trancey and I reckon it could be time for a bit of acid. A fair start tha’ knows.
'Fed Up' is a pertinent piece in the piss-wank period of time awash with hate, idleness and self-gain jockeys. This is a surreptitious shit-snake that weaves in beneath your attentive doorframe, slithers across the carpet of consciousness and then up the trouser leg to send a shiver in a place best left unmentioned. A pure DIY escapade with absorbing weaving and a waffling banshee doing her bit in a most focused and intense style. There are throwback elements here, something generously anarchic and very real - this is not processed and conveyor belt crud but natural reactive radioactivity emanated from folks aglow with desire. I fuckin' like it. 'Survive' is the most magnetic track thus far with a rippling texturisation that really appeals to the soul. The lead lass weaves her words, it is important to stress at this point that a lyric sheet is an unquestionable priority and should be issued with all releases. The localised accent, the overspill of verbal action need further examination but the gist is there to grasp and overall this is an hypnotic seducer with a restless core that will not be tamed anytime soon. Plenty of care is present, some good hearty effort and an earthiness that must be respected. There is progression here.
'Blindfolded Rebels' kicks up a shitstorm with a vicious attack of open-hearted honesty and raving sub-rap rampancy. The ethos is sound, the words sage and the pulse beat very groovy ma' an. The vocal styles switch from the worked up to the sedate, the seductive and the almost unhinged. The song threatens to collapse at a few certain points, the crew just hold onto matters. They ride the cusp of overdoing things and must take care not to outstay the lug-lending time. I don't mind this but it just needs something a little extra and something a little less. A curtailing of the running period and a dancey break perhaps - who knows?
'Predictable' is an everyday state of play today, in and out of many scenes who should know better. Tick the boxes, dress up and look the part and be a clone in with the crew - fuckin' pathetic isn't it! All over the fuckers are strangling originality and jumping through the same old hoops. The vibes grab me here, there is an edge, an edge to be injured by - I fuckin' hope so. There is a good creamy underflow, plenty of angst and a wicked shit-kick at those falling into the trappings of another scene going through the same old motions. A fair inclusion and one against the grain methinks.
'Dancefloor Talker' gets on my tits if the truth be told (quite apt if you think about it). It is too fidgety, lacks a central core of arrangement and drifts off into an almost jizz-jazz self-absorption that really sinks my boat. The tonal torpedoes hit home and penetrate but the invading phallus-shaped devices fail to detonate my sensors of appreciation and duly send me up in a plume of disappointed and head-wanked confusion. The crew do well to stick to matters, they are in the groove that is for sure and again, no real rules are followed - this ain't no bad thing but this is the runt of the litter in Fungal's opinion.
We piss off with 'Get Cuntz Telt' - a catchphrase from the lass at the helm, it says a lot about the young riot girl. A big fat twat bass, a stick tickle and an avalanche of verbosity that rattles away and makes one use all their neurones to try and keep up to speed. The song title is snottily yelled, the cunts are spat at and in the mix is a stand-alone stubbornness to help one stay strong, proud and not bow down to the slagging and slating wankbags. All matters are going well and this is a good bout of zealous raving although the end collapse is a bit diluting. I like the attitude though and if it keeps the idlers and moaners on the cusp, the job is even better.
Aye lad, we have an awkward mix of melodies and raw-assed rhythms here with the players not giving a fuck for in-scene ticks. Away from the many musical flavours that bombard my head this is stuff I can take or leave although it is relevant, kicking against the prickery and has good foundation which I am always one to applaud. The end verdict is of a 'not a bad do lad' - a Northern cunts summing up with honesty and passion the only ethics used.
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THE CONSPIRACY - DUNGENESS EP My 6th venture into the cacophonic concoctions of The Conspiracy and I have to say it has been a pleasurable, intriguing and quite varied trek. There is talent aplenty on show, a thinking resonance that is the major backbone of each and every creation and I am always left with something to ponder and something a little 'out of the expected range'.
'Dungeness' opens, a milky cream-drift of solitude and bare-bone minimalism. The shingle of sound is tiptoed over, there are plans afoot and a small paradise is honoured. This slow-moving piece has wonderful magnetic prowess and a certain exactitude of delicacy that helps us relate to an artiste’s creation amid the sorrowful landscape that in some ways is stark and frightening, in others it is a haven for many species and creative forces. Like the massaging of the inner core this song follows suit and is an erotic/exotic perversion that does things just right. A quite warm and comforting number backing up the suggestion that in the most unlikeliest of places colourful life can be borne.
'Little Finger' twilight kisses, drips inward and is a mystery in many ways. I am unsure as to what the content is actually about but all the while I feel a warning, a threat, a religious slant that is ultimately damning. The drift is reclined, there is no rush and a repetitive motif dictates the whole affair. It is a neatly executed number with a fine end mix. This is not my favourite track by this lot, it is one of those moments I can take or leave but there is nothing tonally offensive and the artistry of the composite must be admired. There is a slick fluency and a composure that makes matters work.
On we go and 'In The Trees' is a delight - a real floating escapist bout of light and well-intentioned music that is beautifully orchestrated and with a certain freshness blowing all the way through. A simplicity is admired, a style so unaffected and straightforward, - I think we would be all better off back in the trees with lives stripped back and all this plugged in pissery left behind. The liquidity of the song hits home, the disillusionment with the digital depressants and the sober look at life all help make this operate with depth and for me, it is a great song to play along when in the midst of deep musings. Marvellous.
'God's Zone' is a puzzling track, a stuttering and somewhat disjointed piece that I struggle to get in line with. The scene is set via a careful and somewhat atmospheric opening sequence. The human race is waiting, the human race seems to be idling and blowing a chance of salvation. This song appears to be done from up on high with a shake of the head at the mess we are making. Are we listening? We fuckin' well should be! This is a sedate track but one with a gentle underflow of melody and a message to consider. Again the balance of all areas is precise and highly pleasing and I have this one rated as similar to many offerings by this lot, an adept and timeless grower.
The closure of this latest EP comes via 'England'. This one strikes me as a song lightly tattooed with bitterness, mockery and a disbelief. This septic isle has now gone gangrenous, the rot is set firmly in and the devouring of morality, decency and the actual flesh of the landscape is almost unstoppable - the question - who or what do we amputate. A nifty mover from the off this, lucid and mid-paced, very clean cut and with a nice bite. There is something progressive about the way the band play and of course, it is definitely thinking man’s noise - neat indeed.
Yeah The Conspiracy do what they do mighty well and give my lugs at least, a nice alternative sound to mull over. I listen to a wide range of vibes but this lot have their own sound and a very satisfying end gloss. These 5 track snippets are the best way forward, just enough and time to truly invest the noggin. Here's to more of the same.
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INERTIALS - LISTEN BETWEEN STATES More meaty produce from the records that are found approximately Five Feet Under. A Danish band come, dish out 5 tracks and here is my take on matters. No reason is had to fuck around or prolong the pondering, here we go folks, another five go under the Fungal scope.
With a playing time of 8 minutes and an intensity akin to a nuclear hand grenade shoved up your rear orifice this is a real tester for a Fungal Fucker with limited patience and a penchant for swift bomb blasts and things of varied flavour. 'Plasma Pool' is a shatterpunk hardcore invasion that could be made up of several songs but instead is a shape-shifting headfuck of great density and vandalising quality. The screams and thrashings are a treat, the switch off unnecessary and tedious and as said, the overall length a trying factor. The crew do aim high and hit many a cacophonic zenith but as an overall construction it feels too self-absorbed and self-diluting. Alas this is only one honest man’s opinion and I can still say this is a solid piece but just not for me. It be an experiment gone haywire.
From foul muck comes 'Mirror Planet' - a real vile horrorshow of noise snarled forth with violent effect. Without lyrics I am left to rely just on what the sonic sensors tell me and as they vibrate to the pillaging molestation I try and eavesdrop from the kicked-up dustbowl that interacts with the smoggy feel. I fall short and find myself losing interest just after the midway point due to having my head battered with too much of this stuff and the lack of variation. It is mighty incandescent stuff, splashed forth with accuracy and real hard-perspired passion but, how will it stand out from the raging crowd?
'Orgone Inhaler' rapid fires inwards, goes straight for the delicate areas and bangs away with fists of diamond-cut severity. A brutal fuck this with a big fat bass, whipped guitar work and slap-twatty skin labour to help support the throat-ravaging ravings of the lunatic at the fore. Again, cut the song short, make it one unholy sharp fuck-splay and piss off out of it - therein greater success would be had. I have no gripes with the artistry, the application and the arrangement at all, I won't be playing this over and over though, I like many flavours and these robust punctuations marks are best left as occasional bursts of contrast.
The last two, 'Anecdotal Hell' is the best, a real hot-roast tonal turkey that gobbles up the resistances and spits feathers of fury back at ya. The advancement of the blister-rage is a fiery coloured bird of incessant pecking malevolence with any eggs laid duly smashed to fuck and reeking of ill temper. A burst of bleak bomb-blasting comes, a further push of the tantrumised tonsils and the run to the terminal point of pain is as steady as you like with a final flourish of tortured dinnage - feel those blisters man. We piss off with 'Endless Knife' - a prolonged attack of two main flavours - the hot and spicy, the cool and creamy, all spread rather thinly over a running time in excess of 9 mins. I struggle to stick with this, man, this ain't my favoured style at all. In the midst of the machinations is some industrial meddling and some moments of great atmosphere but, as per, 4 songs instead of one would have been preferred. There are some real stalwarts of this sonic shizzle out there and those are the ones best left to judge methinks. My thumbs are turned down again, but the exactitude of the musicianship must be applauded.
Nah, in and out I go and am happy to move on and leave this to the connoisseurs. I like hardcore in short, fast explosions, that is it, this kind of stuff leaves me mentally roaming and clutching at straws. Now where can I get some good old rock and roll to get the mind back on track?
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RITES OF HADDA - INEVITABLE MACHETE Look, Rites of Hadda are fuckin' good. Stout people, plenty of passion, outside many conformist circles and making a wonderful racket. Their 'live' shows are exacting and ornamented by a great frontman who is reliably backed by some wonderful noisemakers. They have played several Fungalised fuck-ups, they are coming back for more, here is my take on an 8 track effluence spill that has me hungrily salivating. Having given due praise, rest assured the CD will be dealt with as a neutered neutral - no favours, no arse-licking, no bullshit - I am too old to change and join the rim-running hordes.
A riotous tumble thunder pounds our senses as 'Is Ross Woodward A Faggot' comes at us in unashamedly forthright fashion. There is no time to adjust the underduds, tuck in the stray testes or indeed rearrange the position of a peeling foreskin. This song demands immediate attention and focus and I give it just that. The sonic seabed is whipped up and the sprats that are straight, skewed or of any swimming style, are all tossed about, tossed off and left to enjoy the maelstrom. The challenge is set, the resistance pure, the overall splashing sound is rambunctious and highly rhythmic and, do ya know what - I fuckin' love it. There ain't no diluting the queer tha' knows - and why the fuck should there be? Answers on a postcard to... ah, what is the point?
'Racist bassist' grumbles, grinds, seduces and sways. The languid cobra-dance seems harmless but there is venom ready to be injected. This is a grime and grinding sound with a sub-sex insidiousness lurking in the lower strata’s of the arrangement. A seduction fucker, a waltzing snippet of grooming wickedness that deals with a shadow of untrustworthy beliefs who is exposed and duly shunted to the bottom of the heap. We live in times of tension, instead of being racist why not have a wank - and I speak for all colours and creeds, toss away your prejudices you daft cunts. Anyway this tune hits the g-spot and a few nerve endings no doubt, job done.
Next up and 'Middle England Mate' bounces in on sanguine tones and fruity vibes. A collapse scatter, more brassage and a film-noir setting is had. Slinky sleaze baby. The molten spew falls from the volcanic maw and sears the arses of the wank-brigade who take and give nothing, who control and kill the counterculture who just wanna dance and be good. I like the bassism here, the twisting turns of the strings and the overall untrustworthy accents that give the band a unique identifiable edge. This isn't tick-box tossery, it is thinking 'erberts noise and delivered with a supreme unaffected naturalness and with a poetical intrigue that absorbs. 'Killer Profits (Tokitae)' is a powermonger and rumble grumbles in on a very brash and belligerent bass. The crammed brass mellows the rhythmic density before we get a repeatoid rant, a rattling poetical thundersplat that races along without any thought of easing up, looking back or throwing in some nonsensical baubles to hang on yer nob. When the band whip up a storm such as this they are carried along and always end on the good side of this Fungal assessor. I take it as a grooming process, ooh the sneaky bastards. I like this, I reckon it be a good set inclusion to keep the cobwebs blown away. To add – do not abuse and use animals – and stop damaging things beautiful and innocent – kaboom.
'Daemon Oh Hate' is a fiery number that deals with an identity crisis and the pricks in society who make those struggling feel even more and more vulnerable. This is a rampant stallion of sound that is a tireless exercise in getting a point off your chest and letting the listeners have it full fuckin' tilt. The music is glutted with life, kick-back punkery and verbally artistic strength. The thrashing and threshing fidget fuck level of activity needs to be played to a masterly level and so it ruddy well is. The end overspill of lunatic frustration and angst is fully justified and caps off a beautifully hectic and happening bout.
'Fuck Them ' next - a stagger march, asped sidewinds, a creeping threat that looms large. No rush, steady as she goes, there is a real shackled venom waiting to be spat forth, a toxic wank splat that sees me bearing my chest flesh. This is a potent prowler that hangs around and manipulates the senses. We deal with those who oppress, deny, critically cripple and ultimately control. The reason for the last state of affairs is you - please fuckin' think, defy and be your pure self at all times, not the made up kind that is a veritable pantomime character. A fine avalanche of the title comes, take heed, don't just sing along, fuckin' use it as fuel to keep ya sturdy. I like this one, it reminds me of why I am an awkward cunt.
I fuckin' love 'Laments'. It is an exacting expression of grief poured from a passionate heart disgusted by the condition we are creating. An environmental explosion enraged by the fuckin' vandalism and the negligible behaviour by this grab, take, self-serve brigade known as humanity. We are in a polluted ocean of fuckwits breeding fuckwits whom, eternally feed on every other living thing and that which is inanimate too. Take heed folks, the words spilled are fact, it is all well and good dancing, out-punking each other or ticking boxes but without action it is utter fuckin' piffle. The action, the uncontrolled emotion, the empathy for things real and the musical manoeuvres all keep me enthralled. Tight, focused and hitting the main vein – gigantic man.
We fuck off with the rave and raving rhythms of '.'. Mystery ensues, we have warblings from a previous release, questions repeated and I suspect no fuckin' answers coming from the mush. This is my least favoured track on the CD but it is still a good mover and groover. I just need stimulants to help me keep up and swing the backside. The techno-edge is always a little too processed for my grubby noggin though but, having said this, you gotta keep things varied and the people guessing and this is a neat arrangement that does just that.
Well, there ya go and what fuckin good CD this is (again) by a band I am quite smitten by. No pretensions, no faking it, no playing the game - just heads down and making fine music with a message. Yes, a concrete release with more nobs on – phwoar!
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ORIGAMI HORSES - SCENES Hey man, what goes on? Metal Postcards Records have another release and I am clueless about the band and what to expect and so go in, once again, a fresh as a daisy and as neutral as a, ahem, neutered dog. I did find some online info, albeit a little flimsy but still informing me that this is a 'British 90's revival alternative rock band from Canterbury, U.K. Founded in 2012'. This really is of no help whatsoever when it comes to second guessing what will transpire over the course of the 4 tracks here, I like it this way.
'Toucan' has all the touches and nuances of something B52'd. It also has a surfy kind of underscore as it goes about its business in a very pleasurable manner indeed. I like the minimalism, the flow from recesses grooved, multi-hued and parading. The motif is double-edged, two modes switching styles and just making for a sweet intro number that will serve the band well in a 'live' setting. From this 1 minute 11 second instrumental we get a pleasure extension that travels beyond the 8 minute mark (talk about changing the attack). 'Access Denied' is a delicious chill that has a digitally metronomic feel that gives inklings of soundwaves emitted by a device on ‘hold'. The initial whisperings come after the 90 second mark, they are cool, careful and in accordance with the reclined tones set. A mid-paced drift that gnaws at the resistance without really exerting itself. The touches are polite and pleasing, the guitar sequences very indie-fied and well-breezed. Yes, there is a freshness here and a simplicity and although the running time tests my punky patience, I am quite happy to play and ease up on all areas and...wallow. A neat composite for sure.
'Under The Wheel' bass bumbles in, pulses, and semi- mutters. The initial tones are frost-pecked, without rush and kept on a restraining leash. Submerged, subdued and sober with no extravagances had this is a somewhat mundane piece with the tonal gifts coming via the controlled essences and the careful musicianship. Atmosphere rises from the midway point onwards, a certain pain is felt between the sonic sheets, what we have here is far from uplifting music but music that still has value. There is an engaging mystery within, and we move into 'Scenes' with a certain uncertain gentleness and may it be said, caution. This is a very soporific number that barely kisses the pick-up substrate as it floats along on ephemeral and gossamer webbings. A tender and yet forceful sequence comes, alternative scene aromas are emanated from a vocalist troubled. The effort drifts on and finally reaches a place where it is happy to fade into oblivion - I am unsure here, things seem a little too tame for their own good I feel.
And there you have it, a matter-of-fact little encounter with a 4-track CD that has appeal, is neatly played out and one that doesn’t overwhelmed the listener with anything outlandish. I would like to hear the bands next 4 tracker, I up they throw in a few janglers next, we can only wait and see.
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SLUG BOYS - LISTEN TO SLUG BOYS
A debut album is always something to be highly anticipated, and if you know fuck all about the band who are throwing out their first offering then so much the better. A bit of research after receiving a review request revealed that this is a Norwegian-British-Swedish post-punk band who have a reputation for chaotic, unpredictable live shows. There was more descriptive puff but as per, I ignore and do what I do with my own purist approach. Using this style helps me be accurate or way off the mark, both glorious end results without affect tha' knows. Well, you do insist on the punkery don't ya.
The kick off comes through the mush known as 'Glasnost'. This is a very satisfying opening salutation with all areas compressed, watertight and of a very soaked through accent. The opening drums are laden with life, the full-on concoction of sound that follows has many facets and influences it seems. There is a danger, a sanguinity that borders on a cock-sure strut. The compaction of the sonic soil is high, we are given brief pockets in which to gain extra air before the whole enveloping sound continues. Angles, snifters of aggression but a great joy de vivre is apparent in an opening number that really does the business. Be solid folks, resist, fight back and dance with passion.
'Dear Life' is straight at it with the mix of the melodic matter both magnificent and molten. There is plenty of power here, a certain reactive flow and a full-on blossoming into a chorus that transcends the high quality of the tonality thus far. A hunger is felt, the seething extra vocal slaps leave a stinging impression not to be underestimated whilst all the while the song moves with artistic fluidity and a whirlpool of garish colours that blend and bend and make for an appealing end intrigue. A frustration is emanated, a sinewed force and something almost anthemic - it is rather fuckin' splendid.
The next two and 'Mother Mary' cruises in with a perspiration free-brow before a grunt and an ensuing sear-surge. An emotive force blossoms, an open heart exposes gratefulness. The moments of tumult, fast pace and pressure-cooker intensity work well with the spoken breaks helpful in giving the song an added depth and an extension in the always crucial longevity factor. This is not an instantaneous gob-smacker, it lacks the blatant salvo of the opening tracks but it has weight and it does grow - stick with it folks. 'Slug Boys Anthem' is a chunky chomper to get your sonic lugs around. It is a very basic song, the lyrics and the whole composite is done with a straight-ahead drive, a no-nonsense force and with a party-fied edge that just doesn't hit the mark. This could have been a special moment, of the tuneful litter so far this is a runt of rhythm I can take or leave.
'For Love' buzz-squelches, comes with a strange strain that takes some adjusting too. I gradually get in the groove after a couple of spins, the emotive factor works away and from the stuttering verse comes a blossoming of many a splendid hue and great tidal insistence. Fear dictates, defiance joins the fight and a hint of serious desperation adds to the thrust of the song. At first I was rather aloof and somewhat unconvinced by this slowly shapeshifting number but, with patience and good sonic effort I gotta say it is a fine piece of work. 'One Of Us' comes next, the crumpled foil guitars, a grunt and a more controlled tonality leads the way. The following gobbage is hungry and laden with zeal. The zip and zest is decent enough and the overall bounce of the song encourages arse-moving activity. There is a wealth of positive palpitating vibrology and the more I listen in the more and more I am taken. I think this short summary is enough for this one.
'Painkiller' has a 'live' feel, some chanting, and some bouncing ravey sensations that duly work their way into the caveman realms and get the foot tapping. The delivery continues and becomes almost robotic and futuristic with a metallic coldness infiltrating certain areas. Sound splashes and explosions come, the band apply themselves with certainty and the blend of all facets has a granite aural feel but... I am not overly taken by this one and find that it falls into the shadows of greater inclusions on this very worthwhile CD. Some people may have it tagged down as a fave, some may not - it is all about taste and as I have said many times over 'no one can like everything'. 'Saab 900' has an Undertones tickle to the intro (yeah 'You Got My Number'). The thrash out that comes is precise, sniping and done and dusted at 26 seconds. A short explosion is a time and tested trick used by many bands - these rapid ravings are what they are and there ain't no faults found here. If playing 'live' and time is tight, this will be a fine encore.
'Why' chops in, hollers and pounds. The first verse has plenty of meat on the bone, the tendons are taut and the power healthy. The segue into the chorus is slick and without fuss and as the song progresses we see another moment of good orchestration, raw unaffected impact and a synthed up saturation that helps the entire flow. There is a leakproof quality to the liquidity, a good wallop factor and some fine snarling from the rabid dog at the fore - what more can you ask for in this defiant and stand strong, stand proud song? 'Slug Boys Love Song' is retro rock and roll sloppiness done with the sickly sweet musical massaging that some would be groomed by and others would be deeply suspicious of. It comes, it goes, it sends a shiver up my spine and I make sure my jacksie is corked. Not for me this kind of sinister shizzle I am afraid and I wonder what is the point of this inclusion - ooh the silly buggers.
And into the last 2 we go. My assessing kecks are hitched up, I move with pace and sum up this double-discordance with hopefully a terse and accurate style. A power heave opens 'Sleep Forever' before a very stated and authoritative opening verse takes hold. It is spartan in some ways but still has a solid hit factor. The move to the chorus chunk is buttery, the growth of the song rewarding and the whole arrangement very polished. This is a song that indicates a band with more potential and with an appeal that could very well be far reaching. Perhaps the most commercialised piece of the lot with elements that even the most niched noise-lover will take to. Interesting indeed. We close with 'The War' which comes with an intro - words from yore, a state of play displayed and then the honest, heartfelt and very earthy tones of the song itself. A progressive and emotive movement with a certain depth and may one add, a homely touch. The tones may be tagged as 'corned', yes, I have heard many similar expulsions and find matters a little too sickly sweet as far as the tonal shadings go but... and here is the nub of the noise, it is played well, has care and rounds off a CD that displays a band who are thinking, pushing and doing a darn good job. Not a classic for me, a rock-steady stroller but some will love this I am, sure.
From the discordant depths of my shattered soul another review has been scrawled - I hope I have been fair, honest and have captured the essence. The Slug Boys are a darn good unit, a few songs hit inner zeniths, some are bang tidy, a few I can take or leave but if I said I liked everything I would be the ultimate cacophonic conman - ooh it ain't the way to be.
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JULIES DEAD - SOMETHING WENT WRONG A small treat from a band that are rekindling their rhythms and rockin' out with a new found gusto. According to the Facebook bilge drip they are 'feral punk quintet from Northampton, tearing up UK stages since the ’90s. Their snarling, high-octane sound channels Misfits and Black Flag. Unrelenting live shows and raw energy prove punk’s not dead—just louder, faster, and meaner' - well it certainly is a good propaganda push for sure. I have them booked, I go in neutral in the nethers, and here is what pips I splash out. 'Safe' is a beautiful number that deals with the situation of domestic violence, a real terror state of play that sees the bully beat on the already beaten and crush them into utter oblivion. I have known a few of these situations in my time, one ended up with a death, it is all fuckin' pathetic. Here a question is repetitively asked via strong song that rolls in, fuzzes with ill-temper and drives with an unstoppable force. The message is clear - 'lasses, do not take this shit'. The verses are nailed down, the segue into the chorus is smooth and the whole concoction works and works fuckin' well. For me, bands who deal with this kind of subject matter need applause and note, when they do it in such an effective DIY way I can only tip my titfer in generous acknowledgement. An opening track and a fuckin' impacting stunner with great power. The follow-up to this initial blow-out is laden with pressure as it has to be a good un' to hold its own with matters already laid down. 'Failson' ups the pace, has a remarkable fluency and more than stands firm in this small sonic arena. A twisting guitar, a roll and we are at it with a good energy unearthed and an opening rapid-fire verse gratifying to the soul. The fuckers who have it all and never seem to fail (in their eyes and the eyes of the sycophants) are dealt with via a quite delicious gallop of swiftly generated music that sticks to an orthodox composition but does so with fascinating appal. The 'whoa hoas' help us get involved, the uncomplicated approach and the completeness of the track make it another winner for me. DK string essences, a thrust and in we go to 'In Her Mind'. A serious question, an aftermath pondering, a kick-back of rabid retribution. The main winning assets of this song are the vicious cut, the infection factor of the speed rate and the overall torrent of verbal goodness that really operates quite ideally over the solid foundations of well-played musicianship. Key saturations, a break of spartan effect, a rant and rave and this song brings to the fore several elements that make it a cracking eruption of earthy DIY din-making. It keeps the CD flowing with a wealth of urgency and focus and magnetic high-tempo melody. 'Junkfood Generation' is a very old song and here are the words of Dunk, band member of Julies Dead and The Mispelt - 'this is one of the first songs that I wrote. It's something I penned in my bedroom at my parents when I was about 17 or 18. In this original form it was the show runner in the early years Julie's Dead set and the stand out track on our first ever demo. When Julie's Dead fell apart it then became a filler in the fledgling Mispelt set, lost to obscurity until dusted off and re-worked in the Gen era of Mispelt and then retired again only to see a new lease of life with the reformed and reinvigorated Julie's Dead - the version on this CD is what I heard in my head when I was writing it 30 odd years ago'. And so here are my Fungalised thoughts. The song mentioned from the Mispelt's 'Gen Era' is a fuckin' classic, a real upbeat and in-yer-face' song that stands the test of time. This version is nothing like the said beauty but is a still a ruddy good piece albeit in a less flamboyant way. I am in tune with the rough and ready blasting and the arrangement is highly applaudable. The closure is 'All These Years' - a quite muscular movement with rabid ravaging intertwined with cruising quality that really throws the CD a whole new angle and keeps one intrigued right up until the last. From the suffering is borne success, from incandescent frustration is borne a flame of defiance in a fuckin' healthy and kicking track that really turns me on. I shall leave the review here - nuff fuckin' said. Julies Dead have me aroused, I am looking forward to the debut Fungalised appearance, this is some fuckin' EP folks and I am giving it a real Fungal thumbs up with extra nobs on and nipples. Hell yeah! |
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NEXO - MINDFUL INACTION From Copenhagen in Denmark comes a thrashy hardcore unit with elements that are experimental and varied. I am happy to just come along, listen with good intent and thrash out the Fungalised thoughts as they come. There ain't no process, no pre-set thinking and the fresher I can go in, the fuckin' better!
'Concentration' begins the five track journey with a low rumble of controlled tonality. Hollerings come from depths cursed, we are immediately confronted with a grimaced and tense laden spillage that looks set to test the nerves. Poundings, a strum and then a relieving thrash hammer with a repetition yell factor taking hold of the reins and creating a very stressful sonic scenario. From the brink of a breakdown comes a primeval scream of needy depths, escorted by a whipping maelstrom of emotive seizuring that completes the whole discomfiting discordance. Powerful, intense and very shattering - take care folks, this is bold and sinewy lug-grappling matter.
I love the emergency surge during the opening throes of 'Deadline' all happening and addictive before a glutinous glug-pull drags one back into a nightmare realm of fear. The fear is borne from not making the grade, achieving matters on time in a lunatic world where people are racing the clock, tripping head over heels in a mayhem of meetings, catch ups and experiences before they ultimately... drop dead. The song soon picks up the pace again, feel the pressure, admire the noise as the valve is opened - this is a fuckin' strong and healthy track.
'Karoshi' kicks along with a good lick, it labours away and sends out a warning to those doing too much work that will see the final wage packet labelled 'oblivion'. The rat race has people snared, the 'working from home' brigade are not beating anything, thank fuck I retired first. Again we see a tension rise and ultimately erupt in a spark-shower of anxiety and cerebral poison. From the opening boomings comes a solid bout of regularity with the throat neatly seared and the players all unified in one well-channelled burst. This one hits the tubes and stays right on track.
Having previously mentioned the 'hatred' factor I witness a move up in thermal viciousness here as a blazing infusion of molten ill-temper splashes forth via 'My Blood'. Screwed up and tetchy mechanics are pulled all ways before a statement is made and then an explanation is given. This is not a fluid tune, is not instantaneously magnetic and doesn't hit all my positive sensors but the whole arrangement grows in stature as matters progress and the brutality, the honesty and the unapologetic delivery all work in a kind of 'oh fuck' kind of way. A very necessary song, especially for the singer it seems.
We piss off into the sable silent realms with 'Overcorrection' - a very submerged and sub-gothic piece that is soaked through to the core. A ball of radioactive searing that rotates without distraction and crushes all resistance. For me it is a hard track to digest, one that is best left to those who have a greater tolerance of things of this intensity. The musicianship is tight, the minimal vocals hard to decipher and the application sound but, I feel more emphasis could have been placed on melody and that all important 'hook'. Hey, tis' personal honesty folks, that is all I ever wish to offer.
There is a great weight of sound here, much to appreciate and some heavy duty outpourings that are of a certain generic realm. The release is on the admirable 5Feet Under Records label and the band know their stuff. Not my bag but not a CD to slaughter either (as if I would).
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DAVID DELINQUENT AND THE IOU'S - EVERYBODY LOVES YOU David Delinquent & The I.O.U'S are pretty new kids on the shit-stained block, I am sure they have slipped in a few turds as they have traversed the cruddy thoroughfare of sonic life but, it seems, they are making a little progress. I have no idea what progress is these days but, as long as they are creating, are as keen as mustard and are enjoying it whilst not ripping people off or kissing rings then that will do for me. If the music is shite, bright and just right I can only hear, ponder and assess if requested to so. Here I have been asked to comment on a single release, one track to try and sum up what is going on and how the vibes may bless or curse the awaiting lugs.
The title is feelgood, I am untrustworthy though 'Everybody Loves You' indeed. The opening throes are tattooed through with glammed joviality and gusto, a trait that continues throughout, much to the betterment of the whole arrangement. This is a fruity explosion of motivational music with a sensation of something commercialised (ooh how I shudder at the word). This is mighty fine fodder though, especially when played loud on a darkened wintry day when the black dog is nipping at the posterior. The clarity of all components, the fluency, the saxy swagger, the overall zest and the final production values make this a quite nippy treat with the orchestration tidy and the crossover from the DIY to the more processed highly applaudable. Perhaps there are corned elements and it ain't nowt new under the well-whipped sun but...who fuckin' cares. If it feels good, play loud and dance baby.
There ya go, a Fungalised nod of approval, am I going soft in my old age or am I spot on when I rate this a darn banger? With 1800+ CD reviews under the belt I hope I have some inkling of insight.
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