Thinking man’s music borne from proud hearts and humble souls.  There is no fuckin' about here, Northern folk with good intent and fed up with many areas of life being ruined by greed, the seeking of power and the selfishness that seems to be all pervasive.  A cry for quality, a good deal for all and a brighter future - it is really that simple.  The players know their noise and ply their trade with poetical prowess and a very approachable manner.  I received this CD via an email message, I had a listen and was instantly smitten.  Cultured, refined and fuckin' real, I purchased a copy and wanked out the following words.

We begin with '21st Century Bullshit Detector' - and what a marvellous start it is!  Rampant, pertinent, fluent and ruddy needed in these times of tossbag tricksters and huff and puff shysters. The flow is grabbing, the articulation of the message exact and done with a mix of acidity, rhythm and poetical goodness.  There is a real punked edge as well as a great disgruntlement that sets the stage for a CD I am now expecting to be something special.  This is an outstanding start and has me nominating this for 'Song of the Month' on my website - I hope that rubberstamps my feelings on this beauty.  

A few quick thumps, a nice 'clashy' lick and into the wholesome and welcoming 'Born In The North, Die In The North'.  This is a song of the streets, a gentler song when compared to the first but with as much wallop and impact.  The chorus is a sing-a-long joy, the dulcet tones of the recognisable frontman a honest pleasure and the words matter and are delivered with hearts beating with defiance and pride.  The music has many flavours of influenced hues and the overall arrangement is one of those songs you can't find fault with.  This can be sung anywhere and in these divided times - so it fuckin' well should be.

The slow beauty of 'The Dirty Empire' unwinds and comes across as a great impacting piece that shows a solid disgust at the flag-flying idiocy that is growing all around us.  Fuck all flags, fuck all divisions and fuck all the bastards looking to feel better at the expense of someone else - that is all I can add.  I admire this composition for many reasons, I like the coolness of the approach when dealing with subject matter that is enough to blow the top of your noggin off. Yes, the failing continues and a few good folk are bemused - my advice, play this gem loud and think about your stance.   'Leviathan' follows, has a considered approach and has a lengthy word spill of erudite care that assesses the state of play in a world falling apart at the seams and becoming a fully-fledged New World Order.  The sadness in the tones, the almost hopeless acceptance and the thoughtful prose are all posted through the cranial letterbox with a matter-of-fact manner that somehow disarms.  Have we really slipped so far into the doldrums?  Are we really so gullible and stupid?  Democracy is dead, the few fight for any semblance of space and shackle-free living - the verbals unfold and I think we have a song that will always be apposite and will grow in flavour like any considered vintage.

'What Have We Become' almost sums up the whole feeling of this CD - a real disillusioned and disgruntled piece awash with disbelief?  A smooth rise, a quest for a better place and an arrangement that is as simple as needed and with a layered goodness that comes into its own when the chorus caresses and helps to reinforce some glimpse of salvation.  The message is also simple - just stay strong folks.  A very unidealistic song with both feet on the turf and relaying its point with a prosaic practicality - the band do it well.  The dark and sombre moribund tones of 'Back To The Factory' are a tribute to a band and a frontman who need no introduction.  A joyless episode in some ways, victim to discordant divisions in others but a moment in time that has left a lasting impact and legacy.  This sober and bleak episode is homage to a unique creative force that came, went and hopefully... made a fuckin' difference.  The orchestration and obvious emanations are all spot on and make for an unexpected and yet absorbing listen - tidy!

We travel further into the depths of a marvellous creation with 'Router 66' - a smooth and swaying design that is perfectly lain down and with a subtle emotive force that takes hold of the senses, leads them to places abandoned and now desolate and with a life-laden past buried and just a memory.  There is an oceanic persuasiveness that comes in slow winning waves that really causes one to stagger back and take stock.  The more one listens the more one notes the unity of the players, the harmonising wonder and the overall winning beauty of a song well done.  Boom!  From here we have a folky sing-a-long that praises the Wigan Diggers/True Levellers  founder Gerard Winstanley.  Winstanley was a defier of the destructors and the cash-seeking cretins and duly strove to keep the land pure and unblemished.  This is a fine green-tattooed piece with historical depth that shows the progress we think we are making is nothing more than regression.  The fat cat fuckheads are blinkered and limited in intelligence, self comes first but their words are weaved to tell a different tale.  I am warmed by this gem, my hope that there are some free-thinking selfless souls out there is reborn, we all must join in and just do a little bit more.  Thanks to the crew for reminding me of our priorities and the stubborn bugger who did his bit! 'Diggers Of The World Unite' for sure!

Stubborn and heavy tones come as 'Deliver Us From Evil' unfolds as a rebellious prayer that deals with a scandal that once again sees big wigs profit, the vulnerable get hammered and justice shy away from its responsibility.  A sharp acidic splash with a real vicious snarl of disgust that is kept in check thus avoiding the formulated foul-mouthed rant that would rather negate the prowess and passion of the piece.  It is a feisty beast for sure and adds a nice daub of clashing colour to matters.  Lighter tones unfold with the more cultured and matter-of-fact essences that make up the jingle that is 'Jubilee'.  A realists appraisal of a ludicrous situation were people get conned, swallow the shit whilst those detached live it up and dwell in blinkered bliss (or 'piss' if you are more observant).  The rot continues, some are struggling and the streets are laden with cracked celebrations whilst the u-bend beckons.  Somehow, despite the content, the ditty has an upbeat musical score that hops and skips along as escort to the rather flabbergasted and disgusted word weaver - it makes for another intriguing listen.

3 to go and I crack the whip against my own assessing arse with the hope of keeping you intrigued.  'The Punch And Judy Show' is a fine rolling account of another farce, a tale of a flimsy facade that gives the appearance of all being well and good but duly hiding a horror act that is all too prevalent.  Honest and insightful and very fluent with a superb clarity that allows us to become involved.  As we head to the final stretch we need to quality to be maintained and that is the case here.  'Got Each Other'  says what it is and rolls along with a  warmth, a positivity and a real comforting comradeship.  Look, there is little to add here, as a man who appreciates the beautiful simplicities of life this is a sure-fire winning number all the way, delivered by good folk who are off their rears, doing and trying to remind people of the important things in life.  No matter where you are or how low you get remember folks, there are some good folk out there willing to help, natter and just nudge ye along.  Stay focused, stay true to yourself, be good, keep trying and never be afraid to reach out.  Play this loud when you are low, it will pick you up no end.

We finalise with a complete juxtaposition to the previous track.  'Countdown' is a rapid-fire urgency that assaults the senses with a sober reality and open-eyed take on this world that is on the brink.  A good old fashioned punky thrust with straight-ahead verses, a repeatoid rhythm and a chunky chorus that slaps home.  The CD started on a booming note and signs off on an equally effective number.  Well-played, perfectly balanced, gruff and with some solid skids and shuffles - all observant of a hell-hole created by a human mush who should know better (and still fuckin' don't).

My thoughts are of a great CD dished out by erudite folk who think, consider and most importantly 'do'.  I am very thrilled by this, it is angry, poetical, insightful and laden with great frustration.  The composition of each track radiates nouse and the overall blend is ideal methinks - my titfer is tilted in acknowledgement of a fuckin' reet grand do! 

A recent Welsh Wankers Invasion saw me come across many usual faces in different guises and a couple of bands that I hadn't seen before.  One of these was Rumbrave, a band I had heard the name of but one that had not registered on the Fungal sensors.  They came, they played, they buggered off and left me... fuckin' mightily impressed.  Wow and I mean wow!  It was a treat and I was also given a 4 track EP to savour which I said I would review (hence the textual ticklings here).  I have taken my time due to being overly stretched and not willing to rush out any old codswallop.  Here are the thoughts of honesty, integrity and Fungally threaded intention.

Nah then, I was unsure as to how good matters would be as regards this CD due to the fact the band were so fuckin' good in the flesh.  I can't just make up false praise and I have to be honest at all times but by heck, the opening number here is a complete gem.  'Johnny's Shoes' rolls in on great emotive waves of sublime texture before cutting back and delivering a bass driven first verse that has a steady slap escort and solid vocals.  The six strung assistance comes, the song burns bright with a unique take on an accident and the blame that is casually thrown around.  There is something fascinating about taking something that appears inconsequential but when dissected reveals the failings of this human gunk.  The flow increases in the joy factor with the chorus cuts utterly mesmeric, the punchy tuneage a fine partner of cacophonic crimes and the overall mix perfectly blended.  The more I play the more invested and intrigued I become - what a moment!

'Forty Minutes' is of equal outstanding stature and deals with a call on the phone that left deeps scars and inescapable trauma.  The feeling behind the whole affair is tangible, the zeal poured in from all players and the vocal desire to release untold turmoil are all played out in a frighteningly effective manner.  The 'whoa hoas' help lighten the palette, the life given is something to behold and the unity between the players something to certainly put them in good stead with anyone willing to listen.  A strip down, an acoustic haunting invades and leads us by the hand into the final oblivion - a quite stunning track.

'Nowhere Town' is a tale of a man tied to the bottle and who refuse to change his ways.  We have all indulged, some though just seem to be lost causes and end up playing with fire and their very existence - it is all very sad.  The drilling wire work, the repeat tap and the feisty words could even be seen as a celebration of the piss-up but do not misread the message - take care folks.  This is a real stomping chomper that will devour your senses and have you absorbed with its distinct punky spunky edge and yet again, the watertight delivery.  A holler to 'just fuckin' do it' gets us thrown into some flamboyant guitarmanship and racing headlong further into the song.  Another less saturated respite and we hammer along, hopeless, doom laden and in a state that is what it is.  Another complete and satisfying explosion from a band of top notch merit.

The closure is the neatly constructed and very gothic acoustic arrangement of 'Forty Minutes'.  A rehash of that which has been and that which still haunts.  This final snippet shows that the band are coming in from different angles, willing to avoid the trappings of any strangling sub-scene and are quite adept at producing full-frontal subtleties.  The resonating hurt, the crushing tenderness of content and application all work. The inner desperation to release the ravaging ravens that peck at the soul and see them fly away once and for all are all donated forth with great care, conviction and classic DIY honesty.  Marvellous.

Well, I was worried that this CD would let me down, that it wouldn't match up to the belief borne from the virginal viewing I had recently partaken of.  How wrong I was!  This is one of the best EP's I have reviewed for a long time and it makes me quite ruddy happy to say so.  I am fucked, aging and burnt out in many ways but... the delight at the DIY depths is unsurpassable and people at this level, making music of such a standard without thought of coin, kudos and some kind of silly status, fuckin' matters.  Thank you chaps.  We go on... FOREVER and guys, keep these 4 track Volumes going - it will be a winning recipe for sure.

Another strange and scatter fuck splat of sound via a band of mystery and self-expression.  Volume 1 was devoured, digested, dealt with and dumped down from the assessing anus onto the great worldwide wankspread.  Does it all make any difference?  Are we so divided and absorbed in our own flimsy niches to be really making any impact?  It is a warped world but for me, if folk are doing things humbly and with good reason and not looking for coin, kudos and a pat on the back, therein beauty is found.

'Escaping' begins with heavy pulses, a scuttling underscore and a slow and steady rise before nervous scratches are issued and the spoken words come.  A multitude of scars are carved deep within a soul that is still recovering from early years trauma.  A sad and soul searching encounter played out with respectable honesty and unashamed admissions.  Bare boned and a demon beating deliverance with a cold and sober steadiness - this is a perverse intro into a very truthful essay of tonal clarity.  'Darkness' is a soft texture of sound with a blatant exposure of fear, reality and nervousness.  Despite the soft core of the sonica and the slow and sanguine motif the words that come invade and disrupt and are borne from a soul struggling, looking for answers and getting nowhere.  The contrasting juxtaposition of emotions and arrangements should not work but, the fact remains it does.  One can almost feel the head wank dogs run for cover as some semblance of sanity is achieved via a quite neat snippet.

'Echoes' is fine artistry with all realms barely touched and placed on the attentive canvas with gentleness and poetical consideration.  A youthful arising of multifaceted fears and trepidations that leads to a long term suffering from which there is no escape - all the while a control, a sedate care and a straitjacketed frustration seem to be the main ingredients all vying for attention but working in gratifying cahoots - a very sincere and winning inclusion.  'Stuck' begins with a real jive joy and a cock-sure strut that takes me to fresh assed ghettos where the dubious roam.  The song is a million miles away from this realm though where we get a lonely neglect confessed and an addiction exposed.  Honest and direct and done in just under 63 seconds - this is always a good way to keep folks interested - short, to the point and fluent - with added depths.  Nice!

'S. A. D.' is a twisted song with the content dealing with the downer delivered by the dreary but the opening sequence rather disco-fied and upbeat.  A nastiness and snarling frustration comes as the electro-agitation increases.  The clashing trashing of cerebral confoundedness all makes for a cruelty within the weave that does indeed work.  Fucked off and feeling low and the rains fall and the dark clouds grow - it is all a test of the mettle, thank goodness we have the powers of creativity.  A printing sequence, the data rolls and a self-deprecating admission comes.  'Commodity' has a funk bass, a computerised orchestration and a cold and unmoved vocal style.  A carcass crushed, is there any comeback?  From the last vestiges of tumultuous life comes flickerings uncanny and unsettling.  A grim piece that is almost flatlined.  This is one that fails to raise any erection of positivity but it is all part of the overall emotive plea.

'I Cried' resonates, it brings to the fore all the faces and fuckers who tried their best to suffocate the soul, to regiment the individual and to blanket any sign of uniqueness.  The opening soundbite works, the flow that comes is almost shackled and overwhelmed only just releasing itself via a very moribund snippet.  This and the ensuing 'Forsaken' are a draining duo with a distinct negativity taking the reins and not allowing for any respite or glimpse of hope.  I am touched but not to the point of being enthused - it is all distinctly moribund and the tones just lack an upbeat pop factor that would provide a needed contrast and ray of possible sunshine.

Next and retro digital escalations/de-escalations, subtle pumpings and inner beats with whispery vocals explaining the situation of 'Lost The Heart'.  This is a song that oozes frustration whilst seeking a place to find positivity and a response.  It seems as though a brick wall has been hit and there is no chance of progression.  The popping and sub-disco duality all help this penultimate track get by.  The closure comes via another quest, this time pasted down under the tag of 'Inner Peace'.  A slow gloopy piece that provokes thought and has us wondering if we ourselves are doing OK?  Are we repressing things, are we victims of scars not yet healed?  The black clouds loom heavy and this is a short and sable cutlet that signs us off into a silence that seems more and more ominous.  The intention is not to defraud or piss about with pseudo-happy-clappy codswallop - what you see is what you get - bare bollocked honesty.

Well, Volume 2 is done and I have 1 to go.  Is this music, is this something else?  There should be no questions as regards the emotion and the DIY aspects and if you can't use the audio platform to expose torment and suffering whilst being yourself then we are all truly fucked.  This isn't fun-time frivolity trying to win fans and it certainly isn't tick-box produce to boost sales - make of it what you will but do not deny the ethos and the depth of the content.

An octet of anarcho-punk from France comes my way via the DIY label that is Grow Your Own Records.  The band are new to me, I noted the titles of the songs were in a foreign tongue and tried to get to grips with the meaning and content.  The reviewing life is a hard one, a thankless task when done with honesty but there ya go - I go in with good intent and hope to do my thing with fair critique, passion and good will - I like to hear new vibes and jump in again with a keen spirit.  Fear not the state of things, kick back and do!

'Ur Bed Kri' is about who knows what but the musical content is active, of many old school elements and with a distinct freshness that appeals to the long term punk core.  The world cries, the bands holler, there is a great need for this ongoing passion that spits forth with gratifying spirit. The opening machine-grumble fuck, the snarling anger and the fluency of this lo-fi sub-garaged anarcho spill is appealing. With added moments of seeming reaction ad-hoc vitality, a danger that always looks prone to overload and a great electric animation,  this is a delicious initial gambit to set the stage and get the juices flowing.  I like the persistent feeling of unrest and the overall mania - yes!

'An Amzer' blows in and kicks up a storm, but does so in a quite organised way.  Essences of the sub-generic labelling and something that rings true as regards elements post-punk, this is a fascinating mix and maybe the best track of the lot.  There is texture here, blemished emotive content and of course, an energised anger.  The components are balanced well for such a worked up kerfuffle and the ride and fall of the tonality, the switch from the verses to the chorus cuts is clashing, contrasting but somehow, complimentary.  Matters are careful and then chaotic, but the organisation of the band is sound and we are never left feeling that this unit are out of control.  This one works mighty well. 'Nathalie Lemel' prepares with crushed tin-foil textures before unwinding itself like a coiled viper with a tribal intent.  Tribute is paid to a social activist who got off her arse and did what she felt  needed doing.  The song has multifaceted wallop and rolls and fractures whilst somehow holding itself in one piece.  The drums are highly fidgeted and roll with zest whilst the bass bobs along, adds the glue between the string strums and banshee hollering.  Overall we have a construct right in line with what is expected and what the certain sub-generic pool is renowned for - natural and earthy too - bonus. 

'An Anver' pronounces with a weaving bass and regulated stickwork holding all in place and allowing the guitar strum to shake up the shit and throw in the odd tickle of angularity.  Episodes of straight ahead driving, bumble-bee fidget fuckery are all escorted by the unleashed banshee who has a problem to alleviate.  Raw, unwashed and as real and honest as you like it, this is a black and white throwback that has projected itself forward, done a reverse switch, and brought a new and lively account to the fore.  Spasmodic in part, rolling with intent in other areas - this is one of those outbursts you will fall in line with after 3 or 4 listens - and you won't regret it.

The snatching of two sees 'Polis Peplec'h / Justis Neblec'h' leads the way and is a real highpoint that kicks back against the governing gits out there, some uniformed, some not, some just-self-appointed cunts trying to keep all in check whilst boosting their own ego and self-satisfied holier than thou stance.  An enraged piece that is wonderfully played, awash with kick-arse activity and a good all-round feel that has rhythm, power and a magnetising rebellious streak.  I rate this as the pinnacle - what a beauty!  From this moment of rambunctious magnificence we get the sobered intro of 'Massive'.  A strange moment followed by a straight ahead gallop with interspersed oral tumblings and  some broken episodes and frayed edges that lead us into an almost patchwork cloth that really does take some adjusting to.  One of those that is played well and has good articulation but a number that needs time so as to acquire the taste.  I am still not utterly smitten which may be a personal thing but hey, so far the CD has been intriguing and acidic and one snippet that doesn't appeal is no bad thing - it may indicate a band doing things just right!

The last brace, 'Hurle Brûle' continues the savagery and the unpredictable nature of this stampeding shenanigans.  A good lick, a tantrumised spit splat and a focused energy that sears and serenades in enthused proportions not to be underestimated.  Glassy shards are exposed, twists and turns and electro burns are prevalent and the screaming sincerity isn't wasted on these lugs.  A fine affair of incessant and rabid hunger and taking us into the last beauty with passionate pride.  The closure is slapped down as 'Da Ruez' - a fine street-based DIY explosion of classy talent with the band creating some real sweet vibes amidst the seeming whirlwind of chaos.  A pseudo-military mock march, a slow and steady rise and a verse awash with threat before a string break, a further push and then a mixture of tonality that is a joy. The zenith comes though when the band lighten matters, add a sprinkling of sing-a-along pop-esque pinging and help all areas radiate with great brilliance.  The number ends, a brief acousticised snippet is an extra treat and then we are done - and so are my lugs.

Unsettled, fizzing, disgruntled, and raucous but amid all this there is an acute talent working together as a unit and making for a great racket that gathers sonic spices of old, acoustic herbs from the now and makes for a bubbling broth to savour. Even if you don't like it or prefer this in small doses, admire the intent folks and remember - we need many flavours served up at the table of tonality so as to keep our options varied and our greedy guts sated.

A three-cornered cacophonic product from a unit new to the Metal Postcards label.  Matt Nauseous of various sonic guises is joined by Lame Impala and the result is an off-the-wall peculiarity with an aberrant charm not to be underestimated but to be wary of.  There is no dawdling or over-elaborating and within the labels elastic peripheries things are what they are - bizarro baby, fuckin' bizarro.

We open with 'Matt 67' - a gossamer light flowing with a he/she vocal overlay that compliments the supportive string work.  The mix is DIY radiofied and very lo-fi with a distinct unrushed approach one can use to chill by.  The words relate to being cool but it leaves me standing and so I remain an uncool dude outside of another mini-niche (yes).  This is a very soothing number and just about holds itself together whilst dancing on the cusp of deranged experimentation.  Thankfully the players know when enough is enough and don't go overboard on the dabblings.  I don't mind this at all although the latter end pixies of the perverse doth truly unsettle.

A brief sub-interlude number comes next, namely 'Ball Face' - a quite massaging number with no real point.  The musical score eases the soul whilst the semi-automaton style of verbals contrasts.  A bubble-bath of slowly shuffling sounds with an innuendo never far away (especially if your head is addled).  I am sure all is innocent and I have no gyps with this tension relieving episode of terse simplicity.

The closure is the suffocated cavern blues known as 'Sexual Baptist' - a grubby fucker from way on down below with a filthy chug eventually escorted by bowel-dwelling hollers that are utterly indiscernible.  The lyrics on Bandcamp are necessary and then one still wonders what the fuck is transpiring.  A very dubious piece that disarms ones sense of stability and decency and leaves one feeling rather flea-bitten and… infected.  Pure absorbed playing with a deviant streak - would you place your trust here? That is the ultimate question!

Well, I expected to be disturbed, left in a state of unease and duly befuddled.  The arrangements that have been offered are angular, eccentric and individualistic - like or loathe, they are what they are and must stay that way.  Tis’ pure creativity that keeps one thinking and in these small doses I cannot argue with that.  The second gift is my fave - therein further success may be discovered.

A female fronted rock band from Ipswich with a player in the mix who has been under the Fungal spotlight before.  I was requested to do a review and having done one previously I thought it would be good to try and reinforce my feelings and see what comes this time around.  I am merely one DIY dabbler doing what I can in a mush of multi-faceted music.  People have the temerity (or warped ego) to believe I can like everything that comes my way, I am in a no-win- situation many shy away from.  Here is a take on something that is not my usual listening matter but then I ask myself, what is?  It is all about putting back and keeping people on the edge, moving and striving to improve - well, that is the theory!

We open with 'Dysturbia' - a poetical monologue of a verbosity not to be overlooked or halted.  A voice states its case, a case of many, in a world where hordes are shackled and down-beaten.  The strings that accompany are tender and barely touched before the words halt and a great grandiose musical intro arises.  The magnificence of the ascending tonality is not wasted on me and it is a very impressive salvo on which to begin a CD (or indeed, I would suggest a 'live' performance).  The blend of all components and the production levels are impressive and I am instantly ready for the following bombardment of noise.

'Take Your Foot Off The Gas' is rocked up and ready to roll from the off.  A supersonic highway tonal turbo charge played with an attention to detail and a technical know-how whilst all the while making sure the song snags, charms and gets one involved.  The vocals are clear and of the generic sub-pool standards that are always of lofty heights.  The rolling waves of sound are both tight and flamboyant with that cleansed heavy rock approach given a good bollock kicking 'oomph' and so avoiding anything easily designated as 'coffee table crud'.  This is a powerhouse that moves with a graceful and lithesome sanguinity and from first to last, and in between all compartments contribute to a complete musical escapade.

A retro-video racing game springs to mind as the opening thrust comes and leads into 'Diamonds Aren't Forever' - a cooler song with an almost threatening accent.  Bitterness and a matter-of-fact stance comes with a love-sick suffering the prescribed cause.  The verses flow, the chorus cuts roll on staggering waves, the band make sure though that power is maximised at all times and the production values are spot.  From the initial chops, the Americanised string accoutrements to the opening semi-clad moments and the overall well-nourished flow - this one compliments the opening rackets quite ruddy nicely.

The next coupling and 'Can't Stand Still' has an eager beaver throwback groove, almost from a whizzed up countrified line-dance 80's club where goofballs are dosed up and the punters are sozzled with the sonic sensations arising from the dancefloor. For me, the music is not of an ilk where I would reach out and play but, when I listen in here I feel my arse begin to jiggle, my feet start to tap and my head nod along to a highly relished product. A really full on saturation of sonic wholesomeness that captures a generic style and catapults it forth with sincere know-how.  I must be going soft in my old age but those keys are energising man.  The icy winds of discontent blow, great pronouncement are made and the she-orifice opens and offers a strong primeval salutation.  'Freak Of Nature' prepares and then takes a step into the shadows of thought with a tentative scenario set in many ways.  Like a lyrical horror yarn the song plays out and the intensity of a situation arises.  The players all invest their individual qualities and help to strike a chord with this spirted listener.  The crisp wire strokes, the naked chorus areas, the craft of the bass manipulations and the restraint and release of the tympanics all assist in making for a well-round and quite professional sounding escapade.  The lead lass is on her game and has vocal depth - hey, I am a scabby, gutter-grubbed DIY mongrel but even I can appreciate what transpires here.

Next and the emotive architecture of 'The Silence' displays itself with a subtle but imposing prowess and looms large over the whole CD and makes it a stand-out moment.  Slow, brooding and contemplative of the bewildering bagatelle of life and all its darn irrelevances, this is a soothing and unsettling snippet that touches the soul.  We all have questions, the answers are few but if we think less of self and getting what we can, and instead consider what we can put back, then we may go some way to success.  As the words say 'people come, people go' and so it should be - we are crooked enough, immortality would be a real horror-show.  A beautifully crafted number done with a certain uncomplicated approach - decent indeed.

'You Could've Been Friends' is a punchy parade of uplifting noise with a vibrancy that glows with great passion.  Missed chances, times moving - hey the song still blossoms with good intent and has a snappy edge that is quite irresistible.  A few names are dropped, I care not for these and am happy to piss on heroes and hail the zeroes.  This is a real joy jaunt and one that adds a real perk to the CD. It works perfectly as a follow up to the preceding piece that was doused in soberness.  'Only You' is a lovelorn, soppy toffee trickle that many doe-eyed dues and dudettes will love.  These kind of songs are what they are, they leave my boat only half afloat with a need to bail out weeping water before I get swallowed up by the consuming sloppiness.  Having said this, and stated that this shizzle is not my thing, I can appreciate the standard and the sublime quality that helps accentuate all areas and give the song good affect.  I play a few times over, I am not keen at all though but am too impressed to kick the creation in the knackers with idiot criticism.  A job well done with Fungal left trailing!

'Passion' begins with a wealth of texture and rock steady writhing before the opening verse prowls around the senses and prepares to pounce.  Matters ascend, the orchestration power perspires with great exactitude whilst all those involved in the construction process seem absorbed and totally in cahoots.  Again, I am finding this noise of a specific ilk and perhaps of a certain time but, a regeneration of rhythms perhaps neglected and overlooked is no bad thing and if this lot find their true niche they will blow many cobwebs away from those in need of a discordant dusting.  Slightly unorthodox and majestically sinewy - this is an emboldened piece with a strange scatter-attack towards to tail end where the lead banshee lets rip.  'Have You Ever Seen The Rains' begins with fractured heavens and a lost soul calling from the depths of the cloudburst.  The song develops and flows along with a very easy and fluent manner with just an honest and healthy blend of all components making for a listen that is quite pleasurable.  No political sniping, no hatred, no rage - just a matter-of-fact waltz that is simplistic, clean cut and very effective.  Need I add more?  I think not!

Into the final quartet with 'The Battle' welcoming with a strummed intro, a massage and a cruising cadence of believable prowess.  I feel a struggle, a dredging of the inner resolve and a defiance.  The heels are dug in, the phoenix rises and a muscular and quite liberated approach is taken.  A dynamic subtlety cascades from the speakers into the lugs and I admit, I am once again absorbed by the directness, the overall mix and the fact that for a rock band, they refuse to go up their own arses and ponce around with an overly prolonged product.  Neat man, neat.  'The Black Mountains' is a stripped to the waist number with a self-examination borne from the basics.  Atmospheric resonations ascend from bleak and considered caverns, the progression of all thoughts is slow and steady and comes from blasted scapes of seeming desolation and despair. From a victim comes defiance, from a prepared palette comes a portrait of cast off pain.  This is composite that appears languid and carefree, let your feet sink into the substrate and discover its depths. A hefty inclusion that needs time invested and when the flourish comes, we are taken to stratospheres impressive with a band utterly airborne and unified.

'Misery' ensues (not literally of course) - a plea, a hope and then a feisty thrasher that kicks up a good plume of fuss via some eager chugging and charging that has a impacting electro-vibrancy not to be underestimated.  The wire work is beyond efficient, the skin attention sees a good slapping issued whilst the oral hollerer does what she does with flamboyant and convincing success.  This one I regard as an unstoppable force dashing forth with arse cheeks clenched and allowing no chance for any penetrative criticism.  The todger of appraisal is tucked away, I am no rock loving 'erbert but I am not fool enough to kick a good song in the nethers of noise – the final impish titter almost proves my decision to be the correct one!  We shut down with 'Rip' - a drawn out raindrop tickling of emotive personality that, for me at least, outstays its welcome.  Do not be deterred by these thoughts though, I am a lover of things short and sharp and very raucous but I do transcend these boundaries and listen to all sorts of tuneage.  This one though is not an extravagant punctuating piece that I like to see a CD finalised with.  The band play it cool and are happy to roll one out with gentle and tepid care.  It is a mellow and delicately sugared closure with a lonesome soul aching with loss and pouring out the turmoil and trauma thus adding to the overall downbeat piece.  Despite not liking this one it is played well, has a resounding profundity of feeling and brings to a close a very good CD of an enhanced standard.

I have this lot booked, I am keen to see what transpires in the flesh.  I expect a treat and an erudite lesson in musical creativity and application.  If the band find their certain niche they will rock the rafters. I am hoping to win them a few new fans too, they deserve it.  All I ask is they keep it humble, their feet on the ground and keep producing the quality.