RITES OF HADDA - SOILING OTHER PEOPLE'S KNICKERS

A trio of teasing tirades that throws the applecart over, jumps on the fruit of your sensibilities and then rips the arse out of that which is deemed orthodox and prejudice.  Rites of Hadda crack on in the own way and I for one am happy with that.  I am always wary when it comes to doing a review as honesty must always dictate and this lot always seem to be walking along a very precarious precipice.  I go in unswayed and unblemished and without my lips puckered to kiss any rear - this is as naked and as real as it can get.

The title of the EP has me intrigued, there is sub-test there liable to stain more than just the gussets.  We begin with 'Everything Stops For Baby' - a cover contribution that starts with a twinge, a rumble and some abstract sax appeal.  The open verse is marvellous, with a beautiful naturalness and sub-clutter-fuck-it underscore that reacts, infects and adds a primitive smear.  The verbals come with great observational and matter-of-fact poetry.  A disgust at formulated living and plastic rebellion sees this one a solid angular treat with much to say, if only you will take heed and listen.  The bonus is - it is in keeping with the usual/unusual ROH flow - smashing.

Another cover, this one an aping of an Anarchistwood spillage done with great nag-fuck incessancy that pecks at the noggin and makes sure the attention is either turned on or sent into the realms of aggravation.  'Fear Is The Mind Killer' is an obvious statement (remember the Covid behaviour patterns) and should be used as a weapon of remembrance that will avoid us falling into the same old traps.  I love the bent-legged unorthodox gallop here that kicks up dust and discordance and leaves us choking on the wonderful melodic motes.  The arrangement smacks of DIY, it is wholesome fodder to my ever gaping maw and eternally grumbling guts of vibrology.

The final imitation snippet is slagged down under the tag of 'Pink Mist' - a T-Bitch arrangement given a seeing to by our friendly neighbourhood noise nobbers whom we should duly well applaud.  This is a slaggy and almost perverse parade of prominent placements that struts and poses before throwing off all restraints and welcoming all and sundry into a realm of utter anti-prejudice pootling. It is done with a fine abandon and with all acoustic orifices gaping.  This todge/twat (or whatever you have) tickler rounds off a hattrick of buzz-brain animation I am very much taken by.

3 good songs, questions asked and points made - Rites of Hadda are not a fuckin' curio, an oddment to gush over or a band to use to make you look so fuckin' liberated - they are a darn good unit, doing what they do so fuckin' well and making sure they do it their own way - I am still a fan.

THE SHADY POETS - THE REGION BEYOND

Blackpool based Shady Poets blend many facets of musical goodness (and all things Poe-esque) and duly avoid falling into any strait-jacketed generic pigeonhole liable to see them flush their arses of creativity down the u-bend of indifference.  I gave the band their first gig, they have played one other Fungalised fuck-up and are due to make a reappearance. I have to keep things moving and reckon what they do is done with a flair, a cute adeptness and with influential points born from here, there and who knows where?

The first of the cacophonic quartet is a sable throbber laden with heavy tones, darkened recesses and great weight of tonality, namely 'Spirits Of The Dead'.  This is a well-packed number with a flexing muscularity that gives the players room to manoeuvre and showcase their own brand of sonic prowess.  The opening billows clear the air, set the stage before the sable-kissed and slightly cavernous vocals come. There is something bleak and commanding during the delivery, what we have is almost a sub-incantation proclaim from atop a bloodstained alter with the subterranean demons of discordance called up to come and dance.  A heavy song and a veritable mood piece with plenty of flesh on the bone for any other zealous zombies who wish to chomp – boom, baby, boom.

'The Sleeper Part 1' slaps in, finds an immediate groove before adopting a certain cock-rock, sub 80's approach, this time with added bollocks.  The vocal style is lucid and controlled, the string work flamboyant and expressive whilst the skin applications are militarised in part and at others, walloped down with abandon.  Matters move with concrete assuredness whilst the players are allowed time to slap, strum and sensually wank off their chosen tools of tonality.  An inner break is awash with choice musicianship and exhibitionist tossology, the guitarist gets extremely carried away and looks set to end up in a stupor.  The song continues, with a rising prowess that takes us to the finale in accomplished style.  Even if this is not your bag, surely one can recognise the quality.

Onto the third thresher in the pack, 'Valentine' is a groovy groomer with a waltz in the opening and some good embracing components that make for a complete and somewhat absorbing sound.  Twangs come from the insatiable guitar man, the bass and drums are applied with a grittiness and an obvious gusto.  Mid-paced, well-weighted like the vibrating buttocks of a glutinous fat man, this one squashes the listener's resistance and forces out a quivering thumbs up of submission.  A cool cucumber number with a transparency of tone and with a good overall rhythm that will surely set a few asses all a shaking.

Soothing bubble-bath caresses come via the opening frames of 'Alone'.  The tender-trap is set, the pluckers stay within the shadings and allow the fragrant tones to issue forth and enshroud one in their comforting and thermally satisfying tendrils.  The ascension to carefully traversed zeniths is slow, deliberate and well-rehearsed. The wire-wobbling jackanapes is soon making mischief again with an assault of cable-able cacophony that adds a contrast to most of what has transpired within this very rewarding song.  The more I listen to this CD I feel that this is the one with the greatest strength and suspected longevity factor - only time will tell but, I like it.

The Shady Poets will not slot into the punk circuit and so will miss out on many gigs.  This does not reflect any flaws within the band, it reflects a scene that has many insularities and with too many in the mix not willing to vary things up.  The Shady Poets are due a Fungal fix and I look forward to hearing these songs in the 'flesh'.  This isn't my everyday choice of tuneage but I am certainly not willing to slate it as 'shite' and duly ignore - tis quality tha' knows and should be doing the rounds.  Think on!

AWKLAND - SOMETHINK

Fuck, fuckity, fuck - I am snowed under - and yet, when the chance comes to review a 4-tracker that I know nothing about, the backlog increases and I strive to hitch up my assessing kecks and crack on.  The DIY ethos is to do and do as best as I can, the only rules I follow are the ones of honesty and passion, here I go again.  The good thing about this is that the sender of the sonica stated that it is not out and out punk - this is always a bonus that brings promise - I like to keep matters assorted.

First up 'Reaction Man' crisply moves in with a rising accent that culminates in a semi-alternative, laid back independent vibe that has a something elusive and something very exacting. We may have a copulation between a hint of post punk, a splodge of proto-punk and something off kilter.  The lick is decent, the overall wallop of the song only middling.  The blend of components is neatly balanced but I would like more 'oomph' in all areas with a bit more fuzz-spice scattered throughout the stringings.  This is sub-scene dabbling done by folks who are DIY throughout and not jumping into any convenient slot - I like this and in truth, this is a number that does earn greater favour with each spin.  I still maintain that it lacks that killer muscle edge but there ya go - I could very well be proved wrong.

'Food Chain Gang' is a lazy sounding piece, almost akin to the blood running through the arteries of a gluttoned up gorger.  I struggle to get any sense of life from this one and as an 'EP' piece it just hinders any impetus set.  I do like the angular leanings though and the somewhat spacious and considered tonal qualities but, I reckon there is just something lacking here although the inner pseudo-jazz break does provide a certain high that helps give the track a little more life and, animation.  Again, this one has a flavour akin to a species of Milkcap fungus, at first the taste is minimal and slowly something tickles and tingles the palate - I remain a little dubious but with no general gripes.

'The Greatest People' has a right old swing and magnetism due to nothing more than the rhythm and the slight upsurge in pace. The mix is ultimately lo-fi which makes for a design that is approachable and close to my trembling ticker.  The blend has sound equilibrium, the semi-whispered vocal style works at its finest here and seems to emanate controlled relish which, if I am not mistaken, is encouraged by the increase in tempo.  I like this one, I reckon it will be even more effective in the 'live' pit - I may have another band to book it seems.

As a contrast and counterpunch to the previous offering the dulcet and somewhat moribund emanations of 'Darkening Skies' kind of reinforce my belief that the bands greatest success will be found in arrangements delivered with a bit of pep.  This closing piece has texture, a certain muffled emotion and an atmosphere but it lacks the killer thriller hook and all round 'grab factor' that is so crucial, especially on an EP.  Amid an 8 track session of perkier pieces the tones of this one would be further enhanced, here they come as a final shading that lacks the farewell kick that I, for one, always desire.  The opening tones remind me of a crumpling intro by The Wall, this is no bad thing.

So, a mixed bag of feedback and all done with the intent to push the band forward and to squeeze out their maximum potential.  I like the promise here and I like the different approach but, I think there is more to come.  Another 4 tracker with the nudge taken on board and I reckon my expectations will be met - one has gotta be fair and has gotta try.  This though is a curio worthy of my time, now I need to get the band a gig.

ZOMBIE MET GIRL - WELCOME TO THE MONKEY HOUSE

An intriguing proposition fell my way via the warped world of electronic mail.  The message came, I was tickled by the Grow Your Own Records label and Zombie Met Girl copulation and so gave matters a whirl and decided to cobble together another DIY sincerity laden, unaffected review. The aim is to keep the noggin aroused, the word varied and to help a few DIY causes spread their sonic spores - daft it may seem, I do what I do, and use only honesty and passion as my weapons of war.

'They Want Us Dead' is straight into the ghoulish grooving with a super duper rhythm twist that instantaneously magnetises the attention.  The vocals chords are doused in relish, a shot, spicy and hungry dripping that is spat forth with a complimentary aftertaste that suits the underscore of noise quite ideally.  As matters progress we uncover a spasmodic piece that doesn't follow the expected (and perhaps orthodox route).  This modus operandi keeps us guessing and sends us into track two intrigued.  'Stay Low' combines a mean and gritty bassism with a twinging film noir characterisation thus making for an observing piece that grows in stature with each and every spin.  The verse is hungry and chomping, the segue into the thorned and snagging chorus is fluid and when this latter moment clashes with the listening membranes one realises the job done is fuckin' spot on the mark.  With muscle aplenty, a certain naturalness to the flow and a careful and rewarding blend of all components, what we have here is a showcasing of a band who are very adept and in-line with their artistry.  A minor pip this for sure and it would take a fine upsurge to outdo matters.  What we get is the pick of the pack with the exemplary piece known as 'Welcome To The Monkey House'.  The opening throes copulate the elements of high tension and major pronouncements before matters blossom with an all-consuming chorus burst that sees the band attain new zeniths and so cement the impressive start made.  We repeat the procedure, we remain absorbed and elated.  As a title track , this needs to be something special (especially after being placed after the previous delight) and it does so with great aplomb.  The band are on the ball, the application and unity is appreciated and the shining inner core of glowing melody truly savoured.

'Stupid' bounds along, ups the pace, gallops like a mare with the shits and thus leaves a fine crap-spray for us to sniff at and perhaps, examine further.  The tetchy kicking, the inner radio-fied mutterings, and the slam-dunk style of the whole shebang is a gratifying mix that bounces the undercarriage, shakes the bones and trembles the ticker with its overall exactitude, grooving grind whip and elevated effervescence.  The band are on a roll here and this surge, stop and slam moment keeps matters rolling quite nicely thank you.

'Lord Of The Flies' has a sable sinisterism, it sidles in from the darkened recesses and states its case.  The opening throes are emotive with the verbals almost abandoned.  The impact increases and something nefarious is never far away from the assessing considerations.  I find this a bleak and somewhat introspective smattering of sound that leaves me a little chilled, both in a positive and negative way.  This isn't my favourite track, it just lacks the liquid lushness found elsewhere and the horror-tones are just not hitting the bullseye of my terror-tainted targets.  This, in no way, should detract from a well-organised and neatly played piece - the song has good muscle and moves with an obvious prowess, it is just not for me and I would never claim to like everything I listen to just to stay in favour - that would be just ruddy senseless.

'Half Life Blues' is more to my liking, a rock-steady running routine played with an obvious vigour that gets the framework all a-judder. Moments are snuck in that add tension, the overall juice gist is relished by both the players and this luggite who likes to keep the flavours mixed and matched.  The basic groove here is what appeals, my inner caveman instincts are appealed to and for that I make no apology.  This is another example of the fundamentals of rock and roll being used and abused and splat-twatted with various sub-generic streakings and thrown into our mush.  The flutter-cymbal inclusions are merely show-pieces that expose a band looking to add something extra - I am finding nowt to nobble here.

'Dance Of The Dead' is an obvious piece that has a typical tonality and accent with a time-worn outpouring that eternally works if the players are in-tune with the delivery.  Here is such an instance and the players knock forth an invitation that many will accept.  The graveyard will be entered, coats tossed aside and the dancing shoes donned - the whole death dance will grow in stature, and when this lot take to the stage proper, this number will get the corpses rising and the flaking skin falling here and there in a parade of jigging terror.  Within the weave Edgar Wallace will add a few tones, the skeletal strummers will reach new highs and the lead lout will lead the way with his highly relished lilts - spooky baby, spooky.

The last triplet of terror - 'Corpseville' pounces, progresses with great aplomb and ant-arsed animation.  The scurrying sonic treat hooks a finger into the throbbing rectum of the listener, takes a firm hold and drags one along, into a fray of reeling and free-wheeling jiggery where many are thrown around to this lively jive that is neatly executed and laden with joy do vivre.  I rate this as ‘middling’ – many will disagree – hey, it is what it is folks.

'Dead Man Walking' has a swagger, a spooky essence and a quite orthodox lick that in no way dilutes the overall effect.  Within the mush of this kind of cacophony you will find many similar spillages but as said, this does not rinse through or fade the overall effect made by this groovy bastard.  The band do what they do with focus and a good blend of thrill and skill that will meet the needs of many quiffed, spliffed and genitally stiffed - ooh the jitterbugging gits.

The closure is the whipped up debacle known as 'Trick Or Treat' - a pace-riddled spasm that is agitated in the extreme and makes sure all stresses and strains are attacked and duly relieved.  The band are having one last blow-out here, pumping and humping with blue-light urgency.  The inner sub-euro/semi-erotic drift is a counterpunch that offers something new. I am liking this and it is good to see the band using up any last dregs of energy and keeping it as tight as fuck and marvellously masturbated right up until the last.  The band do what they do mighty well.

Hey, this is not my everyday listening fodder but by heck, I am glad I have had a nosey here and put in my humble assessment.  I reckon Zombie Met Girl will be an exciting 'live' unit and they have many songs here to get the hackles raised, the goosebumps galvanised and certain other parts tingling.  There are many, in the sub-niches, that will gobble this up, and there are many on the outside who will be drawn into the dinnage - have a nosey, see what ya think, I may be wrong, I may be right, I have done my bit (I hope).

THE CROWS OF ALBION - WACHEFIELD (FIRST TAKES)

Gentle political prodding done with an erudite insight that makes sure that each and every donation is lucid, effective and charming.  I am always keen to keep the reviews varied and from the short and scabby to the more lengthened and polished with the thoughtful and thoughtless thrown in with the old, new, the occasionally borrowed and the odd snippet of something blue - it is all taken in good heart and duly given an honest going over.  An octet of acoustic offerings fall my way here, I am a man snowed under, I refuse to be rushed though - here we go. 

'Merrie City Serenade' is an astoundingly impressive opening thrust with a perfect balance of swing, rhythm, clarity and poetical goodness. The observations made come thick and fast, the gentle undulations of the sonic sea-scape provide great buoyancy as the cosmopolitan collection is envisioned, considered and celebrated in a  fascination song that is charming, upbeat and ultimately bang on the mark.  All the good flavours and promising hues are taken and paraded in what is a moment to take time to appreciate all the good things in life.  The song is a complete wonderment, I for one am enthralled. As contrast 'Wachefield' is a more sobered and may I say, sedate affair, with a steady retrospective look taken at a time when changes were happening and historical events were slowly unwinding. The Vikings were under the spell of Heavenly promises, they came, they saw, did they conquer?  This is a gratifying song with a look at the advance of the human race which many may deem a good thing - ooh heck.  The underscore of the tribal rumbling, the lucid narration and the gentle concoction of all areas make for a very absorbing piece that is gently folked and sweetly delivered. 

'Cuttings' has a beautiful innocence that pervades the adult soul and has one falling back to a place when thoughts were fresh and the vision was more wide-eyed and less spoiled. The nursery rhyme is examined, the gracefulness of the application, the tender swing and the general poetical reveal are delivered with choice adeptness and yet more clear and precise DIY goodness.  The jingle has a Jackanory-esque touch, a 'Handful of Songs' sweetness but it is the perfect balance of all components that wins the day - quite lovely if you ask me.

'Marketplace' is nostalgia soaked and is a seriously sad tale of a time lost when a simplistic social world of sales, chin-wagging and bartering fell by the wayside.  The local market - a place to pick up a bargain, to find something different, to see folk clubbing together, trying to earn a crust and all done without a prejudice.  This is a splendid piece with a keen eye taking all in and making good note of a time when things seemed so ruddy simple and so unaffected.  From the orbs of a wee nipper, the special time when the peripheral poisons were left untasted is revealed in all its understated glory.  The artiste takes aim here, perfectly captures the subject sought and posts it through our listening letterboxes with a quite beautiful rhythm - a cracking snippet. 

On we go, 'The Weeping Angel' is a careful donation that relates a tale of a Wakefield nurse known as Nellie Spindler.  I had never heard of the lass under the spotlight and with a few questions it seems she was a dedicated lady who was felled at Paschendael in the first World War and was buried with full military honours - the only woman to die at the battle Dreadnought - what a tragedy.  These unsung heroes should never be forgotten and here is a quite ideal homage to a real stalwart of the community who came, did her bit and passed away with little in the way of note.  Too many are held up on high for being a vacant eyed celebrity - here we are reminded to get some balance.  A quite smashing inclusion delivered by an historian and a musical talent doing it the right way. 

There is a hat-trick of offerings left, I plunge in hoping that what has been is matched and maybe, just maybe, outweighed. 

'Dreadnought' was a song I was unsure of until the creator kindly sent me an explanation of what it is about, and I quote 'The nickname of Wakefield Trinity Rugby League Club - I am a season ticket holder and this tells the story of going there in the 60's and 70's when we were one of the biggest teams in the sport' - now the song takes on a whole new weight.  The pride, the loyalty and the joy of watching the great northern game are all played out here in a quite enthralling fashion.  There is a purely absorbed admiration for the players, a real understanding of a great winter game where blood, slutch and icy winds were the name of the game It is a true perversion and yet something that is so real, escapist and oh so genuine.  I am not in sync with rivalries but, as a Non-League lover, I have an understanding of the wonderful idiocy of standing in the elements, enjoying a simple game and appreciating the effort.  I remember watching a late night Rugby Show on TV back in day and have a stout belief that it should be a working class spit and sawdust mud kicking festival - ah the days of polish and pretence ruin it all.  Back to the song though and may I say, this is a growing gem that shines brighter with every play. 

'Spinning Jenny' is a made up beauty about a lass who worked in the textile mill with the hope of just earning a crust and getting wed.  This is a real 'kitchen sink' song, it brings many fine monochrome visions of grainy/rainy times when life was less complicated and without the mad dash to nowhere being had by many laden with oversized egos and a feeling of self-importance.  A real-sing-a-long snippet this with an ease, a simplicity and an all-encompassing beauty not to be underestimated.  Nifty.  The closure of the CD comes in the form of a tale that copulates the belief of Blue Lady Mary Bolles who is said to haunt Heath Common in Wakefield and the annual fair that is held on the heath every Easter (again thanks to the creator for clarifying matters).  With this in mind what we get via 'The Blue Lady' is a superbly textured semi-gothic cum folk yarn that is both relaxed, ghostly and, ultimately, quite beautiful.  It is quite easy to close ones eyes, fall into the realms of this spectral tale and envision something tragic, terror-tainted and touching.  There is great comfort to be had in the whole shebang, a haunting embrace that warms the cockles whilst just holding the inner chill in check - I find it a quite stunning finale. 

Surprises come to those who nosey around, I dip my hooter in many sonic pools and come up with endless delights.  Here is a sincere joy that works wonders and really refreshes the soul - what a minor pip and one that needs more attention than I suspect it will get - on we all must go.

WARCHRIST - DEAFENING SILENCE

A hard hitting unit dishing out a vibro-violence that has a below-the-belt cruelty and high focus intention.  As many may know (if they read these darn reviews) I like my hardcore vitamins delivered in small doses - I am over the moon there are only 4 tracks here.  I have had this lot play a Fungal Fiasco, they were utterly splendid and trembled a few private parts to utter buggery.   

KABOOM - 'Deafening Silence' invades with a crash, a tantrumised explosion and then the vicious verse that ploughs in with head down and all areas aflame.  The aftermath from the catastrophe is a toxic blind of disruptive and eruptive wire assaults, a tympanic clattering and some highly seared vocalisation straight from the pits of hell.  There is no orthodox routine, the players are thinking on their feet and reacting as they go - it all seems ad-hoc but is well organised and utterly organic.  After seeing the band 'live' one is of a full realisation that these fuckers love it and are immersed beyond salvation - this shines through here and has me convinced.  TWAT - 'Iron Fist' is an upshift in impact with a heavy duty pounding coming in a more rhythmic and regular way.  The hefty billowing, the incessant thumping and the overall mush of intensity creates a paradoxically blackened incandescence that radiates a sable dazzle that sears beyond the main attentive organs.  Of course, the louder this shit is played the deeper the bruising and the greater the glorious pain.  What I am getting here is hardcore music to lose your mind to - if your mood so wishes.  If you are feeling rather delicate though - please switch off.

CRACK - 'Dismantling The Illusion' eases up on the accelerator, grips tight and initially squeezes out a grinding death inducer laden with a sneaky spitefulness.  This is all well and good but true life is given to the overall offering by an 'off the leash' speed surge that comes, goes and leaves us gagging for more.  The song however is a short snippet and this brief inclusion is a teasing touch that leaves us like Tantalus - unable to grasp the fruit, gasping to drink more deeply of the torrid waters.  This isn't a bad track but for me, there is potential untapped and more to offer - I am frustrated.  

FUCK OFF - we shut down with the obvious slag-slap of 'Fuck This System'.  The title says it all, it is borne from fucked off folk who are in need of banishing many inner demons of frustration, it is a seething affair and cloaked with many raiment’s of discordant devilry.  The opening words kick the fuck out of the layers and the dictates - all you need do is wake up and walk the awkward way.  A pummel comes, a pause and then a smash, grab and throttle. Meat-mincing vocals, unapologetic pile driving and all awash with a dystopian shading whose salvation is the message of defiance.  Matters progress, a preparation is had before the final assault is made and we are all requested to do what is ultimately needed.  There are many ways to throw a spanner in the works, are you doing your bit?  If so, crank up the volume, celebrate your acts, and crack on. 

And as always, a short electro-shock of DIY hardcore goodness is the only way to take this and over these short running times my full salute can be given and true appreciation had.  I don't want full on releases of this kind of stuff, that would be too much, here the band have it right and I shall be booking them again, to come, blow a few eardrums and bugger off into the great cacophonic beyond.

LITTLE BOHEMIA - THIS IS TAMAR BEAT

Another Metal Postcards release, this one by a classy unit I have dealt with on one previous occasion, that being a case of uncovering a cultured unit with great potential and several appealing tunes.  I was keen to get stuck in here, I expected some educated tones and snagging sonic snippets and so, with honesty my only weapon of critical war, I went in and came up with the following contemplations.

Lord Summerisle gives the nod for the noise to go ahead and we begin with the chomping and highly effective 'Paradise Lost'.  A strong bass, some well clobbered tympanics and an energy filled guitar surge and this is a fascinating opener with great weight and a fluidity not to underestimate.  The oral cavern spills, warnings sneak through, the impact of the sonic storm rises as does the overall impetus.  As I play this one I am appreciative of the holistic saturation of sound, the equilibrium of all components and the lucidity of the entire piece - it all helps make it a sincere winner.  Track 2 comes under the tag of 'Pain' and begins with a wonderful crispness of string that snags the attention and gets me keen.  The opening verse is fresh and breezy and falls into the sub-verse with recognisable ease and liquidity.  The impetus is productive and keeps the eavesdropper enthused.  The main winning factor here is the flush of life and the high animation that has a certain fidget frustration, no doubt borne form thoughts of the ongoing niggles in life and within these carcasses we carry around with us as well as loss and the ultimate escape.  A feisty little fucker this one methinks, I have no gyps.

'Wounds' opens up (very messy) and adopts a good lick before verbals spill.  The unity of all areas is spot on, the vocals relaxed and a nice counterpunch against the undulating restlessness of the vibes.  The bass is a lively element and provides a good underscore of vibrology to the attack that teeters on the cusp of skankery but never fully commits.  The bounce factor is admirable here and the fact that the song grows in stature with each play, and has a certain depth, only adds to the all-important 'longevity' factor.   Nice!  The cultured jazzman sidles in next in a sub-abstraction of funk-fuckery that eludes any true pigeonholing - thank goodness.  'Billionaire's Bunkers' has a foaming angst, spits back against injustice and spasmodically reacts with great sonic adeptness and an overall wealth of sound.  This is a very clever song with many fascinations to slowly reveal whilst always remembering the fuckers are in control and are getting too much of their own way.  A jerky delight, highlighting idiot sway and the overall stupidity of the situations. The end may be nigh, the Mickey Mouse imitators will be grinning all the way to the...ahem... wank.

Glitterised controversy next with tones of yore born from a bloke with a serious problem.  The risk is taken, 'Tramadol' is swallowed and admired for the effect it has with its musical prowess and head-nudging noise.  The lying machine is considered, the maws however are still gaping.  This is a mean mover with an acidic edge that is brandished in many ways.  All areas are very sobered but again, the band plays with an organic and appealing naturalness that creates a certain degree of uncertainty.  We can't trust the media and now we are left on the edge by the musicianship - the latter state is far more exciting tha' knows.

'Easter Island Refugees' has a very considered drift, floats with a certain insouciance that defies the care of the craftmanship.  The contemplation of the flow and the embracing air of all components makes for another winning track with subtle muscularity and a very rewarding end process.  We go through each and every day bearing lines and scars of that which has been and concerned about that which will come, here is a track to consider, to use as fuel to fight.  Again the poetical beauty is delivered with excellence, the touch of almost 'carefree abandon' isn't wasted, this is a track that just gets better and better. We finish with a Leone tease - lovely.

'Umbilical' is a juicy joint of jiggery-pokery that has a naturalness all of its own.  The empty world is observed, the first verse is indicative of what this lot do and has a loaded template of familiar tones that is duly worked upon and loaded up with rhythmic reactivity that works a treat.  The dumbing down and the mass crushing is dealt with, I am informed this regards the plugged in gaming world - a digital pixel paradise that helps escapism whilst killing creativity.  Another cultured track if you ask me, with that essential swing in the sonica, relaxed application and obvious artistry.

A hefty kickback to the suited and booted twisters - 'Talk Not' is a weighty wolf chomping at the heels of those spilling shit and those gorging on it.  The election has just been, yeah we have indeed heard it all before.  Until the masses think we are fucked.  The ill-temper here, the disgust and splashing and crashing accents all sum up the situation within the cranial spaces of the players.  A pertinent song ploughing away with the canines at your arse - will there be ever any change?  A strong inclusion with perhaps the most obvious spiky elements.

'Riff Raff' is a puzzling concoction of hybridised skankiness, pseudo-reggae and general tonal tomfoolery that has me perpetually guessing.  The running time trespasses beyond my idiot punk rock patience and I need to hitch up my attentive undies and take special heed.  The recording is on, the intro welcomes, the flow is steady, without fuss and moving with a slow serpentine waltzing that is far from offensive.  Observations come, the bass bumbles and bubbles, whilst the six stringed armament and tympanic tumblings work with a unity that enhances the overall melody.  Not a bad track but not my fave, just a casual listen for me, which is no bad thing may I add.

4 to go with us needing to follow the 'Footprints' to make any headway.  This one is a pick-me-up piece laden with a message of defiance.  Don't look for anything more - stay young, stay resistant and play this one loud.  Music is all well and good and the messages sent forth are splendidly received.  The chorus cuts are a blend of the gentle and the more forceful, the bass pulses are activating and the skin-work is a real organised set up with a great unaffected flair adding great life to the song.  Overall, a right old steady track.  'Fields' is a good blow out, from the opening whistle, to the main impetus and the overall account of war and its utter madness.  There is a good rolling zest counterpunching the horror show under the spotlight with all players putting in a stint and making for yet another saturated soundscape laden with life and, it seems, death.  A perfect balance but a song that does take a little adjusting too.  These are creepers, time must be invested to capture the full complement of quality.

'Moorhaven' is a strong mover with great depth as it looks as those who are living in so-called happiness whilst the past is there, a past laden with people mentally struggling and being treated like animals by those with a perversion to cause pain.  The stark contrast from what was, what is, and how people really don't give a fuck is neatly put before us.  We are in times of 'I am all right Jack' and pseudo-empathy, we all need to take stock, never forget and move forth humble, less self-serving and certainly less self-absorbed.  As a human race we are a shambles, if tales could be told about what has transpired behind closed doors I think we would never sleep a wink - then again.  I like this one, it gets me juggling many areas and has me tapping my foot to the beat - what a contradictory paradox!

We close with the haunting shadowplay of '237' a strange bout of mentalised aberration played out in a twisted and uncertain way that is almost jazzed.  I am unsure of this one as I am about a certain 'shining' flick that never really grabbed my attention.  There is a creeping malevolence here, those who are fans of the 'King' chiller may find more beauty and more unsettling accents than I am discovering - I feel I am just out of sync and that is how the cacophonic cookie sometimes crumbles.  I can still recognise good musicianship though and an appreciation of a tale that still raises goose bumps - crikey.

And hey, I am done and may I say, what another treat from under the radar.  This is a band with many, many options, they come at matters in an educated and quite natural way and offer up songs with longevity, listenability and a ruddy good vibe.  I like what transpires here, if this were a few years back when we weren't awash with quality sounds Little Bohemia would be raved about - I am doing my best to try and correct this vulgar imbalance.

DAS GHOUL - MORE SPECTRAL MANOEUVRES IN THE DARK

Das Ghoul are a sound outfit with a nifty sib-niche style that works every time.  They are slightly off kilter and yet play tunes that are well-structured, melodic and with that captivating horror essence.  I suppose they slip through many nets of noise, don't tick certain niched boxes for some and perhaps don't have enough of that shackled sonic style that sees them easily fall in line with generic restrictions - maybe, just maybe!  Anyway, I like em', good folk, good vibes, no delusions, here is my take on their latest tickling.

'La, La, La' is short poetical scene setting and should be played mighty loud as the band take to the stage, adopt their chosen instruments and get ready to roll.  They can stand motionless, let the opening cadences kiss the final silence and then they can make their music with great impact - simple hey?  The first song proper is 'Why Does Grandma Glow In The Dark' - a piece that starts with great pep and bounce before the keys tickle certain parts other pluckers fail to reach.  As expected, the blend of all components is most gratifying, the vocals rest upon the gently undulation oceans of sound with perfect poise.  We watch and listen, lucidity is the key as well as a trained knowledge of their own artform - a short dabbling that will meet the needs of the already converted and those yet to be perverted.

'I've Never Seen That Axe Before' key warbles and weaves, duly charms the inner core with the hypnotic melodic meandering of the ebony and ivory bearing beast.  The full drift of the ditty comes and is a self-denying tale of a deviant with a big chopper who refuses to recogniss the recent misdemeanour he has indulge in.  Pulsing, with a great swing and a smooth segue from verse to simplistic chorus and then... a tumble down end statement that throws a spanner in the works and destroys all previous claims.  A neat curio and one that may keep fans guessing.

Fourth in the queue of accursed crimes of cacophony comes under the tab of 'Pandora's Vinyl Curse' - a sinister tale of borrowing a record and being refused before acceptance is granted and a warning given.  A slight crackle, the curiosity is aroused, the keen and eager dabbler in discordance takes his prize and falls into the clutches of the nosey-parker neverland.  Messages are revealed, what madness is played out - all I know is that this is a really complete tune that really does hit the mark - this is a band with more potential than I think they realise - here is another Fungal kick up the arse - push yerselves my good peeps.

Track the Fifth 'Oh My What a Grisly Find' begins on cathedral keys with the quintessential gothic strains that make for something hauntingly hallowed.  Here we have a glimpse at where the band may end up, in to realms of great sonic wealth and extravagant shadowplay where an album of soundtrack-esque style may be attained.  I would like to see the band adopt this style, take a particular horror niche (say Frankenstein or Dracula) and release an unapologetic story that starts and ends with an orchestral snippet and in between unfolds a great passionate saga.  This is a beautiful yet unfulfilled snippet with great prowess and further potential - is the challenge proffered... accepted?

Closure comes via the copulated funfair fiend that sees a waltzer cum rollercoaster spunk splat parade itself crooked self under the tag of 'Morbid Curiosities'.  The open sonic undulations and sidewind psyche-strokings is perfection and followed by a delicious verse that hits all the noisy neurones of orgasmic delight.  Freshly baked serenading with a treacling investment of gothic suspicion and almost child-like fascination.  These are gems for the collector of such curios - I am enthralled.

Take my words as you will, they are designed to promote a darn good band and one who just need a slight kick in the cobblers to move them on to even greater zeniths.  As previously mentioned, there is massive scope here to up the ante and make a series of albums with a single theme.  Full-on theatrical escapades surely await - I am dropping hints but in the meantime shall wallow in the beauty already borne.

THE DIRT - AGITATOR

Who are The Dirt?  How did they fall within the realms of the shabby Fungal sphere?  Who fuckin' cares?  The fact is I don't care, I have had liaisons on-line with a player and the attitude seems spot on.  I was given a link, I decided to put a little bit back.  Here are some more spillings based on truth, passion and an idiot belief that it is better to selflessly do than do fuck all.

Track the fuckin' first - 'Reality V Normality' - a poetical cutlet of ranting and raving against the regime that drags you into line and has you... accepting.  The underlay of sound is sub-cosmic, tinged with psychedelic needs and is just waiting to overtake the verbals spillings... which it indeed eventually does.  There is a neat use of wordplay in this somewhat 'stage-setting' overspill - I take it, listen, move on and look forward to something more musical.  

'Power Junkie' picks up a thread, strolls along with it whilst spitting this way and that with a cute venom that I hope poisons those detached and dictating.  Again the verbal attack is neatly barbed and erudite with a good blend of the rhythmic and the rabid.  The current attracts and has a mesmerising quality that chips away at any resistance and gets one swimming along to the sub-trancey drift.  A good stranglehold applied, the pressure reminds us not to fall into line and to make sure those feeders on control are kept baffled.  Nice.

Third up and 'Crying Out Loud' scatter skins and crystallises before moving with a slow deliberateness that is considered and somewhat unstoppable.  The drift is highly saturated and again has many trance-like facets with the verbals shot through with acidic artistry and resisting rebellion.  A multitude of failings are contemplated and the peddler of cranial ponderings does what he does in a most disarming and effective way.  This ain't bad stuff but take it slow and steady folks - overdosing should not be an option, enjoy the trip and stay safe.

'Rant Two' is a nagging neighbour who won't give it a rest (and why should it).  A real bouncing magnet of moving sound that is indeed a rant.  The motif is repetitive with intrusive whip-cracks no doubt designed to make sure the listener pays good attention.  The moment the volume is increased is the moment when the mind is under threat of a full meltdown.  This is heavy duty stuff with the lyrical content maintaining a certain nebulous quality and, of course, sub-suggestive bombardments.  For me, these are short-dose episodes best listened too in the midst of varied vibes, that way the full extent of the quality can be digested.  

Cracking on with the cerebral shades swirling and the hands reaching out trying to grasp the full gist of the jingle-jangle jamboree.

Funky westernisation begins the next track before slow soothes caress and shapeshifting synths invade.  This is a mere poem read out with sub-sung effect atop a molten undergrowth that is forever animated.  'Outsider Insider' is a swirling adventure with many points to make, ideal music for a darkened room only illuminated by swirling lights and smoking side-lines.  One could suggest something hippy-trippy here but that would dilute matters and take away from the effort poured in.  I reckon a 30 minute set of this stuff would slot nicely in to a more obvious line-up.  Watch this space.  'Bury Believers' follows-up, comes from sabled recesses and upholds a horror-tinted stance that really changes the tack of the CD.  Perhaps we have the most academic and verbose onslaught here and, in truth, it may be a little too much for some.  I think this is a track that needs written assistance, maybe the sounds should be released with a book, a tonal treat with a tome, it will certainly give those interested a better chance to understand.  The short running time helps but this is my least favoured inclusion.

'What's The Story (Global Warming)' is a song close to my heart.  I am out there, trying to do my bit for nature whilst the majority are causing wreck and ruin and contributing to an end disaster.  Coin dictates, the experience is chased, people want, people get, people want more and then they die and leave a mess.  Some people think this global warming lark is a con, and yet they don't go forth and see the effect on nature and the general shebang.  As things stand this song is wasted breath, we have fallen over the brink, this is a mere reminder of how things are.  Fuckin' humanity hey?  A depressing piece neatly put across - if only things could be different.

'Ignorance Is Bliss' has a great beat, it ploughs in with a piercing intent and yet more space-age abuction-esque probing.  From the outsider come spillages borne from years of pain and exclusion.  A feisty dance-along arrangement for those who think too much and just want to be part of the vacuous smilers (then again).  Questions asked, statements made, all the while the fluidity of the song draws one in and has one singing along, all be it in a very sarcastic way - ignorance is piss methinks, this is a strong track and reminds me not to join the deadheads, however easy the option may be.  Lovely stuff.

'I See' is peeper wide observationism with an 80's sub-pop feel to the opening bursts that has me shrinking in withering violet horror.  Before I am banished into a never-world of rhythmic abhorrence the oral artist joins the fray and quashes any recollections of that farcical generic fiasco I was nearly stricken by.  This is another slow and sedate serenading done with emphasis placed on getting each and every worded creation across.  Each line is put before us, we are left to ponder and work out the overall ethos.  This is jigsaw experimentation that throws a curveball into the general 4-beat, 3 chord drift - it has its place and should be applauded.

2 left, 'Voting Booth' has a formidable opening sequence that oozes a sanguine authority and a knowledgeable musicianship.  The textures unfold, the warnings come, we are mere pawns and the candy stealers will win through because our cerebral idleness dictates.  This is a long affair that showcases the loquacity of the lip-wobbler who has much to say and fuckin' well says it.  Again, I am thinking this is ideal noise to slip in between the covers of the more cacophonic bedsheets - a place where one can wank off to the vibes and procrastinate or use ones todge of ill temper as a motivation to get up and fuck the hell out of the shitshow of a system.  Get off yer arse folks, to not let the end squelch get ya.

The closure is the title-piece. 'Agitator' sums up what has been and what will be.  A creeping horror pervades, the tendrils of tonality reach out, taste the current status quo and seemingly retract in abhorrence.  Time is needed to fully digest the tumble of textual twists and turns, this is not one play and piss off pop wank, one needs to get in a mood, spin and consider and then spin some more.  Again, the main gist I am getting is to get up and do and avoid the mass dilution that has killed so many.  A thought-provoking piece - alas will it be wasted on the ones who can't be arsed to think - ooh heck.

So in the ongoing deluge of discordant delights I am thrown another angle on which to dwell.  My final thoughts are appreciative towards an artist who is producing something with cerebral activity, intent and away from the suffocating norm. This will not be everyday playing material as, it is intense stuff and shouldn't be taken lightly but, we need these creations, it is ideal for keeping the mind piqued and the carcass moving and, as a dip in and dip out offering it does what it does mighty well.  Good thought and time as gone in here, it would be so easy to tick the gaping boxes and win easy praise - here the praise is well earned.  For the next release though I would like shorter tracks with some real pace injected - tis' always good to ask for more tha' knows.

LEGLESS CRABS - FULL LIFE

I am still caught within the pincers of these prolific crustaceans that reside on sonic seashores untrodden by those afraid to venture further out or indeed of slipping up on the barnacles of discomfort.  Fuck em' - I like to dip my snout (and other parts) in varied rhythmic rockpools and although I may get a few shocks, scrapes and niggling scathings, it is the only way to operate.  Just two tracks here - a double ended nip on the nadgers I suspect - well, I have no-one else to blame I suppose.

Strong and austere tympanic regimentation and emboldened words against the shitflow that is the current so-called happy society.  'Full Life' walks with deliberate strides, seems to be laden with an all-consuming loathing whilst the tension rises and things get slightly heated.  A certain suggestion of a pending frenzy is never far away whilst all the while verbals spill that are both observant and at times, ambiguous.  A misfiring bee bumbles beneath the main blow-out, the end comes and we are left pondering, slightly piqued, gently pleased.

'Killin Myself 2Nite' is a self-absorbed sludge suicide that will not be denied. A real apocalyptic advancement comes with the opening throes blatantly showing that all is beyond.  Nihilism, depression, a total abandonment of hope before a quick gallop to reiterate the point, a final pulsation and then the end silence.  As we listen we contemplate a mental state in peril, we become agitated, appalled perhaps and of course, concerned.  These constructors of pseudo-chaos and of moments on the cusp walk a fine line between the decent and the decadent - there is a certain charm and a distinct repulsion - it is a toxic combo.

I have once more dipped my dick in the liquid oasis where these nibblers wriggle and disturb the settled oasis - I am still in one piece and am all the better for being a nosey noise lover.  The crack is understood, the angles appreciated and the fact that many will be negated is greatly applauded - you gotta do what ya do and here is a sheer example of that ethos.