HAEST - WILDFIRES

Firstly let me remind you of the label that is responsible for yet another heavy-duty release (as taken from Bandcamp) - '5FeetUnder Records is a Danish DIY, non-profit record label.

The label has no employees – only a bunch of creative volunteers who do whatever they can, whenever they can. The label has no boss or owner and no one involved has a definite role; everyone who feels he/she has any contribution to make is free to help out'.  Now isn't that choice?  The band are from Hastings in the UK and are of a cut that I very much expect.  I am happy to leave it there and just do what I do, I am perpetually snowed under, gimme a break peeps, this is DIY honesty in action, nothing more, nothing less.

We commence with the kerfuffle splatted down under the slag tag of 'If You Don't Think Killing This Planet Is Worth 7 Jesus Lizard Albums Then You're An Idiot' - a composite that creeps in with malevolence and a somewhat clayey cum oozing leaning.  A slow molten brew that states its case in a roundabout way rather than getting to the point.  I have heard a million similar gruel grinds and find nothing here to harden my pimples of pleasure but - the muscles flexed are solid, the compact feel to the song works and the exactness of the application and end mix is spot on, it just isn't for me.

'Did They Ever Find Out Who Let The Dogs Out' is a better beef blaster with great weight thrown forth against the tympanic membranes of the luggite and thus making for a higher impacting holler-show that is clobbered well and of a very hurtful level.  When the band are flowing there is great success, when the band drift, so do I.  I like this second slab of hard-roasted meat, it spits and sizzles and has depth although what the actual content is about is beyond me - poetical ambiguity, it can be a curse, it can be a blessing.

Track 3, 'Have You Not Seen History' is ground out through a gravel pulverising machine that will not be disobeyed.  There is a forthright demand that is only accentuated when the stated words are spilled.  The authoritarian delivery, the deliberate damnation of all areas and the observation of crimes that still corrupt all contribute to a very slamming and somewhat cement-footed execution.  A very dense and overwhelming track, perhaps the best of the lot.

'You Can't Hear Canoe' follows, another shouted and exacting tonal outburst borne upon a conveyor belt of regimented sound and highly shackled grinding.  The deliberate approach and use of chugging riffery works as a substrate upon which the growling shoots of ill-temper can blossom.  Here the identity of the band is found, they seem to have their own modus operandi and motif, copulated into a brew that is designed to bruise.  This number has a sneaking threat, you best beware.

The last two, 'Making A Pigs Era Of A Mole Hill' pounds in with good swing before adopting the usual Haest-ian approach.  The fluidity of the fuckery helps, the roaring gobbage and the usual chuggage all give those ensnared a further reason to stay put and avoid the 'stop, release and escape' button.  I am not sure about the inner sludge/soundbite inclusion, it hinders matters and I would have preferred an arse-ripping speedburst but, this is a personal slant, there is no doubt the band do what they do mighty well. I regard the final outburst as the icing on the cake, a really healthy thrust of well-paced slam-dunking with the thought processes working well, the disgust levels obvious and the rage well-harnessed so as to keep things listenable and lucid.  There is a relish dripping, a passion spit-splatting, the band resort to the usual fixed and expressive methodology and we have a winner on which to punctuate a decent CD.

Haest set out to get one thinking and get one twinging with aural pain - I think they garner some degree of success with this approach and overall the job ain't half bad.  I would like to see the band throw in a few 100mph rattlers on their next release, a release that I hope is another EP mixed to the same standard - in the meantime this will serve them well and should get them a gig a two.

GENTLES - SOFT HANDS

Another 6 tracks from the Australian outfit  who are on board with the Metal Postcards label and making sure their designs are getting out there and hopefully heard.  I have already immersed myself in a sextet of serenades and I was quite pleased with the plunging I took.  Here I hope for more of the same and a little extra.  A greedy guzzling soniceer I be!

'What Has Happened Here' briefly thrums, ups the gusto and exudes initial energy flares before continuing into a power-sozzled guitar incessance that really does emanate great animation and vigour.  Eventually we enter the stripped down opening verse, it reminds me of post alternative/indie driftings, shot through with early DIY punkism and something poppoid.  The mix works, the banishment of the bare basics sees matters develop but all the while alternation between the clad and disrobed are had.  More elevations of joy are giving when the accelerator is floored and the band dash with impetus high - a very rewarding opener.  For me what comes next is a snippet of sublime sonic engineering done with an ear for a tune, an acoustic ringcraft and a focus not to be denied.  'Inkstains' opens with superb rock and riff authority, continues with a lucid application of vocalisation that works a treat with the clattered and battered soundscape set.  There is a loose and limp feeling to the delivery that fights against the watertight end product.  A totally embracing waltz that asks a simple question and seems to have no answer.  A wonderful indie-sozzled pop sound that cruises with assured comfort and a suggestion that will appeal to those with teenage angst. There is an added edge too that will lapped up by the grunged, spiked and perhaps more melodically inclined.  I rate this a real fuckin' stunner.

Interstellar radioactive emanations welcome before more post-punk advancements take centre stage as 'So Much For An Easy Life' rolls forth with a relaxed and open arrangement that really magnetises the attention.  Matters have an injection of pace, the front lout seems unperturbed and spills his lyrics with the unrushed sanguinity that works so well.  A suggestion of angst and fluttering accent and an escalation before we are left enchanted by an overall composite that is oblique and entertaining - another decent effort.

Statements come, the bass controls, a robotic sequence poetically narrates.  'Rainbird' is a defiant oddment with a slow rise into the meat of the sub-orthodox song that plays out at its own pace, is tattooed with Euro-elements and a distinctive under-the-radar awkwardness.  As matters develop the band free-flow and we reach new zeniths, albeit rather briefly.  This is a solid counterweight to that which has been and I find myself fully enthralled by something that I should question - strange and stunning in the same serenading breath.

Track 5, 'Over Toorak' begins with contemplative placidity, a semi-state of decision making.  The initial verse comes and has all the hallmarks of the band I am becoming groomed by as each ditty passes my lugs.  This is the most routine song so far, a creation awash with neatly flicked guitars, tidy tympanics and an all-round goodness.  The shift from the obviously thoughtful to the seemingly more carefree is a treat and again, my thumbs are raised with great positivity.

The closure is perhaps the weakest song of the lot and just outstays its welcome.  The salvation comes via the feisty explosive thrusts that go for a repeat holler backed by some hefty clobbering and watertight musicianship.  The cool switch comes, the contrast achieved, 'God' grows in stature but needs a little more eavesdropping  participation by the listener.  A steady grower this and one that may outshine the lot given time.  There is more happening than one may realise via one or two listens – take my advice, invest your time.

For me, this is an offering that really does the business.  I prefer these short snippets of sound, the EP is a marvellous thing that can satisfy, offer a great insight and just dangle a tempting carrot so as to get the panging juices of the listener flowing.  Great work all round and covering many spectrums of sound so as not to get suffocated by genre - this is the way!

RED OR DEAD - HURT

A folk punk band whom I have been delighted by in the past and one whom have been on a temporary hiatus for all manner reasons.  Previous listens revealed a cultured tonal display with many  aspects awash with considered touches and greatly effective lyrics.  This Welsh-based unit have had a slight change to the line-up, they are still alive and kicking against the pricks (in many ways I hope) and here is my take on another collection of pre-meditated ditties that are long overdue.

'Live A Lie' gets the CD rolling in exemplary style.  A quick tumble, clean cut confidence in the guitars and a gently emotive voice sees verse segue into chorus with such utter fluency and, may I had, touching beauty.  The heartstrings are being pulled, thoughts stretched and feelings tested - the situation is dealt with by players in-the-know and with a unity not to be underestimated.  The blend of tones is strongly mellow, the accuracy of the output spot on and all areas contribute to a very accomplished number that is a liquid lilt done in fine style.  Cracking!

Following on from this solid opener we get a tender tickle, some squelched guitars and a funky fuck warning to all the deadheads out there just thinking of what they can get and take now rather than what they can do to improve the future.  As a naturalist who is off his arse this is an admirable piece that points the finger at the most culpable species imaginable. 'Infestation' states facts, harsh as they may sound it is what it is - this damned human race is heading straight to oblivion and dragging a miraculous realm of unsurpassable species (and beauty) with it. I like the arrangement here, I adore the passion, the theme speaks for itself - it is a nice switch in delivery and as equally stunning as the first.

'Numb' tweaks, twangs, whispers with great emotive pressure.  Matters develop and blossom into a harmonised embrace that aides the track and lets it move on with greater passion, more holistic atmosphere and an all-consuming arrangement that brings to the fore suffering, defeat and a battle-weary soul who has had enough. A very touching song that thrives on its contrast effect and the exacting arrangement that has that all crucial fluidity and melody.

Vocals open, a chug escorts and then more ticker-based compulsions are applied with 'In My Head'. A smitten bout of serenading done with an inner turmoil and a feeling of overwhelming frustration.  Something obsessive rises to the fore, the crystal clarity of all components helps one look more closely at the intent - someone has been had, hook, line and sinker.  Again, a choice cutlet but... it is all over with far too quickly, a shame.

'Decontrol' comes next, a beautiful canvas splash of rebellious daubing done with an eye for detail, an insight into the soul-sucking blank that the creators of the regime will say is good for you.  The forthright guitars and sticks are straight at it, the gobbage is determined, warning and striving to stand firm.  A matter-of-fact march splattered with acidic spittle and some old school defiance is always welcome here.  The fact that I have nailed it on my site as 'Song of the Month' I hope backs up my words.

Chopping lucidity with a sound old school gutter-reggae feel, 'On It Goes' has a fine Jah and Jive as well as a sobered look at the basic stupidity of the human mess and its indulgence in a persistent loop of inescapable misery. Fear is the cause, self-loathing and a lack of self-belief, all custard coated with a slime of arrogance and pretence, humanity needs to learn.  This is a very cultured and multi-social score that should be enjoyed by all and sundry.  Generic divisions need be brushed aside, this is a great song to belong to all and to help all move on... as if?

'Wherever You Are Now' tenderly tickles, moves with care and is a contemplative croon created by a soul lost, in the midst of neither here nor there and in need of one’s true love.  Having been in a drunken haze in the middle of streets strange and unfriendly, with the body failing to follow the cranial orders, that feeling of wanting to be home, in the arms of the loved one and all safe and sound are all dragged to the fore via this very accomplished creation.  Again Red or Dead seem to cultivate their own inner knack and get the best out of it with the resultant bloom of a growth and composition all of its own.  This is another beauty cementing this CD as a 'fuckin' stunner'.

The final two and we begin with 'The Problem's Yours', a routine chugging inwards, a sublime threat is held in the air, the swoosh as the blade falls, words consider outlooks, an inner rage surfaces, a disgruntlement with a state of sway that is not working - we gotta keep on shouting folks and of course, doing!  This is a song that alters the thread of matters but remains in league with all the sonic stitchwork laid down so far.  The impact is not immediate, hang on folks, this one gets there and radiates its own solid values.

Closure time (boo, hiss), 'Parasite', ploughs forth, asks questions, poses us the thought that we are indeed victims.  Angers rises and strings twist whilst tympanics react.  A feeling is had of things only just in control whilst a metallic edge is brandished.  There is no rush with this one, the stated play is measured and the emotions not let fully off the leash.  Again the band slight alter tack whilst sticking to their political annoyance. The military march comes, pecks away until those ready to react become animated whilst those beyond hope carry on as normal - are you fuckin' listening?  The hardest song of the lot to fall in line with, but when you do, ah when you do!

So Red or Dead have, in the best way possible, fuckin' nailed it.  My Fungalised spores of appreciation have been forced to drop in myriad plumes whilst listening to this very erudite, thoughtful and resonating CD.  This is a unit doing it with political acidity, restlessness and a lughole for a good tune.  The blend of the spiked, the folked and the just plain old 'fuckin' angry' works a treat here, it is surely vying for album of the year, and will take some topping.

TANA DEL PIGRI - EP01

A band who were one thing, and now they are another - a different guise but more Avant Italo Pop with, so I believe, added strangeness for the plugged-in pleasure perverts who like their aural penetration to come from angles obscure.  Metal Postcard Records never fail to bring something new to the eavesdropping table and are always willing to dish out devilish discordance with an 'out-of-this-realm' capriciousness that will always divide the luggites.  5 tracks is the task, I don't know this new arrangement so the gung-ho spirits says 'have a fuckin' go'.

'Password' welcomes, with a very early gothic-punk sound, a place where Joy was in Divisions and where the seekers of the slightly extreme meandered.  This musical moulding has many Kraftwerkian touches too and other Euro-poppian elements that are dabbled with matters Devo-id.  It is all rather strange and brings to the helm of the cranium visions of regimented operators working out acoustic equations with focused intent.  There is nag within the noise, a incessance that works and a final surge that is a trifle abrupt. Futuristic, open-house experimentation - weird man, weird. 'Piper Swing' is hallucinatory ambiguity emanating from a subversive funfair of radioactive restlessness where the only remaining survivors are unhinged, mentally rotting but still able to summon creative juices and call for a help.  This sounds like the lunatic pleas of people on the cusp, a pantomime of subverted sound that generates interest in those with twisted outlooks.

'Qualcosa Nell'aria' is another misshapen tune, this time though with a more concrete inner scaffold of orchestration that gives the end erection something of an orthodox appearance.  Hendrix-esque string manipulations are thrown in amid the rantings and ravings and the other funky accoutrements - it is a rather intriguing mix that gets one thinking and maybe, grooving.

'Rocket To Mel' is a reclined number that seems to create its emanations from a prostate position of great consideration.  No steam rises from the brow, all muscular activity is easy, the verbal spillage (although indecipherable due to the language barrier) is almost liberally waffling whilst the back cruise of sound seems fuck-free.  Again I reach for the descriptive word known as 'oddity' – it all seems rather apposite.

'Stracci' is the best of the lot, Euro-pop artistry bounced out with a certain furrowed brow fun that has a delicious tomfoolery and jauntiness so as to give the song an inner innocence and somewhat spontaneous improv element that donates a little extra to the 'interest factor'.  Frivolous indeed, funky in some warped way and vitally uplifting, I consider this a fruitful full-stop.

From thoroughfares running away from the main sonic stretches where the more obvious labels are retailed, here comes a short trip for the curious.  Satisfaction comes, questions arise, the state of flux in itself is an achievement, the end result a quintet of quirks to occasionally reconsider.

MAGIC OF THE MARKETPLACE - JEALOUS MOON

The main man behind this release is a veritable doofer who gets his arse in gear and does with focus and good intent.  Having looked on the Bandcamp page I snaffled this info about the set up here - 'Featuring current and ex-members of Erase Today, Sonic Boom Six, Litterbug, Sick56 and One Way System. Always searching for great punk riffs and melodic energy'.  This may help some and get them intrigued, personally it means fuck all and the music shall be judged on what it is.  No sway, honesty all the way, DIY effort and with an approach to sum up what transpires and hopefully keep the band enthused and moving on to better things (if at all possible). So the Blackpool based blighters go under the Fungalised spotlight, and here are my valuable or useless thoughts.

'Jealous Moon' twinges, growls and sets a stage.  A tommy-gun roll, the song is underway with great guts exposed and taut sinews put to the test.  The lyrics are simple but have depth, the whole gist is of muscular tune striving to maintain good punching prowess, balance and of course, melody.  This is no easy task, the band are coming in from a spectrum outside of the blatantly obvious which can be a hindrance in this rather divided, pernickety and quite insulated realm of rhythmic labelling.  I find this a refreshing blast of ball-hoofing defiance with influences multifarious and animated.  The fact that matters are not overly complex but contain some neat touches and turns all makes for a concrete opener not to be taken too lightly.  This initial snippet is immediately slapped into place by the far more effective follow-up, namely 'Smile And Wave'.  This one has a great wealth of emotive content and contrast that leaves the listener wondering what the actual aim of the lyrical spilling is.  There is a cross-over of sensations, the whispers and the hollers combine to make a short and very effective cloudburst of ill-temper and disgruntlement with many fresh guitar outbursts adding that extra life sparkle - nice.

'Walls' begin with cultured tonality, pulses with care and progresses with a very post-punk (and beyond) ring-craft that eventually turns into a work-out laden with acoustic punches thrown from a variety of angles whilst not allowing the defences to fall and any gaps to appear.  Watertight, tuneful and with the added extra of not being overly obvious and routine.  The creative juices have been tossed around, these are not 5 minute wonders jacked off with haste and thrown forth for the Hell of it.  Time and effort has been invested, your initial patience may be tested, do not let your insight be bested, this is a grower with a firm grip.

We close with the self-questioning sub-sing-a-long shiner known as 'False Relationships' - a strong move and groove muscle flexer with the most catchiest arrangement of the lot.  Strength aplenty, a consistent clarity, a snagging strain and with a certain transparency that always aides the external levels of appreciation, this is a magnificent thoroughbred galloping over verdant pastures with a sublime control and focused direction.  Yes, by far the best song, it brings more to the table and opens up further thoroughfares - nice.

A quartet of songs that gives one something to think about, examine, enjoy and, particularly in the last instance, sing along to.   I think there may be something of an acquired taste needed for the more Cro-Magnon punker, then again, there is enough clubbing weight here to perhaps rattle their cages too.  

SALEM TRIALS - DATA MINER'S DAUGHTER

Metal Postcard Records and Salem Trials - a combo I have tackled several times and come out... well who knows?  I have 2 tracks here and am not fucking about, one has to maintain a fluidity and avoid repetition.  If you read my reviews you should know what is what on all fronts, here we go folks.

'Data Miner's Daughter' is a real sleazeball of snot, grot and wanked wired grind.  There is a vile crushing grimness going on, the snot-splat vocal style helps to maintain the overall feeling of pollution and ill-health.  The lyrical content smacks of self-doubt and a perplexing worry whilst the mechanics of the music machine continue regardless.  Again the Salem Trials will Divide opinion (STD - what else) and some may come away feeling pox-ridden and unclean, others may well feel baptised and born anew with this clank-wank kicker that does what it does, does it well and refuses to play with the ball of normality.  Not bad to be fair and we are soon dragged along into the more fluent but perhaps less sexually grating number known as 'Predatory Trait'.  This is more obvious matter and more reflective of what I have dealt with by this angular outfit. I find this one a sub-serenade for the anti-social blighter who has lost all tolerance for the maniacal mush and the selfish drive to who knows where - 'Fucksville' it seems. The impetus of this second snippet provides fuel for itself, finds an apt groove and sticks with it.  Under the surface tension we find a good rhythmic pulse and so, if you are immediately snagged, there is no escape... could this be a good thing?

Well, I have nipped in to territory where others fear to tread, the outcome is another few cerebral fuses blown and I am still left in a state of fuck-flux.  Say what you will, interpret my reviews whichever way you want - I keep coming back for more and my curiosity is perpetually aroused - I think this says a little more than what I rattle out on the digital board.

THE BAKESEYS - DIGGING THRU THE DEMOS

I like The Bakeseys, in case ya didn't know here is some info pilfered from Bandcamp that may clarify things as to what has been and what I am about to tackle -  'January 2025 saw Berkshire 2 tone crew The Bakeseys notch up 35 years together as a band! To celebrate this anniversary we have collected 11 of their earliest recordings for your skanking pleasure!' - and guess who is gonna have a dabble at assessing what transpires? 

So, I expect some real raw-bone two-tone ass shaking here, done with a coolness of tone and a certain retro feel many may well and truly love.  Here's hoping! 'Grass Is Greener' creeps in and soon adopts a real upbeat and positive vibe that sets the foot tapping and the body popping (not literally of course, that would be just horrid).  The premise of the tune is to be a pleasure and a pleasure it is - I know the song, I am trying to come in uninfluenced and fresh - this approach does not dampen the joy I feel at the vibes issued forth.  Smashing stuff.

'Yesterday's Man' is a real skipping sonic shifter with a prolonged delivery that doesn't mar the overall 'get up and jig' encouragement.  Again, the Bakeseys play things simple, old-school and with an obvious absorbed zeal for ska and all its beautiful basic elements.  There is no need to over-elaborate matters when the players know the scene, the script and its effective nuances. There is a determined edge here and a great conviction in the delivery that adds just a touch of extra poundage to the product - I have no complaints and am happy to keep the dancing shoes shuffling.

'Looking For Love' is a pep-laden popper that has a jaunty juiciness that keeps my own rivers of citrus energy flowing.  The keys are sublime, the upstrokes steady and the bass weave cementing.  The vocals are what any long term Bakesey'ed bugger would expect - clear, without fuss and easily joined in with.  An inner switch off gives us time to catch breath and prepare, the tickled digit timbers soon get us ready to roll and we are taken into the backstretch gushing - regular goodness methinks from a band keeping things just right.  'Pickle My Brain' is a real lo-fi escapade that stays beneath the radar and loses some of its impact as a result.  The band are thriving and doing what they do mighty well with a sweet tickle had but, this reviewer is frustrated and likes this band in particular, to showcase their material to their best of their ability.  The key though is that this is a collection of 'demos' so my critical boots are taken off and I slip back into my slippers of understanding - I best say no more, this ain’t as bad as I suggest, it just has finer neighbours of noise all around it.

'Life So Dub' is a competent blend of the reggae-fied and the skanked, all done with an artistically acoustic ear for those intricacies that are unobtrusive, gently disarming and of course, soothingly melodic.  This is one to play over and over, one destined for a 12 inch mix which is really reflective of how this warming resonation has crept under my epidermal layers and injected its persuasive serum.  A delicious under-the-radar shifter this, the muscles are eased, the tension escorted from the building of the body - and replaced by a massaging mover of tip-toeing mastery! 'Days Gone By' is a nostalgia soaked celebration of times more simple headed and with perhaps, less external tension.  This is a real chirpy foot-tapper awash with a feelgood essence not to be escaped.  A reflective piece with a dreamy brass input and a feeling of something lost.  A 'growing up' giddy-reeler that propels itself forward with nothing more than its own relish and inner enjoyment - is there really any more to add - oh yes, excellent stuff.

On we swing, the uplifting accents continue - irresistible stuff tha' knows.  'Open All Hours' is a nippy blighter with a some soothing gumption and a vision-creating verbology that takes me back to a time when cares were fewer, living on the dole commonplace and things were less complex.  The theme soon changes, where did matters go so fuckin' wrong.  Despite many sobering elements once again, the tootsies are forced to twitch, the arse begins to move to some good docu-doofing in that two-tone style executed without unnecessary accoutrements.  'Have You Seen The KGB' is the most back thrown lo-fi episode on the CD and as a result will win favour by those who appreciate real old-skool ska and all its wondrous limitations and simplicities.  This one sounds as though it has been recorded in a honest and unhappening backstreet dive which only the absorbed are aware of.  I do wish more people would remember this kind of shizzle, look at where it is coming from and the whole uncomplicated process and how it still invigorates the noise attentive neurones - it is all rather splendid.

'Trouble And Strife' and man, what creamy brassage welcomes.  This chirpy denier of the old lady comes, has a great cobblestone relationship and moves with such utter confidence,  Questions are asked, answers proffered - you know the score.  One of the bounciest belters in a fine pack of engaging acoustic adornments that I am happy to let dangle from my eavesdropping conkers and begin a new fad in tremble-tastic vibrations.  OK, so my mind is wandering but this tuneage helps me to piss off into areas away from everyday stresses and I am thankful for that.  A real poppet once again, you know, over the years, The Bakeseys have become a minor fave of mine – fact!

The last two, more familiar notifications to my memory banks of chilled rhythm.  'Life So Tuff' is a veritable reclining loafer that is one streetwise cool dude who floats along on smoky emanations and barely touched tones.  Out and about observing the beaten, defeated and cruising along in a very nonchalant manner.  A quality cut that is a memorable moment (aren't they all) with a velvety movement that has an arrangement somewhat smooth, effortless and rather sleek.  Again we seem to fall back into times of yore and times more realistic, both valuable aspects of the Bakes'ed-up output.  We close with the popping and hopping throwback semi-tribute song known as 'Marina'.  Very liberating backstreet jive and vibe keyed cruising calling all to hit the dancefloor for one last time and to give it their best shot.  You can almost envision the skanking guys and gals, the pork pie hats tilted down, focused on the feet and the vibes, absorbed in an all-consuming closure of a lengthy running time that is a pure pleasure.  By this stage if you are still out of step there is no hope.

A joyous collection of many faves in their basic attire and still doing what they do with the utmost gratifying effect.  As I check my website I see that this is the 7th time that I have reviewed The Bakesey's material - with mitt on ticker, I have yet to be disappointed.  Go get this and make sure your collection is loaded and up-to-date.

NEON KITTENS - LIKE BEING KILLED

Another dose of angular pussified incandescence from a unit that I have donated time to on 7 previous occasions.  I try and space out my considerations but the band just keep on producing.  As per, I won't go into another introductory palaver, I shall get to that which matters, the sonic overflow.

'Enough Of You' is inordinately angular and pervasive with a mesmeric nefariousness to unsettle those in possession of the most queasy sonic stomachs.  I am made of sterner stuff these days after several rollercoaster riff and rolls on the great carriage deemed unstable for the general public.  I hop on board and find myself gently juddered and jerked off whilst in an acid trance of troublesome tuneage that is once again, the all absorbing slippery eel. As I put the cranial matter into overdrive I get drained, strained and left in a heap dumbfounded.  This is below par for the band and just lacks any true magnetising accents and acoustic objects of attraction.  'Like Being Killed' jumps in and is typical fare from a band with many weavings manifested and a meandering modus operandi that just never seems unable to decide on an ultimate destination.  I don't mind this one due to the active bassism but, it lacks any real stand-out snags and is too similar to what the band have already laid down.  Average is my verdict but I may be suffering from an overdose of NK matter.

'She's A Tourist' is the most cloying and gloopy track thus far and, as a result, should get least favour from this assessing git. The subtle noir-esque touches, the lyrical content of loss and misdirection, the strange monochrome tattooings and the overall niggling persuasion that mithers ones neurotransmitters helps make this a creeping grower.  I stand in the midst of the musical sub-melodrama unsure and feeling unsafe but the bands application works here and this off-kilter arrangement has further possibilities.

We stagger into the awaiting spinning silence with a warning left ringing in our head-holes.  'Shooter On A Scooter' is a sharp and shifty piece that bumbles and bounds on 4-wired foundations.  The she-vocals are he-shadowed, the end result is of a shady shadowplay that points the finger at the half-witted gangs and their silly parade to Dooms-ville.  A modern day abstraction that has the assistance of a short running time and an overall uncomplicated arrangement.  

A quartet that, as expected, has that quirked and cracked ceramic feel that radiates a certain fragility and 'on-the-precipice' uncertainty.  I am sure I have said this before but the band have potential untapped and need to throw in some orthodox riffings and real explosive boom-bangs.  I am doing my bit as a conscientious, honest and hopefully constructive fan of noise - does it help, is anybody listening? Aaaggghh!  Stay productive folks.

VICIOUS BISHOP - MIRACLE FORMULA 168

'Punk / Punky Reggae / Ska - influenced by the Clash, SLF, Ruts, Husker Du, Rancid, Ramones, 2 Tone' so sayeth the tag on Facebook, the place where information is found in big heaps and barely settles into the attentive noggin.  I was going to delve deeper but seeing I know fuck all about this band I felt it best that it stayed that way before the review - I like to hop into the assessing sack all virginal, I may be a sonic slag but I do have standards now and again and my rhythmic ring is losing all its elasticity don't ya know.  So here we go, 4 songs from folks based in Lancaster I believe, or is Facefuck having me on - ooh the paranoia.

We open with the multi-faceted and all-consuming cultural snippet known as 'Blood In The Water'.  A grandiose coomencement laden with sanguinity and certainty before a mellow and rhythmic verse, that remains splendidly lucid and poetical, comes.  A segue into a somewhat sub-chorus and on we fluently go with the band obviously comfortable in their cruising mode. Already I am convinced, I am sensing something with depth, tonal touches of quality and an orchestration that has been given good consideration.  Keep your nose out of other folks business, play some good tuneage and crack on - a snippet like this would be a good place to start.  This is a solid footing on which to get this quartets of sounds rolling.

Track 2 and 'Magnetic North' is a sub-skank cum reggae hybrid with a post-punk essence that gives the song greater life and relevance.  The opening verse is far from orthodox but is nothing capricious and unmanageable.  The chorus blossoms too quickly for its own good and is a liberation explosion of fine unified musicianship that comes, intrigues and slips through the fingers too darn quickly.  Overall though this is an accomplished track that showcases a band thinking and being drawn towards a place where they feel at ease.  The inner break is slightly nerved up and edgy, the content concerns getting away and taker a real good breather - sometimes a scare is needed to bring forth the action, it can pay dividends. Watertight stuff is what we have here.

'Shouting Down The Sewer' opens with fidget bumble bassism and then a rapid-fire delivery before adding great contrast via a skanky chorus that really does the trick.  Again, I would have liked the band to dwell a little more on this snippet but the crew know best (I hope) and do what they do with sweet affect.  Turns come, a moment of indulgence, more of what has already transpired and as per, all areas stay lucid, moving and with an ability to keep one guessing as to what will come next.  These songs are slow burners, they are not instantaneous grabbers but have a gentle longevity that will put the band in good stead.  The key is that the listeners have patience and take time to fully appreciate the skillage here.  Punk if anything is not all about 'wham, bam, have that ma'am'.  Perhaps this is my fave track so far but as I say, all areas get better with each spin, who knows which one will rise to the top.  And remember rather than talk a lot of hot talk online - get off yer arse and do something positive instead.

We close with the melodic observation of a lass suffering.  'She's So Dissatisfied' may have a wider appeal than one deems as many struggle with the current climate and the all-pervading madness out in the realm they refer to as 'society'.  Shooting up to escape, seeking a better world and dabbling with dangerous substances is a risky path to take, beware the all-consuming drag folks.  Here the band apply the usual choice nuances and somewhat erudite application to make for yet another slow groomer - ooh the crafty blighters.  They have completed a quite fascinating four-way trick that absorbs the attention and full stopped with the most sing-a-long track of the lot.

Well, I consider it my pleasure and privilege to have these guys booked.  I pride my approach to putting on gigs with variety, where more angles will be dangled and more avenues of acoustic goodness will open for those keen to explore.  Get the CD, help the band along, enjoy the vibes - it is that simple. Gigs are not what it is all about – there is more to it than that! And PS - there are potential names to drop here - fuck off, you should know me better than that and music is judged on just that... being music!

RUSS SPENCE - PHASE MYSELF

Russ from Salem Trials (stalwarts of the Metal Postcard label) has his first solo release here and two tracks to test the sonic reasoning of those who consider themselves eclectic and open to all manner of aural fascinations.  I received the e-mail and thought I would have a tickle at trying to sum up what transpires and hopefully provoke a bit of interest.  Honesty dictates and so it is a precarious balance that I seek.

Track one and 'Phase Myself' robotically steps forth, sprawls itself against the mattress of your attention and slowly wanks out a sensation of soporific casualness that tests the potential of your (should be) heeding ear.  A sampling of avant-garde creativity that manifests in the form of a slumbering sleeper that exposes a warped charm.  A seemingly dumb-down dead droll that is not for a session of upbeat 'easy-listening' but a moment that will work well when played in the midst of rapid-fire spillages.  Thoughtful, shaded through with self-exploration and, perhaps self-damnation, this is a somewhat sad dirge that just needs a slight peppering of hope - alas it is not to be.

'Shouting' sidles and slopes, meanders and mopes whilst all the while the tympanic realm remains fidgety and seemingly ill at ease.  The vocals sprawl across the shady underscore of sound and the whole approach is testing on a temperament in need of something 'lifting'.  Like a dustbowl of malevolence this one, if played when the mood is not apt, it will choke the senses and cause one to cough and splutter in disagreement.  I wear protection, try my best but I must swing towards the usual honesty and hold up my hands and claim to not like this one.  It just doesn't appeal and I just find that the general contrast of components and the 'excitement' factor not there - hey ho.

So 2 dabbles, I come out beaten.  Strange sounds from realms 'off the-wall', when not giving good reviews I feel like a failure but, honesty must dictate and being fair to myself must come first.  I think the creating forces here have more to come, in fact I know they do, the key for me is that things don't get too bogged down in sonic shades too sombre.