SYSTEM OF HATE - INSANITY EP

System of Hate offer sable sonic spillages from the raw and overlooked recesses of Barnsley and do it with a forthright and oppressing manner. The band bring much experience to the table, an assortment of punked influences and numerous other suggestive sonic experiences that all bode well for the overall future of the unit. Having reviewed one release thus far and appreciated the dinnage I do remember myself asking for a little more variance in sound, the question now remains as to whether or not my request has been met and the band are indeed pushing themselves harder and further. Only one way to find out...

The first explosion of intense dinnage is entitled 'Insanity', a fuckin' superb burst of raged abrasion smoothed throughout with a sax soaked streak that really drills its way into your consciousness. From the opening melee through the liquid aggression that freely pours from a tortured soul down to the last bastard blast this is a bruising affair that emphasises where the bands best elements are found and when they turn up the ill temperament levels fine skewering success is undoubtedly there to be had. A big hitting brute of a number that will beat you senseless and leave you perversely gagging for more. 'Ashes Of Divinity' is a less up front effort and relies on regular nagging bassism, tribal drums, carefully attended guitar and strong snatching gobbage. Atmosphere is high on the agenda as the creeping malevolence of the track unfolds and reveals a dark beating heart within. The production values enhance all and each component of this heavy duty outfit is given full complimentary consideration as well as room to expire and exhibit. A powerful song for sure and one that does well to stand in the shadows of the opening behemoth.

'The Dogs Of War' trundles in before futuristically sliding along on electric beams built with cutting intent. The verses are blistered, the chorus cutlets simple but forthright and effective. The saturation of the sonic landscape is entire, no area is left unmolested and what we get is a very intense listening experience not to be shied away from. Again the song thrives from first to last and all I can do is applaud the obvious upswing. 'Infected' thumps, scuffles, destroys the resistance with its malicious drive that has similarities to its predecessors but has a very toxic bite of its own. A bleak number ingrained with disgruntlement and diseased determination to dim the outlook, crush the optimism, defeat any chances of escape. Consuming cacophony for sure.

SUBVISION - THE BONES OF CONTENTON

I receive a CD to review, no info, no promo material just a CD in a cover. I trawl on-line to find more - I come up with Punk band from Kincardine, Clackmannanshire. Fuck it - if that is how it is that is how it is - shortest intro ever - you bet.

I shall assess this CD in a new way - I will do the 8 tracks in groups of 2, I shall slap the arses of these twins of tuneage, bruise the ball sacks of these brothers of noise, carefully appraise what I deem to be corrosive cacophonic couplets. It seems apt!

The first 2 runts to rhythmically squirm from the underbelly of silence are known as 'The Abyss/In My Shell' and 'Manifesto'. Both sonic servings are harshly cooked and laden with slow burning spices that will undoubtedly not be to everyone’s tastes. The initial track relates a tale of introverted safety and an escapism from all that threatens ones comfort zone. The chugging grind rises, all components are set to slow simmer, the heat is consistent as is the restrained rage. A hard fought determination is found throughout the mid-paced machine-like grind with moody cogs and gnashed teeth all rotating together and contributing to an end product that is compact, factory-soiled and very weighty. Further inspection reveals a gloomy aspect, a shadowy unrest - the scene is set and the chasing chunk of bleak tuneage is adorned in the same packaging with a more scientific wrap, a more futuristic style. As soon as the gobbage comes forth these mental suggestions are banished and we are back to a gritty article that ploughs away with nagging regularity and corrosive purpose. The pebble-dashed aspect is fine for a full on, top volume blow out but for an easy listen there is no chance this one will meet anyone's needs. A strained and strenuous song with a lack of variation and may it be said...complimentary touches that are in sync with the bands requirements. It happens, tinkering, testing and pushing will sort this glitch out for sure - think on dudes!

'Empathetic Void' and 'Violation' come next with both tracks following the theme set and one that will continue (a mistake to my Fungal lugs as I truly believe variety is the spice of sound). The former track is a rubble rocking mush of heavy duty machinery that relies on bulldozing insistence rather than any cute touches or crafty switchbacks. It is a stodgy listen and already disappears into a mound of malevolent, mincing music many will find a little too repetitive and indigestible. There is no change with 'Violation' although the track does have more defined areas between verse and chorus and as a result is more easily swallowed. Both songs, especially this latter chunk, have a primitive and tribal overtone that takes them back to a time when punk first fractured and blatant melody and anarcho-politics became two distinct entities.

Next up and the galloping grimness of 'Withers And Dies', a harsh and reality based song with a none stop stampede that perhaps gets the best out of a band refusing to stray off course. The sinews are stretched, the pace quickened - there is a greater level of success - just. 'End Of The Lesson' whinges in, chugs with patience, rattles its arse with the most deliberate determination so far and swings into the simplistic but effective chorus with ease. The alteration of pace, the more relaxed stance, the free for all moments all show where Subvision's best options are found at the moment - best song of the lot.

Last two and named and shamed as 'Sad Situation' and 'Wake Up'. The opening song of this final brace is at first a dirty low down dog that sniffs around on crouched haunches and emanates a stinking presence that stays in the mind a long while after this cruddy cur has fucked off. A very numbing and wretched runt of rhythm this that flounders in its own discordant defecation a little too long. The excitement only comes when a shake down is had and the bastard runs for it with tail wagging, lipstick showing and tongue lolling. The closure is there to leave an aftertaste, what we get is the band going through all their usual motions and combining them in one end pile of punkage. Noxious, twisting, slogging, rushing, ponderous and with a running time that is just too long. It ain't bad but hangs around for too long and so I bail out before a big splash of negative text is given.

THE REVELLIONS - GIVE IT TIME

Yet more Dirty Water produce from a delightful bucket of discordance I am always happy to slurp from. The Revellions have been on the prowl since 2006 with a critically acclaimed album under their belts as well as numerous tours and festival appearances. The highlight, perhaps, was when they recorded a live studio session with television and radio personality Mark Lamaar which was aired during July 2008 on the BBC 2 show God's Jukebox. The band have took their time to release this second album and all I can do is wonder whether or not neutrals, new discoverers or hard baked fans will find the wait worthwhile. My toes dip into a bluesed, garaged soulful psychedelia and cling on to the usual upfront and transparent style that I adopt.

We commence with 'Bitter And Twisted', a cool sonic zephyr blown through with keyed textures from a time gone age that have been persuaded, through genuine artistry, to re-emerge in all new refinery but with the classic characteristics we know so well. The song simmers throughout with the occasional overspill a necessity to maintain the danger levels and listeners interest. The overall melody has a moody stance as well as a general upbeat flavour which duly combines around an inner thread where we find absorbing depth and numerous embracing acoustic elements that captivate with their complimentary cacophonic concurrence. The vocals show a sweet range and rise and fall with passion whenever needed - this is accomplished tuneage for sure. On to 'Sighs' - palpitating bass, calming keys, in the groove to move vocals, this rolling river of rhythm advances with class.  We cascade over more intense beds of spirit, we swiftly meander down a naturalistic route and throughout the standard is wonderfully high. When the band are holding the reins tightly there is a feeling of distinct suppression (as can be expected) but this only heightens the impact when the band let everything go and gush with utter conviction. The only gripe - the brass is not let loose enough, because when it does what we get is sublime brilliance - hey ho. A fine offering nonetheless.

'Don't Wait For Me' is almost 70's soul with the harmonised moments loaded with street wise inflections and the overall gist of the tune quite a cool cat indeed. The main thrust of the music is, in parts, quite minimalistic but this only emphasises the tonal talent of the front gob whereas when the thermals rise within the players it provokes a responses from this warbling warrior. The backing vocals are choice, add to the warmth of the song and once more the swing in the tempo is precise and will get a rear end wiggle of appreciation for sure.

'Give It Time' pulsates with the strings then a warped psychedelic burst comes, like a misinformed 1970's alien invasion, all B-movie'd up and in need of some direction. The sinister piece that follows is an unsettling sub-tribal shuffle awash with schizophrenic uncertainty and it seems, slightly malfunctioning melodies. The tone is dark, on edge, creepingly malevolent with all input tailored to be grim, oppressive and slightly restless. I can grasp the angle, can appreciate the effect it makes but can easily walk away and give a vote of no confidence - just not what I was expecting and not really appealing to my personal sonic taste buds. Onwards, 'In vino veritas', hammer clank strums, pistonised skins, mechanical steps taken - we appear to be in stuttering mode, a hard time ahead, how the hell do the band turn this around then? With consummate ease it seems with coffee smoked vocals leading the way in exemplary style and creating a hazy acoustic atmosphere that enshrouds the attention and gradually draws one in with the layered sincerity and all absorbing depths. A back alley cruise in monochrome shades where all sombre hues swirl, merge and swirl into one slow turning rhythm in which to get delightfully lost. A coasting masterpiece with all touches contributing to the naked unflustered noise just so ideally. I like the under polished end glow, the avoidance of garish splashes and the commitment to a song striving to embolden its own distinct ambience.

Speeding onwards and nailing the last 4 in double quick time we have 'Somewhere In Between' is a slow sidewinding snake that has the tendencies of a sonic boa in that it slinky dinks down and slides its strong heaving sinuous body of noise around you and gradually squeezes tighter and tighter until you are fully encased in the flesh of the muscular melodic rhythm and have no choice but to....enjoy. A sub-sexual serpentine gem followed by 'Strung Out Bad', a sincere drift of semi-acousticised westernisation soaked with emotive blankets of ambience and warm embracing arms of intelligent artistry that apply just enough colour to a sombre looking delivery - nice rocking chair mellowness. 'The Waltz' is an instrumental and reminds me of a snake charmer on acid, she can weave a merry path, consume you with hypnotic rhythms, can tease out your todge of tuneage by merely playing her vibes. This is an odd moment, quite mysterious and underhand as is the finale known as 'Drip', a real slow and swaying piece awash with abandoned sensations and solitary moods of dramatic thoughtfulness - a very curious way to end a quite convincing CD.

THE THANES - DISHIN' THE DIRT

So, the garage punk legends have a release on the equally legendary Dirty Water Records - what a combo to savour. First formed in 1980 the band went under the name of The Green Telescope until making the change to The Thanes in 1987 the reason being they wanted a title with a less psychedelic vibe and something that more accurately fit in with our sixties American teen-punk garage infatuation. Fair enough methinks. So here we have 2 taster tracks to get the jowls salivating once more and here is a Fungalised overview of what we actually get.

'Dishin' The Dirt' is a key driven gem with a super twinging leitmotiv running along in the background whilst strings bassily groove it up and the drums military thump along with a 60's tinned splash. The oral offerings is screwed up, loose jawed sleaze with a small sprinkling of vicious intent and 'up yours' attitude. As the song progresses we get hypnotised by the swirling cacophonic colours and with each loop the intensity of the contrast is increased. A fascinating beauty awash with the 60's feel we have in-built into our chronological sonic souls.

'I Don't Want You' is crisply delivered with heavily taut strings that glassily shimmer before sub-chugging behind the attentive bass, slightly rusted gob work and steady sticks. The inner break is acidic, burning with inner fire, used as a chance to fracture the regularity. We progress down the back stretch, repeat beat, all is over too soon, all areas are in tact though, all targets hit - we shall not be found bitching.

THE HOOK-LINE RIOT - SIRENS

Music from the proud heart with an abundance of presence and obvious ensnaring hooks. This is big stage anthem-esque music that is clean shaven, tucked in and standing to spirited attention. Having been around for just a couple of years with experience aplenty from all players this lot look destined to make a decent splash with their very honest and processed form of noise. Based in the Cheltenham/Bristol areas and with an already good reputation, fine web presence and numerous contacts to call upon I am wondering how fast the escalation will be up the ladder of fortune or how long it will be before the band get fucked off with the apathy out there and wrap it up. It is a hard circle, a tough unforgiving scene but luck can play a big role as well as decent reviews - mmm - here comes Fungal - no favours for any flavours - shit!

We open with an embracing hope that is given via the well orchestrated pronunciation known as 'Calling All Cobras', a smooth moving song that tinkles in, has no inkling of being rushed and gradually washes over the empty silent landscape with rehearsed accuracy and spruced up cleanliness. The harmonised moments are a sweet delight and bring into play thoughts of a band not trying to tear up the rock and roll script or try and kick down any resistant barriers but of a unit who want to compose solid, noisily nutritious songs that have a long lasting flavour and exude an irresistible classiness that even the most ardent crustified soniceer cannot criticise. The band keep it spikily mellow with much to admire, but will this sonic schizzle hold up over the full course - read on.

More hope and confidence radiates from the improving 'Take No Time', a grower for sure whose initial refinements of well polished sonica and production room gloss are soon overthrown by the general composite and its well thought out arrangement and inner melodic machinations. The song has no direct pick up and play snags, no obvious hooks to instantaneously catch your attention upon but is a more complete effort with an entire ensnaring factor that grips and doesn't let go. As is blatantly obvious to anyone who reads the reviews I do, my preference is for raw, underwashed noise that is thrown off the wrist and splashed onto the lap of the listener but I am never one to frown on quality produce from a band with much nouse - hence the reason I ain't complaining here! 'Chances' is crisp and well cut with a floating opening verse that slips into a neat slipstream and metamorphs into a sanguine chorus that surely will assist in catapulting this band onto bigger and more commercialised things. Not my route of course, this dog salivates at the bottom, but if there is any justice then this lot are in for a major signing any time soon. So many CD's pass the Fungal radar and are borne from an arena where big attention is paid basically down to the unthreatening nature of the noise as well as the darn fine artistry - this is an example of such and is much better output for sure. The harmonies perhaps highlight the standard of sonica set and really rubber stamp what a fine band we are dealing with. 'She Will Never Know' is another chorus accentuated moment with the band reaching a super pinnacle that is lucid, uplifting and catchy - bastards. The opening strums and hallowed utterances are followed by a drum driven section that exudes energy and for me, squeezes out extra zing from the other participants and results in a splendid commitment from all to the end mush. It is as per, reliable, smut free, annoyingly precise - I repeat - bastards (in a complimentary kind of way).

To keep things moving, 4 quick ones, it is the best way - keeps me on my toes and hopefully you, the generous reader, too. 

'Black Eyes And Broken Hearts' is a great title for a song in any genre, here we have an initial approach filled with caution before the empathetic surge that comes is filled with encouragement and consolation. An accomplished composite reinforcing the belief I have of a band on the cusp of something highly rewarding - watch this space. 'Fat Cats And Underdogs' is silky and another example of a band in a rich vein of form and embracing every vital element they have and parcelling and packaging in one glorious cutlet of artistry - it just slots in, does the business and leaves me little to say as does the easy listening piece known as 'I Can Say' although I do find this latter number a trifle mediocre and really not seeking out and destroying my sonic hotspots. It is played well, produced well, composed adequately but is one of those I can take or leave. The quartet under rapid review comes to a close with 'Sirens' a song soaked in casual aplomb, more mass appealing chordage and harmonised snips to get the sonically soft hearted all convinced and crooning. The second song to leave me standing but what a well written piece and perfectly delivered it is.

Back to the usual assessing with 'Declaration Of My Disconnection' a fine tune with an equally fine theme. A rage against the digital addiction out there and the way in which we have all become slaves to the computerised machines and feel a need to know all and see all. The band blend several approaches from the anthemic and thoughtful to the cleanly hollered and cutely executed. The yearn for the age when face to face meetings and personal contact were more prevalent and closeted solitary behaviour was frowned upon is donated with emotive accuracy and as a matter of course the Fungal fat digits go upwards. Alas I turn them straight back down with the awful drifting of 'Rely On Me', a song I find too sickly sweet and too pondering with a kind of disjointed meander really getting on my thre' penny bits. This is just a personal viewpoint of course and one of those moments that happen every so often when dealing with such masses of music. I would be a fool to say the song is shit, badly played and not an essential component of a very cohesive CD but I'd be a bigger fool to tell a lie and say this was one of my faves - it isn't, I loathe it - bah, sorry chaps.

'Waiting Room Exit' and 'Turn It Up' bring the curtain down on this quality CD with the former a wonderfully hygienic piece (what's new) with saccharine comfort and solid riffage wafting throughout and the usual combined gobs hitting all the right essences. The latter number is a well blasted song with the crew throwing in their all and coming out smelling of roses rather than some rotten nettles with a foul sting for the more perverse sonic scrutineer - bah, I'll get ya ye buggers.

Overall, despite my tastes tending towards all things unwashed I find this a really cracking piece of musical composing with the flair of the band highly applaudable and genuinely convincing. If this band doesn't move to the top of certain sub-generic trees than I am at a loss for words (a rare occurrence) and will wonder what bands have to do these days to convince the punters of their quality. A sound effort, let us watch this lot with care!

FAT ALBERT - USELESS GENERATION

Cumbrian cacophoneers Fat Albert come at you in typical punk style with no intent to be anything original, outrageous or overly ornate. Straight out of the sonic slop bucket this 4 piece, who formed in 2008, play it straight down the middle and if you want things with frilled edges and bangles of necessary flamboyance or unnecessary idiocy then you had better bail out of this honest and up front CD review now. I take all flavours in my stride, say what I feel and strive hard to blend careful criticism with salted positivity and well spiced sincerity - it ain't easy, I do more than I should, I still try my best though. On we go!

'Useless Generation' a song that could have been deemed routine, without bite, lacking a certain spice many surely desire - let me correct you. The drum rolls instantly excite, they add a bristling intent to wake the dead (you know the ones, empty eyed gapers they be), the general ensuing mix is sonically corrupted, as crummy as fuck but ultimately in a groove where most of my interest is found. The pace is rolling, the cut of the cloth ragged, the aftertaste of a decent bout of unflustered punkage - a fair start. The familiar tones of Frederic March next from that wonderful film concerned with separating the good and evil within. 'Dr Jekyll' has more thrills and spills than the opening surge and power punches in part as well as having a more scything quality. There are obvious touches of sub-horrified punk as well as the main overspill of obvious spikiness but the end potion feels good as it flows down our noise hungry guzzle tubes. An inner break where the mouth abandons the musical waters and lets the players wander is brief and simple and just does the adequate job it needs to do - not a bad jaunt. The best song of the opening trio is 'Just Another Day', an earthier feel and a more relaxed vibe is had with the inflection of the bands output seemingly more natural. The joints that hold this construct together are well oiled and as a result move more freely giving the offering a very convincing edge with the overall swing and maintained semi-corrosion an appealing combination. A corking little track.

'Stig Of The Car' has a loose chassis, a pop punk feel that has me wondering where this could lead to if the band pursued on hot wheels. It needs more polish to the framework and more lubrication within the inner engine if it was to turn into a fully fledged cruising beast of poppology and that is where the song comes slightly unstuck. It is caught between two modes and radiates an uncertainty that does hinder the end judgement. Nevertheless there is enough evidence here to suggest the crew should dabble a little more with this type of sub-generic style and I'll be certainly listening out for more. Opinion here is mixed but the drift is enjoyed. 'Infidel' is dirty surging with all areas under-produced and given a boost by the player’s enthusiasm and nothing more. A racket for the DIY scummers to ponder, a rattling bout of vim and vigour bursting through squalid sonic membranes - and guess what? I find it half decent - such is my love for the nasty noise.

'Andy (Friend To The Stars)' is a kind of pimple arsed rock and roll jaunt that has riffed trimmings but fails to present itself with any clean cut decisiveness. The song is easy to get into, it has that flavoursome thread of griminess and offers what I deem to be much 'live' potential but I feel the song just needs that extra drill factor from the band, a little extra determination in the delivery, a more full on thrash so as to get the band flowing more naturally. Hey it ain't shite but it isn't as bright as it could, and should, be. Next up and 'Full Throttle' sounds much more like it, sometimes that title can say so darn much. A tinned murkiness, a mid-paced drive, a more textured vocal spill, a chorus that has slightly more emotion - and yet I still want more. The song has a greater sensation, provokes more thought and has an adequate composure but, yes that 'but' word again, I feel the band are playing within themselves. As per, I won't settle until a band pushes harder and the potential is being grasped as firm as possible. This is decent punkage but there is so much more waiting to be spilled forth. A decent song despite the criticisms and one to re-work and make into a classic I am sure.

3 quick ones to close with 'Lost Your Disguise' is more of the same and not really challenging the band or the listener although the inner reggae cut is another example of the potential here and another route that must surely be tested further. 'Decay' submerges itself in the set mode, has a decent middle break but despite the loose sliding feel doesn’t really rise from the pack whilst 'Draw The Line' closes with a confidence boosting theme and insists we fight and dig in deep. It is a good old sing-a-long moment done in true FA bog brush style and ends the CD on a sweet, slightly corned moment - we mustn't grumble.

THE WARRIORS - DEAD TO ME

Veterans of the Oi scene, old gits who should know better, passionate players who know their style - say what ya want, since 2007 the band have put behind them the hit and miss past and got some consistency going with a tighter, well groomed sound that sees the band putting more textures into their tuneage rather than relaying on raw, rough arsed clout. Originally this band first popped up in 1981 formed by Saxby, the original Last Resort singer and well versed noise man. After much on and off action this new lease of life is doing all fine and dandy and with 2 albums under their belts and a few split EP's this latest single has me in anticipatory mode. 2 songs, no fannying needed, let us see where this crew are at.

Side A and 'Dead To Me' has a great opening vibe that is loaded with threat, promise and a somewhat furtive streak that is slightly elusive, slightly ambiguous. As the song travels the sonic shooters are revealed and the band aim, fire and hit the sonic targets of favour. The metallic bass is well worked and wobbled hard so as to give a dominant lead role from which all other contributors can build on. The gobbage is sanguine, accented, well 'Oi'led, the strings sharply attired, the sticks hard slapped - this, along with the no-nonsense verses and sing-a-long chorus mode is what makes for a first rate song to bounce around to - concrete!

Flipping over and 'No One Provokes Me' is imposing hard-boiled noise that rushes along with a clobbering intent that will not be stalled. The 'don't fuck' tonsil tones are further spiked with the acute strings and bustling skin work with the lyrical content simple, repeat beaten and to the point. A final fist flying flurry and we are done with the aftertaste of a basic song done in traditional style and meeting the needs of those in the crews sonic circle.

There ya go, in, out, shaken all about, verdict - 1 gem, 1 I can take or leave. The Warriors though are worthy of your time if you like your Oi with a touch of something extra, please check out and keep the buggers rolling.

11A RECORDS - COMPILATION 2

So here we are again, the independent record label from Ipswich is once more spouting out some fine tonality from the overlooked underground and, no matter if it all doesn't hit my sonic hotspots, I can still say with sincere spirit that this is the way things should be fuckin' done. Wholeheartedly, with the betterment of the scene at heart, purely DIY to the core - that is all you can ask and if this second slop heap of sonica is anything like the first I'll be more than a trifle happy. Enough of the intro, in we go.

The first flavoured morsel to shatter the silent confines is known as 'Declaration Of My Disconnection' by the class soaked crew who fly by with the name of The Hook Line Riot. I have recently reviewed this anti wired-up/on-line beauty as part of their quality album and feel the same way about the song - what a cracker. Accurately executed, multi-faceted, highlighting the technical acuteness of the band and the commercial appeal - a real solid slice of approachable noise for sure. Next up and a fidgety fly flitter known as 'Backs Against The Wall'. This restless winged wonder weaves about and crosses many boundaries with its modern edged technicalities with the band at the helm, namely The Splash, showcasing themselves as very capable musicians indeed. This one needs a few listens by the uninitiated or sub-generic outsider and although lacking the instant melody many of us crave it does have numerous meritous points. Not for everyone but those in the know will lap it up like the dehydrated dogs that they be. The 4130's next (another song already given the Fungal treatment) and a super fluid knockout known as 'Hearts And Minds', a fuckin' crackin' cutlet of gushing brilliance with all members pouring in their entirety and contributing to a really exciting end product. Vocally this one comes from the heart, the strings provide the lifeblood and the sticks incessantly pump all components and make this a feel good song with much weight. The last of the songs to be reviewed by me on a prior occasion is the corrosive 'Mandy And Charlie' by the impressive Ill Gotten Gains. A swift surge of under nourished skankage with all private areas on fire and a distinct blue light urgency running throughout. The balls of the unit are blackened, the todge of temperamental tuneage glowing bright red - the band flap, flourish and win praise - a good burst with a watertight style that isn't so obvious as it seems.

Glistening string shimmers, a clatter attack, a tumult into modernised melodies with sharp angles and stop/start pulsations, 'Ignorance Is Bliss' is hammered by the more than capable limbs of Chairman Of The Bored, a fast and tight new breed who rumble up the rhythms and come forth with flurry after flurry and leave no room to breathe. An inclusion in keeping with the general theme - nice. Second In Line follow with the dumbed down production (watch them levels dear compiler) of 'Standard Generic Three Chord Punk Song', a raw underfed song that has all the basic qualities of shit basin punk and seems to want, or need, little else. It is straight ahead stuff given gumption via the hungry gob and repetitive riffage - not too bad. The Rocco Lampones have a chance to showcase their schizzle, they certainly don't 'Bottle It' but after an initial throat rant serve up a rapid moving cutlet of well sinewed sonica with florid sanguinity and pushing inner pride. Just short of the finished article (due primarily to the end production being about 10% short of the mark - you gotta be accurate with this shit for sure) but all the trimmings and attributes are there to make this crew an approachable commodity with chomp. You can predict the route they will take and the style will fit in perfectly - another very talented band. Bottler pronounce themselves with cool guitar slashes before moving into a sub-bouncing song that gives hints of fluffed up poppage that is all fine and dandy with the only pointer to be given in that I feel the band just need to emphasise certain components of the song and make more deliberate attacks on the melody and overall drive. This is only a small snip of Fungalised advice and in no way should deflect from a well played ditty with many fine aspects such as the adhesive bassism, well splashed skins and overall composure that oozes a touch of rehearsed class. We close this second sonic sampler with the hectic confusion of 'Cold Resistance' by the quality named crew The 5 String Drop Out band. This is a bastard to review, loaded with assorted flavours, crammed with oodles of fleeting acoustic angles, a song vandalised by the crews ever twitching temperaments. The opening strolls forward with a cold unhinged authority done in a most haunted fashion and with numerous chant and rant vibes to unsettle. The cymbals are abandoned, the bass belly grumbles, the impetus picks up and we seem to be into a different song all together - it somehow works. Acoustic awkwardness tossing about on self whipped waves and then...oblivion.

RUST - DOCTORS, LAWYERS, STRIPPERS AND FOOLS

Born in 2005, featuring members of some of Australia's most prominent past punk bands such as Crucified Venus, Crankcase, Rule 303, World War 24 and Black Rose this lot have their balls bared, arses waggling and really go for the jugular with their boisterous hammer train thundering and relentless gobby Aussie Oi. 'Live' this beast is a muscular bastard let loose to pound you into the ground with sonic soaked fists that have a delightful spitefulness, a quite applaudable degree of aggression. Time has ticked on, the band surge upwards, I am expecting much at this point, can the mother fuckers deliver?

A two-thump, a grandiose opening burst, an encouraging yell, a guitar twist and then the full flurry of 'Ex-Girlfriends', a no-fuck about swing out that powerfists its way against your will and grinds out an appreciating response. The strained vocal style is almost reminiscent of agonising constipation and comes from a carcass very much under self imposed pressure. The string work is scything and lashes its way through the sonic ocean with efficient effect whilst the drums kick and splash with the set current and add that much needed bruise factor. 'Suicide Sunday' follows next and is a gritty affair built on power riffs, harsh face slaps, sub-furious vocals and an overall pounding intention indicative of a band wanting to seek out balls, take aim, and blow them spherical fuckers to bits. The pulverising approach continues from the opening bass bitch through to the closing shout and continues straight through into the blazing 'Curse Of Rock 'n' Roll' a hefty well primed joint of more up yer arse annoyance that pays homage to fallen soniceers and battle worn banditos. The whole chord soaked tear up seems over in no time at all and thunders along on high roasted wheels destined for one hell of a crash. The initial glamorised metallic twist is soon washed away by the bands recognisable pressure drive and things are seen to without a second thought. It is a decent ditty for sure but routine excrement for these guys and I demand the sphincter muscle push harder and produce new discordant defecation to mull over.

The next 2 songs I have reviewed on here as part of a Rust/Keyside Strike split - both were glowed over and I still feel the same. 'Send My Love To England' deals with the feelings of being part of a famed festival that will appeal to many whereas 'Concrete Jungle' is just a good honest to buggery tune that is earthy, streetwise and a great get up and join in jaunt - excellent. I move on...

'A Shadow On The Pier' has a wonderful twisting riff that catapults this one to the fore of your conscious and never rebounds back. Scuzzed at first, rolling tribal drums, a shifty gob intro and then the regular flow is there - going through the motions, interspersed with unified shout outs and momentary pauses so to regain the drive. A catchy old number leaving me little else to add. Next and 'Sailors Grave' hot foots itself along with sails billowing and all hands to the deck. Travelling at a rate of many knots the song should have more spice than it does and even though the crew are pushing things to the max it falls short of an ultimate humdinger to get drowned by. Maybe its just me but I feel a little let down here and I believe I shouldn't - how odd! 'Azaria' is slightly lessened in pace and is a slightly unhinged number that gives me another hit or miss sensation maybe accentuated by the touchy subject matter. Azaria was an Australian baby girl who was killed by a Dingo on the night of 17 August 1980 on a family camping trip to Ayers Rock - shocking stuff indeed. The opening guitar salvo has me captivated and the incessant push and manic overflow all make for a good listen but I feel the band should be just throwing a spanner in the works at this juncture rather than digging within the same rhythmic rut - 50/50 again but my wish is granted with the next song that eventually adorns itself with the same cacophonic refinery but just has the extra chomp factor and, may it be said, sharp assed lust for the noise. The opening and closing lilt of feminine wonder of 'She's Got Something To Sell' is a choice touch and is immediately counterpunched by the brutal edge of the Rust machine. A thrust and stab of sonica interspersed with numerous Tommy Gun expulsions regarding a junkie whore who is dealt with in no uncertain terms in this flashing assault - this is Rust in full flow and ram-rodding your sonic soul with thumping accuracy.

Last 3, let's nail it!

'Boots And Buckles', fuzzy, scuzzy, grizzly, sizzly - the usual hackles raised, visceral hunger pushing all components along, a fair dinkum wallop as per usual with an easy pick up and join in chorus. The last 2 tracks are 'live' blast outs, the first regarding a freedom fighter, the second about who knows what - both tracks reflect the crews 'in the flesh' passion and unrelenting push for a solid burst of Oi-esque noise. This lot play their dinnage hard, they move the sub-genre into a feistier environment and are quite irresistible when firing on all well muscled cylinders - no gripes.

BOB WAYNE -BACK TO THE CAMPER

An artiste I am not familiar with but for me instantaneously gets pigeonholed in the slot 'Cretinous countrified cash-esque cacophony' - in there he resides alone - that is a good thing. I get asked to review many sub-generic sounds but this is the first effort that closely resembles that C&W sound I so abhor. The difference here is we have a dude doing it from a quite angular stance and that only adds to the intrigue for me as a purely noise hungry reviewer that pecks around, goes with the flow and sees what this way comes. I shan't shy away from the review or the usual honesty but I will be darn fair, what more could anyone want?

'Sam Tucker' and immediately I am wondering what the fuck I am doing dabbling in this insane acoustically countrified cess pool - what a twat. Sharp cuts of the fiddle and a merry jaunt follows with the Jew’s harp twanging and the dusted britches jigging. I find myself being drawn in - no, no - the opening promise of gold in them thar hills will not swing me and neither will the fine sub-generic sound washing my way - never, never, never. From the opening wordage regarding the best gold miner in Alabama and his hidden nugget stash this one is a backwoods shindig that skips along on relished rhythms and hungry vocals relating an in-theme tale and does it with such believable lunacy. Strings twang with glee, impetus is upheld with enthusiasm, the rhythm is spiced and sonically in line - I shall not confess my verdict. '20 Miles To Juarez' is pure corned crooning with he/she switches that are generically exact and beautifully delivered for those in the circle of barn based rhythms. I feel I should don my tatty boots and kick fuck out of the cacophony offered but the orchestration, purity of chosen sound and downright fine production values all fight against my over-aggression and convince me that this is a sweet tickle of the nipple of noise and has a conviction, fragility and stunning accuracy. Of course, as I state for the last time, this isn't my usual indulgence but whilst here I may as well stick it through and say my piece - a deloused ditty played to perfection with numerous touches to admire.

I bound onwards, 'The River', a chip chop, a sweet waltzing drift, more crooning that gets smoothly stroked over the awaiting canvas of virginal silence and the full on indulgence into sub-generic swaying is had. I am at a loss, I have a desire to murder a Kenny Rogers look-a-like with a pitchfork and karate kick Tammy Wynette's vaginal area - but I gotta remain fair. The exactness of the song, the precision of the flavours and the short running time make this bearable stuff and in truth, even from this lowly DIY scrote, the meritous points are easily applauded. 'Til I Die' is easier to digest due to its jauntier slant and semi-rootin' tootin' enthusiasm that gushes with musical passion and persuasive acoustic idiocy. For me this is boozing, upbeat music to reel around to and not output to dissect too deeply - I reach for the finger jug of shine and swig deeply - why not? 'Dope Train' is the best song of the lot thus fair with a mean groove glossed over with pure lucid gobbage and interspersed with guitar twinkles and old sage arsed utterances. The message is to avoid that train of dopeage - the looped track is charming, one must hop on board but not partake, then again...why not switch off, settle back and let this one flow right through your veins.

'Evangeline', more tender tinkles and a tale of a lass who played it dangerous and charmed with her blue eyes. The player is besotted, soon in wedlock, under a spell and involved in sacrificial intrigue. After the initial scene setting, the pace picks up, the fiddles become agitated and the yarn unfolds and keeps us captivated right up to the final fall of the emotive curtain - a darn tootin' listen. 'Hillbilly Heaven' and more life is injected, more invigorating earthiness and a slightly more cock-arsed confidence. The devil comes under scrutiny (you know how it goes), morality questioned and a doomed outlook had as a request for Hillbilly Heaven is submitted. Routine fair as far as the sub-genre goes as is the slow swirl of 'Granuaile' but this latter track has a certain Spanish aspect as well as the traditional trimmings and so comes across as a quite interesting oddity. Swaying gently, without any pressure and soaking into the sonic skin with nebulous shiftiness - this one may go on a little too long but it sticks in the noggin and has you singing it to yourself in moments of countrified madness. I may be converted yet.

I love the ebony and ivory tinkle that commences 'Showdown' and the forthcoming slanted vocal style that ascends from a seemingly smoke filled joint with beer at the ready and pistols prepared to blaze. The delicate she gob that caps each verse segment is ideal, it emboldens all components, adds to the theatrical drama. The song tickles away, relates its tale, keeps one absorbed and is, in the main, quite minimalist in its approach but has just enough acoustic occurrences to validate it being labelled as a tidy expulsion. 4 to go and a flurry to the finish line, 'I Just Got Out' and more pluckiness interspersed with train track cruising and drawn out whistle blows that adds to the tension, the dogs howl with glee - will you? 'Violent Side Of Me' is a contradiction with the words and tune counterpunching against one another and making for an odd sensation. The song works but at this stage I am itching to get something more dirty down my cacophonic gullet. I am sure the fans will love it - yeah fuckin' ahhh. 'Revelation' starts in a dark mood before strumming its way to sounding like a holiday show on TV (please, not Judith Chalmers). The sable intent wins through, we have a mood laden piece, very morose, very brooding - this is more like it. This makes a welcome change, a bleak blast of murky air blows through - I inhale and taste the overpowering doom - tasty. We shut down, piss off, close the dinned door with 'ACAB' a real cutey pie snippet of nasty spite aimed at the authorities who throw around their government given weight and use it and abuse it whenever the desire takes them. This is a superb ending that again sticks in yer head and gets you singing over and over again in the most unlikely of spots. It has really got me ensnared and leaves a great aftertaste to a CD I took great pains to stick at - wonderful touch.