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.

PICASSO BLOT - STAV OHROZENIA

I have this lot booked after a brief investment of lug time.  Intense, tight as buggery hardcore of the most erudite kind it seems.  I delved deeper and discovered more - here is what I think of these uproarious rapscallions from the pottery-laden realms of Stoke-on-Trent.  

We begin with 'Nepriateľ rozumu', a heavy duty slamming of scorched enthusiasm and great rage.  The kick back against the foe of reasoning is slaughtered under a sonic attack of considered hardcore music.  The stage is set, the drum explosion sets things rolling and we are soon amid a tumult of strong and energy-infused animation.  The band subtly turn and twist within their self-created melting pot of irritation and as I listen in I find little to report in the way of negativity.  An internal guitar sequence is built on simple structures and is finalised by another tympanic machine-gun attack - it does arouse the senses.  From the opening brace my favour falls a little more towards 'Zúfalé volanie' due to its sprinting affect, the snarling repetition and terse running time.  The band have the double-ended vocal assault just right, the opening thrust is magnetising and the blend between the furious and more composed is spot on.  The tightness of the kicking issued is exact and the final flourish and breakdown works a treat - this feels like a call laden with desperation, one must feel the passion.

'Antidepresíva' has a fine opening lick, grinds its own gears and builds up a reined in fury that threatens to overspill at any time.  The perpetual tumult is held in check, the band play their cacophonic cards close to their heaving chests and all the while the inner pulse of the passion-play increases.  The stick man works up a real lather, the guitars flash and clash and the throat is simmered throughout.  Nothing outrageous comes, we just get a steady drip-feed of wholesome straitjacketed sub-hardcore, I can't complain. 'Vážení priatelia Ano' makes a statement, plays it cool and then my dear friends, the bass threatens, a light and fluffy whip of weaving comes and pace is injected.  I am not convinced by the tonal blend here and feel as though the end production lacks bollock-bursting oomph.  The chorus that comes is basic and really needs more juice in the tank with a potential to make a true impression lost.  The band play matters well and are utterly unified throughout, the song grows but just leaves me a little frustrated.  What can I say, I can only spill what I feel and even though this isn't a duffer, my passions remain unaroused. 

'Neprekonateľná chuť života' does indeed have a taste for life, is it unsurpassed? That is for you to decide.  For me there is good gumption, spirit and eager beaver application here that races along and showcases a band adept at their artform.  The intensity of the sonic splashings is based on the use of passionate colour schemes with no fear of contrast, garishness or indeed brutal vulgarity.  This is one of those body-pummelling attacks that I need to see in the flesh - as said, I have these booked for a gig, I expect to be impressed.

On we go - 'Produkt Chamtivosti' takes its time, prepares with scuttling relish before pounding with a thunder threat.  Deliberate accents and tones, purposeful advances and tympanic tumbles arise before the song develops and we are bombarded by the now expected heavy duty mushings.  A very muscular song, lifting its own weight and beyond.  The bastards who tumble off the conveyor belt of greed are dealt with, the sniping vicious edge cuts to the core, again we have one that those who are immersed in these rabid splashes will certainly get off to - this is one to watch in the 'live' dive - note has been made. 

A batch of 3, the threat status of 'Stav Ohrozenia' is high, the main winning facets are the inner riff work and the ensuing machine-gun tympanic volley rounded off by a searing holler that cuts to the core.  This is a zenith point, a high octane walloper with electric incandescence liable to frazzle away even the most externalised eavesdropper.  When a band like this gets it right it really works well, a hefty inclusion for sure.   Next and a whinge, a pulse, a head thrash hammerjack that is Neanderthal, aggressive and fuming. 'Zúfalé volanie' is a cacophony of desperation that sizzles and sears with unquenchable thirst. All is done in 2 minutes and 18 seconds, the song seems to  be a lot quicker.  The speedy follow-up is the nifty puncher known as 'Zlodeji duší' – a more educated composite than its blatant predecessor and as a result, one for the connoisseurs of this sub-genre and not for those who are passing by and wanting a quick hit.  It has a sound foundation and the band crack on with a watertight unity but the previous track is better on my lugs and this one pales in comparison.

'My Name Is Boom' is a strange incident that takes the foot off the gas, alters the tack in many ways and is an adequate alteration to help keep one intrigued.  This is one of the less-complex moments and so gives the listener cum assessor a little freedom to grasp the gist and easily jump-in-line with.  A safe and steady smearing of sonic cement between the more belligerent and weighted bricks of noise, but still contributing well to the overall structure.  I am still unsure as regards the inner traffic invasion?

The last 2 and 'Väzni storočia' gets the noggin of noise down, clatters away and screams with the usual intensity and thoroughly absorbed application.  A few switches, plenty of surges, the same direct action against the damning silence and the prisoners are released and allowed to ping, pogo and wallow in another high intensity outburst.  By this stage you know what you are getting, if you like the aural fodder served thus far, you will have no gripes here.  The closure and 'Stratený' has a good weight, watertight orchestration and a fluency that makes it one of the better tracks.  It comes a little late in the day and perhaps, if appearing earlier on the CD, it would have made more impact.  Just a personal thought and worthy of chucking out there if it gets the players pondering - and all done with good intent.  A neat finish, still no blips to uncover - bastards.

Done, dusted, ears busted, occasionally my loins were thrusted.  A decent do but I reckon this lot have a lot more to offer and need to take some rhythmic risks. I think some edgy skank thrown in, some real 1 minute bruisers and something sincerely off kilter would work a treat. Again, I like to throw in advice just to try and keep bands thinking, moving and doing - a simple intent.  Now for an 'in the flesh' viewing - bring it on.

UNF - LIVE AT CAFE DRUMMONDS

The intro from Facebook reads as thus 'UNF for the last 10 years have released energetic, alternative rock music and have toured the UK.' - and all the while have eluded a 'live' feasting by this Fungalised git.  These things happen, one can't have an overabundance of passions and be everywhere.  It is an annoyance and a blessing, all I can do is step up and do my bit when asked or when I can. Here is a review of a 'live' album, not my favoured choice of reviews, they can be a tricky beast and not truly reflect the band under the sonically shroomed spotlight, all I can do is what I do.
'Better Off Alone' crawls in from almost silent airspace with a cool, no-rush accent and a somewhat easy pace.  The bass bumbles along, the tympanics whisper and then the initial thrust comes.  Forgiving the always impeding 'live' mix, the guitars that come appear to have a lively saturation and give the opening throes new life.  A pause and then the offering unfolds with an obvious melody and some unified wallop.  The essence is of alternative rock rather than anything so 'generically specific' which, in itself, frees matters from anything restraining.  This is a decent ditty composed well and played without fuss.  The subdued tones work and the overall feel is fluid - I suspect a good studio effort would work wonders.

'King Of Hearts' has a sweet lick, makes an effort to enthuse the crowd and then rocks away with the head down and all focus assured.  The first verse is one I have heard a million times before and has a slaggy slant that I for one, don't mind.  We repeat, matters are delivered with relish and there is an underscore of good old, no-nonsense rock and roll.  The pace here is spot on, the cock-happy strut levels apposite and the solo-show works well within the mush.  I wouldn't want to overdose on this but it does show a band loving what they do and doing it well.  'Can't Be Loved' is an easy tune to get to grips with as it maintains a good fluidity, has a gruff edge and a sing-a-long appeal without complication.  There is a no nonsense easiness here with nothing overly elaborate going down, and nothing unnecessarily flamboyant being pissed forth.  This track is one that provokes my desire to see the band 'in the flesh' - is this a good thing I hear you ask, or a sexual suggestion? Ooh you dubious bastards.

'Waste My Time' is not a song that tickles my fancy (although my fancy is always up for a thrill).  I find the approach is a little too laboured despite the groove having a good grind factor and some suggestion of the rock and roll basics.  The song runs on a little too long and pays a heavy price in this style of recording.  I suspect if witnessed up close and personal in a small DIY gaff this number finds a whole new lease of life but for me, it does need trimming and given some extra spunk up the sonic rear.  'Wannabe' cracks on with a little more urgency despite the laid back, slow-go start.  The platform is set, the tempo increases, the fuzz flinging magnetises my radar and I welcome the low-slung approach of the first verse and the ensuing chorus that just does enough to alter tack and keep the sonic stream moving the right way.  The passion rises, as does the sap (ooh err), the culmination is exciting and keeps me enthralled – a fair do.

The next 2 tracks come, the first sees a guest jump into the fray with 'FGA' slowly ascending via a bass grumble, a stick rumble and some scurfy guitar strokes.  A riff cum melody is found, the song unfolds like an ornate bloom from a dense shrubbery of entangled herbage.  I delve in, ignore the odd scratch and barbed moment and find a vibrant verdancy I am not utterly in-tune with.  The band have some good tuneage going on and a nice drive, with the lead hollerer doing a fine job.  A very rocked up number that just over elaborates itself whereas 'Sharon' is of a similar bent but really does hit the neurones of noise with greater accuracy and comes across as a solid orthodox piece of racket engineering with all hands to the pumps and working with a  collaborative sanguinity that gives the composition an extra whoosh of life and energy.  The 'live' recording fails to diminish the power of the score - nifty work all round.

The entrance is made into the closing quintet of cacophonies, I shall add haste and hopefully maintain accuracy.  'Wish You Well' takes it nice and slowly, sets the scene, has a good ethos and overall a sweet languid lilt that does what it has to do.  A 'fuss free' number that is neatly played out despite my spiky objections to the overall 'rock' feel and the somewhat overly long running time. 'Sin' is even longer (just), it is too much for me but I know many folks who would love this and would gladly rock along to the riffery and snag and shake chorus. The band play with a good unity and an easy magnetism that will certainly ensnare the attention of those who have more patience than me.  These last two are decent songs that I am not keen on, that is not a paradox but is an honesty/personal preference combo issued with good will.

'Another One Gone' is a more appealing effort, I like the pace, the impetus and the fluency of all components.  The guitar breaks have greater zest and impact and radiate a certain electric pulse I am entrapped by.  Things ease up, the band connect with the crowd and give them an option 'live in the 70's or now' - what a fuckin' choice but this current madness must be questioned.  A tidy tickle this and followed by a love song after a few thanks to the folk who made this stint possible.  'Everybody' is a 7 minute plus song and really doesn't seem that long.  I suspect the verbals prior to the cacophonic kick-off takes up more time than I realise as this is a sweet song with a sound lilt, the usual well-crafted liquidity and an overall arrangement that reflects a band who are thinking. Not a bad do at all this one but the encore of 'Hit Me' has better pep, a good barbed wire snare and a real obvious rock and roll orchestration that maybe a little routine but is a darn song nonetheless.  The crew keep up the zeal and execute this last ditty with aplomb.  The best song of the lot?  Maybe, just maybe!

Well, as per, I have taken my time, done what I do in my own way and I hope I have stuck to my values, enthused whilst being true to myself (and the band) and maybe whetted the appetite of you sonic scavengers out there who just can't get enough.  I try, I hope, thank you for reading, now please check out the band further.

LITTERBUG - SURFING THE CHAOS

Two days prior to receiving note of this CD I had been to a gig after sorting out my T-Shirt cupboard. The T-shirt I wore to the gig was a green article and had Litterbug scrawled across it - coincidence - a Twilight Zone moment, by crikey I suppose it goes without saying that another CD review was pending.  Litterbug are a band I know well, a few years ago they played several Fungalised gigs but of late, they have been a trifle scarce on the gutterscene.  I was intrigued to hear what they were now giving birth too, here are 14 tracks that I have dealt with in my usual way - have it ya buggers. 

'Just Making Sounds' begins, a strum, a wank-wonk wave and weave, a chug and the usual LB tones are soon kissing my inner tympanic set-up.  The opening verse is highly regulated, fuelled by the outré tones that come in kinky lappings that tickle the senses and make one feel something akin to alertness.  There is an initial ease to the tones, the oral output lays claim to confusion and rage, the band are still producing in their own inimitable style with dented baubles hanging from a crooked tree of cacophony - this ain't a bad start.  'Have And The Have Nots' is a very obvious cutlet that is streaked through with many LB strains and angled nuances.  The brief guitar sequences break the mould and the quirky end orchestration is influenced by who knows what.  Melody comes, sometimes it goes, cohesion seems to walk a precipice and what we end up with is a somewhat fractured song, held together by the loosest of fittings and on the brink of collapsing into something indescribable - I have no clue as to whether I like this or not - I certainly wouldn't play it every day but... ah another ambiguous but!

'You Know' is a good piece with more potential than tapped.  The gentle twilight twinkle that opens is lovely (maybe a theme to be worked upon for new tracks).  The following verse is basic but gratifying and the chorus is a mere flower bloom of liberating pollen that hits the sensors and sends one reeling with the rhythm.  Here the band capture all their potential, still retain their own colour scheme of sound whilst doing enough to rise above the general vibrating vegetation.  Perhaps the most complete song so far and with the loop completed via the final tickle.  'Open Space' soon creeps in with a surreptitious slant and a somewhat uncertain approach.  The feet are soon found after a neat bass rumble and some pondering. The holistic drift is one of a consuming free-fall that is both captivating and tenderly space-age.  The unassuming approach, the distance of the orchestration and the embracing sooth of sound all make this one a contriving creeper that sneaks in, slides under the epidermal layers and makes an impact - I like it more and more.

A fistful of three is a typical Fungalised approach, I hope it helps the fluency of these reviews.  'File Under Dead' has good chug factor, a light over/underlay of gob and sticks respectively and an unobtrusive accent that may make it one of those that is easily overlooked.  Do not trespass forth with too much haste, this may not be an electrical shocker to rattle your rocker but it is a good steady serenade of sober solidity and worthy of time.  You may not even like it after my proddings but hey, always have a listen folks.

The second of the latest trio is 'No Means No' - a sober look at the situation pending, a choice to resist that will be ultimately overlooked by the mush who can't think, won't think.  Despite the content there is no panic here, there seems to be a somewhat accepting sobriety with the band playing it cool and continuing to spill their own brand of acoustic disgruntlement.  'No' is a strong and necessary word in this day and age of 'yes sir, I will suck it' prostitutes.  I find this one to take time with, over a contemplative cuppa whilst looking out of the window and observing the fuckin' lunacy - switch off, and immerse.  'Petrol Situation' is an old Litterbug stalwart, this time rehashed, dabbled with and splattered forth with contrasting courses of life-giving discordant blood.  From the dreamscapes of decadent dabbling comes a reconstruct of rhythmic restlessness that I suspect, only ticks the boxes of appreciation if a familiarity with the original is had. There is something utterly warped going on here and I for one am magnetised by the capricious cacophony that unfolds - a neat little roughhouse.

'Why Can't You Be Pissed Off Like Me' is a very pertinent question in this age of grinning daft fucks who seem to be oh so settled with their life and their lot.  Don't be fooled by the sham though, the acting school has many members and all are playing roles that are hammed up to the max so as to convince others that all is grand in 'Comfortsville'.  The drums tumble, the wires twist, the bass cables add mood before the question is posed. The verse comes and leads us in to a real patchwork feeling piece that has rhythm in part, sing-a-long outbursts in other and all the while leaving me standing - I am not keen.  'Stealth Tax' is a finer song, it has more meat on the bone, more conkers in the tonal truss, nay more gristle on the throbber.  The fluency of the piece, the perhaps more orthodox matters and the overall complete feeling (with poppy overtones) makes for a song with good gumption and some neat guitar sequences.  The ending is abrupt and well-timed and leads us into the very muscular 'Breathe'.  This is a very sinewy burst with all areas contributing to a high saturation factor that gives the song its true source of life. This effort has a good straining at the bit and a smouldering inner core that puts the song in good stead when thrown into the comparative arena.  The key is the attention to detail and the whole intensity - it works well here without being sickeningly orthodox.

We waltz into the last quartet, the first track to hit the radar is 'Late At Night', a middling song with no real highs/lows or arousing sensations.  I find the band are just on their set par here and not pushing matters or throwing in any curveballs.  Maybe I ask too much as this isn't a duff track but just one of those that comes, goes and leaves little for me to say.  'Tired Of The Look In Your Eyes' is a sober piece with a matter-of-fact approach.  No-nonsense, straight ahead and with few frills - this is tidy tuneage with a look at the state of play without shying away from facts.  The approach is level, the odd trinket of tonality emphasises the inner trickle and overall this is a quirky pop song with a fair edge and a few oddments thrown in.  It seems a creation borne from age-old 'erberts who are more than a little jaded.

Last two, 'Are You OK', slowly waltzes in, I like the laid back feel, I think it may be a way to go for the band, I would like a 3-track switched off session of this type of slow-swinging noise - tis' like watching the pendulous swing of a musical elephants phallus - quite hypnotic tha' knows.  A neat little tickler on the attentive undercarriage this and all done to the slower pace and gentle application - how strange, I must be losing my mind or just mellowing with age - fuckin' hell. Nice lyrical content too - fuck the right wing pillocks.  The finale sums up the state of play regarding this band and many others.  'Too Alternative For Punk' is a seriously embraced paradoxical statement that seems to be almost ludicrous if it wasn't in fact just how matters are.  Yes, if those sharp-angled boxes aren't ticked you can be fucked right up the rear by a genre shackled by self-appointed protectors of the word.  I like this due to the content alone but the tune is nifty, grabs the gonads and reminds me Litterbug must come back and play a Fungal show again real soon - fuck your boundaries and same old shittery.  This lot have always been decent to watch, put on and to wag the mandible with - on we go.

And there you have it - I don't like every track, the music is of a flavour maybe too warp-wired for some but Litterbug have a good vibe going, stick at it no matter what and get some decent gigs along the way as well as the usual back street affair which are still worth their weight in gold even if no-one turns up.  Troopers of the tone, you know it!

GENTLES - SELF-TITLED

On Metal Postcard Records we get The Gentles from Melbourne - and I know sweet fuck all else.  6 tracks is always a decent amount to assess, the label gets a good chunk of my time and some stuff I like, some I don't and some outpourings are just sublime.  We get the off-kilter, the bizarre and the uncompromising, I didn't know what to expect here, this is what I got.

'Dead Set' captures many old-school nuances with the raw edge not wasted on this long-term sonic listener.  A bass sequence opens, all very par for the course.  Drums join and prance along with a good kick in the heel whilst the post-punk guitars are glassy, lightly shuffled and somewhat pure.  The oral addition is from the alternative scene back in the day, it has a natural freshness and eager zeal that increases in relish during the quite sumptuous backyard, lo-fi chorus chunk.  The wires of six go into spasms and show-piece absorptions, the bass and sticks make sure that rhythm is relentless and what we end up with is a feel-good bout of no-fuck, bangle free indie-esque goodness.  I play some more - it is fuckin' smashing.

'Dogs Get To Deal' is a strange affair that begins with a good roughhouse urgency and then adopts a light and fluffy overlay of gobbage that seems at conflict with the noise and the tempo.  Adjustments to the attentive neurones are needed and, may I add, a whole heap of patience.  The song is a curious mix that I suspect is improved with age and with an 'in the flesh' delivery.  The more I listen the more I become pleasantly piqued, with a volume boost I border on something akin to arousal - not a full boner mind you, but something twitching.

A slow old school bass vibe, a whisper of cymbals and a strum with a careful oral inclusion that seems desperate to get away.  I sense something more passionate to come, what we get is a waltzing undulation of retro rhythm with a need to escape to main focus of the musical factory.  'Time Machine' has a slight tattooing of something slagged and sleazy with the intricacies of the offering intrinsically uncomplicated and straight forward.  The palate gets pleased, the sonic swallowing is no mither and the mix of things within and outside certain generic circles is more than adequate.  This ain't the most melodic piece and is not instantaneous pick up, play and jack off fodder, but there be weight and good affect in the mix, on we go.

The second half of the CD, 'Insecurity Blank' clatter-batters like a frenzied tadpole on heat.  The energy is lofted, the vocal style at odds with the racket with an invading brass-bastard a real surprise and adding a new angle.  Stress and tension rise and are relieved with this pacey wank-off of unleashed and controlled hybridisation that really is another oddment from a label eternally spilling eccentricities.  It is the way to go, the norm can be cloying and spitefully numbing - wander off track and you may find little poppets like this.  'Milk, Milk, Lemonade' (ah remember the old schoolyard rhyme) is a jazz-jizz wank of ad-hoc fruitiness that I neither like nor dislike.  It is a mood moment and when listened to the favour levels seem to depend on the state of cerebral play.  This is a common theme but accentuated here by a number with a great fidget-fuck feel and a somewhat pliable construct.  A worldly sounding track with smoky aromas of many sizzling scenes - what to make of it I do not truly know - a contemplation for sure.

We finalise this six-track offering with the somewhat naked nervousness of 'Management Plan' - a seriously post-punk deliberation done with an artistic ambiguity that all the while splatters the eavesdropping canvas with a montage of almost careless hues.  The band are playing matters close to the edge it seems but yet seem totally in control and appear to know their script and targets.  This is a moment with added depth and one that has a longevity factor that could just reveal a song that is far better than it seems after just a few spins.  Again the band have a jazzy element thrown in, is this a key facet when combined with the angst - I reckon so.

There is enough here to keep one entertained and thoughtful without going overboard and I reckon a good level of variety has been showcased that will keep folk piqued and pondering.  I hope another release will be of a similar bent, nothing more, nothing less - with an equal amount of gumption - we shall see. 

FOTOKILLER - EERIE NOSTALGIA

Fotokiller - a band from Berlin passing forth here 10 tracks on the Eleven Records label.  There is a post-punk feel copulated with a gothic underscore and a very minimalistic application that is played out so as not to soil the sonic goodness.  The e-mail came, the press pack downloaded and I went straight to the sounds rather than any textual twaddle that could impede and influence the assessment - it is my way, I feel it is the best way - honesty and a fair judgement should not be molested at all.

'Control' paves the way with a delicious gentleness of jaunt that peppers and provokes with a fluctuation of pulsations that gets the listener easily activated.  As a virginal eavesdropper to the Fotokiller's spillings I don't know what to expect next and am surprised that things take a soft submersion into shadow laden waters were matters becomes rippled, tenderised and delicately blanketed.  This could be a damaging turn of events if the band weren't well-practiced and able to manage these careful brushstrokes with some sense of coordination - they do so with aplomb and I am keen to see what comes next. Track 2 and 'Stop The World' is an immediate winner, a song that embraces a monochrome hue, a rich under-processed melody and a quite sobering yet tranquilising tonality.  If this song were reflected on canvas the effect would be sublime and impressive whilst using only the most sombre shades of grey. The application is liquid, the depth of the charm is suggestive of being more than what is initially deemed - I rate this a minor poppet - oh what joy.

On we glide, into atmospheric panoramas where escapist respite is found.  'Confidence Killed' has an inkling of westernised spaghetti dripping its juices into the fray. The cathedral vocals soon combat this initial feeling and when matters ascend to more breezy echelons I am soon left wondering where matters actually transitioned.  This is a song that needs time, and time I duly donate.  I am appreciative of the whisked and lightly fanned orchestration and the thermally tepid feel that comes, caresses and leaves one feeling all the better for the encounter - 'nice' is the word to sum up, a simple word, overly used perhaps and one folk say should not be used too often, here I feel this little description is ideal.

'Asleep' is a choice encounter with melodic realms soporific, elfin and somewhat tranquillizingly terrific.  The delicacy of note, the positioning of the tympanic trinkets and wire applications is all done with care so that the float-away, river-blue freshness of the oral donator can bob along both sanguine and  uplifting and, may one add, innocent.  The abstract reverie summoned to the fore of the attentive gunk is one of mellow hues and slowly swirling montages where nothing offensive or too flamboyant is found - this is a quite sweet state of play.

'Isolation' begins with a greater determination in the groove.  The lick is immediately found, the tremulations are solid without being harsh and the gift of the warbled serenade tissue-kisses away any temptation to overly concrete matters.  Virginal gossamer waftings with a sturdy underscore of insightful applications are the name of the game here as the band cement that which has been and that which I hope, is to come.  Nothing new arises from the Fotokiller's portfolio of presentations but then again, at this stage, nothing has to - I refer to this as a reliable number. 

I pluck a brace, I am met with the rolling seas of time washing forth on desolate beaches where one is given time to stop, stare, consider. 'Sea Of Thoughts' swishes in and takes another wind-blown stance atop a cliff-top view with a great panorama unfolding for all to witness.  There is a graceful holistic warmth radiated here and a feeling of something utterly at one with the elements and the emotions. Again I am tenderly gratified but a warning must be issued 'do not go overkill on the artform you have found, make sure you are always reaching out into sonic pastures new'.  There, said it!  The second titivator of the twin-pack is entitled 'Lovers Undercover', and what we get is a twitter tinkle, a more determined approach into the fields of frisky swinging with the loop completed with more wire manipulations.  The chorus opens its arms and embraces those curious enough to get up close and personal - the result is a well-felt thermal energy and another emotively soaked brush with something susurrating and sub-serenading.  A fair deal methinks, and one done in the bands non-invasive style.

'Jaded' runs under its own steam with moments taken to strum hard and prepare.  Overall the colour scheme of the structure is similar to what has been and so some dramatic effect is lost but, if one cares to take this as a standalone piece and then judge, the impression is greater.  The vocals are as dreamy as ever and of a lilt that is soothing and easy to digest.  No great shakes, no duff ditty - as steady as she rolls sir.

'Dead End' is a little too vague in its execution and just lacks a tangible quality that I find elusive at the best of times.  The fluttery feel and the general stimulus of sound is neatly self-perpetuating but we seem to be on a misted flatline here with undulations lacking and general zeniths nowhere to be found.  Have I outlasted my welcome with the tones on offer, am I being too picky, am I asking too much?  As a reviewer I can only be honest and try and squeeze the best out of each and every band - this latest song is OK but it could be so much more.

We finalise matters with 'Echoes', a closure that starts with sombre rumbles and barely discernible twinklings.  We fall into a welcoming void of nowhere, with no regrets, no ambitions, no need to escape the decline.  This is a decent descent into the end silence and leaves me smiling, considerate and appreciative.  Again the mode is as you were, there are no last minute tangents tossed into the fray and certainly no unexpected eruptions, the crew slip away similar to the way they sidled in, a very gentle punctuation mark is left.

A surprise package that I have found to my liking for the greater part of matters.  I am a great believer in variation and this is a CD that adds to my listening matter but, which in itself, lacks any great contrast.  This is how matters roll and many (I am sure) will not be niggled by this but many, won't be doing a review, and what I do is meant in the most constructive way possible with the usual honesty the only way I can operate - nah, nah, nah!

COLD WAR - ILLUSION: THE COMPLETE STUDIO SESSIONS

Grow Your Own Records reaches back into the grimy DIY times and showcases the workings of a band who formed around 1980 in Hornchurch, Essex.  The sonic style is very post-punk and of its time which, is a good thing I feel, as it brings to the fore many musical qualities that are overlooked in these overly processed times.  The band barely made a dent in the saturated scene but they did what they did, moved on and put out some solid tunes.  With 11 tracks to handle, I give you the following appraisal.

We begin with 'The Machinist', a delicious Metropolistian bare basic matter of musical industry, borne from a time when fandangle gadgetry was void, reliance was on the basics and the cultured tones of the operator.  The whole feel of this is of yesteryear with an efficient modus-operandi not to be denied as the inner wheels turn, the incessant gears grind and the quality of production is both a paradoxical combination of the raw and the exact.  An apocalyptic sound that has an undercurrent warning - the dystopian controllers are still at work folks.  This is a fascinating number that has rode the passage of time and still comes up smelling of polluted roses - nice.  'Suffering By Fire' has a really post-punk feel and more of the industrial/organic hybridisation that gives the whole concoction 'earthy life'.  The vocals remain lucid at all times and so attract a sing-a-long stance from those very much in line with this somewhat austere creation.  The relaxation into the chorus is neatly done and eases up some of the cultivated tension.  The bass and sticks keep the rhythm held, the guitar is left to adorn and add threat - I am finding myself absorbed thus far.

'Cold War' has a certain delicacy, a very careful approach that sees touches minimal, the tribal underscore come more to the fore and the vocalist is left to stand on a precipice and be duly judged.  Personally I think the oral offrings are ideal for the style set and the whole concoction has a gentle profundity that some may miss. From the ashes of things more spiked but with an equal amount of emotive content.  This isn't my favourite track, it does require a little more patience and lacks a certain 'snag' factor but it has good texture, moves with an assured fluidity - it does what it does but I do prefer the ensuing 'Illusion', a very tortured sounding song with a switch in anguish, placidness and something akin to defeatism, all areas operate well together whilst the band stick to the tonal trend and austere scaffolding of sound.  The Killing Joke essence and of things aggravated brings the song greater reward and the somewhat easy application by the players makes for a moment more approachable.  There is a grimy dust cover thrown back here and all that appears is not as clean and hygienic as many may want - this is a real plus point.

'Those Who Die' has an excellent skip and strum approach with a great liveliness underscoring the more sober and matter-of-fact oral outpourings.  I like this one a lot, there is good zest and a concrete contrast factor going on with none of the old school vibes lost.  The clarity is again a key factor as is the overall running time - it all matters and if the song overran into realms of poseurs and the self-absorbed, matters would be truly diluted.  Thankfully the band have it just right - I move on enthused. 'Out Of Contact' stays within the tonal territory already traversed, it is a consistent number with a middling noise that refuses to be carried away on the success so far. Stark yet somehow saturated, the bass has a solid weight, the skins are seen to be given a good working over if one cares to concentrate on that tympanic realm and the guitar is flicked, scuttled and manipulated with artistry.  I find this one a creeping grower - it gets better with each rotation and there seems to be Banshee-esque touches coming through as well, sweet!

Onwards, 'The Picture' rises from the ashes of silence and is in no great rush.  A dreamy serenade done in hues subdued and with an hazy, lazy overlay that leaves me a trifle cold.  This is a very atmospheric number borne from frosted wastelands of a seeming contemplative solitude.  Rather than a liquid flow we have a lacrymal trickle with a despondent sensation emanated.  The tonal application is exact and the palette used is ideal for the end portrait achieved but the strokes are too prolonged and lacking in determination.  'The Visitor' is of a similar strain and composition although here we do get splashes of lighter shades and a more flowing gracefulness.  Suggestions of something positive arise whilst those machine-like workings all operate, this time with a more background feel.  This isn't a bad do but not one I would reach out to play with any regularity.  

The back three come, 'Lesson' leads the way - tempered bass, glinted glasslight shimmers, a semi-robotic tickle and vocals of quirky character.  Abrupt shifts arise, I am thrown off kilter and struggle to regain a balance of assessment.  I bear with matters, this is a strange imp of insidious shape-shifting that I just can't seem to fully grasp and appreciate.  An oddment to digest over many spins and I still suspect one will come up short with any true verdict.  Not a classic, not a favoured gem but, there is something there that just niggles my senses of appreciation - I suspect it is the fact that the song is well played, is created by people who know what they want to create and are happy with the end result.

'Man And The Insect' is a profound and insightful piece with true reality observed and the meaning of life explored.  The angles from which matters are seen, the questions posed and the matter-of-fact statements that expose futility and ongoing blindness all combine to draw in my interest whilst the carefully designed orchestration, that remains mostly minimal, contributes to a  winning end result.  The bass seems to be the driving force here, it is deliciously delivered, Severin-esque is you ask me whilst the tympanics and strings are kissed with a gothika and oppsoing futurism - nice.

'Final Joy' sets a scene with four wiress caressed and another barely touched.  The tempo is middling, the scenario gentle, tepid and thought-laden.  The oral accoutrements seem a little freer here and have a notable freshness whilst being gently marinated in a sauce of fretfulness.  The intensity of sound only builds with a slow and deliberate purpose but we are drawn in, consumed and if the right volume levels are applied, piqued.  This is definitive time and place music and for those who are quite happy to move away from things shackled, overly structured and purposefully generic - it is no bad place to be in.

This, for me, shows a band who had some real charm in their early days, a charm that appealed to my DIY instincts and set them on a good footing to trespass outside certain boundaries.  Trespass they did, a fine move although I felt they failed to match their earlier delights whilst becoming a more cultured band.  Again, this is down to personal tastes and it cannot be said this band did not push themselves, take a chance and follow their desires.  This CD has been a really interesting throwback with much relevance still found. I say good on the label for throwing this back out there and the band for making these snippets of testing sound.