FUNGALPUNK - CD REVIEWS Page 1
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THE UNDERDOG - BACK IN THE DOGHOUSE From the Busker-Do that is Dean R comes some purist DIY spillage that is laden with sugar, spice and all manner of cacophonic condiments. Some angles may upset, others may soothe but this is from a man who plays it on the street (perhaps the most purist form of DIY akin to the birds singing in the trees), we get what we get and all is done with a lo-fi quality and an under-scrubbed rawness. The pompous may turn up their noses, the gutterpunks wallowing in reality may just well love it. 'Wankers' opens, a vicious piece with fangs bared that are happy to dig deep into the jacksies of the doubters and downshouters. A cool rusty edged guitar lick, some steady sticks and a tidy underlay comes with the verses easily joined in with and the title drawl a sign of the times and the folk that just want to piss on the chips of those doing something. Their ethos is a deep-rooted problem - 'I'm a wanker doing nothing, they are doing something so I must put down to justify' - this is an apposite number and does the job. The ending is rather abrupt and into the gentle tones we soon recline. 'Inject Me' is reminiscent of what goes on with the creator, it reminds me of blues past and tonal times when my reviewing mitts were asked to tap out considerations. A thoughtful song, semi-submerged vocals, barely touched instruments and a concoction that gently ascends, offers up a self-assuredness whilst remaining composed and pootling along in a quite DIY and unassuming way - have that. 'The Pipers Call' has a jolly juiciness whilst sniping at those awash with arrogance. Multihued textures float in and out, copulate and create another smooth and underprocessed lo-fi escapade borne from the street, the heart and the soul. Simplistic creations with a personal touch and away from the money-doused shittery that can indeed mar the reality. Neat enough, the beetling end result is groovy man and of a certain cut of the cloth. 'Sunshine Blue' has the most obvious solar lit laze lilt thus far, with an accent straight from a far off sun-doused porch where the silhouetted player can be seen strumming away and in his own soothing groove. The submission into the sonic flow is perspiration free, right on down there baby and of a reclining rhythm that is easy to drop off too. A summer day serenade when avoiding the usual flow and pissing on the polished, processed punks and affected rebels - ya hear me? Into the mush we meander with all muscles massaged and feeling good. 'Downtown USA' mutters, train-track shuffles with the production being a little lower than the other tracks and so throwing this number into the coal dust. I listen in, the fires are gently stoked, the accents suitable and the wheels turn with good gusto. A remix though is needed as the values of the vibes are just a little too clogged. A decent song striving to rise from the plumes - I am frustrated. 'Skin 'n' Bone' taps away, sub-skiffles and keeps all things azure and downbeat. A funky opening verse played with an ad hoc style that seems to flow as matters go. The chorus is slipped into like a buttered-up Jack Russel down a rabbit hole and the groove that comes is one that is really turning the player on. The harmonica joins in the relish rhythm, the usual underground scuzz continues in an easy song that keeps the CD moving. 'W. T. F. Y.' is a basic song that saws away, repeats the same statement over and over with an added question so as to cover all bases. The content, the creation and the whole darn arrangement is obvious and without any distraction and... it works. A song borne form a man disgruntled and perhaps tired of those pricks who look down on others and think they are better with no real reason had. The world is full of self-important shitbags all looking at others failings rather than their own mess - fuck em'. There is a good heel-dug defiance here and a pertinent poser placed before many mushes. I reckon working the streets as a DIY musician is the inspiration behind this ditty - I applaud and am right behind the DIY warriors. A soundbite, no work, no hope, a dreary drift into 'Hey Boy' we go. A bleak song, one again that deals with being on the outside and struggling. The shuffling guitars, the back rhythm and the suffocated vocals are all sweetened during the chorus cut when she-touches join the fray and add a little extra depth and a soothing sensation. The combo of the dirty dog and the massaging lass lilts as well as the direct arrangement make this a right good tickler. Pluck, consider and carefully place the lyrical content. 'Dead Towns' rings bells, peals with visions of areas now ghostly where only the shadows of visitors long past remain. The country falls apart, places that were thriving are now falling by the wayside and one can almost see this lone player, on a dirty litter strewn street corner, hanging on by a mere plucked thread. A touching, emotive and stripped naked number that rises, adorns itself with glory and gets noted as a stand-out moment. Quite lovely in the most wretched kind of way. 'Chemicals' is a groovy gonad grabber that just stays a little too submerged for its own good. DIY is the only way but sometimes we have to make sure we get the best out of ourselves and our tunes. This one needs a cleaner cut to fully accentuate the tonal touches, the jiving juiciness and the overall rock and roll rhythms. There is a good song screaming to be fully released - I remain frustrated with this one. 'Evel Knievel' is a nice cutlet and takes me back to the days when that egotistical maniac was on World of Sport trying to jump a line of buses whilst kids playgrounds were cut in two by the wind up toys that really did the business. A smooth and slow-growing tickle that is nothing complex or politically involving, just a tidy switch off moment looking at times when we were less diluted, digitally drained and unrushed. Get the kids enjoying the toys, bring back the raw-assed stuntmen and keep it fuckin' real ya bastards. Closing time folks, last orders please and as we head away we have 'Clear And Present Danger' and 'Stuff Em' All' to see us on our way. The former track has a swanky recline, a perspiration free brow and a matter-of-fact acceptance of a situation that is just how it is. No stress, no hassle, easy tones whilst one musical foot is placed in front of the other and the job continues to be done. A bit of melodic weaving in the most subdued way and into the finale it is with a straight forward snarl and a two-fingered salute to many folk. Bad-mouthing wankpots are told what is what with a repeat beat primeval stress reliever that it may be good to join in with - therapy incarnate methinks with a jaunty undertune. Hey, another CD reviewed and one from the pure streets. Busking along, staying strong and getting a gong of appreciation from this rhythm reprobate - I have the guy booked to come and play a gig, we have to roll together in the stormy and unforgiving acoustic oceans - now get some of this or stick to things more diluted. |
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BOGGIS FRINGE - DESPERATE DREAMS DESTROYED From Leeds come a trio of tunesters who border on punk but also have their tonal toes dangling in other sonic pools. There is a distinct throwback quirkiness that one could easily try and pigeonhole but really, what is the fuckin' point? As a well-worn reviewer all I can do is listen in, toss around the palette and spit forth honest and hopefully accurate words. I am rather eclectic in my tastes (well, I hope so) although there are certain strains of sounds that really dampen my spirit of positivity, particularly country and western and jazz. Hopefully we can avoid those two realms of rhythm, but I go in cold and am all rather clueless (smashing ain't it). 'Handbag' is a cornucopia of sub-Cramp'ed abstraction, all posted through the aural letterbox under a 1st class tag of quirkiness and with the contents hanging out at various angles and leaving the assessor initially off-balance. The music sits very nicely into my multi-angled and awkward noggin and the ambiguity of the detail all adds to my intrigue. Definitely music borne from neither left or right field but from a pasture awash with blended hues and clashing textures. I wander amid the sonic spread, feel the flavours and embrace the sway - I am liking the outré approach and something that is not as conventional as I expected. If you dangle the angle I am a real sucker.
'Authorities' has a fine pound, a lovely angular feel that leans many ways and always seems on the cusp of a crackpot breakdown. A thrust, a contemplation and verbals that are neatly delivered in a sung/spoken hybridisation that really sets off the whole discombobulating affair. The creative juices are multihued and the unorthodox orchestration all make for a fascinating sensation that reinforces a recent 'live' viewing where I was left with a very rewarding session of sound. The terse tonal running time, the seeming uncertainty for the listener and the quality of the application all make for another intriguing snippet. 'Rave Scene' and a clutter tumble followed by a groovy lick that gets the juices flowing and the tangent-tossed tune lover aurally agog. There is a darkness within the weave, some accomplished bassism and a controlled stick service that keeps all in check. The vocals are simple but effective, the string work has depth and despite being a quite uncomplicated number the fascination factor remains vibrant. Chugs and changes, channelled energy and a fresh breeze blowing through all the nooks and crannies and my lugs say that the job is a good un'.
We close this curious quartet with the relatable 'I Spoke Out Of Turn' - a yarn that is a throwback scrawl across your memory banks where hauntings of brutal and idiot educators came, scarred the soul and left us to drop into the world. The matter of fact approach rides aloft on a textured underscore that remains sober before rising in accent and appetite during the easy swing of the chorus. Chug bass, post-punk seasonings and saltings of things slightly gothic. For the slowest track of the lot and the downbeat soberness I think this one works mighty darn well and is a good point on which to punctuate an enveloping aural treat. Boggis Fringe have me absorbed, I like their style. I didn't know that their recent gig they played for this old Rot and Roll Fungalleer was their 2nd - by crikey it were a good do! I am hoping to have them parade their sounds on a Fungal stage again, it needs doing and their kind of sonic spice adds to the mixed dishes I like to offer. This is a compact and choice CD - invest your lug time folks.
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MAGIC OF THE MARKETPLACE - THE SPECTATORS ARE LEAVING A band made up of members who have done their time, and continue to do so. Melodic and progressive this Blackpool based unit keep the flow running with another 5 tracks which I think is the best way. EP's do the job, offer a taste and leave folk wanting more (well, if the job has been a good un'). I have an inkling what to expect here - well-produced, carefully thought out tuneage from a sub-niche that many overlook. I dip in and play, play some more and then spill the following considerations.
'When The Story Ends' is gritty, biting and begins with twilight guitars and the odd boom from down below. A terse flourish and the smoke-tonsil’ed opening vocals come and radiate an assured confidence and character. The music is natural, without too much in the way of orthodox routine and radiates a certain relaxed and cultured essence. The arrangement is of the post-punk/melodica style but trying to pin labels on bands is all very subjective and we are far better off just going with the feel. The music is compact, the scaffolding tight and the delivery as one would expect - with weight and effectiveness. You need a few listens to adjust methinks, but once in tune the impact and impression is all the better.
'The Spectators are Leaving' is a powerful song with encouraging hollers and a Cult'ish guitar sequence thrown in amid the regulated and rocking and rolling rhythm making. At all times the gob at the fore adds thermal energy and a sinewy strength that enhances the overall believability of the track. The words remind me of many a gig where people fuck off early and leave many with hopes abandoned. In life, before the party is over, many fuckers are off out of it after using and abusing. Fuck em' - if they do nothing we carry on. My fave track is labelled here, tis a meaty affair.
Sharp suited guitars, a polished boot stomp and a gruff and growling opening gob assault. The bass is battered, the guitars manipulated with artistry and the skins savaged with good intent as 'There's A Darkness' carves out its groove with focused fire in the belly and a straight ahead drive that exposes healthy muscularity. Space is a rare commodity as the saturation point is reached and maintained with a rising pressure taking us to the last hurrah. A robust song that mainly thrives due to the fact it doesn't fuck about, hang about and over elaborate. 'The Natural Order Of Things' is a funny number that is a lovely change but which doesn't float my boat. It feels as though it is not quite blended right, is caught in several minds and never really blossoms as an individual number. It is a light and somewhat fluffed up affair with a chomping at the bit had but no real breakthrough made. I listen in, find solace in the latter end of the track when things are a little more off the leash, but overall, nah - not for me although I do appreciate the necessity to change things up.
'What's The Remedy' cuts in, cracks a sturdy whip and bounds in with a flourishing hunger and relish. From the off this is a highly animated and ruddy rambunctious reveller with a spine as sturdy as a metallised King Kong. A real good groover with all areas aflame, in cahoots and clobbering out a sanguine spirit lifter that showcases a band on their game. Despite the twists and turns within the tune, the band maintain a tight grip on the orchestration whilst applying good power and high precision and, may one add, an obvious passion for the creation of a racket. The lads know their stuff and my previous fave track as just been outdone.
Well, 5 tracks is a suitable number of songs, four are real bollock-wallopers and one leaves me a trifle cold. Hey, no reviewer can like everything, no reviewer should offer up bullshit and we can all only be honest, hopefully fair and constructive. This is a sound CD indeed with a couple of real zeniths that exhibit a band with great prowess and know-how and with a strain that, in a scene torn asunder, rogered and raped, with a something a little different. 'Keep at it' is my advice to the band, 'have a nosey' are my words to you the reader.
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BLACK SHEEP D - BLACK SHEEP EP A delve into the DIY discordance of a one man plucker, an area that I have penetrated before and I am proud to say, still managed to avoid a prison sentence. A quartet of curios here, done with the same drive and recognisable tones which, as it transpires, is no bad thing. So let us see what this bastard from Boston has in store, I am blessed to be requested for a review and even if I hate the whole spillage am very respectful for the outpouring and the ethos behind it.
Baa, Baa, blah, blah and 'Black Sheep' enters the eavesdropping pastures where my lugs are open and I am happy to wallow in the dung. A gentle fuzzery and an escorting twinkle tickle with an earthy undulation all make for an opening episode that immediately gets the lower trotters tapping and the bonce nodding along. This is a gentle laid out tune with a rebellious defiance that refuses to join the grey mush and be one of the pack. A celebration of being an outsider and being classed as a 'freak' by those mentally shackled and governed by dictates spewed forth by the fashion fucks and money-making tossers of trend. The ovine bleat, they all follow the leader, this tune cracks on amidst the pack and is a good light shining for the oddball. A quaint and effective start.
'Bitter Taste' is a real choice cutlet, borne from an injured heart with a life of woes it seems. The sorrowful shuffle has a sobered and acceptant outlook with scars bared and there for one to read. This song is played from the standpoint of an introspective bod who is beaten down, ragged and worn and looking for some form of escape. The underlay of acoustica is a delight and the emotional content perfect for a cruise that cuts out a very defining groove and really appeals to the inner soul. A veritable gem methinks.
'Just A Poor Boy' is a low-slung mutt that keeps its belly close to the sun-baked ground and shuffles along minding its own business. Pure bluesy snuffling with all the essences of the scene and the DIY depths. A combo rarely touched one would think but listen to the old vibes and all the trademark touches are there. As we coolly travel along there be nerve twangs alongside the wallowing accents and the usual focused backdrop of well-directed sound and of course, all the while we feel switched off and very chilled. Job done - yeah - I think so!
'Knocking On My Door' is a reactive track that seems just thrown off the cuff. There is a bitterness within the weave but a glorious determination not to sell out to meet the needs of those who like things processed, parcelled, packaged and of obvious leanings. Yes - if you don't play ball and your face doesn't fit it is the shit end of the stick for you but... the fuckers who claim to be winning are not, they are just diluted sell-outs playing a game to get to a place that has no depth and really does nothing for the inner soul. The musical flow here is a little too jerky for me and this is not my favourite tune but, the approach, the content and the attitude win genuine applause and support. Do it, do it yourself, and never, ever dilute to get on!
I am a fan of this plucking fucking gent. A busker that does. A busker who takes a fair share of shit. A busker who does it his way and who, carries on regardless of the down shouters, doubters and masters of doing fuck all themselves. 4 tracks worthy of picking up and throwing into your personal playlist - or is it not polished enough for ya - bah!
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THE WEBB - I LOVE HALLOWEEN 2 lovely folk, came, dabbled, played a few Fungal gigs in their embryonic stages, and then duly departed the DIY scene. I am still in touch with these poppets of perversity and am overdue a meet-up. In the meantime I have been requested to review a CD they almost overlooked - ooh the silly sods. With the usual mystery, sable sinisterism and electro slice of the macabre the duo do, delight and leave me wanting another 'live' fix. Alas an 'in the flesh' show will not be, but we can still dream.
Click, clack, shuffle attack and then the cream-dream opening synthoid automation comes. 'I Love Halloween' is built on a subtly punchy bassline as well as the interstellar keyed pulsations and the tiptoe rhythm of the tympanics. The lead lass stays within the cavernous shadows, echoes out her verbals, each statement frosted through and dripping with icicles of gothic intrigue. A celebration of the time of year when ghoulies dance, witches take to the air and all manner of creepy-crawlies take centre-stage. There is an absorption in the event, an involvement in the dark side with the players beyond hope. I think this is a really captivating and uplifting tickle and will enthuse anyone to admire their cobwebs and feel liberated as the spiders legs dangle.
'Free Floating Anxiety' is a song I can relate to as a long tern sufferer of cranial mither. A somewhat cold and bleak tune that examines a state of stress that really is a fucker to control. Head sparks, bodily weakness, a feeling on no control and a deep-rooted nebulous fear that just cannot be captured and tamed. The slow persuasive throb and nag-nag modus operandi deals with the subject matter quite ideally and perhaps ensnares the feeling we victims are striving to escape. A slow potboiler then creeps in and takes over (just like the ruddy condition methinks) - is this a good thing or a bad thing - cripes where's me Citalopram?
'Black And Grey' chugs away with a pestering consistency, like a flame-haired demon child tugging at the sleeves and striving for attention. From the opening strains of taut and troubled tensions things pan out in automated style with a regimented routine the band are very much smitten/accursed by. A mental strain is uncovered, an inner suffering that shackles and suffocates. There is something disturbing and haunting about this monochrome movement that seems to be stuck in a damning rut. There is also something innately perverse radiating from this one that somehow enchants, mesmerises and wins applause - I just don't know what that darn X-Factor is!
And we close, 'Tortuous Misfortune' is the final escapade, a groovy light-swirl captivator that twirls to the tone, skips to the serenade and all the while dips in and out of the mysterious crannies of untrustworthiness. The flow is electrically charged and running smooth whilst the vocals are slightly iced, from the ether beyond and always lucid. From the initial pulses of hesitancy, through the outré tunery and the wired up weaving, to the final cable collapse, this is a good way to close a neat little synthed up package of sound.
The Webb have been, created their embracing intricacies, fed on your feedback and duly fucked off. A couple of fine folk, doing what they want, how they want, in purist DIY fashion. Will there be more tricklings coming our way? I hope so but for now, enjoy this overdue release and beware the arachnids of sonic shiftiness.
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2 LOST SOULS - TALK, LISTEN No tossing about here, I have done a recent 3 tracker by this lot and I go in again. Half Edge Records is the label who do their stuff and help get these vibes out there, this cunt is a mere eavesdropper requested to feedback in his Fungalised style - there is no other way. And so 'Labour Under Illusions' begins, a sonic saga with mystic manifestations of softened flavours borne from far flung areas. A nice anti-prejudice rant, pointing the finger at those that are hate filled in all realms. We follow the usual route that the creators cultivate – background/underground music and a simple overlay of thought. Again, nothing is gospel, you have to make up your mind about what is being said but believe me there is a fair bit of sense spilling here. I rate this, as I rate all the produce by this unit as 'inclusion music' - music to be included in a mix of other rackets - interlude invasions with their own relevance. 'Talk And Listen' is a neat number, a touching little episode of the usual combo with a relaxed manner sending forth a good message. Talking is a good thing, listening an equal blessing, it is funny now to see a world communicating all the time but nothing being said. This reminds me of a breakdown, a time of dashing and self-induced solitary confinement when we shut off and just care about self. This one, perhaps like some conversations goes on a bit and I do drift off, I am guilty as charged but I like the chilled essence, the thought process and the human touch.
The last of the three and 'The Morning After The Night Before' is borne on exotic, sub-erotic tremulations with a sober slant coming via the speaking serenader. A look back on a night of mistakes and verbal drivel with the foot in the shit and the error of ones ways coming back to haunt. The musical swing increases as emotions also ascend, embarrassment is not shied away from as we have a confessional many of us will be able to relate to. I like this one, I rate it the best of the trio - the cool tone and content work well - job done.
Hey this is not music, not raw poetry, not really anything other than individualistic creativity being delivered in an individualistic way. Like it you may, some may not give it credence but this stuff matters and although I can take or leave it, we must have folk dabbling outside the orthodox and throwing in their own shades to the sonic spectrum.
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ZOO PARTY - XX I think I have reviewed all of the releases by this band and having seen them 'live' too, I can honestly say I am a fan. The T-Shirt I had was worn til it rotted on my back, I need to get another methinks and spread the word. What I like about this lot is they play with good pace, a fine popped up clarity and with suggestions of sonica from here, there, now and then. Here I have 13 tracks to deal with, unlucky for some, lucky for others - we shall see!
'Total Tantrum' taps in, captures a great lick and plays away from a slightly cavernous oubliette thus giving the song a subversive lo-fi appeal. Despite this there is a sound element of pop punkery and the expected effervescing enthusiasm and all round directness and unity. Good earthy sound with a core that is kept stripped down and gently built upon with no thought of idiot and pointless accoutrements. This is 100% typical ZP produce - orthodox, straight forward and zippy nippy man. 'An Eye For An Eye' quickly follow, pounds in with greater gumption and as a result, gets bigger note. The opening verse is sublime and gently encroaches into our private listening space. Open, well-aired and exact with an ascension to the very effective 'sing-a-long' chorus that really perks up the soul. The strings are, as expected, tight and ruddy effective, the flourishing goodness and unifying embrace of the song works a treat and as I re-spin I feel a fine song unfold and one that is surely worthy of a good work-out session to get the blood pumping along with the vibes.
'Under My Skin' has a mean groove as well as a brisk and happening impetus. We are thrown in without apology or any chance to prepare. Riffs, vocal statements and repeat before a brief roll, a twist and into the basic chorus we go. A quatro-echo and we continue, into the mush of another basically orchestrated song that cutely progresses and pleases no end. The artistry of these affairs lies in the fact that the band do what they do with polish and good effect and leave the reviewer with little to say - that is the sign of some sharp music-making methinks. 'I Miss Me' cruises in with upbeat tones, adopts the usual posture, this time with a down-hearted viewpoint and a certain self-loathing. A look-back to times when one felt fresher and more purer is had, a longing to be a better bod is the call and although the content has a pang, the tune itself has a ping. A real episode of encouraging fuel to pour on your fading embers and get the flames of enthusiasm burning bright. A quality combo and keeping the whole affair... glowing.
The next trio and a pulse, a light crisp overlay, a promise and then a crash, bang and wallop (all done in the coolest possible way). 'Power Play' carries on with lightened tones, is an easy meander without any barbs or offensive angles. The crew are perspiration free here and not really pushing matters. I do prefer it when the pace is upped and the riffage more obvious and rocking and although this is a tidy tune and supremely hygienic, I find it is the weakest of the pack so far and one I can take or leave. It may be a bit to professional for me and a trifle too fluffed up. 'Bulls Eye' scuzzes in, fights for air and then after a brief pause, races on. A slightly scurfy sound with a cold and stated verse that opens up and reveals a subtle venom via a chorus that brandishes a blade with a slightly sable edge. The heads are down, the number is nailed with little fuss and is over and done with in the twitching of a nerve-riddled eye. 'Kir' is a 4 second snip, quicker than reading this review - the verdict - why?
'Stop It Now' races along with a wraparound pivot of rhythm that the song uses to propel itself forward. A real fizzing energy burst this, with splendid impetus and from the pounding commencement we have a gushing, rushing, pushing thrust of liveliness that the band do so well. Hop on board, come for a cruise along the highway - an unstoppable explosion of combustion that is a delight. 'Never Say Die' jumps straight in, drives a mean groove and slaps away with fervour. A no-nonsense verse and into the chorus we go - without hitch and as smooth as butter. A very resounding skip has me captivated and tapping the lower extremities. The youthful exuberance and breezy lusty lilt hold up the gratifying fluency and this one glides by and leads us into the thermally warming and quite comforting nugget known as 'Frontline'. This one is built on tasty ingredients and nutritious noise fundamentals and just goes about its business in a well-balanced and winning way. All contributors are, as usual, given good airspace and a fair chomp on the tuneful cherry whilst making for a very agreeable musical moment. Safe man, safe and very secure!
3 to go, 'Devils Twin' chops in and ends on a very strong note. In between we get the usual Zoo Party cruising with the guitars utterly harmonic and watertight and the vocal work as clean cut and embracing as per. Straight forward Zoo Party noise - what can I add? The band do this stuff without hardly thinking and this one slips into the pack with little fuss. For me, 'Up To You' is the highlight of the closing hat-trick and perhaps, the best song of the lot. I love the spunky opening lick, the chug steady verse, the sanguine injecting style and the liquidity of the very reclined routine. I think the band should do a few skanky numbers on the back of this, I reckon they would do it well but in the meantime, this is a sugar-sweet visitor that is welcome in my aural home any day of the year. Ramp up the volume, get a big slice of self-confidence, devour and go forth assured. Massive. The closure comes with the rather sedate 'Busy Making Difference' - a slow cruise that leaves no bruise and just floats its way to destination 'finale'. A creamy, dreamy opening, a rather unhurried push and a switch back to a slow assurance that all will be well. No stresses or strains here, I would have preferred a good walloping blow out to finish but hey, this is a curio that eases us out after yet another fine release from a band that are in their own zone.
Aye lad, Zoo Party never fail to invigorate, and they do what they do with accomplished aplomb. Nah then, Fungal is pleased once more but the screws are turned and this bugger wants the crew to test their own mettle. How about a 5 tracker next time with something really different in the mix - a 100mph pop rattler, a ska blend and something that really lays on the riffage in obvious and old-school style. We gotta push folks and as a fan, it is my duty to keep squeezing the chaps to keep themselves entertained and of course, myself.
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NO MURDER, NO MOUSTSACHE - AS EVERYTHING ELSE DECAYS A plucker, a conscientious creator, a Celtic Punk artist they say - I know the script. I have the blighter booked, I have done 3 previous reviews - I think this may give hint on my thoughts. I am going in sober though and hold no patronising favours or willing to offer up any sycophantic shittery - honesty, good will and fairness is the only way I know, if it ain't good enough then I'll be buggered.
We begin with 'Intro (A Moment Of Reflection)' - a slow and steady heart-bearing and an insight into what to expect. The strings ascend and descend, there is a deep rooted transparency here, and a whole wealth of promise. The initial clarity is noted, one hopes it continues into the depths of the discordance, and beyond. The atmospheric foundations fill up the soundscape after much mulling over and this is a more than adequate lead into the album proper.
We begin with 'A Demon In The Dark' a real hop, skip and hump bouncer that has a lush relish to get one immediately involved. Political kick back comes via the crystal clear babbling brook of the opening verse. There is a solid orchestration here and it is more than obvious that a lot of thought has gone into producing the end creation. The chorus cuts slip in and out with ease, there is a tenacity within the tone and the quick-step gallop is played out with good precision and many obvious sub-scene nuances. If you are a devotee of this kind of dinnage you will be hopping and skipping with unbridled joy. 'Dic Penderyn' follows, a song about a Welsh labourer and coal miner who was hanged in 1831 for allegedly stabbing a soldier during the Merthyr Rising. A plucky opening, one to get your feet moving to with a skip in the saddle generated. The tale of the example made unfolds, the red flag of the workers is stained with the blood of a leader, a leader with defiance at his core. The winds of the orchestration blow with high relish and captivating animation, the aftermath of a miscarriage of justice is exposed, we see that once again the powers that be are corrupt. The impetus is fluid, the pluckery infectious and again all areas are crystal clear. Bob on folks.
'Sending The Soldiers In' is a usual snippet with an emotive start, a certain disillusioned sadness and a feeling of hopelessness in a world of desperation. The opening verse is half naked with a sound undergallop with the chorus breezing in and adding a heightened sense of urgency and freshness. From here we race along with all areas indicative of the general modus operandi and aim. When the volume nob is twiddled and the emanations increased it is more than gratifying to feel a sonic soundscape that is saturated and mixed to a tee - a very polished end result is had.
Shuffling forth and 'Wasted' comes with good vigour, takes it easy and drifts forth before rising and taking us on a tidy tickle that throws a little caution to the wind (in many ways). Matters seem to abandon hope and suggest a 'fuck it and see' attitude. We all get times like this, the key is to dust down, kick back and recharge. The music here has a paradoxical perkiness, it has good life and texture and a sobered look. The world spins too fast and with an off-centre kink that discombobulates the senses, this sombre yet heartwarming tune reminds us that we best hang in and keep jigging and maybe... swilling!
A threesome dealt with in rapid Fungal style. 'Collateral Damage' is not an instantaneous boomer but steadily cultivates applause and a nod of approval. Politically aware and pootling along on perky heels. Parts are spartan, others sonically soaked, whilst all the while we have a clean cut tune that does well to rise from a rather tired out sounding start. The final burst of defiance is a good turnaround. Gothic tones from pasture bleak come via a keyed approach and a desolate feel. 'As Darkness Falls' is portfolio image of monochromatic heart pouring that deals with loss, memory and a determination to keep a light alive. A touching moment that doesn't shy away from deep-rooted hurt with the aim to try and help others make progress through many a darkened tunnel. Life is hard, sometimes cruel, why are we wasting time squabbling when we just need to reach out and help each other along. A well-crafted and neatly judged inclusion with added depth. 'Tested On Animals' strums in with patience, feels its way and then punches hard. The content is as suggested by the title - a good wallop against the animal abuse and the industries that make a bundle whilst disregarding many innocent creatures. As we, as self-appointed Gods, go forth and fuck up the planet and dish out much suffering we seem quite happy to make those trying to just get by, feel some pain. This is a bouncing song despite the subject matter. It has a good edge pressed against your throat to make you think twice. Consider your purchases, think beyond the smash and grab and 'I want' mentality and play this even louder if the message doesn't work. A fine song reminding me that we can all do a little more for the overall good.
Another trio, 'Celtic Skies' is a 'Wuthering Heights moment, a song that gives visions of lonely blasted moors where the wind dictates and the skies roll forth and help the time to fade away into the distance and memories to build. A look-back, a soppy song that is for a certain kind of folk. I am taken by the tune but the soft edge leaves me a trifle cold. A bit corned for me, I am an old sober bugger and am not keen on these waltzing fantasies - gimme good earthy reality and a chomp. I am sure some peeps will love the lilt here and who can blame em' - silly gits. We bound on with 'Never Again' a feisty fire-belly start, an acidic opening verse and a jabbing jauntiness laden with toxic juices. The mix of the galloping and the trotting is perfect, the fingerpoint at the money-sodden warmongering wankbag is pertinent in these (and all days) of war, bullying and power dictates. The impetus and general lucidity make this a stand-out and the overall fluency is choice.
Down the back stretch, 'One More Round' is a look back at a time when we aging creatures could all drink a bit more, soak it up like sponges and get hammered before bouncing up next day and not giving a toss. The drums roll us in, we bounce along with fresh zest and hark back to carefree realms that perhaps we should re-embrace. Can we do it without the booze though? Of course we can! An invigorating number that ends with an abruptness and leaves one wanting, well you guess it - another round, another spin! 'Second Chance' is a solid gear change with a clatter-batter attack pounding forth and pushing the creative forces into testing pastures. A thumping, humping blisterer that doesn't hang about or dilute matters with an overly long running time. In, rattle, out - job done and it is a good un' too, albeit basic, straight forward and without flamboyance.
A boozing song for the penultimate track. A corned aand crooning sozzled eyed soppy spill that has a tear-filled pondering played out above a military roll and emotionally kissed trickle. 'Raise Your Glass' is a maudlin moment that some half-soaked swillers will find a perverted solace in as well as those with inner grieving and a need to remember. I am not keen on this shizzle and even though this is a neat number that hits all the bullseyes it aims for it really isn't my cup of cha. I move on into the last hoping for a kick up the arse cacophony of greater chomp. The bonus track is entitled 'Grey Tracksuit' and celebrates the crunching of a racist's conkers in the sea resort of Southport. The video is online, a poser with a problem is dealt a couple of blows - one to the big head, one to the smaller head, and justice seems to be done (although is violence the answer and do we all have to sink to the basest level). This is a steady and strong song that finalises matters and rubberstamps the stance of the plucker and the whole ethos of what transpires. A song with chunky goodness and a concrete way to sign off - boom in the bollocks hey!
Well I hope I have summed up the CD as a whole, related my honest thoughts and got a few folk intrigued. This is quality stuff and if you like it or not it should be held in high regard for its approach, its passion and the polished delivery. I am looking forward to a 'live' fix, this will happen on a gig that is appropriately against 'hate' - we have to keep the flag flying and hopefully make for a better world. I think music like this is relevant and always will be and if you have ever had a housebrick in yer nuts due to idiot thinking, get this and play fuckin' loud.
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HURTING GERMS - TOXIC NIK EP A message, a request for gigs and response given explaining the ethos, the approach, the DIY attitude. Gigs will be forthcoming for this lot as they know the score and in the meantime I thought I would have a go at reviewing their EP. The bumph says 'Old School Punk Rock with a twist from Cardiff, led by the enigmatic Toxic Nik' - now this sounds tasty.
We begin with 'Toxic Nik' - a question is asked, a response given and then a song unfolds with an abundance of vicious comedy and a snot and spit joy of yesteryear when giving a fuck was not even worth a second thought. The initial verse is snarling and deliberately obnoxious - a tone set for the rest of the song as the mouth hollers and radiates an understanding of the controversial and comical whilst maintaining a good energy above the old wired scuzz fuzz and stabilising tympanics. A steady and acidic opener this but I do have a preference for the utterly defiant gob off of 'Shallow Grave'. A real kick-back fucker invigorated by the dictators of life out there and the piss-arsed know-it-alls who lack respect for others whilst thinking they are the sage retailers of learned living - ooh the daft cunts. This is toilet-toss, bog brush without fuss, pure punkery done with the DIY flag flying and the spirit not giving in. Yeah, there are basic qualities, yes there is a scummy edge and an obvious approach but... in this day and age of piss, polish and posing, by heck we need this shizzle. I like it, if you do or you don't - fuck ya.
'Idle Chat' skips in from the waffling, shouts out from a cavernous realm, and is a seemingly desperate dabble on the look-out for nothing more than meaning or purpose (aren't we all). A rabid ravaging that takes hold and finds its groove, a groove the song sticks to apart from a contemplative mid-way break that adds variation. Again we have travelled back, plucked out many fundamentals, passed by many years of affect and posing and slapped this one down on the table of the modern day tonal scoffer. Some will walk away upset, some may nibble and then go for more arranged fodder whilst some punk pigs will devour the whole mush til they puke - can you guess which one I will be? Yum, fuckin' yum.
'You Scum' is a scratching dog laden with frustrated fleas and irritating nibblers of disgruntlement. A blow-out that says how it is, spits back and just gets on with matters in a fairly short running time. What can I add here, there is vitriol, plenty of bollocks (and other bits bared), some meaty clod-hopping cacophony and all the hallmarks of a band not willing to ponce matters up. Shite-arsed, back-street punk - yeah, worthy of a listen for sure – get yer pogoing boots on.
As said, I am gonna book this lot, throw them in a Fungalised mix and enjoy these vibes on a 'live' setting. The bands they play with will hopefully be contrasting and complimentary and I know a fair few folk who will love what is happening here. Spiky, sincere and salivating - anything else is just a bonus although over a longer running time they are gonna have to vary matters up - watch this space.
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PICASSO BLOT - AGAINST THE WALL A band here, who have played a Fungalpunk gig and ruddy well impressed me. They are a hardcore band, smash and grab with great effect and were primarily based in Púchov (Slovakia) but are now plying their trade in Stoke on Trent (UK). They are a trio of terror, their first album was good but I suspected there was more in reserve, here I reckon they have topped their first effort and added extra sharp-edged nobs just for good measure.
A twinge, a splatter-clatter and a pounding riff. 'Spreading Plague' is impacting and forthright with a real power snag that attracts my attention from the off. A change in the onslaught comes with the impetus whipping and the roars unified in parts and gravel-gritted in others. The driving force is breathless and as I look at the running time I see the band are really trying to make one hell of an impact here. More subtle twists, the quality and application is supreme and here we have an opening machine-gun attack that will mow down the doubters and create real aural bloodshed amongst those on the periphery. A blazing beauty this that seems to be over in double quick time - scorch man, scorch.
'Wild Cry' pounds in, hollers and surges with high pressured passion. The strings are searing and the drums oh so reactive and clobbered with vim, vigour and great accuracy. Power chords, moments to pose, twists and taut twanging with an ongoing incessance that is neatly kept on the straight and narrow. A massive montage of forcible thriving with the pace and overall quality drenched musicianship all making for a mesmeric listen. The fact that this is hardcore doesn't mean melody is lost and things are hellbent on ear-destruction. The band are cultured and thinking, the driving core of the song is watertight, this bastard has a fine longevity factor for sure. 'Flush The World' is a fine title, by fuckin' heck, it needs flushing - right round the fuckin' u-bend methinks although if this cleansing operation just gets rid of the human filth and leaves the wild side with a purer realm then that would be some triumph. This hammer and tong rattler bounces in, takes stock, vomits forth a nasty bass and agitated guitar whilst the tympanics slap around. What comes shows a deep-rooted frustration and anxiety as well as another heavily-beefed up boomer that attacks from various angles whilst remaining one cohesive crackerjack. Fury and frenzy, a full focus and a relish for the rhythm make this another convincing clout around the lugs. The opening hat-trick is now a certified joy.
The next trio of twat-rattlers with 'Against The Wall' a place I know so well, in this DIY dogfight. A superb opening lick has me enchanted and the simple over-statements are perfect for accentuating the entire intro impact. The rush and gush, the change in tack and the machine-gun assisted defiance all help the ascending ill-temper to shine bright, pour forth and blister those who get too close. This is more evidence of a band who have grown in stature and who are upping their game. A marbleised number with a glossy finish and many sharp edges - we move on, absorbed. 'No Way To Survive' begins with enveloping waves before screwing down and rolling deep. Sharp pulsation before gruff growls are tipped over into your earholes. A routine verse flexes and stays rather orthodox before a musical pronouncement and a push forth. The main key here is the liquidity, the general smooth running and general unflustered application that makes a regularised song hold attention. The band are hardly breaking sweat here and I relate this just above middling but decent enough to keep this Fungalised Fucker absorbed whilst applauding the delivery. 'Konflikt Zivota A Smrti' is rattled out in the bands own language so this life and death conflict based boomer is beyond me. I love the opening preparations, the muscularity and the invaded wire coruscations - very nasty man. The song pummels with a tasty zoned in blistering, the full on harmonised hollerings work a treat and the switches and tonal twitches all help give this song depth whilst keeping the listener on the edge and having much to ponder. A fine piece of noise and again, highlighting the pure quality of this active unit.
'Čierna duša' comes next, no fucking about here as a black soul is delved into and is blatantly ravaged. A dark edged song with a somewhat malevolent feel. Hauntings comes via emotive guitars, cymbal whisperings and gothic bassism whilst we have the usual heavy slam-dunks and all out aggression. Metallic grooves invade, certain poundings and some top notch riffage in another montage of high calibre racket-making. Play this as a lone wolf and the impact it makes is all the greater - a quite magnificent sounding insert all adds to the weight. 'There's No God' is a shuffling sniper that releases the catch, squeezes the trigger and mows down all those who dare get in its path. There is a seething viciousness here that works and the fact that the song doesn’t overstay its welcome helps no end. There is little to add only it is one of my faves. 'Bludná cesta' thunders along with great energy and has a certain 'in the groove' zoning in that will not be derailed. The path will not be strayed from as the heads get down and we see the band execute another journey with good speed, adept ringcraft and a determination to only add intricacies now and then and when necessary. Overall this is a specimen of hardened granite with little in the way to make it a rhythmic runt. It sits in the pack and more than holds its own without being anything too flamboyant. A pure disgust with misbelief and faith not trusted almost spills over into a spasmodic seizure of fractured lunacy. The band somehow keep a grip on matters and make this one hell of an exciting racketeering with a lush punctuation at the end.
Into the last brace we go with the aggressive pummel of 'Deny The Policemen Of The World'. This is a violent and punishing song built on a gripping, tight as fuck verse and a very simple but ramrodding chorus that will get the rebels foaming at the mouth and jumping around with unified kick-back zeal. With a grimace and a snarl the main glut of the song is spat forth with a midway pounding and then a mad dash to the finale. The last blast comes via the stubborn soaked 'Never'. A long intro with sweet flamboyance and a time to take stock. This is another articulate and happening moment that displays the wealth of talent the band have at their disposal. A scatter spray and then a gruelling verse unfolds. The focus is high, the pace middling, the alteration of attack complimentary of a band in charge. Defiance, primeval explosions and some regular playing all combine to finalise matters in a solid and effective way - nice!
Yes, Picasso Blot have upped the ante and produced a really sound piece of work and yet still, I feel they have more to come. The direction in which the band are moving is the right one, I would like to see them throw in a few 90 second tumults on the next release though with all hands blazing and the pressure hitting level 'insanity'. This is a fuckin' good CD though, and they have another Fungalised gig lined up - once again, the expectations are rising - Oh the joys of DIY music!
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