Now picture this - 4 pluckers and fuckers with past lives doused in DIY dabbling and dubious happenings.  A stickman who once let a Hornby Mallard entered his back passage in the hope of raising money for the local Sexual Signal Box, a place where he carried out various obscenities against flag flying guardsman.  A guitarist who once smoked 7 spliffs using his oriental eye and ended up in front of the race relations board for offences against the local Triads and Rice Liberation Front.  Another guitarist who has slept his way to the bottom and hidden his Polish homosexuality behind a facade of male modelling and running a butchers shop.  And finally a frontman who has had several affairs with Captain Beefheart look-a-likes and who once set up a midnight meeting with a retailer of Bubble Helmets and got bummed at the back of a Rumbelows warehouse.  Now many reviewers would shy away from assessing the overspill of such deviants but - I like folk who have no boundaries, those who use their bodies as an affront to decency and those who are beyond hope.  Add to this the fact that these are ruddy nice guys, have played many a Fungal show in various guises and understand the DIY battle  - of course, in I go.  This is a fine 'live' unit, here I have been given the only copy to be released thus far - is this a kind act or a mere grooming situation that will leave me with very little elasticity left in the old duffelbag - I shall take the risk.

Firstly and 'Porton Down' is a cultured and erudite mellow drift with a great pastel stroke of impressive colourisation that wins applause without being vulgar and garish.  A carefully structured composite with all players given room and airspace and so making for an arrangement that really showcases a band thinking and avoiding the trappings of the 'orthodox genre' snare. This gently tainted observation of LSD based experimentation has its own psychedelic accents.  Staggerings and spearings welcome, detached driftings entrance and the overall flow is a massage melody of considered craftsmanship.  Vocals are shared and compliment perfectly, the pillow-soft descent into abstraction is posted homeward with great accuracy and the more one rotates this masterful moment the more ones falls into the realms of conviction and appreciation.  A manifold manifestation of various generic gist’s with a tattooing through of shadow echoes and shimmer shifts - fascinating.

Love and hate clash, bash and contrast within the weft and weave of 'She Stole My Ride'.  A careful start of creamy care and low-brow technicality before the players up the ante and sub-skip and skank along with zested Euro-textured vibes that sets the senses to level 'fizzle'.  Stutter stop starts and into the flow proper we go with the arrangement multi-layered, zipping and very melodic.  Moments of sobered styles intertwine with the more frivolous foamings still effective. Alongside we note the wire wankers having a personal, yet unified ball.  Thoughtful music pasted down in part with a subtle delicacy and know-how and yet with all impasto urges satisfied.  The shadings are many, the spectrum touched in all areas with a moment of pseudo-yodelling both contrasting and naked.  It all adds to the depth of the donation and I am taken and... convinced.

The final fling of the three is 'Heading For The Sinners' - a forthright look-back at times with dubious characters, where beers flowed and mischief was made.  A steady bass groove, a twisting pulsation, a sanguine stick beat and a magnetising post-punk hook. The four cabled beast continues to provide the immovable foundations whilst a cold scalpel edge cuts to the core as the verse and chorus slice through any resistance. We are blessed with a delicious cutlet of heavy duty noise both melodramatic, haunting and chugged up.  The band have shown great potential and delivered with sound authority here.  The blending of all sonic tonal values is exact and exemplary, the thermal energy radiated inescapable and the fact that this avoids that 'bog standard' punkery is the icing on the nutritious cake.  A relish for the job at hand is exhibited in a cutely creative gem.

I knew this low were good, I just hoped they could do the business on CD.  My worries are blown away into the ether, this is a fine hat-trick of well-devised ditty-making and I hope it serves them well and those trapped in their niches of noise are welcoming of this different flavour.  I am privileged to have this sneak lug-treat and I am thankful for the quality that has penetrated the aural orifices.

An email, a semi-request for a review, a play and a ponder and then I found out that this band has become a cornerstone of a resurgent Western Maryland punk scene.  I halted my investigations before I became warped and swung all the wrong way, one likes to be neutral tha' knows.  I noted that the crew are over here and playing a few miles away, alas I am a higgledy-piggledy busy bugger and can only do what I do, this is my bit before I piss off looking for bugs.

Several clicks, the music begins to play and as I don the headphones I am initially addressed by the tonal charms of 'Let's Make Some Noise'.  This is a light and carefully textured affair that is the kind of clean-cut noise that many, who like things less offensive and raw, will utterly love.  The musicianship is choice and the band play with a good fluent unity with the style of sonica of a sub-pop, semi-smooth slant that avoids anything raucous, heavy and aggressive.  As a lover of things more warted I can still appreciate the accents and angles that transpire here and the very hygienic approach that will give a real boner to those with washed hair, clean clothes and a full set of teeth - cripes - I am fucked then.  Tidy work and into 'Trying To Break (Bad Habits)' with a glassy twinkle tinkle and a slow and steady pace.  The verses are spartan, slightly snotty and with a need to have that volume ranked up so as to get the best out of the mix.  The ascension into the chorus cut is careful, the chorus itself almost a non-event but it does help the fluidity and takes away from the song falling into the hopeless arms of 'stuttersville'.  Again we have a song that is polished and scrubbed up but when whacked up on high matters become more impressive.  I can take or leave these two opening gambits but note is made of a very educated and adept band.

The next brace, 'Everybody Hates A Parade' is the best song so far, zippy, tetchy and with a fine contrast between the wires, the oral overspills and the splashed up sticks.  Perhaps a very orthodox tune but I feel that the style of the sonica is suited to a speedy delivery and the simple chorus chunk is without flamboyance and is very effective.  Tight and tuneful and radiating a worthy breeze of belligerence without being overly aggressive the band nail this one and onto 'Coney Island High' we go.  The latest lilt is 'Coney Island High' - a real cultured and homely affair with an opening sequence of thoughtful composition.  As we travel on we get a sugary tune with a panging that will hit home with those in the know.  A rose-tinted rock out done in a very relaxed manner with a slice of cheese thrown in and many expected accoutrements.  In many ways this is gentle punkery that lacks the spikes and studs of the more usual racket-making, we have pop-punk folks, the kind played within a certain niche for those found therein.  Is being inoffensive duly offensive - now there is something to think about!

'Brighter Times' is the worst song of the lot for me, a countrified bumpkin jig that really doesn't tremble my tractor or indeed force my hens to get all clucked up.  Hey, this is purely a personal viewpoint and the whole arrangement is not my kind of cacophonic cha'.  Having said this - the flow is sweet, the application exact and the tuneful trickle no doubt worthy of many more appreciative lugs.  I am moving on quickly here - I hope I don't find a pitchfork up my arse anytime soon.  'Frequent Flyer' is a musos number for the touring tunester who does what needs doing and then moans about it ha, ha.  A languid and half-doped ditty that drifts along and goes through some soporific sensations that are in cahoots with the theme chosen.  A lazy kind of drawl, an overly Americanised meandering that seems to let go of its magnetic appeal and just play away to nowhere in particular.  I suggest this is one for the end of the CD - the musical outro would be certainly suitable as a closing piece.

'Insomniac' is perhaps the oddment in the pack, a real snippet of outré-dabbling that sees the band rumble-grumble, play the orthodox and key matters up and so create a multifaceted mongrel of music that hobbles along with tongue lolling and nether regions dripping.  Tones of yore are within the weft, glammy essences are found and something experimental resonates.  I am not sure if I like this one but what I am sure of is that it is necessary piece and stretches the band a little further outside any form of comfort zone.  I listen over and appreciate it a little more - but I do prefer the nippy noise and feisty relish of 'No More Nights' - what a ruddy good blast out this is and it gets me thinking that if the band played out a 10 track CD with a rip-roaring collection of 2-minute Ramonesy style songs they would surely top all that they have done so far.  This has a zeal, a forthright authority and a grabbing melody and pace that is just spot on the mark  - a real zenith that gets the best out of a talented team for sure.  To back up my ponderings comes another barnstormer (albeit longer than need be) with the glorious explosion of 'girl come good' celebration that highlights a rebel doing well and holding her own.  The booze is a bonus it seems, the blitzing whizzery most excellent and I reckon if this was another short stinger things would be even better but... this is still a beauty.  These latter two tracks are a cracking double act - the CD has reached another level.

Last two folks - 'Back To The Wind' and 'Right Turn (Wrong Way Again)'. Both songs help us roll out on a chipper footing with the melodica high and the eagerness of the players more than obvious.  All areas are lucid, the former track continues the tempo injection as found in the previous donations, we get the usual standard of rhythm craft and controlled rowdiness whereas the latter track is more stable and routine in its approach but has plenty of gumption, cock-sure sanguinity and of course, the usual solidity of style.  I can't find anything to gripe about with these closing pieces - unshakable work with a few posing breaks (well, why not) and some added baubles of goodness to keep ya fascinated - a fine way to sign off.

Nah then how’s that?  Have ye been tempted by the honest and personal words or duly put off?  Are ye ready to delve in and discover the dunnage for yourselves?  This is a solid band with more to come I think, all I can do is what I do – a thankless task but the spirit is humble and having a go – on we go!   

This lot played a Fungalised gig recently, they were a man down and still rocked the rafters.  I was mesmerised and quite taken by the approach, the DIY warmth and sincerity and the darn good tunes.  They have the right idea, are playing for the love of it and considering anything else a bonus.  Here my thoughts on a quick CD that does the business and has been used several times whilst I work out on the punchbag - oomph!

Away we go with 'Cocaine Boner Casanova' - ooh the dirty blighters.  This is a 'live for the moment' kick arse blow out that moves on in with effective gumption and a bit of flamboyance before cracking on with a reckless rock and roll movement that has a 'fuck it' approach that many will adore.  The pluckers plead for more beer, drugs and nob stiffening sonica - by heck, and here's me thinking they were all gentle homosexuals happy to read back issues of 'Raised Rings'.  This is a fruity piece and has wallop, the basic lunatic riffery and some added nobs on and, as a bonus, all areas are loud, clear and brash - yes man.  Ooh where's me blue pills and jazz mags.  Play loud and wank man but please, don't spill yer beer.

We follow on with the same vibe but with a greater control.  'Let's Get Wasted' is a theme long whipped but here the verse is highly enticing and the slip into the chorus is sublime.  This latter component has a sing-a-long corn quality that may be typical and orthodox but which has a magnetism that I can truly appreciate.  It is a short and simple song but walloped home by boozers and wreckheads who are doing things mighty fuckin' well.  Yes - a joy, I may get the sherry out again.

'You're A Nazi' is another topic that does the rounds, here dealt with in forthright and no nonsense style.  A fine up-standing song in a world where too much shit-flinging has diluted the 'Nazi' slag which is a shame because there are some real hateful twats out there.  Some folk need to wake up - on both sides of the fence, stop the hate ya silly cunts and just get on.  The band put their conkers on the line and show where they stand which should always be applauded.  I love the approach and ethos and always adore the following contrast which calls for 'Absolute Freedom' which could be accused of contradicting the preceding outburst - not so!  We are all entitled to opinions, the only way to alter matters is to be open, talk and think.  Fists will fly and only cement divisions, there are knuckleheads on all sides, they are defeating freedom and their own objectives.  A really well-crafted and thought provoking song this and maybe, the best of the lot - it is neatly arranged and has a good weight behind the hoofing - watch yer delicate conkers folks.

'Let's Get Tattoos' is a politically-free bout of fine old nonsense.  It is great escapism with a lovable riff, an idiot sing-a-long sequence and will more than likely see some daft bugger wake up after a morn of the lash with a permanent mark of embarrassing quality.  A fine flowing effort this, played by lads having fun and switching styles quite ruddy nicely.  It would be easy to harp on about the gripes and gear grinds in life, sometimes we just need something less profound - neat work lads.

2 more songs come, namely 'Let's Get Wasted (Radio Edit' and 'Let's Get Tattoos (Radio Edit) - I have commented on these, this is more of the same with a slight change in the end product.  Two good songs but I would have preferred 2 new tracks - ooh the twisting devils.

So - 5 tracks, 2 semi-repeats but still worth your lug time.  This is a really good unit who are easy to get into and enjoy without too much brain strain.  Accommodating chaps, happy to muck in, no egos and as good 'live' as on CD - now what more could you ask for - ah yes, another CD release, some up-to-date Razzle mags and an added kick in the pecker pills - whoosh.

Half Edge Records releases this obscure event of acoustical essences and goes about its business in a focused and passionate way.  I am merely an assessor of vibes that takes what comes, slowly deliberates and then taps out some honest and hopefully, helpful critique.  What I know about Ember Rev you could fit on a pinhead using a giant size paint-roller - to be more 3 precise my knowledge is at level 'fuck all'.  9 tracks are before me, there is no need to rush, and without any expectations at all, I take the discordant dip.

'Like Dreamers' tepidly sidles in, on tones both verdantly soporific and kissed with a moonlight glow.  From realms undiscovered the creative force comes, barely touches and opens up a vista of promise via vibrations of gossamer fragility and charming bashfulness.  This opening instrumental gently crashes on your coastline of cognisance and leaves... potential promise to be explored further.  The job is unassuming but done in such a way as to pique ones curiosity.  The nosey parker of noise will be blessed with the second track that falls under the name of 'From The Country' - an exotic sounding mix of panoramic post punkery that has elements of music makers who went beyond the usual trappings of a sub-label and duly trespassed into tonal territory rarely traipsed.  The whole concoction has a tapestry of assured tonal trifling with an overall mix that I would deem, as 'pleasantly mild'.  Remember I come from a realm where harder edged sounds are commonplace and I have a penchant for things more robust and obvious but, this doesn't mean I can't appreciate flavours more subtle and unimposing.  This is erudite song-making with an in-built hope and sun-shine haloed positivity.  It will have many drawing upon the festering memory banks trying to make comparisons and find influence - my advice - don't bother and let the vibes come and go.

'To The City' is more middle-road meddling with a pastel shaded arrangement coming forth on a foundation that has much give and a certain thermal comfort.  Easy going with an outback Americana hinting that is nebulous in the extreme but still there to be noted.  The verse is smooth and languid and slips into the chorus that is almost not a chorus at all.  A kind of 'one groove, mono-move' drift that at times is almost naked and at others neatly attired.  Throughout though we have a flow that is welcoming and without barb, I am sure many lovers of tepid tonality will love this (and I don't mean that as an insult).  A cute crafting, perhaps a little too clean for this scabby old git!

'Now We Were Kites' enters, threatens to become airborne and falls into the shrubbery of frustration - it is a mere musical interlude. 'Walk Don't Walk' staggers and flourishes before waltzing along with a swing in the step, an insouciance in the vibe and a happy-go-lucky accent without anything offensive to report.  This is almost like listening in to a home-made sonic session where the noise made is off the cuff and rolls forth with no intent or sign of the finale in mind.  This is a relaxing state of affairs that may irritate the ones who like-clobbering cacophony,  we all need to alter the vibes - here is your chance dear din-deviants!

'And So To The Sea' trickles in, laps at your feet and draws one slowly in to the warming shallows.  A swish and swirl is hardly apparent as the waters of the weave move with a lethargic liquidity and a sonic spume that is merely massaging rather than being melodramatic and muscular.  A very hesitant piece that just needs a little extra kaboom in parts methinks, I would like to see the waves rise and crash a little more and culminate in a Tsunami that leaves one drenched.  Here we are caressed and softly sprayed - this may be enough for some and if you are in the mood for some bittersweet movement with a reclined feel then you will be in your element here. 'Be Still' follows and is nothing more than a wallowing sub-dirge with a shining light enhancing the peripheries of the gathering clouds and giving one a brief glimpse of hope.  In this hectic life of lunacy and mad-dash mayhem it seems the message here is to take time out and unwind.  This is perhaps my most favoured track of the lot as it seems to do what it sets out to do - it really is a good vibe of respite and is done in such a carefully crafted way as to be quite sublime.  The artistry is gracile and yet emboldened, the canvas kiss precise and lacking any vulgarity - a lovely moment.

2 left and a put I spurt on.  'Ultramarine' is as you were although a little too drawn out for me.  The quality and application is consistent with that which has been and I suspect there is a slightly darkened edge to this dubious little mover.  At all times it is liquid, transparent and mobile with a slight shading of things from lands afar.  It is a song set to simmer mode and never bubbles over or scalds the senses.  The end dish I consider lukewarm and lightly whipped - is that enough for an old punk bastard and wallower in short sharp 60's shit spills?  We close with 'Like Dolphins' - a fall into an oceanic realm with the escort of acoustic resonation both embracing and tender.  We slip into the awaiting end silence with a moribund inflection and an almost beaten down intention.  A weary and declining descension into a place of great escape and, in fact, no escape.  A musical interlude, a further peaceful pass into the awaiting void - and we are done.

Oil-soaked, bubble-bath music this, for times when the soul is fagged and the carcass needs to slip into slumberland.  Time has been spent and the summing up, I hope, has been accurate – now lay down, tune in and… drift away!

Mellow bedroom rock played out from Portland, a place where a floral wedding gift was given and a safe realms for roses was started. This is my third adventure into realms lightly brushed and tender.  I jump straight in and make what I can of this 5 track tickling.

'Band From Portland' has a wonderful fluttery feel with a smudged essence that remains honest, matter-of-fact and, most importantly of all, charming.  A rippling and then an electro-Devo-esque beat before the digital she-drawl caresses the senses and helps one get closer to the premise of the produce.  A slight uplift, a butterfly wing essence and gentle massage movement comes with suggestions of early B52 happenings.  The melody slightly increases and has a running water smoothness that works quite ruddy nicely alongside the overall simple orchestration.  There are no barbs of belligerence or fangs of ferocity to upset this sweetly vibrating voyage and, although the song lasts beyond the 4 minute mark, we are kept intrigued and delighted all the way through - tickling baby, tickling!

'Powder Blue' strums with sugary goodness, pulses with a rather relaxed rhythm.  From the first verse we get a delicious lemon-drop lusciousness that pleases the senses in many ways. The slip into the fuzz-assisted chorus is fluent, the repeat route is taken and once again we get something uncomplicated, child-like and yet erudite as well.  A duvet din that is ruffled and wafted but one that retains all its self-made thermality and comfort.  The vocal style is semi-detached but still at one with the musical score and I am finding this a very generous donation of lo-fi goodness.  'Coming Down' falls like a feather from the azure skies, slowly swaying back and forth on a downward descent with surrounding time almost at a standstill.  We stop in our tracks, watch matters float on forth with the song unfolding and leaving one oh so slightly... goose-bumped.  A fear, a trepidation and a beautiful recline into a basic chorus cut that welcomes.  Tenderised, barely touched, gossamer light and almost transparent so as to be invisible, this is a song that is remarkably intangible - I think it is a ghostly guest that is a pleasure to witness.

'Hags' begins with a 70's TV shimmer before developing into an abstract divulgence of quirky content that is merely observation aural invasiveness that becomes almost sub-choral at times.  A real oddment this with many essences that somehow manage to intertwine and copulate before giving birth to a slightly unorthodox sprog of sound.  A contorted sheet of sonic metal that catches its own fair share of light and glisten factor that provides the underlay.  When the squeeze comes the slip-shedding is eased through.  There is no mither here and we gracefully move into the finale of 'I'm Gonna Tell My Therapist About You'.  A keyed Moroder-esque intro immediately piques interest from which we develop into a real shimmering blend of intrinsically basic principles and languid lilt-making that really does work a treat.  Perhaps this is why this kind of stuff is called 'bedroom rock' - it is all rather soporific and snuggly and is liable to send ya snoozing with a smile of appreciation on your mush.  It is quite glorious stuff in its own 'under-the-radar' way.

Yes - the best release so far by this lot with a couple of ascensions made into areas not previously reached.  Of course, this is produce you have to adjust to, you must make an effort with and not play too many times over.  Mix and match with harder melodies and it becomes the sugar to the salt, the sweet to the bitter!  This is a spice of its own individuality and when added to a dish of discordance - yummy, scrummy ding-dong!

Are you hanging in folks?  Are you keeping up with the reviews of the outré?  Here I dip into a world of tangents, sub-psyche and stress where itchy fingers create and goodness emanates.  I believe the creative forces are UK based, from Kent and Nottingham if Bandcamp is anything to go by?  Primarily though, I am in the dark, a glorious place where perspective and prejudice are blanketed and judgement can be a little more purer (well, so I hope).  Here goes toe dip the third, another bathe in something not in line with the norm but still of great import to we dabblers in the nether lands.

'Pointless' is aptly titled in this world where everything can be tagged as such.   The opening sequence is psyche-synthed, jumbling and bumbling with an almost retro-80's kids TV accent.  Questions are stated and seem almost sedated, the sedation borne from the realms of abuse and mistreatment.  The contrast between the alive and fruity and the almost beaten down is played out with focus and a refusal to be distracted - we continue with the demon-kick approach as found on CDs 1 and 2.  'Trampled' sees the almost ruined and ragged take stock, assess the duff deal and dish out thoughts from the darkened recesses so many ignore, are unaware of or conveniently overlook.  In an empathy free world this is relevant rhythm-making with a deep-rooted and unabashed honesty that some will find deeply unsettling.  There is a soul suffering here folks, do not take matters lightly!

I am striving to keep things terse and exact during this third review of the UN stuff, 'Would You Notice' is grasped, thrown into the assessing orifice and tossed around the palette before being spat forth.  The flavours are -Euro-exotic, all smattered with a seasoning of harsh reality and deep-rooted worry.  The struggle to make an impression is opposed by a acceptance of pointlessness and transient ineffectiveness.  We all get moments of complete hopelessness and despair, here it is parcelled and packaged in a tidy and very open-hearted capsule of cacophonic creativity - and it works.  'I Am The Bones' has a happy bounce that is juxtaposed by the double-bladed delivery that could almost be anti-meat eater frustration and a self-loathing after the beast is consumed.  A jaunt with an unstoppable jingle but one with a nagging repetition that enhances the overall misery and inner struggle.  I am not overly keen here but recognise the openness, the bravery and the downright unashamed approach to being a human being with flaws.

'Rejected' ripples and plods whilst trying to take matters on the chin.  A motif is found, latched onto and played out in a constant cycle. The vocals remain as an almost separate entity and reach the vaults of emotion, scribble out the scarred observations and duly read them back in a unshakeable manner.  The underscore of sound is tranquilising and hypnotic whilst the general aromas emanated are chilled, matter-of-fact and heartbreakingly genuine.  This is a moment in keeping with all that has been and all that will come with 'Piss' more of the same but with a suffocating overwhelm and general all round feeling of fruitlessness.  From innocent creations come broken artefacts from a time when we all could and should have done better.  In life some folk are blessed by a gift of new life, it is our role to create the best human we can possibly make - I get the feeling that most of the horrors surfacing here are down to chances missed.  It is all very terrifying and tangible stuff.

A trio grabbed with 'Sinking/Overthinking' a dangerous combination and a mental equation that bounces back and forth and brings about the same old result.  A mellow moment that states a case and just seems to accept it.  'Memories' is a monochrome downbeat dirge that barely stays upright let alone make it to the finish line.  At this point it seems we are beyond any form for therapeutic or psychological advancement - another short snippet that takes us into the surprisingly more hopeful 'When I Sleep'.  This latter piece of the snatched up hat-trick is the best of the lot with a upbeat keyed touch and a fine sub-religious poetical weaving that unsettles.  We can read many things into the fold here, it is a small fascination borne from something almost Poe-esque and almost James-ian.  A sinister grower that has more depth than realised.

The last two, 'Umbilical Noose Revisited' is an analytical overthought that destroys, rebuilds, destroys and defies.  The processes that curse continue, clever words and toss bag tactics don't seem to work, the only reaction is perhaps the action of distraction.  With my own personal demons and years of head wanking I can relate here, the intricacies are deep and I find the artists still ensnared in a web of worrying complexity.  A bold snippet and the only advice I can offer is - keep moving and be stubborn.  We close with a long and wordy poetical weave, a verbal detailing that quite wonderfully rounds off this 3 CD series and the whole exposure of a soul in torment.  The journey is reflected upon and when the final lines are read a greater understanding of the overall intent and purpose is had.  ‘Afterwords’ is a touching piece that is awash with unaffected lucidity and an emotive purity - perhaps this is the greatest and most rewarding moment of all.

Questions arise throughout and answers are sparse.  At this final juncture we are still left wondering but are a little clearer on some things.  The fact remains this is bare-arsed honesty and a trip not to take lightly.  It is sonica to partake of only in small doses but please, before you judge, consider the content and the intent!