FUNGALPUNK - CD REVIEWS Page 1
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ASHLEY REAKS - POST HOPE WORLD By heck, it has been a while since I reviewed anything by this creative Yorkshire force. He is a man who dabbles in various pools, makes some impacting music and tries it seems, to avoid those terrifying sub-niches that can suffocate any hope of expansion. I have a healthy mix of sounds to delve into here, a passionate foolhardy soul must do his bit for those fellow DIY buggers, but he must do it with 100% honesty tha' knows.
We begin with 'In With The Out Crowd' a very convincing number with a fine orientalised opening slice, a growing accord with the eavesdropping lugs and a rising cadence that is far from routine. The opening verse is escorted by haunted 'whoa hoas' a tribal drum beat and a certain essence of ghostly disgruntlement. The mix is well-saturated, the move to the chorus is fluent and here we have an artiste creating a work of acoustic art with layers, thought and that crucial longevity factor. The winning opening gambit grabs, one is held in a secure sonic lock and for me, this initial upchuck is a very good job well done. This bodes well for the CD as a whole and already my expectation levels have moved up several notches (dicey stuff indeed) - stick with the outsiders man. The follow up has a slightly similar edge with a choice intro and a deep tumble rumble. 'Post Hope World' is a place where we are already at, with the human race proving, as expected, to be useless and unsuitable for the role of planet guardians. We build, we take, we crush, we take, we serve self, we take, take and take some more and then... die! It is all madness and this very observant and sober song is a real impacting piece with a strong flow and a quite inescapable magnetism. I like the cultured undertones, the general absorbing gist and the unashamed doom admittance - the heads in the sand is of no use at all and I suggest you play this and fuckin' get doing something productive.
I like the punk slant to the title of the next song, namely 'I Wanna Be A Stain On Society' and I like the gentle similarity between the opening throes and something 'Rut-esque'. An instant capturing of the aural senses is had, I am snared and travel further into the musical mire with glee. Those cast as smears are laden with color, those regarded as assets are usually players and brittle-fuck finger pointers who bring nothing authentic to the table. A fresh sounding song with a good lick and enthusing angularity with a chomp had that really digs deep into the flesh of the ear user. Poetically sharp with all components blended with care so as to make their own noticeable contribution. Advanced punkery with some neat switches and a pride in being a member of the glorious gutter community - fuck your hygienic ways and rinsed through thinking. 'King Baby' deals with narcissists and megalomaniacs, by heck there are many of those about and some in positions of power due to the lax thinking of the mush. Sharp wire intrusions, a regulated first verse, a growing annoyance and then a blossoming comes via a pre-chorus 'whoa hoa' assisted snippet. Matters flourish, the song grows in stature and a sweet, simplistic and very toxic chorus comes. A solid bounce within the weave, some glistening wire work and active tympanics make this another track that has initial snag factor and the essences of sound longevity. Time travels mighty fast here, a reflection of a solid spurt I reckon.
Big heavy duty cable corruptions, spasm injections and a screwing incessance. 'Daddy Was' repeats, verbally weaves away like a poetical serpent sidewinding its way along a tangential path where a different viewpoint is taken. As the creator explained 'from à very long poem of the same name where ‘Daddy’ is less a person but the patriarchal power machine' - interesting hey? A gnawing and quite gritty push of noise created with an excellent aptitude that gives the theme extra life. Working away with the head down, using a nagging motif, like it or loathe it, the earworm elements are noted and I think it keeps matters progressing quite adequately. 'War On The Home Front' deals with conflict and the need to break away from a home life where control suffocates, dictates and has the potential to kill. Been there, suffered that, and broke away - not easy and scars last for a lifetime, I have an appreciation here. Skewering tones, machine gun rattle, a cooling opening verse with a very XTC-esque feel (I think). The mush of music takes some adjusting to, I take my time and am slowly drawn into the melee and am eventually smiling with recognition of another fair effort. Not my favourite but there are many subtle angles to give some extra wallop to the longevity factor which... matters!
'Born Wrong' deals with self-doubt brought about by the conditioning and the universal guidelines people follow and ram home. Believe, stand firm and deny the bullshit messages they drive your way. The opening bars are intriguing and barbed in many ways, the initial chorus searching and resonating. The chorus slips in in a quite angular fashion and with a growing nag-doubt that needs banishing. A veritable anthem for the outsider and those made to feel like shit because they don't tick the ravaging rules of idiot expectation. A cute blend of anger, frustration, release and pseudo-popped suggestion. The fact is, this song has its own identity and works - that is what ultimately matters and of course, the strong emotion and message assist. 'Got A Lot To Learn' could be a quote from anyone at any time of their life - none of us will ever get where we want to be and know it all and therein a beauty is found. A heavy bass, a fluttery feel, a shimmer in the shadows and a feelgood suggestion and from here recognisable tones and a cultured depth. The opening verse is vibrant with colours sobered but well blended. An eagerness and slight uplift comes via the nag-rep of the chorus and we continue with assuredness with much to consider. One thing that is still notable is that the creator is thinking, not following typical routes and is blessed with a style all of his own. I like this one and the more time invested the better the aural pay-out. The closure is coarsely enriched with the title of 'Sneaky Cunty' - a tale about one of those mask wearing frauds who play a game and con as they go. A somewhat youthful naivete comes via the opening name-call and then a good swish of all sonic areas before the vicious attack comes. Despite the lack of real depth the song has weight and is a deviant little ditty that worms into the inner lug chambers, does a jig and has one joining in. A fine finish, a good demon-banisher and in keeping with a CD awash with success.
Ashley Reaks considers, creates and I think, produces music that is earthy, well-rehearsed and of a heightened standard that avoids obvious clichés. Again, under the radar gems left unpolished but, in this, we treasure hunters have to feel blessed in some ways and those that produce the precious outpourings should take pride in the fact that they carry on and do it with great attention to detail and noisy individuality. Now think about that and remember, in the muck, the grime and the cacophonic compost heaps many disregard is where natural beauty is found!
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THE 351's - NO REPLACEMENT FOR DISPLACEMENT A second review of the Canadian cacophoneers and after the first 4 blast treat I was keen to go in again. There is nothing like passion and if one trips across some good earthy DIY noise one must have a go when requested. Plenty of wallop, good rhythm and a direct and neatly soiled approach is what I seek, my old fingers are crossed.
'Mother Anarchy' tunes in before finding the channel to chug and hitting the road with the foot down and a consistent trundle had. A very unflustered and uncomplicated song with a straight forward pounding given via appreciated fuzz work, firm tympanic wallops and the expected grubby-gravelled gobbage. No derailing or veering offline and no extra flamboyance, just a regulated rhythm grabbed, hammered to buggery and done with the usual 351 style. Steady man, steady! 'Fuck All The Fuckers' is a far better effort, a real nasty bastard of confidence that goes immediately for the jugular, gnaws away with a semi-vicious zeal and tears out great chunks of one's resistance. Again the motif is nabbed early and stuck with but the extra chomp and impacted blend of the whole shebang real does win Fungal Favour by the bucketful. The singer 'la, la's' sway with a total immersion and the final repeat rally to the vicious closure is spot on. Coughed up, spat forth with venom and a crackin' toxin-filled tune to toss off over.
Track the third, a haunting, a ploughing forward and into the nastiness of 'The Hearse Song'. This is typical noise from a band who crack on, fuzz and buzz with an elementary and effortless likeability and with a slight tongue-in-cheek approach. This reminds me of several bands that I have dealt with over many years, there is a distinct refusal to climb up ones rear and over-elaborate matters whilst enjoying what is produced and wallowing in the terse punky essences. There is little to add here - it tickles my tonal sensors and that is enough. The closure of this second quartet of spiked pleasures and 'Whisky And Pills' four taps in, builds a platform and gets the crust down and throws out another gritty grinder that has controlled rhythm, a neat snarl and a spaciousness between each gob assisted section. Hot roasted and all kept on a mid-simmer with a sub-irritation always there to spice up the whole spillage of sound. A sanguinity of self and the sound emanated, a medium pace is set with no frills attached and that my old china, is that!
Yes- another fair EP methinks that leaves the style of the crew set in stone with new avenues to explore. I like this but I do feel the band now need to push on and throw in new essences (albeit subtly) and a few angles to test themselves and to keep the eavesdropper intrigued. This is good earthy stuff but, as ye all know, Fungalpunk is always striving to squeeze a little more out of bands, for the good of his own lugs and the creators of the cacophony too - you know it makes sense baby!
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HOSTILE TIDES - DEAD MAN TALKING An email, the memory banks were jogged and I harkened back to a time when I frequented the Bomb Ibiza Nights in the Retro Bar, Manchester and watched all manner of skanked up buggers do their things. Los Salvadores were such a band, a crew who made a nice racket and went under the Fungalised CD review spotlight on 3 occasions. Nearly 20 years on and a message comes through and a new band has been borne. From Swale in Kent the instrumental noise arises and I was requested to assess the 5 rackets - and so, like an idiot, I said 'yes'. The Fungal scribbling goes on!
We open with 'Sands' a very cool drift that has a massaging lick and a quite easy flow that still exposes latent (not blatant) power that has potential to be built on. A good heavy feel, the sticks are a paradox of the accurately erratic kind whilst the bass is the commanding force upon which its six-strung sidekick can elaborate. Moments are taken to sober things down so as to not travel up ones jacksie and get carried away on a journey of self-indulgence. I was initially concerned about the lack of vocals but here it is not a problem at all, this is a fine introductory piece with its own weight and intensity that operates quite ruddy nicely. 'Rumour' follows - a twinge, a sub-stereo coruscation and a head's-down riff out comes. Staggering and streaming like a flowing sonic syrup before letting the bass contemplate and meander with a steady stick tempo and some guitar shadings borne so as to accentuate all areas. A cruising feel of accomplished artistry before back to the heated fuzz routine. The escapade grows in stature, all that is lacking is the odd statement I think - something pertinent, ambiguous but crucial. We have a final finishing adornment - the holler teases but I would like a little more. A good sinewy sprawl of sound nonetheless.
Into the acoustic land of equivocal experimentation we continue, finding ourselves 'Adrift' amidst a gentle sound-squall that caresses, bites at times but overall sways with a soporific effect that is far from unpleasant. Time drifts by, subtle exchanges in thermality, magnetism and overall light emanated are noted and if one pays good heed the underlying substance to the song is nutrient filled and of a design so as to give the whole composite believability. An instrumental with good thought and again, we have a persuasive drifting that will bring good sensations and comfort for those ready to chill and travel further out into the oceanic realm of escapism.
A relished reinvigoration of energy takes us into the forthright commitment of 'Pyramids'. The perkiness in the piece, the initial advancement of great hope, promise and uplift is perhaps indicative of the best track on the CD although the near miss with something Star-Spangled doesn't go unnoticed - cripes. A moment of respite comes via the quatro-cabled weapon before expressionistic samplings come, turn and tumble into one another with liquidity not to be questioned. If I take the orchestration as a whole and try and sum up with a universal outlook it is more than apparent the players know their stuff, play with style and are utterly unified - this is a pinnacle moment on a brave CD.
The closure, 'Peaks' and after a hesitant spasm wank the construct finds stability and a groove on which to operate. Intrigue comes via textures than seem reminiscent of 60's TV detective tunes with blendings of doom and grunge thrown in and of course, an all pervading bleakness and threat level. Amidst this I am finding a jazzed off the cuff feeling and a layered texturization that gives one something to think about. The sonic sprog that twitches and writhes and takes on many forms is a shapeshifter with a need for oral expression but the players are intent on a muffling - is this a wise move and is the lengthy running time of this one a tactical plan? This is a fair listening experience I reckon but, it needs to be a one off in future and these snippets could be used as individual intros and outros for further mini-eps that bear 3 vocals outbursts in-between.
There ya go, the buggers have me on the back foot and have thrown me a right darn curveball. I like what goes on, have my doubts as to how long the band can operate like this and of course, I have thrown in honest thoughts and a suggestion. What more can a Fungal Bastard offer?
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GROW YOUR OUWN RECORDS - ANARCHO PUNX ON ACID VOLUME 1 Four bands, vomiting forth a song apiece on an alternative decisive EP on the Grow Your Own Records label. I received the email, plunged in, tis better than the option of 'do fuck all' or even 'delete'. Having said this, I am sober enough to also realise that these things could readily be labelled 'waste of time' - such is the world we live in.
We open with a 6 minute 12 second dance-trance experimentation of the Anthrax number 'PPB' (Chris Liberator and Sam DFL remix)' that jumps from the flash and splash dance ghetto into the awaiting lugs. Very typical produce of a rave/dance scene that does need a 'live' experience (and chemicals) to fully appreciate. Tranced when glanced, ephemeral when studied and the opening 2 minutes outstay their welcome and get me all restless with a waning interest. The gob soon arrives and piques my attention before we move on in a routine flutter-fuck energy burst that just flatlines out. More oral effort, a rising ill-temper with the sonic gallop continuing. That latter element almost reminds me of a Stock, Aitken and Waterman escort and from here I am poisoned. I try and adjust, come on folks, there ain't no man on earth who can like everything and here I am just left... on the outside and disinterested. Apologies but my honest feelings must dictate.
Dogshite come next with the rather forthrightly entitled number that is 'The Internet Is A Load Of Shit (Audio Pancake remix) ' - a song that was sent my way via the internet and is on the platform Bandcamp - make of that what you will. We are consumed, digested and enslaved in the tangling bowels of the web, it is indeed shit and we are all guilty of allowing it to happen - what next - AI control - well of course. This is a well-whipped straight forward nervous rag-bag of flickering ranting and 'raving' with the flavour emitted for those of a certain leaning with oral buds awash with an acquired taste. Too dance-orientated for me and although doing what it does with sound vitality and an in ‘keeping with the sub-scene‘, I find it outstays its welcome and leaves me indifferent.
Rites Of Hadda are a band I know well, and may I add, deeply respect. 'Baby (Chris Liberator and Sam DFL)' is a song I know too and here it is given a new treatment that is in-keeping with the theme set. The best track thus far with the wonderful tones of the lead lout working well alongsid the sharp acid spilling and the fluid movement. Alas I prefer the original and after two previous escapades of a similar ilk I find myself reaching for material by the band that is away from this techno influence. Again we pass beyond the 6 minute mark, matters become diluted and my caveman punk instinct kicks back. I like variety and I appreciate the shadings here and like the previous affairs, as standalones they would work mighty well in the mush of a more obvious arrangement of short spiky tunes but here, we have a matter of all blurring into one.
I sign off with the final fling 'Fallacy (Chris Liberator and Geezer Remix)' by Virus (feat. Judda and Mel from A Heads). An almost 8 minute spell of ongoing mither that gnaws at the senses, befuddles the aging grey gunk and has me asking 'wtf' am I doing listening to this stuff. Nicely mixed, pulsating and futuristic with wordage kept to a minimum and the carcass of the original stretched, molested and left in a state of rehashed glory gory that some of those 90's survivors will ruddy well love. I play over, by heck I hate being a reviewer sometimes, it ain't easy being honest but, despite a solid arrangement and the vibrant vibes never letting up, I sign off defeated and with little more to add.
Nah, not for me this and I came, tried and stuck to the usual assessing route. It is a neat package for those in tune, for those out of sync (like me), I just don't think it has enough magnetism and intriguing variation to win new fans - I may however, be wrong.
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NO MURDER, NO MOUSTACHE - PLASTIC GLASS/TELL ME AGAIN The guy here has played a Fungalised Fiasco and provedn himself to be amiable, supportive of all other racket makers and a darn good entertainer too. His act was DIY excellence with a full-on throwing into the fray and a great lively lilt radiated. It was the opening salvo of an all dayer against 'hate' - to have this chap open seemed mighty fitting. Here we have more 'Celtic Punk from Wales' with the usual gusto and magnetising minstrelisation. 2 songs, no arsing about and some cute wordage - in I go, enthused.
'Plastic Glass' is a sharp song that deals with the societal shittery that goes on and the price of a beer in this insane day and age. A spirited song with a wonder flow that takes us on a journey from a rugby match to a big band gig and then to a so-called rebellious festival. The sonic structure is utterly shipshape, from the gloriously released to the controlled and thoughtful. The poetical wordage that investigates and leaves us asking questions is very cute indeed. The fact is though that the 'erbert behind these cultured creations leaves us with something clear, fresh and well-balanced and on repeated occasions I find myself with a tapping foot and a nodding head with the posers placed rolling around in the old grey gunk. A ruddy quality laden piece that has value and pertinence - play loud, reel away and do not get suckered into buy swill for an exaggerated price (oh aye, and watch out for the culture clashes folks that surely highlight inconsistencies).
'Tell Me Again' is a superb contrast that hammers home many things to think about in this world of killing without thought. Robots take aim, follow orders and fall into line whilst taking lives. Throughout history can one fathom the amount of lives lost in war and for no real reason? We are a fuckwit species and cannot behave at the bottom level, what chance when fuckers have power? A strong and bold statement this, it says a lot about the artiste and it shows that he is not a one-trick pony. Hammered forth with fire in the belly and rage in the heart, whilst the strings are scuffled, the energy is volcanic and the temper torn asunder. Bold stuff for sure and completing a nice chiaroscuro of tuneage.
'Yes' and 'yes' and an added 'yes' with nobs on. The only thing I can do now is ask this guy back for a gig - needs ruddy must.
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THE 351's - AGAINST ALL ODDS An email, a request to review a couple of EP's and after an initial spin I thought it all worthy of a Fungalised going over. Retro rockin' from Quebec City in Canada and mighty wholesome stuff if you ask me. The band seem to recognise the beauty of the DIY approach and do not over-polish matters and make sure all areas have a grubby but effective edge - you can now see why I was intrigued. I hear there is a 3rd EP coming, fuckin' hell, I best crack on but, if I don't like this stuff I am sure I will be consigned as another name in the folder labelled 'twat' - it does happen. 'King Of Nuthin' sounds real fine and a wonderful position to be in. The song gets a moving with the engine switched on and the chug soon taken over by a very zested thrusting. A fuckin' honest to buggery rock and roll riff grabs and never lets go and when the grit-spit vocals come we have much to savour. The verbals deal with a rebel, now at the bottom and in many ways, still rolling on. A total scumbag sound of zealous deviancy with the sawing guitars, the tribal skin thumps and the alcohol-seared tonsil work a veritable arse-kicking treat that it is so easy to join in with and ping about to. Solid, simple, bang on and not hanging around and crawling up its own rear end. 'Devil's Daughter' throws us onto the back foot with a really effective skanky-reggae beat that once again gets the body twitching with reactive pleasure. Stated words, no rush and then... a keyed invasion and a let loose of all areas. This opening gambit is to be considered further, the band do it well and the follow-on rush is grand too and makes for a complete song of complimentary flavours. Like wandering in a sunny glade and being caught up in a devilish storm of unrelenting potency, the sizzle splash bounces on the noggin, invades the lugs and brings a great refreshing relief. A good follow-up donation this, making for an opening couplet that has me already convinced of the bands quality.
A seafaring waltz next with the glorious celebration of the rockers and rollers via a tune named 'Glass Of Mosh Pit Blood' - what an all-consuming beauty this is with the wires swinging and chopping, the drums holding all in check and adding a magnetising metronomic beat that makes sure progression is incessant. The raw-assed mix is easy to be laudatory about, the piratical approach plunders your troves of resistance, tosses you about on the steadily undulating sonic waves and splashes you with an all-round goodness not to be underestimated. The core and the construct is uncomplicated but it is what the band build around these elements that matters - ooh aye me hearties!
Closure and we have a 'Rupture' - ooh heck, I know the feeling only too well. Fair acoustica begins, a steady tympanic rise and a mellowness before a pause and then we are at it. Roughouse galloping, with a sandpaper layer taking precedence and a rush along and fuck it purposefulness dragging us kicking and screaming into the melee. We chill out again, we get ravaged once more, there is a solidity to the whole fiasco, something reckless and of course, a honesty of sound that always serves a band well. One can pick up the relish of the players as they clout out this one, a back-end blitzer with a cute comfort cuddle in the mix.
A good rollicking quartet methinks and all played out without an overproduced piss-arsing that would negate the feel and the impact of the deliveries. Keep it raw, keep it real, fuckin' go for it and hey, if no one likes it and you do - the outcome is success. Boom baby!
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SUBMIT - SOUP A non-gigging band made up of 'erberts who do their whack. It is all rather irrelevant to the review that is coming, I plug in, play, ponder and repeat several times over. I could hark on about who is who, fuck that, what difference does it make? What matters is the texture, the approach and the sincerity of the delivery and of course, how it appeals to the Fungal lugs. I am a wanked and weary old fucker, I am still doing what I can in my own humble way, here you have another analysis done with the usual passion, honesty and effort. Gentle tones, an opening verse of delicate delivery and unhurried floatings. Into the first chorus and 'Pot Holes In Memory Lane' has all the all marks of an accomplished song with a subtle bitterness and matter-of-fact approach that adds something quite special to a number that hits home. No barbed edges, no obvious punked up spillages but a careful construct with lucid and liquid tones and a certain honesty that works and works mighty well. Easy as you go, with a great aerated feel and an application that is played out with consideration and with a tale to tell. The main gist I get is 'if it ain't remembered then it wasn't worth doing' - and hey, what are memories anyway without any end product! So, after a quite warming start we fall into 'Stubbs' - a song with a more orthodox arrangement and an unobtrusive rhythm that works well with the volume low or high. A gritty opening verse, a catchy chorus and an overall set-up that ticks many boxes and brings a bit of early wallop to the CD. Melodic, earthy and clean cut - a more than adequate number with an ambiguity and an approachability - therein may be found an oxymoron. I think what is captured here is perhaps indicative of where the other players dabble but it has a flavour all of its own with a healthy chomp in the dentures of dinnage - ooh me gums. The inner waffle wank of abstract wordage will meet the needs of the nostalgic although Dusty Bin still needs filling with shite!
And onto 'Crushing Your Dreams' - a morose and wallowing accent is the main gist with a bewildered confession making an initial play. A soul touched by the fingers of cruelty, a victim who laid trust and had it all shattered. This is emotive and exposing material from one who has fallen foul of the players, the users, the takers who fake it and then move on fuck-free. Matters are considered and carefully lain down with a rather dramatic development of musical prowess adding to the impact. This is not everyday music to wallow in but it is darn decent sonica with an honesty and a transparency - those struggling or let down, you are not alone folks, we are in the midst of a lottery of madness.
'Cockroaches And Scorpions' floats in on mellow tones with minimal texture. The slow and tepid feel leads into a sober and subdued verse with the chorus cut simple and of the same tonal values. A thermally cool flatline from one on their knees and almost defeated. Again, the deflating elements of life, the fucks that sting and feed and the feeling of uselessness in a maelstrom of idiot fortune, all take centre stage and strangle forth a gasping of increasingly tumescent tiredness - it is all rather too much at times it seems. Again, the Fungal advice is to appreciate the approach but dip in and out and don't get dragged down and, enjoy this toon!
A fistful of three, 'That's Unfortunate (Rave On)' leads the way and is a matter-of-fact statement of how things are and the lack of empathy shown. Hey we are all individuals, we have our traits and nuances, I care not how I operate, I am me and that is the message I get here, believe in yourself and don't judge yourself by the cracked external dictates. As long as we self-question, believe and try and move on then this song is a great reminder to keep doing that. There is an upbeat feel paradoxically combined with a suggestion of hopelessness, it works well and again, the production room attention as things bob on with all compartments in place and lucid. 'Crow With A Bone' has a sweet feel to the serenade and a very open-hearted lucidity. Homage to the corvid is intertwined with a plea. We have the cocksure alternated with the careful and in the weft of the weave we have ambiguity. A very basic song when plucked of its feathery raiment’s but, it is a breath of fresh air in a somewhat sombre CD and adds to the flow with casual ease. The quality of all that has transpired thus far is excellent, and the last of the snatched trio is the doom-tattooed 'My Heart Hates My Blood'. Back to the self-examining introspective involvement that is obviously an all-consuming curse. A broken being crawls forth via a musical escort of pain-filled anguish and moribund anxiety. Folks come under the spotlight, as a growing misanthrope I can feel what is going on here but refuse to be bogged down by the bastards of bullshit. Look like shit, be out of sync, do not conform and crack on - that is all I can say. This is a creeping groomer that rolls with a sanguinity not to be overlooked - a very solid snippet that sneakily creeps beneath the skin.
Down the last stretch 'Catastrophic Biopic' takes us by the hand with a funky idling and some tender and appealing word play. The music is minimal, the flow relaxed and in its own way, quite positive. A sugar-sweet charmer. A real flavoursome snippet that graces the aural palette with a pleasant sensation that gets the foot tapping and the inner core gently bouncing along. Perky is the word I would use here, and insanely positive. The fuck it and just swan along is the way I suppose - what lies between the lines is indeed lies. We ride a rocky road, make mistakes, listen to this rather comforting tune and enjoy! The penultimate track waltzes along and moves at its own pace. 'Resilience Is Brilliant' rings true, a fresh start is never far away as we brush down, sit up straight and start again and... of course, fuckin' keep on repeating. The waves are there to be ridden, scars run deeper, the head twangs, the body ages and yet we still dig down and move on (if we are lucky). Here is a lovely nudge to hang in, keep moving forth and to beat away the cloying cobwebs and drag-down dithering’s brought by so many external influences and people. A sanguine tune and with a good swing in its revitalised booty.
The finale, the greatest offering of the lot providing a quite stunning punctuation mark to the latest musical chapter. 'Distress Call' asks numerous questions, does so with a honeyed sincerity and conviction that is quite excellent. A look at mistakes, the state of play and the feeling of great need. The verses are golden and gifted, the slip into the quite sensitive chorus is perfect and the whole effort encapsulates moments we must all go through and which we duly struggle to get away from. There is an artistry here that displays depth and a thinking, I am no fool as to overlook these aspects and this, is my chosen Song of the Month too - what a joy.
Submit offer up, I take the bait and do what I do. I am privileged to hear this I feel, it comes amidst the usual head-hammerings of noise plus the regular Northern Soul, 60's Garage and Lo-Fi stuff I like to wallow in. Submit don't play gigs, that does not make them irrelevant - get this, play and consider the different spices added to your usual sonic dish - yummy man.
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PHILIP QUINN - SNAZZY I have a paintbrush and I have a pinhead. On the pin head I must write (using said brush) all that I know of the artiste under the spotlight here. I do so with room to spare - the reason for this is that my knowledge is at level 'fuck all'. Again I go in as cold as a dead dogs todger, I go in however as keen as a tortoise in a cucumber store, I am out of sync with the music on offer because my preference is with the lo-fi, the grubby and the garaged. I took on this CD though as the more processed vibes had something worthy of a challenge and so I vomited forth the following thoughts. The review is typed up on my laptop and so extra turpentine to clean any brushes is not needed and rest assured, no tortoises were injured during the weavings. I review one track a day so as to not over glut myself and to help stabilise my sanity. 'Outside The Narrative' is a mid-pace chilled caress of thoughtful music based on a gentleness of sound that only flexes its muscles in the most unassuming way possible. Far away from the slam-dunk realms from where I dwell and of a very processed and cleansed bent this is not a bad drift at all and shows an exactitude of tonal positioning and all round aptitude for creating approachable and listenable music. The creator knows what he wants to do and does so with a scrubbed blend of all areas and a smooth-running mode that helps give the song a thermalised impact. I am picking up on a very throwback 80's feel here too which, in itself, will win applause and new fans. From here we fall into 'Five Ways To Break Your Brain' which is more sub-80's tinkering and has a real substantial style especially when moving from the verse through to the neatly posted chorus cut. Of course, as a dweller and lover of things more cruddy I am tussling with tones I wouldn't normally listen to but there is talent aplenty here, a certain sophistication of application and an obvious understanding of what the end product must sound like. A crisp stroke, a rhythmic parade of tepid tonality with a scantily clad follow-on verse and then the liquid cream of the chorus all make for a steady start to a song that is awash with reward.
'In This Maze' drifts in from crepuscular kissed shadowlands with an atmosphere both suggestive and gently smoked. A very commercialised sound comes and my unwashed leanings are duly appalled, ooh what a spiky old git I am. This however is not the full story and to be shackled by ones desires is not the way and I think I have enough nouse and patience to recognise a well scripted track with enough erudition of application and production room care to make this an appealing song of gentle thermality. Shimmerings, a languid lilt and a mystery all combine to give the song an actual value factor that will appeal to those who like things less intrusive. Not for me but not a bad do at all and a track with a 'searching' theme many will relate to. 'Soft Head' leans a little too much to the soppy side of things for me and lacks a definitive core of rhythm which makes for a donation that fails to grab the attention. For music of all flavours the inner scaffold is of great import methinks and around it one can build and add all sorts of accoutrements whilst still maintaining an essence to magnetise. Again the player does what he does with care and certainly knows how to compose and create but I am finding this a number that comes, goes and leaves no trace behind which, for something that has taken time to form, is a shame. The blend of all areas is sound though but the verbals need a little extra oomph.
The next trio and I grab, throw around the acoustic palette and spit out the following appraising spittle. 'Routine' works well, especially during the early stages when a spartan serenade is had and the player is almost left alone to do his thing, which he does well. There is a skill in keeping the delivery minimal but still holding centre-stage, here this is achieved in the most unobtrusive way possible. A gentle anguish and need, a featherweight number that drifts on the lightest updrafts of sound and stays elevated due to its own focused life. The chaser is 'New Spells' - a brooding and nervous dirge that falls from the speakers in a slow, slightly dream cream meander before finding a little impetus and moving with a growing assuredness and... purpose. Matters evolve, grow and the impression made is greater than first deemed. This is a number in no rush, thoughtful and thermally sensitive - the end result is a song you have to take time with and roll around the eavesdropping palette with care. For me, it is not one to play over and over but now and again, why not? 'Divine' slowly tiptoes along, the same mix of delicacies come and a chorus cut that is straight from the early 80's with a glossy retro video escort surely calling. The era which I mention is surely where the greatest appreciators of these tonal gifts will spring from, it is very much of that ilk and so, leaves this old spiked bastard a little on the outside. This is far away from what I would normally listen to but even I can state that the application to detail and nuance is exact, the careful caress of the sonic brush is precise and the floating ambience of that which is finally produced surely captures what the artiste is after.
I move on, out of the comfort zone as per, a place I find myself in so often and perversely enjoying. Hesitancy and a nervousness opens the piece known as 'Concentration' before whispers come and the flow begins. I am never truly satisfied with this one and feel as though, despite the polished finish, the job just lacks that final snag element and of course, overall impact. Again the player creates with skill and sublime artistry but I do feel there is a chance gone missing. Foamy, slowly swirled and of a strain that is now fixed and consistent with the disc so far - is this a good thing? If you have enjoyed everything thus far this latter track will be bang on the mark.
A trio left, I make haste and sum up in double quick time. 'Psych' - a smoothly caressed massage of idling accents and daydream leanings with a poetical weaving falling from the oral offerer in sanguine style. A switch off moment (not literally of course, that would be rude). This is a coffee-sip kiss of cooled orchestration that is articulately done. It is neatly blended though as is 'Snakes' although this latter track is a little more atmospheric and has a certain depth that is shaded with uncertainty, ambiguity and perhaps something slightly darkened. A brooding number with many delicate dabblings and subtle touches that indicate a creative force thinking. One for a swimming pool float me thinks - to play over and over and discover, unless of course you are addled with acoustic sources of all styles. And finally we enter the farewell silence with 'Talk' - another easy current cruising along with no hurry despite the CD coming to a closure. Sober, calculated and with throwback sahdowing this is as you were folks, and if you are totally convinced up to this point, you will be delighted with this closing piece. Precise, polished and lucid with a gentle tattooing of poppishness and take-it-easy melodica this is what is aimed for and this is what is achieved.
Ok, I have entered the fray and listened with care. This is erudite, cultured and carefully crafted music done with a very hygienic and finalised sincerity. It isn't my choice of tuneful cha', I am always prone to things more raw, rowdy, rock and rolled and of course, under-processed but, I fancied taking on the offerings and I reckon this is worthy of a lot more attention for people of this acoustic ilk. It is a well-produce cutlet and has taken good effort - we have to make sure we keep helping those having a go and being overlooked.
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CHIMPANCE/CIVIL PROTECTION - SPLIT CD A split CD on the Deadlamb Label - a couple of bands I am unfamiliar with and both apparently tattooed through with hardcore desires. Both bands come from Spain, are immersed in their artform, here comes another clatter-batter wank off for ye olde Fungal lugs. My thoughts are something like this:- The first clutch of four are all by Chimpancé with 'Big Mouth' the opening rumble grumble. A real sprightly flourish with pronounced statements via the verse and mad gambols on pastures torn via the chorus. A quick and nippy snippet full of good gumption, a few twists and turns and plenty to mull over in one small wholesome package. New school, street-punk and old school too - with some tight application displayed. Decent doofing and outsmarted by the nifty commencement of 'Necesari' - another song that gets on with matters and packs a whole lot in to the 1 minute 15 seconds running time. The initial poundings break away for a rather routine and obvious gallop with a stutter shout out had and then some more heads-down guitar work, all backed by some very efficient drumming. Like a bubbling potion of many influential chemicals, all placed over a flame of passion and left to boil over and end up how it wants to be. Nice.
'Banned In Mad' hurtles in, it is another terse event that looks like it will be of all one strain and over and done with in double quick time. After a 30+ second spell the song completely changes its design and becomes more controlled and more prone to regular riffage. This sap and change style is already indicative of a band of restless rhythm makers who have a lot to say and play but, who refuse to hang around and draw things out. The clatter-batter cum incessant twatter soon breaks up into a fuzzery and something very orthodox but magnetic. Healthy riffery escorts all and we are left with another sharp slapdown of multifaceted angles - cripes.
The last of the quartet from this lot is 'What We Say' - perhaps the most simplistic and basic song of the pack with lots of fine wire work, some solid slapping on the tympanic skins and a chanted attack that hammers home without over-elaborating matters. This one has an inner grit and fire with a resounding defiance and stubbornness that helps the song clout hard and make its own minor impact. The band don't fuck about and I think what they do is most effective.
Civil Protection take to the stage, the first offering skids, pounds and develops into a furious throat scorch that makes 'Productivity' instantly impressive. A molten surge of desire, passion and bang-on musicianship. As tight as a virgin pigs porky vagina, rabidly reeking like a speed soaked sewer rat and foaming away like a seizuring hound of hell, this is a blister-inducing batter burst that gets one sitting up and taking immediate note. If you are gonna grab the gonads of attention this is the way to do it - a powerful blast that I fuckin' love, and into 'Tracked Again' I go. A holler and rampage bout that stays organised, packs a punch and keeps matters to the point. The chorus shouts are quite consuming, the overall set-up of the song is all about getting the job done in double quick time with the wallop factor held high. This is achieved and the mix of all elements compliments and gets the best out of each and every area. Robust and rocking, what more do ya want?
The controlled exuberance detonates once more with the ardent attack known as 'Static Version Of Me'. From subdued and subtle textures emerges a frothing fuck of feisty desire. Play this one with the volume whacked up to level 'lug fuck' and you will really appreciate the savage mania and the obedience of the musical escort that refuses to overspill into a messy melee. Those zealous throat bursts, the explosive moments and the overall clobber and clatter once again win my applause and hey, I am at a stage where I have heard many things and almost every style imaginable but this shit still arouses me - tis in the blood tha' knows.
And to the last 'Steamroller' kind of sums up the bands approach, if they ain't fuckin' listening then flatten the bastards. Here we have another vigorous rumble-tumble of highly charged tonality thwacked forth with breathless energy and a good gob-assist that keeps the eavesdropper intrigued to the very last. The soundscape is saturated, the mix is such that it will appeal to the spiked generalist and the hardcore nut in equal measure plus, there seems to be room to veer off at tangents and keep the variety promising. Again , we have a band playing a blinder in a scene awash with quality - how the fuck do you stand out or is it just enough to keep creating, believing and nailing it - I think the latter option is unquestionable.
2 fine units on show here, doing what I always say is the best approach - split CD's, working together, helping each other and providing the purchaser with options. The bonus is, it is released on a label I believe in, pure DIY at its most stubborn – invest, invest, invest!
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ROADKILL DRIVE-THRU - NEEDS MUST WHILE THE DEVIL RIDES The bass player of this lot contacted me after a long spell of not being in touch. Nick is an amiable gent and he has played a few Fungal shows in a band long defunct - by heck they were good. Here we see the plucker still at it, this time with a crew who have some good Bandcamp propaganda, I doth quote:- 'like a car crash into a moose, a band you just can't pigeon-hole. A musical fusion brought to you by roadkill-eating hillbilly banger racers from the dystopian future. Loud, proud, in your face music to go crazy to! I dare you NOT to enjoy this band! ' - crikey, now that is some darn hot talk. Thankfully I am unswayed by such spillage and do what I do and the dare is accepted (I have always been a sucker for that kind of shit). On it I am and away we go into the melee!
'Soul Trap' arrives on very serious rumblings that have a very distinct old-school Subsy-feel. It is a solid chug, the first verse has a sinisterism and a keeps matters questioning and cold before a fine juicy juxtaposition comes via the highly blossomed and liberated chorus chunk. We repeat the process before a smattering of flamboyance comes via a guitar manipulation and some echo hollering. More focused advances are made followed by a pleading shout for escape. The song cracks forth, it is a fuckin' fine mix, full of musical cooperation, subtle complimentary twists and a tidy closure. Track one and job done, a very nifty number. 'Breathe' taps in and adopts a groovy rock and roll riff that is in no rush to move on. I am just reaching for the spandex pants and the shoe horn due to the essences of the song but am soon happy rebooting with the pogo-inducing clod-hoppers and bouncing about. A hybridised song from several genres with a real freeway feel to it that has me pondering an open top car, a long road ahead and some bastardised twisted sisters striving to dabble in something punk - ooh heck. The fury against the current climate with its PC rules and verbal shackles, the modern speak that is awash with sub-textual defensiveness and fear, all make for a smouldering bed of ashes on which the band dance. Hot shit stuff!
'Life's A Beach' has distinct lust for life, an undercurrent of unsettled annoyance, and a good structure that helps us to jump up, ride the waves and avoid the social spume that is laden with toxic tossery and great bubblings of verbal bilge. An escapist dream that surfs along on its own self-made foam with the wind blowing throughout all areas and making for an active and unstoppable thrust that will not be 'wiped out'. The drudgery consumes, we need respite and a passion, here the energy is renewed with a finely executed burst of liberation - oh aye!
On into the rattling obviousness of the booze-confession blow-out known as 'Moonshine On The Brain' - a blasting and bombarding bastard of noise all wound up via a screaming liver, an unquenchable thirst and a lustful need for the liquor. A number laden with a need, an urgency and a certain degree of madness. The band race with pace, are poisoned by their own passion and throw-up a very feisty cacophony that adds something a little different to the CD thus far. Hefty chunked up welly wanking zeal - if music be a penis then here we see it wanked to oblivion - ooh pass me the bottle baby! 'Blurred' funks the fuck up with a sweet bass line that carries on and provides a delightful foundation on which a different strain of sound can build. The progression of the tuneage is almost off-the-cuff at times with an upper area holding fort and allowed to do what it does whilst the under-structure remains firm. A searching song that has frustration, a rant and a fucked-off restlessness that just wants to escape. We move through the opening frames and into the mid-section before a plea for release comes. A groovy song this that I feel has a good longevity factor and a gentle depth to make this a consistent spinner on the turntable.
A threesome beckons, I lower the assessing trollies and am met with a bombing rather than a bumming - phew. A good punky fuzz-scuffle and a holler comes via 'Dead Meat'. This is a fast, to-the-point machine gun mow-down blow out. A primeval release of energy with a strict riff and rock routine that comes and goes and leaves your tackle in tatters - it is that simple. Darker tones and more deliberate essences arise from the bleak and dreary 'Dark Skies' - a song that slowly ascends, is in no rush and carefully places each and every tone with exactitude and the thought of offering up something a little different. The bass is heavy and purposeful, the stick work of an equal accent and design with the strings joining the fray and adding extra tensions. This is a slow molten brew that takes some time to fully appreciate but I stick with it and give it a 50/50 rating. Not my fave and just lacking a certain seasoning I just can't place. A personal thought and still a well-played song, it just doesn't grasped my gonads with any conviction and squeeze out any seeds of praise - my tonal underduds could be a little too tight though! 'Behave' completes this batch of three, it is the most obvious song of the lot and just blasts along with all bits bared. I suppose many self-appointed musical eggheads would say I should find this the weakest whelp of the trio, but I cannot help my love of cacophonic clod-hoppery with delicacies abandoned and the thrust going at it full pelt. A snotty 'fuck off' number with a tantrumised attitude and pogo-inducing quality that appeals to my sonic caveman instincts. Sometimes things need to be just walloped forth and the listener just needs to 'have it'. Oh aye.
4 left and on we go. 'Delete The Elite' is a hot damn arse of pummelling passion, borne from some shine-soaked backwaters where dungarees are hitched up, the finger-jugs are upturned and there be great jigging taking place. The follow-on track 'Backwoods Boogie' is a partner in crime too and each track is awash with zeal, high octane freshness and a thermally enthusing tempo. The former track races from the traps and bites the rear with a foaming relish. The hooking of the gnashers is akin to the hooking of the addicts to the online drain - there is no escape and you are gonna get increasing pain. A good skip, nifty bass, six-strung electric avidity - yeah. the latter track opens of brisk bass, a determined strumming and a low tympanic grumble before bouncing along with a gritty verse style that has a devious darkness and then rises to a simplistic holler out that adds that important clash factor. Tis a groovy chiller folks.
Tip and tap, a cool 4 wired weave and 'Hell Yeah' bursts open as a sexed up hormone riddled advance that is played out in a somewhat simplistic way but with the added nuances of noise, the general juiced-up gist and the fact the band have a plan and go for it, all makes for a darn fine dandy. Those opening throes have me thinking of a similar song I just can't nail but the screams that come soon clear my concerns and have me rocking along to the racket of here and now. A suggestive hip-thruster - ooh the dirty perishers. We shut down with 'Fake It Til You Make it' - tongue-in-cheek advice (I hope) but a song that has a good DIY streak which will do for me. The bells chime, a Motorhead-esque savaging comes, the cut to the quick impacts and the pace makes sure we sign off breathless. A whizzing wank off that jacks off on all those snoozing and sagging. The 'needs-must' repeat is complimentary to the surging’s and overall we have a ruddy good shake up that encourages the arse to get moving, grooving and... most importantly, doing! I am out of it, the CD has been thrown into the Fungal lugs, been given good time and all I can add at this stage is that the band have been offered a gig and are on it - I think that speaks volumes and sums up my overall opinion. Tis tight gradely tha’ knows.
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