FUNGALPUNK - CD REVIEWS Page 1
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RITES OF HADDA - INEVITABLE MACHETE Look, Rites of Hadda are fuckin' good. Stout people, plenty of passion, outside many conformist circles and making a wonderful racket. Their 'live' shows are exacting and ornamented by a great frontman who is reliably backed by some wonderful noisemakers. They have played several Fungalised fuck-ups, they are coming back for more, here is my take on an 8 track effluence spill that has me hungrily salivating. Having given due praise, rest assured the CD will be dealt with as a neutered neutral - no favours, no arse-licking, no bullshit - I am too old to change and join the rim-running hordes.
A riotous tumble thunder pounds our senses as 'Is Ross Woodward A Faggot' comes at us in unashamedly forthright fashion. There is no time to adjust the underduds, tuck in the stray testes or indeed rearrange the position of a peeling foreskin. This song demands immediate attention and focus and I give it just that. The sonic seabed is whipped up and the sprats that are straight, skewed or of any swimming style, are all tossed about, tossed off and left to enjoy the maelstrom. The challenge is set, the resistance pure, the overall splashing sound is rambunctious and highly rhythmic and, do ya know what - I fuckin' love it. There ain't no diluting the queer tha' knows - and why the fuck should there be? Answers on a postcard to... ah, what is the point?
'Racist bassist' grumbles, grinds, seduces and sways. The languid cobra-dance seems harmless but there is venom ready to be injected. This is a grime and grinding sound with a sub-sex insidiousness lurking in the lower strata’s of the arrangement. A seduction fucker, a waltzing snippet of grooming wickedness that deals with a shadow of untrustworthy beliefs who is exposed and duly shunted to the bottom of the heap. We live in times of tension, instead of being racist why not have a wank - and I speak for all colours and creeds, toss away your prejudices you daft cunts. Anyway this tune hits the g-spot and a few nerve endings no doubt, job done.
Next up and 'Middle England Mate' bounces in on sanguine tones and fruity vibes. A collapse scatter, more brassage and a film-noir setting is had. Slinky sleaze baby. The molten spew falls from the volcanic maw and sears the arses of the wank-brigade who take and give nothing, who control and kill the counterculture who just wanna dance and be good. I like the bassism here, the twisting turns of the strings and the overall untrustworthy accents that give the band a unique identifiable edge. This isn't tick-box tossery, it is thinking 'erberts noise and delivered with a supreme unaffected naturalness and with a poetical intrigue that absorbs. 'Killer Profits (Tokitae)' is a powermonger and rumble grumbles in on a very brash and belligerent bass. The crammed brass mellows the rhythmic density before we get a repeatoid rant, a rattling poetical thundersplat that races along without any thought of easing up, looking back or throwing in some nonsensical baubles to hang on yer nob. When the band whip up a storm such as this they are carried along and always end on the good side of this Fungal assessor. I take it as a grooming process, ooh the sneaky bastards. I like this, I reckon it be a good set inclusion to keep the cobwebs blown away. To add – do not abuse and use animals – and stop damaging things beautiful and innocent – kaboom.
'Daemon Oh Hate' is a fiery number that deals with an identity crisis and the pricks in society who make those struggling feel even more and more vulnerable. This is a rampant stallion of sound that is a tireless exercise in getting a point off your chest and letting the listeners have it full fuckin' tilt. The music is glutted with life, kick-back punkery and verbally artistic strength. The thrashing and threshing fidget fuck level of activity needs to be played to a masterly level and so it ruddy well is. The end overspill of lunatic frustration and angst is fully justified and caps off a beautifully hectic and happening bout.
'Fuck Them ' next - a stagger march, asped sidewinds, a creeping threat that looms large. No rush, steady as she goes, there is a real shackled venom waiting to be spat forth, a toxic wank splat that sees me bearing my chest flesh. This is a potent prowler that hangs around and manipulates the senses. We deal with those who oppress, deny, critically cripple and ultimately control. The reason for the last state of affairs is you - please fuckin' think, defy and be your pure self at all times, not the made up kind that is a veritable pantomime character. A fine avalanche of the title comes, take heed, don't just sing along, fuckin' use it as fuel to keep ya sturdy. I like this one, it reminds me of why I am an awkward cunt.
I fuckin' love 'Laments'. It is an exacting expression of grief poured from a passionate heart disgusted by the condition we are creating. An environmental explosion enraged by the fuckin' vandalism and the negligible behaviour by this grab, take, self-serve brigade known as humanity. We are in a polluted ocean of fuckwits breeding fuckwits whom, eternally feed on every other living thing and that which is inanimate too. Take heed folks, the words spilled are fact, it is all well and good dancing, out-punking each other or ticking boxes but without action it is utter fuckin' piffle. The action, the uncontrolled emotion, the empathy for things real and the musical manoeuvres all keep me enthralled. Tight, focused and hitting the main vein – gigantic man.
We fuck off with the rave and raving rhythms of '.'. Mystery ensues, we have warblings from a previous release, questions repeated and I suspect no fuckin' answers coming from the mush. This is my least favoured track on the CD but it is still a good mover and groover. I just need stimulants to help me keep up and swing the backside. The techno-edge is always a little too processed for my grubby noggin though but, having said this, you gotta keep things varied and the people guessing and this is a neat arrangement that does just that.
Well, there ya go and what fuckin good CD this is (again) by a band I am quite smitten by. No pretensions, no faking it, no playing the game - just heads down and making fine music with a message. Yes, a concrete release with more nobs on – phwoar!
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ORIGAMI HORSES - SCENES Hey man, what goes on? Metal Postcards Records have another release and I am clueless about the band and what to expect and so go in, once again, a fresh as a daisy and as neutral as a, ahem, neutered dog. I did find some online info, albeit a little flimsy but still informing me that this is a 'British 90's revival alternative rock band from Canterbury, U.K. Founded in 2012'. This really is of no help whatsoever when it comes to second guessing what will transpire over the course of the 4 tracks here, I like it this way.
'Toucan' has all the touches and nuances of something B52'd. It also has a surfy kind of underscore as it goes about its business in a very pleasurable manner indeed. I like the minimalism, the flow from recesses grooved, multi-hued and parading. The motif is double-edged, two modes switching styles and just making for a sweet intro number that will serve the band well in a 'live' setting. From this 1 minute 11 second instrumental we get a pleasure extension that travels beyond the 8 minute mark (talk about changing the attack). 'Access Denied' is a delicious chill that has a digitally metronomic feel that gives inklings of soundwaves emitted by a device on ‘hold'. The initial whisperings come after the 90 second mark, they are cool, careful and in accordance with the reclined tones set. A mid-paced drift that gnaws at the resistance without really exerting itself. The touches are polite and pleasing, the guitar sequences very indie-fied and well-breezed. Yes, there is a freshness here and a simplicity and although the running time tests my punky patience, I am quite happy to play and ease up on all areas and...wallow. A neat composite for sure.
'Under The Wheel' bass bumbles in, pulses, and semi- mutters. The initial tones are frost-pecked, without rush and kept on a restraining leash. Submerged, subdued and sober with no extravagances had this is a somewhat mundane piece with the tonal gifts coming via the controlled essences and the careful musicianship. Atmosphere rises from the midway point onwards, a certain pain is felt between the sonic sheets, what we have here is far from uplifting music but music that still has value. There is an engaging mystery within, and we move into 'Scenes' with a certain uncertain gentleness and may it be said, caution. This is a very soporific number that barely kisses the pick-up substrate as it floats along on ephemeral and gossamer webbings. A tender and yet forceful sequence comes, alternative scene aromas are emanated from a vocalist troubled. The effort drifts on and finally reaches a place where it is happy to fade into oblivion - I am unsure here, things seem a little too tame for their own good I feel.
And there you have it, a matter-of-fact little encounter with a 4-track CD that has appeal, is neatly played out and one that doesn’t overwhelmed the listener with anything outlandish. I would like to hear the bands next 4 tracker, I up they throw in a few janglers next, we can only wait and see.
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SLUG BOYS - LISTEN TO SLUG BOYS
A debut album is always something to be highly anticipated, and if you know fuck all about the band who are throwing out their first offering then so much the better. A bit of research after receiving a review request revealed that this is a Norwegian-British-Swedish post-punk band who have a reputation for chaotic, unpredictable live shows. There was more descriptive puff but as per, I ignore and do what I do with my own purist approach. Using this style helps me be accurate or way off the mark, both glorious end results without affect tha' knows. Well, you do insist on the punkery don't ya.
The kick off comes through the mush known as 'Glasnost'. This is a very satisfying opening salutation with all areas compressed, watertight and of a very soaked through accent. The opening drums are laden with life, the full-on concoction of sound that follows has many facets and influences it seems. There is a danger, a sanguinity that borders on a cock-sure strut. The compaction of the sonic soil is high, we are given brief pockets in which to gain extra air before the whole enveloping sound continues. Angles, snifters of aggression but a great joy de vivre is apparent in an opening number that really does the business. Be solid folks, resist, fight back and dance with passion.
'Dear Life' is straight at it with the mix of the melodic matter both magnificent and molten. There is plenty of power here, a certain reactive flow and a full-on blossoming into a chorus that transcends the high quality of the tonality thus far. A hunger is felt, the seething extra vocal slaps leave a stinging impression not to be underestimated whilst all the while the song moves with artistic fluidity and a whirlpool of garish colours that blend and bend and make for an appealing end intrigue. A frustration is emanated, a sinewed force and something almost anthemic - it is rather fuckin' splendid.
The next two and 'Mother Mary' cruises in with a perspiration free-brow before a grunt and an ensuing sear-surge. An emotive force blossoms, an open heart exposes gratefulness. The moments of tumult, fast pace and pressure-cooker intensity work well with the spoken breaks helpful in giving the song an added depth and an extension in the always crucial longevity factor. This is not an instantaneous gob-smacker, it lacks the blatant salvo of the opening tracks but it has weight and it does grow - stick with it folks. 'Slug Boys Anthem' is a chunky chomper to get your sonic lugs around. It is a very basic song, the lyrics and the whole composite is done with a straight-ahead drive, a no-nonsense force and with a party-fied edge that just doesn't hit the mark. This could have been a special moment, of the tuneful litter so far this is a runt of rhythm I can take or leave.
'For Love' buzz-squelches, comes with a strange strain that takes some adjusting too. I gradually get in the groove after a couple of spins, the emotive factor works away and from the stuttering verse comes a blossoming of many a splendid hue and great tidal insistence. Fear dictates, defiance joins the fight and a hint of serious desperation adds to the thrust of the song. At first I was rather aloof and somewhat unconvinced by this slowly shapeshifting number but, with patience and good sonic effort I gotta say it is a fine piece of work. 'One Of Us' comes next, the crumpled foil guitars, a grunt and a more controlled tonality leads the way. The following gobbage is hungry and laden with zeal. The zip and zest is decent enough and the overall bounce of the song encourages arse-moving activity. There is a wealth of positive palpitating vibrology and the more I listen in the more and more I am taken. I think this short summary is enough for this one.
'Painkiller' has a 'live' feel, some chanting, and some bouncing ravey sensations that duly work their way into the caveman realms and get the foot tapping. The delivery continues and becomes almost robotic and futuristic with a metallic coldness infiltrating certain areas. Sound splashes and explosions come, the band apply themselves with certainty and the blend of all facets has a granite aural feel but... I am not overly taken by this one and find that it falls into the shadows of greater inclusions on this very worthwhile CD. Some people may have it tagged down as a fave, some may not - it is all about taste and as I have said many times over 'no one can like everything'. 'Saab 900' has an Undertones tickle to the intro (yeah 'You Got My Number'). The thrash out that comes is precise, sniping and done and dusted at 26 seconds. A short explosion is a time and tested trick used by many bands - these rapid ravings are what they are and there ain't no faults found here. If playing 'live' and time is tight, this will be a fine encore.
'Why' chops in, hollers and pounds. The first verse has plenty of meat on the bone, the tendons are taut and the power healthy. The segue into the chorus is slick and without fuss and as the song progresses we see another moment of good orchestration, raw unaffected impact and a synthed up saturation that helps the entire flow. There is a leakproof quality to the liquidity, a good wallop factor and some fine snarling from the rabid dog at the fore - what more can you ask for in this defiant and stand strong, stand proud song? 'Slug Boys Love Song' is retro rock and roll sloppiness done with the sickly sweet musical massaging that some would be groomed by and others would be deeply suspicious of. It comes, it goes, it sends a shiver up my spine and I make sure my jacksie is corked. Not for me this kind of sinister shizzle I am afraid and I wonder what is the point of this inclusion - ooh the silly buggers.
And into the last 2 we go. My assessing kecks are hitched up, I move with pace and sum up this double-discordance with hopefully a terse and accurate style. A power heave opens 'Sleep Forever' before a very stated and authoritative opening verse takes hold. It is spartan in some ways but still has a solid hit factor. The move to the chorus chunk is buttery, the growth of the song rewarding and the whole arrangement very polished. This is a song that indicates a band with more potential and with an appeal that could very well be far reaching. Perhaps the most commercialised piece of the lot with elements that even the most niched noise-lover will take to. Interesting indeed. We close with 'The War' which comes with an intro - words from yore, a state of play displayed and then the honest, heartfelt and very earthy tones of the song itself. A progressive and emotive movement with a certain depth and may one add, a homely touch. The tones may be tagged as 'corned', yes, I have heard many similar expulsions and find matters a little too sickly sweet as far as the tonal shadings go but... and here is the nub of the noise, it is played well, has care and rounds off a CD that displays a band who are thinking, pushing and doing a darn good job. Not a classic for me, a rock-steady stroller but some will love this I am, sure.
From the discordant depths of my shattered soul another review has been scrawled - I hope I have been fair, honest and have captured the essence. The Slug Boys are a darn good unit, a few songs hit inner zeniths, some are bang tidy, a few I can take or leave but if I said I liked everything I would be the ultimate cacophonic conman - ooh it ain't the way to be.
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JULIES DEAD - SOMETHING WENT WRONG A small treat from a band that are rekindling their rhythms and rockin' out with a new found gusto. According to the Facebook bilge drip they are 'feral punk quintet from Northampton, tearing up UK stages since the ’90s. Their snarling, high-octane sound channels Misfits and Black Flag. Unrelenting live shows and raw energy prove punk’s not dead—just louder, faster, and meaner' - well it certainly is a good propaganda push for sure. I have them booked, I go in neutral in the nethers, and here is what pips I splash out. 'Safe' is a beautiful number that deals with the situation of domestic violence, a real terror state of play that sees the bully beat on the already beaten and crush them into utter oblivion. I have known a few of these situations in my time, one ended up with a death, it is all fuckin' pathetic. Here a question is repetitively asked via strong song that rolls in, fuzzes with ill-temper and drives with an unstoppable force. The message is clear - 'lasses, do not take this shit'. The verses are nailed down, the segue into the chorus is smooth and the whole concoction works and works fuckin' well. For me, bands who deal with this kind of subject matter need applause and note, when they do it in such an effective DIY way I can only tip my titfer in generous acknowledgement. An opening track and a fuckin' impacting stunner with great power. The follow-up to this initial blow-out is laden with pressure as it has to be a good un' to hold its own with matters already laid down. 'Failson' ups the pace, has a remarkable fluency and more than stands firm in this small sonic arena. A twisting guitar, a roll and we are at it with a good energy unearthed and an opening rapid-fire verse gratifying to the soul. The fuckers who have it all and never seem to fail (in their eyes and the eyes of the sycophants) are dealt with via a quite delicious gallop of swiftly generated music that sticks to an orthodox composition but does so with fascinating appal. The 'whoa hoas' help us get involved, the uncomplicated approach and the completeness of the track make it another winner for me. DK string essences, a thrust and in we go to 'In Her Mind'. A serious question, an aftermath pondering, a kick-back of rabid retribution. The main winning assets of this song are the vicious cut, the infection factor of the speed rate and the overall torrent of verbal goodness that really operates quite ideally over the solid foundations of well-played musicianship. Key saturations, a break of spartan effect, a rant and rave and this song brings to the fore several elements that make it a cracking eruption of earthy DIY din-making. It keeps the CD flowing with a wealth of urgency and focus and magnetic high-tempo melody. 'Junkfood Generation' is a very old song and here are the words of Dunk, band member of Julies Dead and The Mispelt - 'this is one of the first songs that I wrote. It's something I penned in my bedroom at my parents when I was about 17 or 18. In this original form it was the show runner in the early years Julie's Dead set and the stand out track on our first ever demo. When Julie's Dead fell apart it then became a filler in the fledgling Mispelt set, lost to obscurity until dusted off and re-worked in the Gen era of Mispelt and then retired again only to see a new lease of life with the reformed and reinvigorated Julie's Dead - the version on this CD is what I heard in my head when I was writing it 30 odd years ago'. And so here are my Fungalised thoughts. The song mentioned from the Mispelt's 'Gen Era' is a fuckin' classic, a real upbeat and in-yer-face' song that stands the test of time. This version is nothing like the said beauty but is a still a ruddy good piece albeit in a less flamboyant way. I am in tune with the rough and ready blasting and the arrangement is highly applaudable. The closure is 'All These Years' - a quite muscular movement with rabid ravaging intertwined with cruising quality that really throws the CD a whole new angle and keeps one intrigued right up until the last. From the suffering is borne success, from incandescent frustration is borne a flame of defiance in a fuckin' healthy and kicking track that really turns me on. I shall leave the review here - nuff fuckin' said. Julies Dead have me aroused, I am looking forward to the debut Fungalised appearance, this is some fuckin' EP folks and I am giving it a real Fungal thumbs up with extra nobs on and nipples. Hell yeah! |
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NEXO - MINDFUL INACTION From Copenhagen in Denmark comes a thrashy hardcore unit with elements that are experimental and varied. I am happy to just come along, listen with good intent and thrash out the Fungalised thoughts as they come. There ain't no process, no pre-set thinking and the fresher I can go in, the fuckin' better!
'Concentration' begins the five track journey with a low rumble of controlled tonality. Hollerings come from depths cursed, we are immediately confronted with a grimaced and tense laden spillage that looks set to test the nerves. Poundings, a strum and then a relieving thrash hammer with a repetition yell factor taking hold of the reins and creating a very stressful sonic scenario. From the brink of a breakdown comes a primeval scream of needy depths, escorted by a whipping maelstrom of emotive seizuring that completes the whole discomfiting discordance. Powerful, intense and very shattering - take care folks, this is bold and sinewy lug-grappling matter.
I love the emergency surge during the opening throes of 'Deadline' all happening and addictive before a glutinous glug-pull drags one back into a nightmare realm of fear. The fear is borne from not making the grade, achieving matters on time in a lunatic world where people are racing the clock, tripping head over heels in a mayhem of meetings, catch ups and experiences before they ultimately... drop dead. The song soon picks up the pace again, feel the pressure, admire the noise as the valve is opened - this is a fuckin' strong and healthy track.
'Karoshi' kicks along with a good lick, it labours away and sends out a warning to those doing too much work that will see the final wage packet labelled 'oblivion'. The rat race has people snared, the 'working from home' brigade are not beating anything, thank fuck I retired first. Again we see a tension rise and ultimately erupt in a spark-shower of anxiety and cerebral poison. From the opening boomings comes a solid bout of regularity with the throat neatly seared and the players all unified in one well-channelled burst. This one hits the tubes and stays right on track.
Having previously mentioned the 'hatred' factor I witness a move up in thermal viciousness here as a blazing infusion of molten ill-temper splashes forth via 'My Blood'. Screwed up and tetchy mechanics are pulled all ways before a statement is made and then an explanation is given. This is not a fluid tune, is not instantaneously magnetic and doesn't hit all my positive sensors but the whole arrangement grows in stature as matters progress and the brutality, the honesty and the unapologetic delivery all work in a kind of 'oh fuck' kind of way. A very necessary song, especially for the singer it seems.
We piss off into the sable silent realms with 'Overcorrection' - a very submerged and sub-gothic piece that is soaked through to the core. A ball of radioactive searing that rotates without distraction and crushes all resistance. For me it is a hard track to digest, one that is best left to those who have a greater tolerance of things of this intensity. The musicianship is tight, the minimal vocals hard to decipher and the application sound but, I feel more emphasis could have been placed on melody and that all important 'hook'. Hey, tis' personal honesty folks, that is all I ever wish to offer.
There is a great weight of sound here, much to appreciate and some heavy duty outpourings that are of a certain generic realm. The release is on the admirable 5Feet Under Records label and the band know their stuff. Not my bag but not a CD to slaughter either (as if I would).
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DAVID DELINQUENT AND THE IOU'S - EVERYBODY LOVES YOU David Delinquent & The I.O.U'S are pretty new kids on the shit-stained block, I am sure they have slipped in a few turds as they have traversed the cruddy thoroughfare of sonic life but, it seems, they are making a little progress. I have no idea what progress is these days but, as long as they are creating, are as keen as mustard and are enjoying it whilst not ripping people off or kissing rings then that will do for me. If the music is shite, bright and just right I can only hear, ponder and assess if requested to so. Here I have been asked to comment on a single release, one track to try and sum up what is going on and how the vibes may bless or curse the awaiting lugs.
The title is feelgood, I am untrustworthy though 'Everybody Loves You' indeed. The opening throes are tattooed through with glammed joviality and gusto, a trait that continues throughout, much to the betterment of the whole arrangement. This is a fruity explosion of motivational music with a sensation of something commercialised (ooh how I shudder at the word). This is mighty fine fodder though, especially when played loud on a darkened wintry day when the black dog is nipping at the posterior. The clarity of all components, the fluency, the saxy swagger, the overall zest and the final production values make this a quite nippy treat with the orchestration tidy and the crossover from the DIY to the more processed highly applaudable. Perhaps there are corned elements and it ain't nowt new under the well-whipped sun but...who fuckin' cares. If it feels good, play loud and dance baby.
There ya go, a Fungalised nod of approval, am I going soft in my old age or am I spot on when I rate this a darn banger? With 1800+ CD reviews under the belt I hope I have some inkling of insight.
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LEGLESS TRIALS - AMERICAN RUSS NEVER SLEEPS Hey man, here we delve into 2 tracks from the realms of capricious cacophony where I have previously tampered. For those that have read my many reviews, including my sojourns into realms from where I send ye a Postcard on Metal, you will know the script here. For anyone not yet familiar with all that transpires get yer reading goggles on and peruse.
And spin...
...'American Russ Never Sleeps Part 1' - expected clink-clanks and micro-wanks come before the automaton's mandible robotically wags and spills poetical weavings of a quite ambiguous but observant leaning. A cold and stark reality is deranged and angled as the acoustic oddment unfolds and asks questions and comes up with no real answers. A cutlet of crooked and misshapen pondering with a fear left in its wake, a fear akin to a toxic slug trail that is smeared across the cranial sensors and left to do its rotting thing.
And flip...
...'American Russ Never Sleeps Part 2' - the frosted tones continue, the haunted cambers continue to be adverse and cause our inner carriages to duly wobble and stir the innards. Twist and twitch subtleties shapeshift and taunt whilst the oral dictator continues in an almost aloof and detached manner. The Legless Ones are a unit borne from ova of eccentricity and will not dilute their output just to please. This track is another twisted metal intrusion that must be committed to memory before it falls away in the empty mists of all-consuming time. What it is, where it was created and where it will end up seems irrelevant.
You want things off kilter? You got it! You ask for something different? You got it! You want something to challenge the senses in its own direct fashion? You got that too! Do I like it or do you like it? Is there any pertinence in the last question? For the record – I am utterly bemused but glad that folk do this shit!
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ABOVE US THE WAVES - COUNTING SEASONS From Kavala in Greece comes a heavy duty noise making 5-piece that blend the mania of hardcore punkery with the vulgar threat tones of death metal. It is all ferocious stuff played by people immersed, absorbed and with no hope. For me, 4 tracks of this sonic style is enough, I am happy to dip in and out and admire any quality on show. I have expectations, I may be overjoyed, proven right or vigorously disappointed.
'Cliffhanger' is an unapologetic vandalization of the rhythmic realm where poppism and delicacies are crushed underfoot by a severe Hell-beating of thunderous malevolence. The magnesium of the melody is lit, it sears the senses whilst the roaring gob and the unsettling back whispers contain the crucial unhinging factor. This though is still, at its centre, hardcore raving and rioting with the band blistering their mitts during a concussive cacophony. Subtle switches, not so subtle slammings, this has all the hallmarks of a noise ideal for those absolutely beyond salvation. Personally I find matters too stretched out and too stuttery in parts but I can also recognise a mastery of a sub-scene and a sweetly mixed poison to intoxicate those who dare get too close. Solid work.
'Guard My Six' tympanically tosses off, merges into a saturated soundscape from which rises a fully exposed mush of intensity that burns with a dull blue tone rather than scorching with a red alert intensity. This is still hefty and hurtful stuff but just needs some clobber added to the volume levels folks, Turn up, make sure you are in the mood and absorb yourself in some very serious noise-making. If you are looking for an easy listen and something for the background then think again, there are many layers to peel away and a full-on onslaught to try and tackle. Again, I am not overly taken but this is a personal view, I know many who will love this watertight racket.
'Ghost Issues' begins with lighter tones, eventually blossoms with great absorbing technicality before yelling away and altering the delivery with persuasive nuances. A full-on rampage comes, periods of contemplation are thrown in, angles and adjustments made in a composition that has a lot going on and leaves me flabbergasted and just plain old gassed. Perhaps overly convoluted and not of any definitive scene (which is no bad thing), this is noise for the aficionado or those converts who are ensnared already and are happy to wallow. Strong sonica you really must prepare for.
The closure comes via the song known as 'Counting Seasons'. Textured tones, mutterings from the dark and a creeping unease. Matters move after a holler, and then we get what is to be expected and more of what has been. The band know their stuff, apply themselves with great focus and expose a flawless degree of in-zone talent. The mix and match is repeated, we have moments to dismantle, examine and then put together back again - all I can add at this point is that if you have been thrilled thus far you will be more than aroused by this. I don't like it, what can I do - but, as per, my thumbs are raised to some healthy noise made by folks who do it fuckin' well.
And a big 'yes' if you like your noise heavy, multi-flavoured and polished, as you have noted 'it is a 'no' from me as I can't like everything and will never pretend to. There is no way though that I can knock this, the production values, the power and the passion are there, make of that what you will. I am outta here looking for things grubbier.
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THE MANSTERS - SNAPSHOTS FROM A SHITSHOW From Tønsberg, Norway come The Mansters - a tidy tuneful outfit that are laden with irritation, angst and good melodies. The title of the album and many of the songs will give you a good inkling of what is going down here and rather than waste time, I jump into the hectic fray and give my thoughts.
'The World Is My Ulcer' starts with a pomp and a patience. The opening build has fair texturisation and a general arrangement, it is soon washed away by an irresistible torrent of electro surging that has a feel of 90's US melodica and everyday skater punkery that always brings life to any cacophonic creation. There is no fuckin' around here or dawdling with the din - as soon as the initial intro is done the band go for it and nail matters in very terse time. 1 minute 46 seconds - the goodness is crammed in baby and I need add no more! 'Badeland Hardcore' waffles on in tongues indecipherable. The song itself soon comes with an intense hardcore slant and a tribal under-beat that helps the upper layers to thrive. The hopeless situation under scrutiny is taken as a state of play with a lack of popularity far from a niggle. The 'whoa hoas' add to the feeling of a band comfortable, cruising and doing what they do with an in-band know how. A number that bristles and sizzles in equal measure and one that helps the CD maintain its impacting commencement!
'The Beach' is wonderful basic power punch raging with a virulent hardcore surge that keeps things mightily effective. From the opening thrust we know that this one is not gonna last for any length of time and so it shouldn't. There is a thirst in the output of all players, a diseased relish that rubs off on the listener and we enter the fray, get tossed about (and perhaps 'off') and are hoofed out the other end smiling. 'Lessons In Giving Up' is a pop punk beauty with an instantaneous grab in the lick and an overall feel of something oh so slightly surfed. The opening verse is played within itself, the segue into the chorus is as smooth as butter and encouraged by a tympanic dictate that keeps the whole shebang lively and happening. Further blossoms come with a sincere honesty found in the oral arrangements especially during the closing throes. A song with more depth than it appears to hold.
The pace continues with high impetus, 'Home Til I Die' clobbers along and will please the manic pingers out there who like to crash, careen and ultimately collapse. This is a sharp edged song with an overabundance of vibro-matic vim and clutter-fuck-it animation. There is always a threat that things will come unstuck and the band will end up on their blistered arses but they crack the whip, refuse to fuck about and nail it. 'Something' is a harsh overspill of fiery acid, destined to splash all over your flesh and scorch you asunder with victorious vibes. After much nonsensical mumblings the escapade explodes, roars, has a brief tub and bass break before scorching to the final tonsil tear-up. Effective shit baby.
'I Should Be Getting More Likes' sums up the delicate needy world in which we live with folk desperate for note and attention. A glorious burst of tunery with a fine flow that has all the hallmarks of 90's pop punk and the simplicity of bands willing to just crack on and roll out a number. No depths to be surprisingly uncovered, no profound playing and no arsing about making for a cacophonic conundrum - it comes, goes, and I like it. 'Panicboy 2' drives hard, screws deep and hollers. A fear thrives, a stark semi-hardcore/hard-on thrust is raw but mid-paced. The flames lick at the undercarriage, there is a thermal radiation not to be underestimated here and the rising rage all helps this one to get by. I don't think it is as effective as the previous whipper but it works and works mighty well.
I crack on with pace, I tackle a set of four with the gears shifted.
'Run To The Pils' is a tale of getting away, a basic burst that surges from the first and keeps up the momentum til the very last. A state of desperation played without intricacy, slapped home in double quick time and with a sincere lack of self-wanking. I can't add much more, it keeps the flow going and I have no gyps. 'Yngves Fault' has a lovely lick, a quite steady and unobtrusive roll out that develops as the pace increases. There is nothing outrageous going on here and the song has no defining hook, it is as you would expect and just maintains the standard set without adding anything new. I rate this a weakling in the pack but one that still, as a stand-alone, serves the band well. 'No Money, I'm Worried' is a straight ahead jack-off that deals with a simple scenario and just goes for it. Bassism opens, a tub stutter joins in, and then the guitar and gob jump into action, find the main vein and pump home the amphetamine-based hit without regret or any thought of reconsidering. Once the song gets rolling the finish line is in sight and the band reach it with all conkers and kudos intact. I would leave to see this one 'live'. The final fling of the quick quartet sees me venture into the realms of 'Johnny Is Single Again' - a tap, a screaming statement and much clutter-fuck-it mania all done in 15 seconds flat - give or take the odd nano-second perhaps.
And we close - 'Snapshots From A Shitshow' is a neatly arranged shout out with moments of seeming composure and others that teeter on the brink of a thoroughly well-deserved breakdown. The band eventually do go semi-off-the-rails but just manage to arrive home to ‘Silence-Ville’ all safe and sound and with the last few tinkles somewhat poignant. This final song offers a little something different and keeps one entertained to the very last - a good touch.
Hey The Mansters do something that I have heard many other bands do over the course of many ages of acoustic eavesdropping. There ain't nowt new under the sun baby and for me, if it is played well, has good energy and reflects a band with talent and who are enjoying what they do then there can be no gripes other than I don't like it. I get the gist here though and appreciate many tunes - it has been worth the time (in some instances only a small snippets of time but worth it nonetheless).
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AMONGST STRANGERS - STRENGTH OF A FEW Hey, what do I know about this lot - fuck all? What are the chances of me summing up the sonica in all its glory - well, here's hoping? This is a 4-piece from Norfolk who do their own thing - if this thing avoids labelling and slotting into a social niche then that would be just swell with me. I dip in untainted by a press-release, any propaganda or sway and come up with a few ponderings. It is mere DIY doofing on all sides.
'Electric Loneliness' paves the way - a fast paced, unity-sodden skater sounding slipstream of sound that is well-mixed, perfectly balanced and delivered with a convincing adeptness. A gentle opening sequence and then the leash is released and the tempo increased. The content of the song deals with an eternal gripe of mine - the techno-onscreen addiction where people fail to operate without their plugged in fix and guidance. I am 60, never had a phone and am doing OK, I despair at the ones goggle-eyed and being mentally drained by the sparking fangs of the digital vampire. The crew relay their own frustrations with subtle anger in a song that breezes along with lofted energy values, admirable liquidity and a blend of components that really does work. Old school in some ways, modernised in others, overall a good spurt of sound with a good spittle soaked edge. Bang! 'Propaganda' is of a tonal stance and rhythm that I have heard many times before and deals with the ongoing shit-shovelling that really does need ignoring. After a bass intro and the brief guitar skin it is all systems go with a song unfolding that is breathless, all-action and a real choice grower. The overall unity, rapido animation and general aroused excitement make for a fuckin' good whipper that has US nuances and, may I add, a certain youthful freshness. Fine fodder for the whizzed up and jerked off rebels out there methinks. I am more than a little taken here. Onto 'The Strength Of The Few' - a tympanic tornado of energy that drives this uplifting tune along and hopefully reminds those with views against the crap flow that they had better hang in there and not dilute their thinking whilst facing the uphill climb. This is an all action piece (again) with seemingly more going on than first anticipated. The layers need peeling, the individual components scrutinising and when one does, the result is of a unit dishing out watertight noise with a solid snarl factor, invigorating pace and a tunefulness that duly grows. Yeah, this kind of stuff has been done a million times over and is usually of a lofted standard but, this band nail it and don't fuck about in the process. The last two, 'This World' tells you the state of play and asks what will we do. Judging by the fuckery and the continued downward spiral I expect the answer to the question will be 'fuck all' in many cases - aagghhh. This is a delicious piece of noise - the free-flowing liberation of sound and the perfect balance of vibrating liveliness make this a fast-paced treat that I consider a gem. The opening proclamations are solid and set the stage, the ensuing battering of wholesome and sing-a-long noise utterly effective and the clarity and overall orchestration is ruddy gratifying beyond belief - I have my latest choice for 'Song of the Month' - ka-fuckin'-boom! Closure comes via 'We Are The Difference'. A few hungry tub thumps, a relished rhythm takes hold with some ensnaring gobbage and then the band are at it. Tight and compact noise that cuts to the core, a sharp-dressed sonic assassin comes and leaves this old and cantankerous reviewer with little to criticise - ooh the rotten bastards. This is an enthusiastic noise burst with a content that speaks for itself. You are never too old to rebel - dressing up, being a scenester and getting pissed is not the way - each and every step needs consideration in a world going to pot. I am using this, and the other tracks, to keep my arse kicked and as a reminder that some are still disgruntled. This is fuckin' good music with essences of yore and now. For the youthful and the arthritic this is music to enjoy and use as a weapon of rejuvenation. A well-timed piece of noise making this. I like EP's I think they have a perfect balance of the teasing and pleasing and help bands to keep things fresh with plenty in reserve. I suggest this lot just keep on rolling out 5 trackers and if they are as good as this I will be over the fuckin' moon. A seriously good effort and one that has been a pleasure - go get yer fix fuckers. |