FUNGALPUNK - CD REVIEWS Page 1
|
|
 |
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.
|
 |
SNAIT - THE BLESSING WAY Deadlamb Records are 100% DIY and is a place where I have great faith in the spillages that come. 2 fine guys do the business, they are pissing in the wind with joyous sincerity and never forget to keep this Fungalised git in the loop. A package arrived from the emerald shores, a vinyl was there, from a band I know little of. Snait are from Italy, they make short, sharp shockers and don't fuck around, this was met with great appreciation and interest. Spins, consideration and the seven tracks were ready for some feedback. I do what I do with idiot conviction and no personal progress whatsoever - isn't this just a beautiful way to be.
'All My Fears' and verbals come (translation book please) and into the fray we go. A 90's style of noise with the repetitive stick work and technical tunery harking back to a time when this shizzle was all the rage. Here the main gusts and thrusts are not overly complicated and we avoid getting too bogged down into that confounding claptrap that marred so many songs that could have been so much more. The focus here is tight and zoned in, the application astute and with a short stop/start break repeat, the final grind out to the last blast is more than efficient. In Fungal's humble opinion I have heard this stuff many times before but this is far from shoddy sonica. I prefer the clatter-batter forwardness of '06AM'. This is a piece that stays on track, channels all energy into one straight furrow of fuckery and blows out the cobwebs with some zipping zeal. The approach is simple, clobber away, add an inner riff spill, plod it out with a more stable style and go for the finale with all areas intact. The time it takes for the song to trespass on your cranial territory and then piss off into the great vibrating void is short - I like it that way!
Third up and 'Plenary Indulgence' sharply twinges, tub rumbles and then thrashes along with melodic control and a slightly new-fi style with a leap into a chanted closure soon upon us. This, and the quick assault of 'The Blessing Way', are both terse examples of accurate musicianship, no-nonsense noise making and the creativity of something that perhaps is a little too fleeting for its own good, The songs are faultless but for examples so brief, they lack an all-important 'grab factor'. I play several times, I am impressed, frustrated and left with little more to add - the latter state may be a ruddy good thing for all concerned. I hope I avoid being talked about at a comfortable sub-committee and being labelled a 'twat' - it can happen tha' knows!
'Call It A Day' is the best song of the lot, a real biting and punchy affair with a screwed up sonic countenance that is awash with acidic observations. The leeches bleed matters dry, the new clatterers wanna be heard, here we have a band kicking out and striving to make their own impression. The main winning essence of this song is the compacted running time, all action saturation and clobbering approach that shows a unit tightly knitted together and happy to fuse all focus and make for a blistering belt out that wallops home. 'Deceptions' has no intro and jumps straight to the fore - it is almost part and parcel of the preceding track. Again all areas are mushed together and slap, twang and bollocks happy with the tumult incessant and the words lost amid the torrential downpour. Herein is the greatest mistake - no ruddy lyrics on Bandcamp. Thankfully I have a vinyl and have a lyric sheet - am I any clearer? Within the 1 minute 47 second running time the band cram in a great cacophonic urgency and get the job done with flying colours intact!
The closure is another tip top tune and competes with my aforementioned prize pick due to its varying textures, more control and the sub-chorus that is engrained with a complementary blend of caustic passion and emotive seasoning. 'Do You Still Hate Me' is a quite accomplished outburst that moves matters up to new level, a level which I hope the band explore a little more. Crash, bang and wallop is all fine and dandy but it is always beneficial to vary the approach and keep the luggite on the edge of their attentive seat. I think this latter song emphasises this and by heck, it is a darn satisfying moment.
Terse, tuneful and to the point but, despite being a good release, a slight Fungal squeeze is on because I believe the band have a whole lot more to come! They know their stuff, have a good flow going but for the next 7 gimme a curveball, a slow track and of course a little more of the same too. Hey, this is Fungalised feedback - honest, humble and I hope, helpful!
|
 |
NEON CRABS - A BIG DUMB RACKET Montage merging of melodica that has a tendency to stray. Here I venture forth for the third time, striving to sum up the end result of an across the waters cacophonic copulation between Andy Goz and Matt Nauseous (both of whom have many discordant dabblings dealt with by this reviewing git). 4 tracks is the order of the day.
Duo the first - 'Altered States' is a swirl blur of liquid hues that swill around the grey gunk and play merry Hell. A blending of challenging rhythms and semi-opposing acoustica all make for a metamorphed wank stain of dash splash deliberateness that at first may seem a trifle abstract and disjointed but which indeed has structure, weight and a purpose. Tranced and shape-shifting contemplations are water-washed before being overlain with added etchings and multi-hued tomes that duly accentuate a mix that is outré and quite an alchemised mutation that starts as mere rock and ends up as a molten element many may delight in trying to fathom. A perversion that takes us by the hand to the next fellow corruption, namely 'Invisible'. This second track is more structured and has a sub-sci-fi scaffold of sound that upholds the general core of the creation whilst the architects can dabble and design with their usual angularity and may one add, awkwardness. The sinuate flow of the arrangement, the disjointed building blocks that paradoxically fit into place and the appealing edge that is now a familiar speaker spill around the Fungalised noggin all help make this a more than gratifying snippet of the outlandish. We must keep our attentive noggins on the brink!
And the next brace 'Prison Of Imagination' bumbles in, shimmer shake whispers before examining the cerebral shackles so many are crippled by. This is a strange invasive piece that I just don't get along with. I am not keen on its whole approach, find it too wishy-washy and not really firm enough in its approach. There are acoustic experiments always destined to come unstuck - I find this such a piece. I always give good time and consideration to each and every resonation that hits my membrane - I refuse to try and like everything. 'Letter To Dog' has more substance but again just doesn't grab the sensors of appreciation. Matters get a trifle too blended and confused, overstep the mark and invade the airspace without any thought it seems for neighbouring cacophonic comrades. Each individual contributor seems to get haze/phased out and we are left with something that feels a little rinsed through and shy of the mark. Again, I am not keen, which is a shame because this lot usually have me intrigued and wondering - hey these things happen.
Four tracks, 2 have me absorbed, 2 have me switching off - tha' listens in, takes yer chance and this is how the cookie sometimes crumbles. These are my thoughts, as honest as the day is long, what more can I do? It is my third encounter with this lot - I do try tha' knows but I reckon they have better stuff on offer and, to come.
|
 |
SEWAGE FARM - FUCK IT From wayward wanderings come contacts and from contacts come extra relations and rhythms and sometimes a review is requested. A band played a gig, the lead lout was in another band and a CD was soon coming my way. There is some great music out there, under the radar, away from the over-pushed piss wank of popularity. Beneath the blankets of huff and puff are found humping musicians ready to give birth to the next batch of bubbling boomers. Sewage Farm were formed in York in 2016, and the band have played in the UK, France, Netherlands and Germany. It is irrelevant who they have played with - what matters is the noise created and here I attempt to sum it all up in the usual Fungal fucked-up way. 'Apathy In The UK' is a turbulent torrent of revved up power-mongering with a holistic disgust paraded via a song of unruly passion. This country is a shithole, laden with hate, destructive forces, useless ego laden wasters and digitally crushed deadheads. The overspill here is all action from the off, it is a wound up piece of snotty aggression with a heavyweight feel and a liquidity not to be undervalued. The bewilderment with the countries pride and the flag flying foolishness is tangible and the unleashing of the furious forces all culminates in a track that is biting, effective and of a fuckin' impacting virulence. The white heat glows brightly at the latter end and the players let it all hang loose - standard set, this is a beauty. 'Sickened Land' joins the fray, clobbers along and asks one to come and have a look at the state of things today. A stark reality played with observational facts, the drive is unstoppable and the blanketing sound helps reinforce the bleak outlook vomited forth by the disgusted frontman. Sober and not shying away from the state of shittery out there - and many are still smiling amid the horror show and proclaiming to be living the dream. This is a double-whammy backing up the initial punch in fine combo style. Belly grumbles come, a sniping accent ensues from the acidic oral orifice whilst the noise is hard-pushed and done with a dirty garage feel that I for one fuckin' adore. 'Friend No More' is a straight forward delivery with brief statements, punchy points made and a simplicity that embraces a purity of punkism very much lost. To label the song as mere 'punk' though would be shabby on my part and it is an earthy inclusion with a 'fuckin' have it' goodness and a compacted soundscape that gives wallop to the delivery. Another 'tough as old boots' confrontational offering with a very insightful know-how displayed by the clatterers. 'No Way' is a vicious imprint left on the beaten aural membranes and thrashes along with a fine clarity, heave-ho aggression and a forthright honesty. At times the frenzy rises so high as to be in danger of a complete breakdown. The band play it tight, control is always maintained and the sub-chorus cruising’s amid the battering ram pulverisation are a sublime win. The stick work is exhausting, the bonding of the cable operations admirable and the front hollerer certainly makes his mark amid the magnificent melee of ill-tempered racketeering. The next two and 'Candyman' billows in and is a snaking blighter with a sinuous and sinewy unsettle factor that sees a temptation come and feed on any moments of vulnerability. The fuzz-fuck is invasive and interrupted by deep twists of cruelty and trifling pauses that play havoc with the certainty of the listener. A short but very cute mover that comes, kicks arse and fucks off with all credibility intact - what more could you ask for! 'Bad Attitude' has a direct forcefulness and a no-fucks thrusting that sees the song trundle along with good gumption and a nice mucky edge. Another heavy pound push with that bassed up underflow having weight and solidity whilst allowing the front fellow to do his excellent thing and the slap-happy skin savage to slam away with gusto. 'Never Over' follows and is a good zenith with a mix of snagging riffage, an almost semi-automated versage that leads into a real liberated chorus cut that is deliciously simple, very effective and with a perfect contrast factor. This is a song made up of the basic principles of cacophonic creativity and when blended as such, and played with a firm assuredness, then we are set for success. You can't beat the intrinsically obvious and routine when done like this - have it. 'Wasted Mind' has a dangerous attitude and scatter twats along whilst dealing with the utterly realistic. The masses are fucked over, slapped into place without even knowing it and just waiting for who knows what whilst doing sour FA. The deep-rooted disgust and bewilderment shines through a very tumultuous brew of jack-wank juiciness. The hurtling racket from A to B is played with a noted security and adeptness without any room for airspace - this is what brings about the level of success that some may not appreciate - the silly bastards. Another batch, a threefold tackling with 'Badlands' whinging in, cutting a dash with a groovy move and then offering a lighter touch that is mainly bass driven. The stick work is highly regular before matters are released and a more crash and splash activity level is had. There is a coolness of construct here and a repetition that is soothed by the crash of the more liberated chorus touch. This is, I personally find, a moment to just go with the flow, contemplate all that has been thus far and how the band go about what they do. There is no fuckin' about, the songs are pick up, play and piss on products of effective quality - this is right in line with my more impatient punky edge. 'Fun In The Sun' pounds away, combines a veritable bleakness with a suggestion of something hopeful - it is a bizarre mix and as the world falls apart and doom looms large perhaps we have a song built on a complete disillusionment. This is a relentless episode of hyper-activity that is clatter-splattered on the canvas and left to drop onto your attentive lap - you can either let the grungey gloop soak in or wipe it away - I think the latter option would be a mistake. The quick follow up is the sexy-twist torture known as 'Ugly'. A questioning snippet that throws a cerebral spanner in the mix and gets the grey gunk turning over and pondering one’s own appearance and personal belief. There are many sad and self-loathing folk out there, victims to a world of ridiculous ideals and false promises. I like the change of pace here, the slinky rhythm and the subtle smattering of salt in the wound - the band do this shit oh so fuckin' well. A real pinnacle piece for me, and a veritable kick in the privates for all those taking note and playing loud is 'Do It Or Die' - a DIY slapping that has desire, a message and a very great urgency. I suspect this is inspired by the all-suffocating realm of apathy and idleness out there where great armies of skin-covered lard lumps procrastinate, scratch their arses and just live lives on the take and make. The ascension to aggravated angst is not lost on me here and the flashing sabre of urgency cuts to the core and keeps me moving. The pace is played out with precision, the odd twinge thrown in - neat stuff baby! The final three-way fling (I am cutting a dash sir) and 'Piece Of Shit' drills deep, has a slaggy edge, sneers out the verse with restrained venom whilst 'Empires Fall' has admirable strength and sinewy subtley. The former track begins with a good pounding, points finger and goes for the jugular whereas the latter track has a good matter-of-fact sobriety with a reclined drift that really hooks the senses. I find both tracks of a coupling that complement each other and, like salt and vinegar, bring out the best flavoursome values of each cacophonic condiment. These, when added to the finale known as 'Killing For God' finish off the CD on the fine setting on which it started. The last fling is thrown forth with a Tommy-Gun scatter burst and then a relentless mowing down of all resistance. It exposes a deep-rooted frustration with the mixed-message mayhem of the bigots out there who are just another part of a same-old network under a different guise and looking to achieve some kind of control. Screwed up people in a messed up world all flinging shit, converting the cripples and then killing them all - all in the name of their chosen Deity! On this note of madness we finish - it is all rather pertinent! Hey man, there ya go and yes, I need Sewage Farm to come and spread their muck at a Fungal Farmyard of Noise very soon. The goodness is shat splatted with gumption and in a very terse and tonally appealing manner. There is talent aplenty but the band refuse to enter their own rear end and get polluted by nonsensical straining and thrutching. I am looking to provide 'live Gig' laxatives real soon - in the meantime - go inhale the dung ma’ an. |
 |
GENTLES - NATION I am winding down with the CD reviews, just pootling to my target of 2000 and then I will be picking a choosing with deliberate care. Here I have a band on the Metal Postcards label, a crew who come from Melbourne and who, as per, operate with angles. 8 songs, I mull over slowly and steadily and eventually dribble forth the following considerations.
'And When I Passed The Arrowhead' is brief wordage, there for you to decipher and then comes the exhilarating snippet of sensational sonica that is 'Mu Fugue, My Greek, My Brahms'. With inklings of post-punk philandering’s, Doll-up Toying and a smattering of whizzed up poppology this is an advanced saccharine rush of all-action raw-boned rhythm making. There is a poetical ambiguity and an electro-life sparking joy de vivre that really cuts to the core of those who like lo-fi noise played with energy. A moment of respite adds a tangent but fails to suffocate the overall gush rush of eagerness, enthusiasm and uplifting hullaballoo. The overall wired up urgency, the lust of the lead lilt and the vital energy emitted all make this a pure fuckin' gem.
Psychedelic infusions and 60's driftings share the same rhythmic bed of punk frenzy and mad dash tension. The fucking that takes place between two potential polar opposites is in harmony, in balanced and unified and so we end up with a veritable passion play of productivity that gives birth to an all-consuming misshapen misfit of intrigue. The influential spunk injected is manifold and splashed into orifices aplenty with this assessing eavesdropper pleased by the multifarious directions and positions potentially offered. Outside many niches and with talent aplenty, whilst constantly thinking on their feet, the band offer up a fine back up to the opening classic whilst helping keep one on the edge of their seat. Fidgety and unpredictable whilst being driven from point A through to point Z with utter focus. 'Start of Something' is graded as - 'smashing'.
'Tell Me What You Want' states, repeats and throws itself into a beautiful natural pop angularity with a brisk and alternative feel gushing throughout. Fresh guitars, a steady stick beat and an offbeat semi-sober singing style that suits the theme to a tee. The quirky design and the observation of having too much than what is required smacks of a very DIY and self-examining essence. A song that seems to have jumped out of the retro independent charts and dusted itself down to begin life anew in the 21st century, this one has a good feel throughout, a complete construction and something just off-kilter. 'If I Can Recognise' is on par, this time with a spasmodic twitch and a certain subtle edginess that again dabbles on the fringe of the outré. There is a ruddy capricious essence here that hits home even when you are not giving full on attention. You know the vibes - listen in and they are spot on, play whilst doing something else and the outer resonances still have an impact. Here the sticks have a good wallop, the guitars are reactive and do more than at first noted and the frontman has his own identity and does what he does with a charming, individual effect - piquing noise for sure.
'Right Wing Friend' - cripes, what are they? Well people have views, we can only try and shine a light but some folks just break the camel’s back with their nasty rhetoric and ruinous rampaging’s. I know the script here, this is a well-constructed tale of opposing views, losing one’s plot and feeling unsettled. The music seems upset and fractious with all nerves a-jangle due to circumstances discomforting. Moments clash, collide, matters come to a head and iron out with a bewilderment creating a dangerous precipice on which the crew manically perform (and thrive). Again a song with depth, a longevity factor and, quite paradoxically, a throw away component that puts all into disarray - just how it should be. And yes, this is another satisfying song that adds a little extra to the daily turntable of tonality.
The final brace and 'Deary Me' twinkles in with a very positive tickle of sound. A mid-paced donation on an initial loop that pecks away and weaves around in a perpetual rotation that gets one thinking about the tick of the clock and what the fuck we are doing! I try and saturate my time with productivity and this open and breezy tune is a great escort whilst I am dabbling away. Good swells of power, a certain conviction and a decent ethos but... what are these finer things in life? Certainly not what the big advertising moguls will have you believe or those bent with idiot sway and preconceived poser bullshit. Keep it simple and enjoy the noise, the flowers, the fresh air, the few good people and being on the outside of the great shit flow. The song rises high on its own self-made vigour and climaxes with good clout and with all areas compacted, crashing and awash with gumption. 'They Were All Upon Me Now' is a brief poem, a pondering, a contemplation and a countdown and then... we are outta here.
I think this is a ruddy good burst of creativity done without a care in the world for fitting in to a box, achieving a label or meeting the needs of pernickety scenesters. Flourishing, fecund and with a great listenability, this is a precise snippet that works mighty well.
Final Note - this is the final release by the band in their current incarnation as their lead singer Brendan Parkes passed away in January of 2026 - this is a splendid way to sign out fella - RIP!
|
 |
DB KILLSWITCH - DADBODS SAVE THE WORLD A fuckin' good bunch of guys making good noise, not giving a fuck about which way the trends flow and just doing what they do with great passion. No delusions, no misunderstanding of the DIY cause and in it because they have something to say and love making music. Hey, what more do you want - oh yes, processed tick box bilge served up by 'names' and the same old, same old - ooh you silly gits. I have 4 tracks here and even though I am a fan of the chaps and their ventures I am not swung into the land of ring kissing and buttering up. The review will be honest, it is the only thing I can offer - I reckon the buggers can take it anyway - here we go then - kaboom!
'Nigh' opens the doorway to your silence, peeks in and then lets you have it. Your complacent arse is kicked as your cheap piss wine is glugged and you smile to oblivion. The verse is biting, immediately at you and we look set for a full on ravaging. The chorus switches style and has a mock celebration that sees the beer flow, the fat recalcitrant bellies swell as the apocalypse approaches. The band have their own angular style and are thinking hard whilst avoiding the trappings of many lethargic scenes and dead head routines. The energy levels soar, when the sails are swollen with a self-whipped wind and the pace increases the crew ride the waves on a very gratifying sea of success. The blend of all areas is exact and helps the overall force factor and the more one spunks up the volume the more one is catapulted along into the foaming depths. Strong stuff man, a tidal tonal wave to toss you about and, perhaps, off! The message - get off your arse, take responsibility and do something with love.
'Surprise Your Dead' has a deep and dark pounding edge that pulverises the resistance with incredible effect. The savagery is absorbing and the obvious relish taken by the players is mesmeric. As I listen here I still wonder why noise and talent such as this is overlooked and people are willing to chase the repeat beat nostalgia vibes and other such spillage rather than indulge in that which is fresh and more relevant. The application is sharp, again we have something animalistic, natural and reactionary with a deep-rooted ad-hoc danger that keeps things on the cusp. The screwdriving white-heat pressure wank is molten and the song is squeezed through the taut sphincters of the serenaders and splatted down with a rhythmic reeking that one must inhale just one more time. Heavy duty bomb-blasting by a crew on a rise - I hope!
'We're Not Voting Our Way Out Of This' begins with a reclined drum manipulation before light textures add atmosphere. The surge is soon upon us and we are swept along with a great encouraging urgency that wants people to shift their fuckin' arses instead of moaning and doing fuck all. Apathy kills, self-serving is another destructive stance and yet all around us that is all we see. This is a relentless piece of healthy noise that sees the band make their own tidal wave of tonality, build their own sonic surfboards and hopefully ride on high to a better place whilst dragging others along and leaving the foul spume behind. A bubbling and highly active splash of sanguinity that reminds us that we are the key, we can do our bit and jumping in line with a trend or a pack is not the way. Crank up the aural juice and then fuckin' do something.
The finale and 'Paging Dr Green' - crikey. This one is about, and I quote 'Operation Paperclip and the role the Nazis played in post war western science and culture. It proposes that the Nazis weren't defeated, instead they assumed quiet power and took over the world from within, having fingers in everything from NASA to the CIA'. Fuckin' hell! A heavy-duty jackboot stomp with the band unified, harmonising with a good clobber factor and throwing power bricks of vehement intent. A relentless bulldozer this with perpetual motion and some nice venom - the band do this shit well - boom baby, boom - and make sure you note each component, the overall creative process and the ability of the players who do have their own unique style.
Well, the band have walloped a Fungal gig, are back for two more and have a very healthy release on their hands here. Thinking music that may be too much for the piss-pot knuckleheads or boom-tit buffoons but one never knows! Get investigating and probing the product on show - it is rewarding stuff for sure.
|
 |
ACTIVE SLAUGHTER - YOU BASTARDS Old school viciousness with a kickback cacophony whipped up by a band who are based in London and have an ethos that supports animal rights, activism and the anti-fascist cause. You know the script ( or ruddy well should) - this kind of music is of a certain ilk, it is very much needed and even if you hate the noise, the intent and approach is deserved of applause.
'Blue Lights Flash' is a more than adequate start with all hands to the deck, the political slant exposed and the questions raised. The energy is high and the clarity of all components maintained through a real zested zipper that has many meritorious angles. It is important to start any CD with a good wallop - here the band cut to the core with a finely executed piece of passion-play that spits back against many flaws and fuck-ups within this societal mess. The strings are mighty tight and avoid anything too nasty whilst the strict skin application is organising and helps keep the overall composition on track. The vocal style is acidic and very efficient and draws one in and gets one singing along. This is a very fair start indeed. 'Domesday Clock' raves and rants about things I vent my spleen about every day. The planet is being devastated, raped, pillaged and stripped bare by the consumers and the greedy pig swill dream chaser - we are committing slow suicide and hardly anyone is listening to the warnings. The song screws in with a blue light warning before whipping along via the first verse. Tight, well-aimed and feisty with a very old-skool feel. The damning chorus is brief and the statements made are there to be taken heed of or, as the majority will do, ignore whilst carrying on with the unproductive dream. Yes folks it is 'fuckin' madness' but is the punk rock spike so blunted and too many are partified. A stripped bare semi- rap poetical weave comes, matters rise and we repeat the facts - are the fuckers listening and willing to do more or just say this is a fair song, jump around to prove their punkiness and then do fuck all.
'Halfway There But Not Any Closer' has a really good inflection and a liquid flow that reflects a band who are in tune and know how to make a good number. Whilst maintaining melody, the words are woven with focused intent and for me this is a smooth and subtle song that lacks the obvious bite of its predecessors but which still has impact and mighty relevance. Listen in, can you see the con exposed and can you admit to the fact that progress is just not happening? A solid song with a solid ethos - agree or disagree but please respect the purpose and drive. 'Carry On Apocalypse' pounds with a primitive arrangement and has a real contrast factor between the verse and the chorus. It is an odd mix, combining anger and frustration with a bewildered acceptance of a situation out of control and too far gone. Again it is another creative concoction borne from a disgust with people and the total mess we are eternally in. As long as cunts lead, the unthinking follow and the big dream chase is all that matters then we are never going to move onto a better place - it is almost as though protesting and being happy is a norm and a hobby - it really isn't good enough.
There ya go - the first quartet is done, you really need to play loud, pump up your passions and fuckin' get stuck in - do not follow the pack and please stop your contribution to the final oblivion - those final words of the latter song are potent.
'Charms Race' has a lively skip, a skid and a chomping opening gambit that slaps you right in the mush. The wire work that follows is exciting and has one salivating. I feel many influences here but all are thrown into a melting pot, given a robust whip kicking and injected with a new lease of life. There is an acidic spite and a complete disgruntlement gnawing away as the creation develops. A song with the potential to get carried away but with a control that helps make it a very competent mover. Perhaps the snippet with the most anarcho-blatancy so far - this ain't a complaint. The follow-up is on the brink of something futurised, something potentially metalised but 'The Meek Shall Inherit The Dearth' slots into line with that which has been and cracks outs its own enraged furrow whilst making a whole lotta sense. It is perhaps the most clichéd song of the lot with a whole lotta touches used that I have heard here and there over the years. The underscore is very retro-hardcorian, the upper layers part and parcel of many a sub-niches but, none of this should detract from a band making a good racket and producing a blistering song that fits into the CD quite ruddy nicely. My least favourite track but still a decent affair methinks and one some may rate the best - we all have varied tastes - yes!
The final brace, 'Smash M. B. R.' is a romping stomping head-clatterer with a fine sing-a-long segment that will get the animal rights folks roaring. The song is simplistic in its design but is slapped home with great passion, hard intent and a musical fury so as to make a real cranial bruising. The chorus is the pinnacle - a real spiked and barbed holler out with clarity retained whilst tempers flare against an organisation obsessed with the clink of the coin rather than the cry of a suffering animal. This is a real arse kicking joy - get throwing your bricks at the right places and into the abusive faces – not at each other!
Closure and 'Destroy The Dividing Line' chugs in with a slight twist. The pulses are a great foundation on which the hollering can stand proud and shout back against the right wing filth who are contributing to a hate-filled and torn apart world. Some will fall in line here, some will disagree, that is how we stand and hey, all and sundry can have any belief as long as the thought process has been careful and done with respect. This song is a bold statement and finalises the stance the band have taken and on which side of the fence they are on. Time has made me a misanthrope with little in the way of faith in people no matter where they come from and what they believe in, all I can do is kick back against as much as I can and walk my own path with good, productive intent - where the fuck does that leave me? This is a good full stop wallop, listen hard and take heed and defy the hate drain - and please, consider this a decent CD well topped off.
8 Tracks done, digested and assessed - it is just enough, a political spillage well-seasoned and giving those outside the box something to think about. It falls into line with a long history of similar explosions and yet we still slip into the doldrums of despair and little progress - we gotta keep these bands motivated and doing their stuff it seems.
|
 |
EMBER REV - FROM THE COUNTRY TO THE CITY TO THE SEA Half Edge Records releases this obscure event of acoustical essences and goes about its business in a focused and passionate way. I am merely an assessor of vibes that takes what comes, slowly deliberates and then taps out some honest and hopefully, helpful critique. What I know about Ember Rev you could fit on a pinhead using a giant size paint-roller - to be more 3 precise my knowledge is at level 'fuck all'. 9 tracks are before me, there is no need to rush, and without any expectations at all, I take the discordant dip.
'Like Dreamers' tepidly sidles in, on tones both verdantly soporific and kissed with a moonlight glow. From realms undiscovered the creative force comes, barely touches and opens up a vista of promise via vibrations of gossamer fragility and charming bashfulness. This opening instrumental gently crashes on your coastline of cognisance and leaves... potential promise to be explored further. The job is unassuming but done in such a way as to pique ones curiosity. The nosey parker of noise will be blessed with the second track that falls under the name of 'From The Country' - an exotic sounding mix of panoramic post punkery that has elements of music makers who went beyond the usual trappings of a sub-label and duly trespassed into tonal territory rarely traipsed. The whole concoction has a tapestry of assured tonal trifling with an overall mix that I would deem, as 'pleasantly mild'. Remember I come from a realm where harder edged sounds are commonplace and I have a penchant for things more robust and obvious but, this doesn't mean I can't appreciate flavours more subtle and unimposing. This is erudite song-making with an in-built hope and sun-shine haloed positivity. It will have many drawing upon the festering memory banks trying to make comparisons and find influence - my advice - don't bother and let the vibes come and go.
'To The City' is more middle-road meddling with a pastel shaded arrangement coming forth on a foundation that has much give and a certain thermal comfort. Easy going with an outback Americana hinting that is nebulous in the extreme but still there to be noted. The verse is smooth and languid and slips into the chorus that is almost not a chorus at all. A kind of 'one groove, mono-move' drift that at times is almost naked and at others neatly attired. Throughout though we have a flow that is welcoming and without barb, I am sure many lovers of tepid tonality will love this (and I don't mean that as an insult). A cute crafting, perhaps a little too clean for this scabby old git!
'Now We Were Kites' enters, threatens to become airborne and falls into the shrubbery of frustration - it is a mere musical interlude. 'Walk Don't Walk' staggers and flourishes before waltzing along with a swing in the step, an insouciance in the vibe and a happy-go-lucky accent without anything offensive to report. This is almost like listening in to a home-made sonic session where the noise made is off the cuff and rolls forth with no intent or sign of the finale in mind. This is a relaxing state of affairs that may irritate the ones who like-clobbering cacophony, we all need to alter the vibes - here is your chance dear din-deviants!
'And So To The Sea' trickles in, laps at your feet and draws one slowly in to the warming shallows. A swish and swirl is hardly apparent as the waters of the weave move with a lethargic liquidity and a sonic spume that is merely massaging rather than being melodramatic and muscular. A very hesitant piece that just needs a little extra kaboom in parts methinks, I would like to see the waves rise and crash a little more and culminate in a Tsunami that leaves one drenched. Here we are caressed and softly sprayed - this may be enough for some and if you are in the mood for some bittersweet movement with a reclined feel then you will be in your element here. 'Be Still' follows and is nothing more than a wallowing sub-dirge with a shining light enhancing the peripheries of the gathering clouds and giving one a brief glimpse of hope. In this hectic life of lunacy and mad-dash mayhem it seems the message here is to take time out and unwind. This is perhaps my most favoured track of the lot as it seems to do what it sets out to do - it really is a good vibe of respite and is done in such a carefully crafted way as to be quite sublime. The artistry is gracile and yet emboldened, the canvas kiss precise and lacking any vulgarity - a lovely moment.
2 left and a put I spurt on. 'Ultramarine' is as you were although a little too drawn out for me. The quality and application is consistent with that which has been and I suspect there is a slightly darkened edge to this dubious little mover. At all times it is liquid, transparent and mobile with a slight shading of things from lands afar. It is a song set to simmer mode and never bubbles over or scalds the senses. The end dish I consider lukewarm and lightly whipped - is that enough for an old punk bastard and wallower in short sharp 60's shit spills? We close with 'Like Dolphins' - a fall into an oceanic realm with the escort of acoustic resonation both embracing and tender. We slip into the awaiting end silence with a moribund inflection and an almost beaten down intention. A weary and declining descension into a place of great escape and, in fact, no escape. A musical interlude, a further peaceful pass into the awaiting void - and we are done.
Oil-soaked, bubble-bath music this, for times when the soul is fagged and the carcass needs to slip into slumberland. Time has been spent and the summing up, I hope, has been accurate – now lay down, tune in and… drift away!
|
 |
OOPSIE DAISIES - HAGS Mellow bedroom rock played out from Portland, a place where a floral wedding gift was given and a safe realms for roses was started. This is my third adventure into realms lightly brushed and tender. I jump straight in and make what I can of this 5 track tickling.
'Band From Portland' has a wonderful fluttery feel with a smudged essence that remains honest, matter-of-fact and, most importantly of all, charming. A rippling and then an electro-Devo-esque beat before the digital she-drawl caresses the senses and helps one get closer to the premise of the produce. A slight uplift, a butterfly wing essence and gentle massage movement comes with suggestions of early B52 happenings. The melody slightly increases and has a running water smoothness that works quite ruddy nicely alongside the overall simple orchestration. There are no barbs of belligerence or fangs of ferocity to upset this sweetly vibrating voyage and, although the song lasts beyond the 4 minute mark, we are kept intrigued and delighted all the way through - tickling baby, tickling!
'Powder Blue' strums with sugary goodness, pulses with a rather relaxed rhythm. From the first verse we get a delicious lemon-drop lusciousness that pleases the senses in many ways. The slip into the fuzz-assisted chorus is fluent, the repeat route is taken and once again we get something uncomplicated, child-like and yet erudite as well. A duvet din that is ruffled and wafted but one that retains all its self-made thermality and comfort. The vocal style is semi-detached but still at one with the musical score and I am finding this a very generous donation of lo-fi goodness. 'Coming Down' falls like a feather from the azure skies, slowly swaying back and forth on a downward descent with surrounding time almost at a standstill. We stop in our tracks, watch matters float on forth with the song unfolding and leaving one oh so slightly... goose-bumped. A fear, a trepidation and a beautiful recline into a basic chorus cut that welcomes. Tenderised, barely touched, gossamer light and almost transparent so as to be invisible, this is a song that is remarkably intangible - I think it is a ghostly guest that is a pleasure to witness.
'Hags' begins with a 70's TV shimmer before developing into an abstract divulgence of quirky content that is merely observation aural invasiveness that becomes almost sub-choral at times. A real oddment this with many essences that somehow manage to intertwine and copulate before giving birth to a slightly unorthodox sprog of sound. A contorted sheet of sonic metal that catches its own fair share of light and glisten factor that provides the underlay. When the squeeze comes the slip-shedding is eased through. There is no mither here and we gracefully move into the finale of 'I'm Gonna Tell My Therapist About You'. A keyed Moroder-esque intro immediately piques interest from which we develop into a real shimmering blend of intrinsically basic principles and languid lilt-making that really does work a treat. Perhaps this is why this kind of stuff is called 'bedroom rock' - it is all rather soporific and snuggly and is liable to send ya snoozing with a smile of appreciation on your mush. It is quite glorious stuff in its own 'under-the-radar' way.
Yes - the best release so far by this lot with a couple of ascensions made into areas not previously reached. Of course, this is produce you have to adjust to, you must make an effort with and not play too many times over. Mix and match with harder melodies and it becomes the sugar to the salt, the sweet to the bitter! This is a spice of its own individuality and when added to a dish of discordance - yummy, scrummy ding-dong!
|
 |
UMBILICAL NOOSE - THE LAST CHAPTER AND VERSE Are you hanging in folks? Are you keeping up with the reviews of the outré? Here I dip into a world of tangents, sub-psyche and stress where itchy fingers create and goodness emanates. I believe the creative forces are UK based, from Kent and Nottingham if Bandcamp is anything to go by? Primarily though, I am in the dark, a glorious place where perspective and prejudice are blanketed and judgement can be a little more purer (well, so I hope). Here goes toe dip the third, another bathe in something not in line with the norm but still of great import to we dabblers in the nether lands.
'Pointless' is aptly titled in this world where everything can be tagged as such. The opening sequence is psyche-synthed, jumbling and bumbling with an almost retro-80's kids TV accent. Questions are stated and seem almost sedated, the sedation borne from the realms of abuse and mistreatment. The contrast between the alive and fruity and the almost beaten down is played out with focus and a refusal to be distracted - we continue with the demon-kick approach as found on CDs 1 and 2. 'Trampled' sees the almost ruined and ragged take stock, assess the duff deal and dish out thoughts from the darkened recesses so many ignore, are unaware of or conveniently overlook. In an empathy free world this is relevant rhythm-making with a deep-rooted and unabashed honesty that some will find deeply unsettling. There is a soul suffering here folks, do not take matters lightly!
I am striving to keep things terse and exact during this third review of the UN stuff, 'Would You Notice' is grasped, thrown into the assessing orifice and tossed around the palette before being spat forth. The flavours are -Euro-exotic, all smattered with a seasoning of harsh reality and deep-rooted worry. The struggle to make an impression is opposed by a acceptance of pointlessness and transient ineffectiveness. We all get moments of complete hopelessness and despair, here it is parcelled and packaged in a tidy and very open-hearted capsule of cacophonic creativity - and it works. 'I Am The Bones' has a happy bounce that is juxtaposed by the double-bladed delivery that could almost be anti-meat eater frustration and a self-loathing after the beast is consumed. A jaunt with an unstoppable jingle but one with a nagging repetition that enhances the overall misery and inner struggle. I am not overly keen here but recognise the openness, the bravery and the downright unashamed approach to being a human being with flaws.
'Rejected' ripples and plods whilst trying to take matters on the chin. A motif is found, latched onto and played out in a constant cycle. The vocals remain as an almost separate entity and reach the vaults of emotion, scribble out the scarred observations and duly read them back in a unshakeable manner. The underscore of sound is tranquilising and hypnotic whilst the general aromas emanated are chilled, matter-of-fact and heartbreakingly genuine. This is a moment in keeping with all that has been and all that will come with 'Piss' more of the same but with a suffocating overwhelm and general all round feeling of fruitlessness. From innocent creations come broken artefacts from a time when we all could and should have done better. In life some folk are blessed by a gift of new life, it is our role to create the best human we can possibly make - I get the feeling that most of the horrors surfacing here are down to chances missed. It is all very terrifying and tangible stuff.
A trio grabbed with 'Sinking/Overthinking' a dangerous combination and a mental equation that bounces back and forth and brings about the same old result. A mellow moment that states a case and just seems to accept it. 'Memories' is a monochrome downbeat dirge that barely stays upright let alone make it to the finish line. At this point it seems we are beyond any form for therapeutic or psychological advancement - another short snippet that takes us into the surprisingly more hopeful 'When I Sleep'. This latter piece of the snatched up hat-trick is the best of the lot with a upbeat keyed touch and a fine sub-religious poetical weaving that unsettles. We can read many things into the fold here, it is a small fascination borne from something almost Poe-esque and almost James-ian. A sinister grower that has more depth than realised.
The last two, 'Umbilical Noose Revisited' is an analytical overthought that destroys, rebuilds, destroys and defies. The processes that curse continue, clever words and toss bag tactics don't seem to work, the only reaction is perhaps the action of distraction. With my own personal demons and years of head wanking I can relate here, the intricacies are deep and I find the artists still ensnared in a web of worrying complexity. A bold snippet and the only advice I can offer is - keep moving and be stubborn. We close with a long and wordy poetical weave, a verbal detailing that quite wonderfully rounds off this 3 CD series and the whole exposure of a soul in torment. The journey is reflected upon and when the final lines are read a greater understanding of the overall intent and purpose is had. ‘Afterwords’ is a touching piece that is awash with unaffected lucidity and an emotive purity - perhaps this is the greatest and most rewarding moment of all.
Questions arise throughout and answers are sparse. At this final juncture we are still left wondering but are a little clearer on some things. The fact remains this is bare-arsed honesty and a trip not to take lightly. It is sonica to partake of only in small doses but please, before you judge, consider the content and the intent!
|