Damn Vandals – Rocket Out Of London

dv

It is fair to say that psyche rockers Damn Vandals swiftly set themselves a place in British rock as one of the most exhilarating and promising propositions with their 2012 debut album, Done For Desire. It was an encounter drenched in originality and a feverishly diverse flavouring setting the band apart from most. To confirm and stretch all of its potency within a new mentally twisting maelstrom of psychotic goodness, the London band now unleash the senses infestation that is Rocket Out Of London. It is a glorious swagger of caustic abrasion and acidic ingenuity honed from a brawling incitement of garage punk, psyche and stoner rock, as well as a vein of raw punk, simply put demented rock ‘n’ roll at its most addictive.

As for a great many, our admittedly eager affair with Damn Vandals began with the release of their Beautiful Mind EP, a widely acclaimed encounter awakening attention and appetite for the potential and instantly impressive presence of the band. The release and subsequent songs though was only the taster for bigger and major things to come, Done For Desire thrusting the quartet to new levels and into a richer spotlight with its release. Uncompromising but with a contagion to its presence which works under the skin like a welcome niggling itch, the band’s sound has found a new depth and power to its virulence with the new release whilst still retaining the raw dark textures and unhinged threat which stirred up the passions so quickly upon their emergence. As evidenced by Rocket Out Of London, it has become a twisting intrusive beast which wraps with almost insidious intent around the ears, permeating every pore and synapse with an exhaustive toxicity which simply ignites the imagination and passions. Produced by Julian Simmons (Midlake, Ed Sheeran, Guillemots, Goldheart Assembly) as was its predecessor, the album takes the listener on a dirty and intimidatingly shadowed ride through explorations of themes such as celebrity stalking, hard liquor, death by dreams, madness and homeland security amongst many but ultimately just through the creative mad ingenuity of the band.

The album opens with the first single uncaged from its wonderful aural rapaciousness, Twist Up And Tangle. Released mid-March, the dv coversong laid down the strongest bait for the full-length and still holds its intensive grip with an epidemic bait of granite sculpted rhythmic punches and scything sonic swipes of guitar. From its first second the song is an inescapable cage for the senses and emotions, a scarring provocation soon given richer fuel by the ever distinct and voraciously delivered vocals of Jack Kansas. The track is swiftly into a predatory stride, prowling around the ears with a sonically slavering intensity from the guitar of Frank Pick and the dark throated voice of bass held in rein by Adam Kilemore Gardens but still adding commanding menace to the whole of the psychotic fare. It is a masterful and insatiable stalking driven by the magnetic beats of Chris Christianson, but one which with its spewing discord and melodic flames as well as corrosive hooks and breath, provides a raucous dance to shield the fact we are being preyed upon.

Like a mix of Fatima Mansions meets The Birthday Party, the opener alone wakes a hunger to which the following Cities Of A Plastic World adds its own imaginative virulence. The track opens with a rhythmic drama speared by a ridiculously contagious hook, its abrasing hot touch a niggling pleasure just hard to get enough of. Around its tempting Kansas again parades the song’s narrative with unbridled expression whilst the guitar of Pick continuously lights up new corners and adventures to court his primary enticement with skill and enterprise, the album easily his finest inventive and moment yet, as it is of the band itself. The track sculpts another immediate pinnacle in the impending lofty range of the album and is soon equalled by Too Lazy To Die Too Stoned To Live, a sultry stroll with a citrus edge to its grooves and melodic teasing. There is a definite lick of Queens Of The Stone Age initially and Eagles of Death Metal later to its constant erosive taste and hypnotic stance.

I Bring You Love which made up part of the earlier mentioned single keeps the album coursing potently through the body, its psychobilly/Cajun swamp-esque stomp with sliding toxic mesmerism and blues bred frisking irresistible. The track just gets better and more virulent with every crossing of its red-neck terrain with dirty violating rock ‘n’ roll scenery. With more than a feel of Screaming Blue Messiahs to it and always an essence of the previously mentioned Cathal Coughlan led band to the presence of Damn Vandals, the track is a delicious lingering antagonist to unreservedly submit to.

Both Number One Fan and Whisky Going Free provide a new mischief to fully devote attention and passions to, the first merging classic and incendiary garage rock for a rampaging stomp built upon the intensive frame work of Christianson, a cage again laced with riveting guitar revelry and craft. Its successor sidles boisterously up to the ears with tight sinews and deviously coaxing addictive grooves, the track a less expansive dark tango than say the last but with a no less leaner determination in its air and voice to seduce and inflame the passions, which it does with ease.

The following I Hate School hits the spot perfectly but lacks the spark of other tracks, a familiarity and somewhat predictable essence to its body slipping up against the surrounding triumphs. To put it into context though, with absorbing blues/psychedelically teased guitar invention from Pick and a certain unavoidable catchiness to its lure, the song still has feet and emotions fully engaged before next up Mad As Hell takes them on a similarly successful and potent ride, if again without quite matching earlier heady heights. The track rumbles and strolls with attitude and a thought immersing design all the same to keep the fire for the album burning eagerly.

The closing pair of tracks takes the release back to its highest plateaus, the first This Music Blows My Tiny Mind, another incitement with the stance of a predator and the drive of a volcanic eruption expelling sizzling melodic flames, searing hooks, and climactic rhythms building to a quite scintillating final drama. Its successor, the title track brings the album to a glorious closure, its addiction forging rhythmic slavery and scorching guitar endeavour an inescapable virulence guided as masterly as ever by the gripping tones of Kansas. Like a mix of QOTSA, Julian Cope, and Rocket From The Crypt, the track is a brilliant finale to a quite outstanding taking of the soul.

Rocket Over London with ease reveals that Damn Vandals is no longer the potential future of certainly raw British rock ‘n’ roll and garage punk but the template.

http://www.damnvandals.co.uk

http://damnvandals.bandcamp.com/album/rocket-out-of-london

9.5/10

RingMaster 07/04/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Jackson Firebird – Cock Rockin’

Jackson Firebird 3 - Credit Cybele Malinowski

Credit Cybele Malinowski

With no demands and intentions other than to rock its balls from start to finish, Cock Rockin’ the debut album from Australian rockers Jackson Firebird, is one of those slabs of straight forward honest rock ‘n’ roll which you always have a hunger for before realising. Consisting of ten passion rifling slices of blues bred rock, the album is a riotous party come brawl with something for every type of rock fan. It is a flavoursome morsel for anybody with a taste of the Kings Of Leon to The Black Keys, Led Zeppelin to Eagles Of Death Metal, Seasick Steve to Rage Against The Machine. The Victoria hailing band and their album has already seduced the homeland and now with its worldwide release via Napalm Records, Jackson Firebird is about to enflame the rest of us.

The band consists of guitarist/vocalist Brendan Harvey and drummer/vocalist Dale Hudak; the two meeting when Harvey and the band he was in, was in Adelaide to record some demos minus their drummer. The band ended up calling up Hudak who learned the songs in the car on the way to the studio. The pair continued to play together, jamming out the back of a family owned bakery. It was 2006 though when Jackson Firebird was officially born, new songs and gigs soon thrusting the band’s sound and increasing reputation across local venues, Adelaide, and subsequently the east coast. The duo went on to share stages with the likes of You Am I, King Cannons, the Snowdroppers, Little Birdy, and the Fumes before settling down to record their first release, a five-track EP. Jump forward and as mentioned earlier Cock Rockin’ has already been uncaged and recruited the fullest acclaim and new passions down under with its release in 2012, and now is the time for the rest of us to stomp with its insatiable bait.

The two pronged stripped down attack immediately hits the spot and appetite with the opening title track, its raw energy and full-on 524_JacksonFirebird_CMYKmischievous passion of the song reminds of another duo, The Black Frame Spectacle from Canada, though sound wise they are more rockabilly seeded. The song rampages with riffs and rhythms flailing in the hungry energy, from the very first second never relinquishing its feverish persuasion until the last heated note, even in the incendiary slow blues prowl midway. The vocals are as vibrant and slightly grizzled as the sound, a nice causticity stalking their surface fitting in perfectly with the fire bred hues of blues guitar in solo and rampant riffery.

The impressive start is potently backed by both She Said and Rock Solid, the first moving in on a virulent roll of drum enticement soon smothered in the acidic flames of guitar, that blues twang again enticing appetite and emotions over the unrelenting rhythmic incitement. As in all the songs simplicity rides the passions as eagerly as the more involved craft of Harvey’s solos; that repetitive bait especially tempting across the second song as it leads into its greedily agreeable climax. Its successor opens on a recognisable groove, and it is fair to say that there is plenty on Cock Rockin’ that is familiar as well as original but nothing comes in any shade other than that unique to Jackson Firebird. The track simmers and strolls with melodic lips kissing the senses and a sonic fingering stroking all the naughty bits of satisfaction, their potency matched by the almost Graham Parker like vocals and a constant southern bred entanglement.

Quan Dang forces it’s might through the ears next, an instant RATM inspired attack breeding vocals and the opening groove before entwining itself with a bolder hard/glam rock swagger. It is, like so many on the album, an irresistible encounter which has feet and voice willing cohorts to its infectious revelry, just as the following Red Light and the irrepressible Little Missy. The first of this pair restrains its intensity a little more than others though darkens its shadows for a thicker encounter with choppy riffs and meandering melodic scorches. There is certain sultriness to the song too, a salacious element matching the title as it raises the temperature before the second song opens up a sinewed temptation of rock ‘n’ roll bruising which is as much Chuck Berry like as it is Black Crowes suggesting.

Can Roll bares its swagger and heart next, rhythms a magnetic incitement welcoming in imagination and the rich sonic enterprise of Harvey, both he and Hudak laying out anthemic bait which takes no prisoners or accepts no for an answer. Its virulence is not quite matched by Goin Out West, at first at least, it’s opening country rock walk with a bluesy climate a simple engagement initially but something which suddenly explodes into an unbridled stomp of forcibly kicking beats and entrancing sonic tendrils of suasion. The track brews its toxin along the way so by its departure thoughts and passions are infected for a long term ardour.

The album finishes with an equally potent flourish, Sweet Eloise a song soaked in blues venom and rhythmic enslavement whilst offering another Zack de la Rocha like vocal tempting, and the raw Red Hair Honey which simply sears and ignites ears and passions like a wanton temptress. It is a scintillating end to a wholly thrilling introduction to one of Australia’s previously best kept secrets. That secrecy is no longer now as Jackson Firebird struts across the globe with, as their album says, its Cock Rockin’.

http://www.jacksonfirebird.com/

9/10

RingMaster 28/03/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Monster Ones – We Are The Monsters

The Monster Ones

It is a couple of weeks short of when Spanish horror punks The Monster Ones first burst into our welcoming crypt two years ago with their impressive slice of danger, the I Wanna Be A Teenage Monster EP. The second release from the band it was a feisty and bruising slab of mausoleum rock ‘n’ roll with punk attitude and glam rock wantonness. It has been a seemingly long time for the next episode of their death soaked enterprise but the patience is tested no longer as their debut album has been uncaged to ravage ears and stir up passions. Twelve slices of horror bred contagion, We Are The Monsters is an unbridled web of sonic intrigue and blood drenched grooves spiked with an addiction forging toxin as potent and impressive as any unleashed so far this year.

Formed in 2008, the Palma de Mallorca band soon made a strong scar locally with their blend of punk, blues, and rockabilly infused with healthy doses of glam and hard rock. It is a sound which is recognisable in many ways but unique in just as many others. The release of the Transilvania Rock City EP in 2010 drew them good attention but it was I Wanna Be A Teenage Monster two years later which stirred up greater awareness and appetites for their emerging menace, the band becoming regulars on our Bone Orchard podcasts alone. It is easy to feel that the release of We Are The Monsters could be the anticipated trigger to a stronger spotlight on the band with its striking range of flavoursome and deathly stabs of prime rock ‘n’ roll. Time is always the unveiling of reality but with the deaf and dead possible exceptions, it is hard to imagine true rockers not losing their inhibitions over this scintillating rampage.

Led by the fiery tones of vocalist Cecile The Beast alongside the rapier riffs of guitarists Carpi Malone and V, as well as the thumping beats of drummer Maf, The Monster Ones go straight for the jugular from the first seconds, teasing, taunting and seducing with unbridled rapaciousness. Aided and abetted by bassist Elvis Lugosi throughout the encounter with occasional guest backing vocals from Alex Femenías, the band lays a bait of rhythms and acidic guitar around the ears to open up first track Monster Heroes. Soon into its stride a blues lilt soaks the melodic flames of the song whilst drums crisply jab and the bass prowls around the senses alongside more straightforward raw riffing. The vocals of Cecile are as potent as the sounds, her delivery powerful and inflammatory easily leading the appetite to a full engagement with the anthemic chorus. It is a more than solid introduction of heavy rock, nothing dramatically grabbing, that comes later, but fully enjoyable.

Once the throaty bass line courted by intimidating beats hits the ears as Alien Paradise appears, an even greater exciting outlook breaks The Monster Ones - We are the monsters - coverout. The twin attack has total slavery of thoughts and emotions by the time Cecile and soaring guitar swipes join the affray. Into its stride the track is an adventurous punk tempest with broadly swinging rhythms and raging guitar causticity bringing a mix of The Duel and The Creepshow to the rampancy. It is one of those encounters where feet and personal exploits are no longer yours to command, a criminally addictive rampage impossible to get enough of.

The very different Solo El Solo is very much the same, its sultry dramatic climate over the strolling landscape a magnetic scenery to immerse in whilst the tangy vocals explore a cinematic narrative. Part cowpunk, part rockabilly, and fully spaghetti western intrigue, the track shows further the variety to sound and album which has paraded its raucous charm already, an enticement given another spice by Swamp Thing’s Lover. This song strides purposefully with flexing rhythmic sinews and heavy riffing across thick textures and a consuming atmosphere, its open hooks barbed but respectful to the tempting intensity brewing across the intimidating premise.

Both songs leave throat and memory involved long after their departure, though they do have to contend with the quite brilliant pair of Radioactive Dog and Black Roller for that success. The first of the two rumbles and charges down the ears highway from the opening note, the psychobilly spice to the careering groove and spiteful grin to the antagonistic beats irresistible. Settling into its hungry predation, Cecile the temptress to its seductive malevolence aided by great ghoulish harmonies, the song unleashes lethal hooks and a magnificent groove straight out of the Buzzcocks repertoire to steal an even greater chunk of the passions. It is a colossal triumph swiftly matched by its successor, Black Roller a badgering treat with its own insidious groove and heart spearing irreverence. Unleashing biting punk ‘n’ roll with horror punk jaws, the predator is a barbarous dark hearted seducing with Cecille its dangerous Lilith.

Joker ignites another spasm of hunger next with its dirty rock ‘n’ roll voracity, discord grazing imagination, and virulently addicting lures before The Man who was The Death swaggers in, its rhythmic hips swerving around the equally wanton guitar adventure and ever riveting vocals. The bass offers a deeper malice in its tempting too which only inflames the appeal of the creative bruising and the epidemically forceful infection, a toxicity which is just as insatiable in Always Elm Street which features guest guitarist Tomeu Destructor. There is a definite Batman-esque lure to the core hook of the song but it only broadens the eager smile and pleasure provided.

The next song Rat returns to a wider heavy rock persuasion, guitars flaring up with scorching spirals of sonic invasiveness against refreshing riffs. Though it is an accomplished and skilful blaze, the track fails to reach the heights and reactions of its predecessors. It pleasingly pushes the variety of the release all the same and makes a fine appetiser for the groove infestation of Bloody Stones, a track which spits out cutting riffs, battering rhythms, and searing grooves like it is its last chance. A thoroughly compelling and incendiary incitement, the song has to make way for the closing predatory stalking of Black Suede Night, a final solicitous trap to lose the passions to.

We Are The Monsters shows that The Monster Ones has really grown as a band from sound and songwriting to their presence. They are a powerfully confident and inventive proposition now which gives horror punk and rock ‘n’ roll a new thrilling ‘villain’ to drool over.

http://themonsterones.com

http://themonsterones.bandcamp.com/album/we-are-the-monsters

10/10

RingMaster 27/03.214

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Creeping Ivies – Ghost World

The  Creeping Ivies

Taking senses and imagination on another psyche ripping helter skelter of raw and sonically sculpted rock ‘n’ roll, Scottish duo The Creeping Ivies unveil their second album Ghost World and prove themselves yet again to be one of the most exciting provocateurs of primal incitement. The new full-length from the band is a riotous seduction of garage punk and naked rock ‘n’ roll with plenty of spices from psychobilly to punk rock. It also sees the band at its most potent and insatiably virulent yet, the release loaded with deliciously caustic and masterfully magnetic, to steal from the title of one of their earlier songs, buzzbombs.

The Creeping Ivies consists of Becca Bomb providing piercing, coarsely sirenesque vocals and raw sonic guitar vivacity and Duncan Destruction who brings heavy thumping, rapaciously intruding beats to the thrilling equation. Their union is a simultaneously primitive and precisely sculpted enslaving of the senses, one which from day one intrigued and wildly enthralled. First release the Rock N Roll Party EP in 2011 stirred up attention and emotions with its synapse searing acidity and voracious rioting, that an ever present trait expanding with greater potency on the following Ghost Train EP and debut album Stay Wild, both in 2012. Inciting audiences just as dramatically with their live performances, which has seen them share a stage with the likes of  Viv Albertine of The Slits and Vic Godard & Subway Sect, the stature of The Creeping Ivies has increased constantly within the underground scene, their sound recalling many influences but undeniably unique to them. Last November the release of the double A-sided single What Would Joey Ramone Do? / Ramona Wolf teased and tempted as the band showed a continuing to evolve invention to their sonic exploits and imagination. It certainly led to the anticipation and expectations of their next album to intensify. The two tracks hinted at the possible magnificence of Ghost World but it is fair to say that its haunting intrusive delights have emerged as a far greater and dangerous triumph than hoped.

The Dundee pair open up the adventure with the album’s title track. Instantly a haunted caress of guitar glances over ears with a caustic kiss coverin tow as well as a rub of riffs and the joining tub thumping beats of Duncan. Immediately enticing in its noir lit breath and grazing ambience, the track pulsates as it worms its way under the skin laying irresistible bait for the entrance of Becca’s vocals. As ever her voice holds a definite Wanda Jackson meets Siouxsie Sioux texture and magnetism to it, intensity in her delivery searing flesh and air as she and the song hit their stride. With an addiction spawning groove and the delicious occasional blaze of harmonica from guest Homesick Aldo, the track takes little time to secure full submission for its tempting whilst showing the evolution in sound and songwriting maturity poised to consume the senses  in hand with the expected sonic feverishness of the band.

The following entangling chords of The Bridge provide an instant variation to the toxicity of the album; its opening fifties bred melodic teasing charming the listener before thrusting sinew packed beats and the wonderfully torrid vocal tones of Bomb into the appealing recipe. The hook which drew the first spark of ardour as the song started continues to vein the stomp whilst a resonating shimmer to the sound engulfs and exhilarates the senses. As with all their songs, the premise is uncomplicated and minimalistic but always thick in presence and invention leading to fully textured and imposing encounters.

The intimidating shadows of The Creeps consumes attention next, their threat and imposing provocation sizeable but defused by an excellent revelry of keys, vocal wails, and the urgent dance of hooks and harmonies. Short, sweet, and irresistible, the song is then put in its appealing place by Love Kills, a brilliant blend of sixties pop, garage punk, and rockabilly energy. Imagine The Shangri-Las and The Cramps in a saucy romantic triangle with Australian band Valentiine and you have the brilliant Love Kills. The track sways and romps with revelry and mischievousness to cast a perfect raw pop song on the passions.

Ramona Wolf just sounds better with each encounter since its single release last November. It’s almost spatial opening ambience paves the way for the vocal seduction of Becca to spread a temptress like devilry, a sonic medusa with a delivery writhing with searing harmonies and enslaving qualities. Musically the song is a repetitive narrative, punchy beats and scalding guitar probing and grazing respectively with singular intent beneath the harsh atmosphere of the tale. It is also quite glorious as is the next up Dream Baby Dream. Providing irrepressible flirting from the sax of Andrew Pattie within its scintillating fifties pop ravaging and punk seeded ravishing, the song stomps over and challenges the senses for another unruly treat, Bo Diddley meets Helen Shapiro at the home of The Trashmen.

Both Trippin’ Out and Haunted High School finger the passions in their individual ways next, the first a heart rapping rampage of jabbing beats and scarring riffs skirting the sinister drama. It is a tale of ghostly enterprise and inescapable rapacious shadows with a heartbeat which resonates through the bone and core of the evocative tale whilst melodic acidity and vocal colouring courts its intent. The excellent fierce smouldering is soon exceeded by What Would Joey Ramone Do?, a song which sculpts a raising of the spirits of Gene Vincent and Lux Interior with that of the song’s namesake. The track provides all you expect and much more, the Cochran/ Poison Ivy Rorschach like mix of guitar sound with the impossible contagious punk stomp of the song an epidemic for the passions.

Arguably the band saves the best till last, though every listen offers a different favourite. Forever Leather fuses sixties girl pop with a raw voracity, the song like the punk infected offspring of The Crystals and The Stooges with a heady dose of Siouxsie menace. It is a scintillating end to an outstanding album. The Creeping Ivies continue to impress as they evolve and push their boundaries, doing so without losing any of the elements which made them an unbridled addiction certainly for us since their early days. Whether their sound will ever find the major spotlight it deserves is impossible to say, such its uniqueness and undiluted rawness, but it will definitely recruit the most passionate and feverish passions from an increasingly growing legion of fans we suggest, it just needs the opportunity to make that infectious strike.

http://thecreepingivies.com/

http://thecreepingivies.bandcamp.com/

10/10

RingMaster 24/03/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Calabrese – Born with a Scorpion’s Touch

 

CALABRESE  2 (Born With A Scorpion's Touch) 2013

    Calabrese has continued to steal the passions of psychobillies and horror punks worldwide since stepping forward in 2003. Album after album, song after song, show after show, they have been a persistent magnet for those infected by their distinct sound and riotous b-movie inspired presence, and we stand amongst the legion infected. So it was with relish we dived into the band’s fifth album Born with a Scorpion’s Touch which receives its UK uncaging this month. Each of the band’s previous albums has impressed and pushed the band’s adventure but with the new contagion, the trio of blood brothers, Bobby, Davey, and Jimmy Calabrese has unlocked a maturity and exploratory enterprise which opens up a new chapter for the band in songwriting and presence. The trademark Calabrese sound is still the potent lure but it is graced and veined with a greater expanse of styles and ingenuity to create quite possibly the pinnacle of the band’s exploits to date.

     The band has always built their sound on the influential breaths of bands such as The Misfits, Black Flag, Samhain, The Damned, Black Sabbath, Danzig, and Ramones, and there is certainly no deviation from that potent well upon Born with a Scorpion’s Touch either but it is infused with a rich incitement of varied metallic and heavy rock essences within their individual sound. It emerges from this dramatic brew as an enthralling and unpredictable encounter, one which continues to make Calabrese a major force and provocation in underground rock ‘n’ roll. Now though they might just become a well-known incitement for world attention thanks to Born with a Scorpion’s Touch.

    Released via Spookshow Records, the album opens with the brief American Rebel Death Riders, a primarily instrumental Calabrese Born With A Scorpion's Touch Album Covertrack which fires up the energy of album and listener with its mix of groove and thrash metal within a juggernaut of rock ‘n’ roll voraciousness. The track rampages down the ears highway igniting imagination and emotions before departing for the following title track. From the first of expected film samples which has always coloured the band’s releases, a ravenous groove breaks free from within a blaze of riffs and thumping rhythms. It is irresistible toxic bait from which the band swings their hooks and infectious chorus to predictably irresistible effect. It is fair to say there is not many bands who can breed the virulence to their barbs and calls as the Phoenix threesome and no chance that the band will lose their lethal touch, as proven by the second track. Again there is a broader hard rock stroke to the song without removing itself from the masterful walls of psychobilly and horror rock.

     I Wanna Be a Vigilante continues the impressive start, its opening wind swept beach reminding a little of the classic Shangri-las’ song, is soon welcoming the croon of Bobby and Jimmy’s vocals and an emotively honed blaze of melodic punk spawned pop balladry with a definite Ramones like aspect to its expanding walls and lures. There is also an element which reminds of The Damned, a gothic glaze that only adds to the depths of the track’s drama. From its commanding presence the snarling bass of Jimmy welcomes in the next up At Night I Am the Warmest, a track which launches at the ears with a feverish appetite and energy once into its full charge. The rhythms from Davey thump and pummel with intimidation whilst grooves and hooks engage and seduce the senses, all held under the rein of the excellent vocal persuasion singularly and dually of Bobby and Jimmy. As epidemically commanding as a voracious fever, the track leaves appetite and emotions aflame before they are taken on another inflammatory ride by the sonic surges and hunger of Loner at Heart. The track burns and sears the sense with a predatory gait and intensity to its antagonism but tempers it with a delicious weave of melodic and addiction forging enterprise.

     Both Mindwarp and Danger leave lingering fingerprints on passions and memory, the first an almost brawling stomp of rock pop with horror rock provocation and its successor a rhythmically menacing encounter courted by sonic beauty and a cache of insidiously compelling barbed grooves and anthemic toxins. It is a brilliant trap living up to its name with ease. Its might is as good as matched by the tarmac smelling heat of Ride with the Living Dead, the song just another which sparks imagery and creative thoughts as powerfully as it does the ardour which only increases its rapture for the release.

    Only the Dead Know My Name moves in on the imagination next, another ambient setting the veil for a track which seduces with more swerves and curvy temptations than a lap dance and just as unhealthily captivating as reality fades away once up against the claws and grip of the song. It is a stylish and impossibly alluring dance with riffs and hooks instinctive protagonists to give full submission to, as are those unleashed by the brilliant I Ride Alone, though brilliance can be draped over every song on this exceptional inspiration as a trait. As with all the songs, there is a wider, richer colour and fermentation to the band’s songwriting and sound which simultaneously feeds all wants and desires for a Calabrese release whilst exceeding those needs with even greater challenging adventure.

   Closing with the rigorously catchy There’s an Evil Inside, a more singularly rockabilly cast treat, Born with a Scorpion’s Touch is a magnificent slab of resourceful and inventive rock ‘n’ roll, one unafraid to push its and the band’s formerly perceived boundaries, though they have never stood still in pressuring limits to be fair. We suggested that the album was possibly the pinnacle of the band’s creativity until now, listening to it again as this is written let us amend that by omitting possibly.

http://www.calabreserock.com/

10/10

RingMaster 17/03/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Damn Vandals – Twist Up And Tangle

 

Marcus Maschwitz Photography 2012

Marcus Maschwitz Photography 2012

    Ahead of their new album, the highly anticipated Rocket Out Of London, UK sonic rock ‘n’ rollers Damn Vandals release new single Twist Up And Tangle. It is a manipulative little treat which brings the brilliance of debut album Done For Desire into an equally masterful but even more psychotically honed sound. It is a feverishly tasty temptation for what the new full-length is likely to offer; actually having heard the upcoming beast of a release, look out for a review soon, it is a very accurate indication of the triumph waiting in the wings.

     Damn Vandals has developed into one of the UK’s most ferociously compelling and ingeniously contagious rock protagonists since making their early bow with the widely acclaimed and remarkably masterful Beautiful Mind EP. With surrounding encounters and songs leading into the outstanding Done For Desire album, the London quartet announced themselves as an uncompromising and highly addictive proposition. Lyrically and musically sharp, their sound with its additionally earthy and raw breath consistently made an easy capture of the imagination and passions upon their debut, its stirring qualities built upon riotously incendiary live performances which also have earned the band a mighty reputation. Recorded with produced by Julian Simmons (Midlake, Ed Sheeran, Guillemots, Goldheart Assembly) as the previous release, Twist Up And Tangle and the upcoming Rocket Out Of London take all the recognised potent elements of the band on a dirtier, darker, and more intensive exploration.

     Twist Up And Tangle lurches into the ears with heavy punching beats and sonic scythes of raw scuzz kissed guitar, both coverthrusting the song forcibly and magnetically upon the senses. It is a scarring introduction which is soon riled up further by the excellent distinctive tones of Jack Kansas, his delivery as ever rigorously expressive and voraciously attention grabbing, much like the surrounding sounds. Soon into its sinew flexing stride, the track is prowling and bruising with every swerve and leap of its caustic dance. The track is a predator, but one offering rich infectious bait which seduces and romances the primal instincts within. The guitar of Frank Pick alone is sheer magnetism, his cutting riffs and sonic toxicity right through to a synapse scorching solo insatiably addictive and matched in aural kind by the throaty rapacious tones of Adam Kilemore Gardens’ bass and the wickedly intrusive rhythms of drummer Chris Christianson, not forgetting the persistent vocal devilry of Kansas. Like Fatima Mansions meets The Birthday Party at a demonically cast liquor orgy, the song is one of those corruptive pleasures which sets the heart and year ablaze.

    It is not alone though as its partner in crime I Bring You Love is equally as insidiously addictive. Merging psychobilly and dark Cajun licks within its dirty swamp of heavy duty rock ‘n’ roll, the song is a commanding drama reeking incitement with a swagger and dark hearted narrative to match. Pick again simply mesmerises as his riffs and slide guitar spawned hooks lustfully fondle your naughty bits whilst Kansas encourages the exciting violation with another expulsion of gruff syllables and angst kissed enticement. With rhythms that robustly resonate in bone and thoughts, the track is a riveting teaser for the album ahead and supplier of another bulky slab of pleasure.

    Released as the album through Sexy Beast, Twist Up And Tangle leaves the passions basking. It is a must have appetiser for the sure to be confirmation of the new Kings of British rock ‘n’ roll through their new album.

Twist Up And Tangle is released march 17th with Rocket Out Of London uncaged April 7th.

10/10

www.damnvandals.co.uk

RingMaster 16/03/2014

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Midnight Mob -These Days

 

MM

    The second in their range of very limited edition CDs helping to get UK coverage for bands from around the world, STP Records are releasing the excellent These Days album from New York City rockers Midnight Mob. Consisting of ten rousing tracks of punk and incendiary rock, the release is a feisty and thrilling showcase for an equally compelling band.

     Midnight Mob formed in 2009 and took little time in firing up audiences and passions with their seduction of passionate and bruising rock ‘n’ roll. A year later the band’s line-up became a stable confrontation, its frontline provided by the rich and feisty tones of Blackey Deathproof, sweetness and venom wrapped up in every unleashed syllable. Alongside her the guitars of Mickey Squeeze and Spydyr cast equally riveting and persuasive sounds whilst dangerous rhythms are bred from bassist Carly Quinn and drummer Catastrophe. A self-titled EP was uncaged in 2011 alongside a video for the track Overdrive. Both drew healthy attention to complement the band’s live reputation which has seen them play sizeable chunks of the US. Last year a second EP, Black Moon Rising, pushed the band further into the spotlight with the singles These Days and All For Nothing stand out opportunities, both subsequently receiving video releases filmed by Jarret Bellucci and Adam Bailey respectively. 2013 also saw the departure of Catastrophe but also interest from STP in bringing the band to the attention of a European appetite, which the new CD achieves with ease and quality. Bringing all the EPs and singles into one concentration of fevered rock music, it is hard to imagine that These Days will not make Midnight Mob a heavily talked about and sought after import for British passions.

     Overdrive starts things off and instantly has appetite and feet launching their support. From a distant vocal cry within an intriguing sonic breath, the song collects its sinews and fire in a brewing intimidation before unleashing a torrent of sonic bait, thumping rhythms, and rebellious riffs. Into full stride the track, ridden by the instantly provocative and enthralling delivery of Blackey, seduces and rages with hooks and grooves aplenty, all enslaving the imagination whilst frisking the passions. It is potent punk ‘n’ roll, a fire of enterprise and passion which nags and taunts for the fullest satisfaction.

     From the scintillating start, the album moves from a brawl to a wanton rock dance with All Or Nothing. More reserved in its gait and intensity though certainly not potency, the song romps with melodic majesty and a delicious vocal harmony which just caresses all the naughty places. Like a mix of eighties band The Photos and the early days of Blondie but with the snarl of The Objex included, the track is a contagious temptation instantly matched by Hit Or Miss and Perfect Crime. The first has a chorus which stands before you eye to eye, daring you not to join in with its ridiculously tempting chorus like calls from the first few seconds. Almost preying on the senses with its energetic stomp and virulently masterful persuasion, the song merges pop punk and hard rock for a quite magnetic encounter which may not fire up the emotions as the first pair but certainly leaves them grinning as broadly, especially that deviously addictive vocal enslavement. The second of the two takes a more straight on rock route to thoughts, its body as with so many of the songs familiar, though it might just be to the fact that we have listened to the album much more than anything else these past couple of weeks, and engagingly welcoming. Again infectiousness works its way into ears and passions for another persistently fun time.

    Through the belligerent rhythmic and riff driven stomp of Be Mine, a track which lays shadows on vocals and thoughts like a warm glaze, the band continues to light the fuse of rapturous hunger. At times the song, especially through its ratchet of guitar strikes, reminds of Penetration but also with its blaze of melodic rock enticement presses other thoughts of artists like Lita Ford into the blend, as does the following Walking Dead, it a masterful menacing seduction from Blackey matched by the melodic weave of Squeeze and Spydyr and the bass prowl offered by Quinn. Listening to the album is like indulging in an expanse of greatest hits tracks with this one of the biggest pinnacles.

   The twin musical growls of Black Moon Rising and My Undead Darling “You Still Haunt Me” push the listener into a darker diverse corner of the album, the first a sultry embrace with a bordering on psychobilly swagger and Danzig like drama. It is a riveting adventure abrasing and seducing the emotions in skilled and tempting style whilst its successor rolls in on a wash of rhythmic incitement soon aided by sonic and bass teasing, again a rockabilly essence seeding the magnificent stroll of rock ‘n’ roll. The band states as one of their influences Cheap Trick, and certainly this joy has that epidemic pop rock essence and passion stealing potency, to which you can adds tasty moments of The Creepshow.

    The title track leaves little time to compose your clothing and temptations, whisking the listener to their feet for a waltz through heat climates and smouldering emotions. It is an elegantly absorbing invitation with the charm to calm wild stallions and rioting crowds. Something the closing So Hard would achieve the opposite of, its sinews and boisterous intensity a punk rock provocation with melodic rock armoury. Though the track does not reach the same levels as the rest of the album it makes a powerful finale and only adds to the reasons why this side of the pond should join the Midnight Mob.

      These Days is not an album to push boundaries it is fair to say but for honest and give it all rock ‘n’ roll there are few better. Jump on board and grab a copy of Midnight Mob’s UK debut is the recommendation, before it is too late.

http://www.midnightmob.com/

These Days is available from http://www.stprecords.co.uk/page5.htm

9/10

RingMaster 12/03/2014

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Spunk Volcano & The Eruptions – EP

 

Pic by Ste

Pic by Ste

    Stepping out from the punk ‘n’ roll shenanigans of the UK’s irrepressible masters of rock mayhem Dirt Box Disco, the band’s masked lunatic and guitarist/vocalist unleashes his own project of devilry, Spunk Volcano & The Eruptions. With a sound which is irresistibly contagious and riotous, Spunk and cohorts are poised to release debut EP called simply…EP on February 1st. Though arguably not a major departure from the DBD sound, the release provides a leaner and debatably stronger old school bred persuasion which emerges with a distinctive presence through five tracks of unbridled punk rock virulence, or as they call is spunk rock.

     Alongside DBD colleagues, drummer Maff Fazzo and bassist Deadbeatz Chris, and guitarist Ste Lingard from Manchester based punk band Flat Back Four, Spunk has sculpted an encounter which bounces and romps with exhaustive energy and merciless addictiveness, no second of the EP refusing to tempt with salacious intent or devoid of epidemically spawned infectiousness. It is a record which if you are not physically stomping with and vocally uniting with its anthemically cast songs at some point, then deafness of death has beaten it to your senses.

     The opener Sellotape makes a relatively subdued entrance, singular riffing nudging the ears before punchy beats and a coaxingSVEP_PROMO heavy bass sound move in to increase the enticement. It is not a fiery or dramatic start but rigidly compelling with a lure which increases as its intensity raises degree by degree and the great vocals of Spunk, aided by a strong backup from Chris and Ste across the release, start working on thoughts with an emotive narrative which again can be said to be a step away from the attack found with the day job. With a brew of hooks working independently and in tandem with each other and a dark menace to the rhythmic pressing, the song is a magnetic trampling through the ears and into the passions and the irresistible appetiser to even greater glories.

     The Devil Spits You Out shows its intent at the start with forceful beats and a raw guitar grazing laying lures before the Spunk’s vocals start working the imagination within growing sonic flames. Finding greater potency and contagion to its senses worrying riffs and the antagonistic but affirming narrative, the track soon has feet, voice, and passions in league with its call and suasion, a power the following She’s The Girl has little problem in replicating and accelerating. Within seconds a ring of na na na na’s recruits instant submission and alliance from body and heart, its entrance taking the already ripe aural addictiveness of the release into a richer stronger brew of irrepressible toxicity. Guitars and bass grab the ears by their lobes and thrusts them into a riot of insatiable roughhousing rock ‘n’ roll whilst the drums unleash a blast of tempered yet explosive sinews to frame the outstanding group vocal provocation; the result one exceptionally dynamic and irresistible slab of rascality.

     Matching its might and temptation Crossfire steps up next to rile up the passions, the song a rapacious look back at the times of real toys and the vicious board game of the song’s title, well it was violent how we played it. The band also musically dips back to the seventies, where the game was a must have alongside many other mentions in the track, to craft a roguish wash of old school punk sweat and pleasure. Impossibly addictive and demandingly anthemic, the song is a scintillatingly blast of punk ‘n’ roll alchemy. Probably the most DBD like song but again with that essence and bold character in sound and hunger to launch itself into the deepest corners of your passions and imagination, the track is another slice of mastery which makes you hope this is not a one off adventure by Spunk and the guys.

   SV - TOUR & EP promo  The rawer sound of the previous song is increased with a defiant nastiness and belligerence on the final song Superior Brain Damage. It has a harsher combative breath than its predecessors but does not short change on wonderfully toxic entrapping hooks and lung sapping energy. It is a towering conclusion to an outstanding explosion of the finest punk ‘n’ roll sculpting and the start of something which in the future could rival its creator’s main band in appeal and success. Released via STP Records on the first day of February and followed soon after by a five date UK tour, the EP thrusts Spunk Volcano & The Eruptions to instant ‘stardom’. To be honest using Dirt Box Disco as a reference brought assumptions that the EP would be something special, but it is nice to be proved right before being shown an even more impressive triumph which surely only those deaf or dead souls will ignore.

http://www.facebook.com/svate

http://www.stprecords.co.uk

10/10

RingMaster 31/01/2014

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77 – Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll

    77pic

    Band name and album title does not hint at but immediately tells you exactly what you are getting into once you climb on board with the new stomp from Spanish rockers 77. Their album Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll is bred, sculpted, and delivered in seventies hard rock revelry but one which offers a fresh take on the nostalgia pushing adventure whilst wearing its inspirational heart on its muscular sleeves. The ten track release is not the fuse to heated blazes in the passions but it certainly romps along with confidence and accomplished mischief to make an encounter which lingering friendship with is a given.

Formed by brothers Armand (vocals and guitar) and LG Valeta (lead guitar), 77 has earned a fine and eagerly offered reputation for their easy to access sounds. With Dolphin (drums) and Raw (bass) completing the line-up, the band release their third album on the back of the acclaimed High Decibels. The new album continues the passion driven creatively instinctive bruisings the band has come renowned for whilst slipping in some new spicery and exploration, though ultimately the Listenable Records released offering feeds expectations rather than avoids them. It is not an album to leave you opened mouthed in awe and surprise but definitely it teases and takes ears on a feisty fun ride, which is always welcomed.

     Produced by Fred Estby and Nicke Andersson, Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll lets rip with its title track, the song instantly loadingnoname up on the ear with honest unfussy rock riffs and a tempting if familiar hook. The vocals of Armand ‘croon’ in   a pleasing if expected style whilst the group clad anthemic chorus soon has the voice joining the already engaged feet in the simple yet infectious opener. It is a song you know before you have heard it but still makes for a satisfying introduction which sets down the template for the upcoming party.

Both the following Don’t You Scream and Down and Dirty continue the eager start, the first with a taunting groove and additional blues kissed teasing from LG around another irresistibly contagious chorus whilst the second gets down on the liquor soaked blues floor and slowly, in comparison to its predecessors, singes the senses with continually to impress guitar enterprise, though each expulsion of its invention seems to be over before it and the listener has time to draw breath.  The pair hit the spot without dodging assumptions of what is coming but such the craft and passion in their veins it is hard not to enlist in their persuasion.

Highway Rebel passes by next without igniting any real flicker of energy in the passions for an admittedly strongly designed if uneventful presence before handing ears over to the album’s pinnacle. Jazz It Up is a delicious stroll, a track from its first note courting a swagger which has song and band swinging their wares with a wantonness that is pure addiction. The insatiable grooves have hips in their naughty hands throughout whilst the melodic blues toxicity conjured by LG is icing on a very tasty resourceful cake.

The swamp air of Stay Away From Water makes an excellent start to its arrival, a deltas blues essence washing over the ear which leads to a slight disappointment when the song clears its climate to present another clean rock ’n’ roll offering. Into its stride though the track proves itself to be another contagious, tempered charge through happy to accept ears whilst its successors You Bore Me and Take Me or Leave Me create their own equally appealing blues filtered temptations, the first of the two featuring LG on lead vocals. Neither provides anything truly new to get the imagination around but both enslave a healthy appetite and depth of passion for their smouldering suasion. They might not, like the album, have emotions raging but they definitely have strong appreciation swerving with eagerness to the grooves and enterprise offered.

Virtually Good and 16 Year-Old King complete the album, the pair the weakest songs on show yet still able to engage a more than happy to return appetite from thoughts and feelings. Maximum Rock ‘n’ Roll gives exactly what it says on the tin and a sound rich for the attention of fans of bands such as AC/DC, Rose Tattoo, and Status Quo. 77 is a rock ‘n’ roll band and that is the tall and short of it, an intent which only gives satisfaction.

http://www.77rocks.com/

7/10

RingMaster 12/12/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Vitamins – El Santo Vs. Los Vitaminas / Look After Me

The Vitamins pic

With the release of debut single Keys To The Limousine, UK rockers The Vitamins introduced themselves in fine style and as one rather boisterously potent emerging force. The two track release was an eager and feisty blaze of primal rock ‘n’ roll, a pair of songs which brewed a heady exciting mix of blues, garage rock, and muscle. Proving it was no flash in the pan the Bury St. Edmunds trio return with the AA sided single El Santo Vs. Los Vitaminas / Look After Me, a pair of riots sure to accelerate the growing fanbase seeded by its predecessor.

Formed in 2011 and consisting of vocalist/guitarist Dick Phillips, bassist Ollie Swift, and drummer Neil Baldwin, The Vitamins continue their enterprising arrival on British rock with another couple of heavyweight and flame driven sonic endeavours. The 

644114_474853499280476_448366875_nsingle takes little prompting to seize ears and attention as El Santo Vs. Los Vitaminas flies at the imagination with its Mexican wrestling tale and challenge, the bruising intensive bass of Swift instantly pressurising the senses alongside the coarse and acidic riffs of Phillips. It is an incendiary engagement from the first note spiked by the punchy raps of Baldwin which has little difficulty in exciting ears and emotions. The vocals of Phillips backed by great band garage punk harmonies are as equally discord and scuzz coated as the sounds around them , the result a song which has a Stooges like punk blaze to its breath and Led Zeppelin seeded sinew to its hunger.

Look After Me is a different beast from the same inventive litter of thought and intent. It opens with a stomping keys crafted incitement soon joined by a glorious glam rock like burst of guitar. It offers a seventies rock spice which lingers throughout the track as the vocals jog keenly with their narrative and persistent rhythms forge an almost metronomic heartbeat and lure for the song. The guitar of Phillips also fires up its imagination across the expanding stroll of the song whilst the ridiculously infectious presence of the track provides slavery for the passions. It is a delicious stomp of pop rock and blues kissed garage punk and the best thing the band has conjured yet.

You sense there is no stopping The Vitamins as both El Santo Vs. Los Vitaminas and Look After Me make a compelling and irresistible persuasion and that it is just the appetiser to greater things ahead. Anticipation is already breeding impatience…

http://www.thevitaminsband.co.uk

9/10

RingMaster 21/11/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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