Photo Lor Nov
No doubt Halloween 2015 will be noted for numerous reasons though few maybe as thrilling to a great many people as that day in time being the moment that the long awaited debut album from The St Pierre Snake Invasion was uncaged. Fans have been waiting for a fair time to chew on its noisy dessert whilst without realising, British rock ‘n’ roll has been similarly biding time for a release like it to re-ignite its potent but smouldering landscape. A Hundred Years A Day is that incitement, a furious punk ‘n’ roll blaze of noise and alternative rock that takes all the potential of the band’s previous encounters to a new volcanic plateau.
The Bristol hailing quintet’s sound has always been an incendiary challenge on the senses and imagination, a riveting and intoxicating roar which is like that rebellious friend you know your parents and the bland norm will take an instant dislike to, especially as they lead you into mischievous deeds and salacious habits. The St Pierre Snake Invasion creates music which is brash, belligerent, and increasingly compelling, with primal beauties like A Hundred Years A Day the glorious result.
Formed in 2010, it was with debut EP Flesh the following year that The St. Pierre Snake Invasion lit, as for so many, our fires, stoking them for bigger lustful reactions with its outstanding successor Everyone’s Entitled To My Opinion in 2013. Such its continuing presence in our for pleasure playlist it is hard to believe it has been another couple of years until opening of curtains on the sonic theatre of A Hundred Years A Day. But it has and the wait has been well worth the impatience offered, a recognition needing only opener Thanks But The Answer’s No to prove.
The song smothers ears in an initial noise smog from within which, a steely nagging groove springs its bait. As the mighty rhythmic pokes of drummer Sam James batter rising riffs, the ever distinctive vocal roar of Damien Sayell leaps out. In no time the track is stomping with heavy anthemic feet and hip swaying inducement, the guitars of Szack Notaro and Patrick Daly spinning an inescapable web of enticement for body and emotions. It is a typical TSPSI proposal in devilment and potently fresh and unique in design, even as a dirty noise rock storm.
The brilliant start never misses a persuasive beat as David Ickearumba swaggers in next on a thumping of beats as a tangy mesh of guitar wraps the calmer but no less zealous delivery of Sayell. Amongst them, the dark, slightly bestial bass temptation cast by Mark Fletcher grabs ears and an already enlivened appetite for the encounter; it’s throaty beckoning an especially potent seduction in nothing but thick lures fuelling the song. With the voice of Sayell showing another range of its psychotic mastery of expression, emotion, and ears, the track produces a rock ‘n’ roll contagion with a healthy dose of volatility to it, that tempestuousness more vocal in the stalking delight of When I See A Sycophant Fly. Bass and drums lead a swarm of sonic stings, a perpetual union even as the track swings between mellower intimidation and infectious drama as prowling confrontations of intensity line its cynical air. Both guitarists add great backing vocals across song and album, here adding calm and unpredictable breath to match the increasingly fiery maze of sound. Like a mix of Nick Cave, The Melvins, and The Dropper’s Neck, another pinnacle is sculpted within A Hundred Years A Day, the album three for three at this point.
Rock ‘n’ Roll Workshops is pure manna for noise punk fiends, its rhythmic shuffle alone irresistible and its De Staat like energy and devilry the perfect courting of feet and the passions. Under the further potent lure of Sayell’s presence, the track bounces around like a dog with a vet’s finger up its bum, exhausting and inflaming as it leads to the glorious devil bred croon of Sex Dungeons & Dragons. The darker hues of a Birthday Party and schizo charm of Mclusky collude here as the band spin a tale of intrigue, musically and narratively, in turn enticing and inciting ears and senses at every turn of craft and imagination. Again diversity upon A Hundred Years A Day is rich and compelling yet still only TSPSI in touch and character, as shown of course by the track’s successor Like A Rag To A Red Bull, it another sonic sandstorm littered with bone splitting rhythms and at forty odd seconds more effective and arousing than most multi-minute proposals elsewhere.
Jesus, Mary & Joseph Talbot has the body throwing shapes like a rag doll in the hands of a child, manipulating limbs like a crazed puppeteer as the skills of the band work resourcefully on thoughts and passions. Listening to the track you wonder if The Stooges were starting out now, this is what they would be inspired by, a wonder turning to a convinced idea as The Great Procrastinator matches the powerful success of its predecessor with its own slavery of the listener. A song which recalls early seeds of the band, songs like Last Words Of A Bent Cop from the Flesh EP, it soon builds its own particular compulsion of enterprise and intrusive devilry gripped by virulent contagion.
Eight tracks in an truthfully there has been no dip in persuasion or invention on the album, song nine, Refauxlution keeping the trend with its predatory canter equipped with tantalising sonic enterprise and a rhythmic targeting pinning ears to the wall in joyful submission. Each song is a maelstrom of physical and emotional turbulence guided by the unavoidable vocal alchemy of Sayell but as shown by Refauxlution, so sublimely crafted and imagined that you often feel relaxed and in a mellower climate as the song chews its way into the psyche.
The album is brought to a mighty close by firstly its title track, a glorious slow meandering smoulder of voice and sound which brews up a crescendo of angst fired ire to singe the senses before slipping back into its shadow thick serenade. If The Only Way Is Essex You Can Kill Me Now is given the task to follow it and end things on a high, which it does in a fuzzy tempest of hook ridden punk ‘n’ roll.
Recorded with Sean Genockey over apparently only three days, A Hundred Years A Day is the raw, live, and creative might of The St Pierre Snake Invasion in one dynamic and intoxicating place. Their previous EPs have been irresistible but there is a new depth in songwriting and sound with a persistent consistency in major success across A Hundred Years A Day. It is also an announcement that the band has not only come of creative age but opened the gateway to even bigger, bolder, and daresay brawly treats ahead.
A Hundred Years A Day is out now digitally @ http://tspsi.bandcamp.com/album/a-hundred-years-a-day and on CD @ http://tspsi.bigcartel.com/product/a-hundred-years-a-day
http://tspsi.co.uk/ http://facebook.com/thestpierresnakeinvasion http://twitter.com/tspsi
Pete RingMaster 04/11/2015
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/
Daydream opens with its title track and straight away has ears and imagination engaged with its first lure of guitar. Straight away the sultriness of the invitation has the scent of Josh Homme and co, but it soon becomes entangled in the imaginative twists and enterprise of Gelato; rousing hooks and tenacious riffs colluding with eagerly swiping beats and the darker bait of the bass. There is a touch of Eagles of Death Metal to the song too when it is raising its intensive punkish stomp whilst throughout, the melodic craft of the band is an invention of unpredictable and seductive prowess.
Produced by Marcus Forsgren, The White Sea stirs into rich life with I Wear The Skies, the opener coaxing with one, two, subsequently three and four layers of rich enticement once choppy riffs lure more spikily nagging hooks, keenly jabbing beats, and finally a groove thick bass tempting, it all uniting in an explosion of noise and impassioned vocal fire. Early hooks continue to lay down their addictiveness as the song grows, expanding their bait throughout as the short but glorious track boils to an anthemically ferocious close.
The more restrained Yellow King shows a fuzzier melodic string to the band’s creative bow whilst still creating a virulent offering hard for body and voice to resist whilst the mighty Green Goblin is a two and a half minute addiction that you will be crooning long after leaving its and the album’s side. Familiarity is once more a potent hue but entangled in a pungent pop punk weave, the track is like all your best friends partying in the ears.
Mixed and mastered by Hill, the EP quickly fires up ears and appetite with its opener, the mightily infectious and persuasive Give Me The News. From its first breath, guitar and bass unite in a rich coaxing framed by the firm beats of McGrath. The initial guitar melody continues to entice as the expressive tones of Aitken lures the listener into a ridiculously captivating chorus. Within one hug of its rousing crescendo, it is impossible not to find yourself adding a new voice to its tempting whilst feet easily tap to punchy rhythms as hips sway to the sonic enterprise of Aitken’s guitar. There is a familiarity to the song, especially around that chorus, which defies pinning down but it is merely extra spice to the irresistible design and evolving adventure of the track. The song offers few big surprises but enjoyment is high so there are no complaints.
Sometimes starts things off, a lone piano casting a classical air as thicker sounds brew around it, guitars and rhythms a shadowy tempting courted by an even darker bass lure. The voice of Shade has a mellow but emotive intensity which lies separate to the melodic beauty and metallic intimidation around it, but links all with its potent plainer hue. For ears, the song and subsequent album provokes thoughts of bands like Sisters Of Mercy, The Mission, and Gene Loves Jezebel, though equally as the likes of the album’s title track takes over, thoughts of Type O Negative and more so an emotionally detached version of Black are also nurtured. For the main though as keys seduce and shadows encroach, vocal croon and melodies caressing within a muscular climate, In Fall create something specific to themselves becoming more impressive and enticing with every listen.
The EP starts with a predatory gripping of ears through Perfect Whore, nagging riffs a perpetual tempting as vocals and drums descend greedily on the senses. With the bass a more reserved but no less potent protagonist in the mix, grabbing its moment to grumble within breaks with toxic prowess, the track climbs over the senses and imagination like a serpent. The sonic tendrils of the guitar are as seductive as they are venomous, still flirting with virulence as hostile eruptions unite in a bruising tempest. The track is a superb start to the EP, death metal infused with slithers of other varied metal and noise induced invention.