Temple Of Lies – The Serial Killer Suite

From its predatory nature alone, The Serial Killer Suite ensures ears and an appetite for imposing metal are aroused; add potent individual craft and an instinctively woven web of grooves and rhythmic threat and you have a release which stalks attention. The third album from UK metallers Temple Of Lies, it is a rapacious contagion of sound and intensity living up to its theme and untamed protagonist.

With its first pair of singles making persuasive hints of things to come, The Serial Killer Suite swiftly shows each were accurate clues to, if still slithers of, the adventurous character of the album. The successor to the well-received From Sand, it also sees the Temple Of Lies exploring heavier and darker corners of their sound and imagination; areas as dirty and bloodthirsty as they are groove nurtured infectious and hungrily energetic. Since emerging in 2010, the Leicester hailing outfit has shown an imposing growth in their sound, an evolution now having its head within their third full-length whilst still suggesting the exploration is far from over.

The Serial Killer Suite opens up with Epic Doom and instantly prowls ears with its groove lined swagger and growling riffs and bass line. Like a ringmaster vocalist Si Shaw steps into the middle, sowing the seeds to the psychotic devil in the album’s midst. Equally from the song’s initial breath, Jon Scranney’s guitar spins a web of enticing yet rapacious hooks and grooves, bait matched by the tenacious swings of drummer Alex Gamble and Jags’ similarly grouchy bass. It is an irresistible welcome into the waiting emotional carnage and ill-intent and swiftly backed by the just as gripping exploits of Broken Mind. Again band and sound court the senses with a threatening stealth, the bass pressing intimidatingly as Shaw’s gravelly tones join its trespass. As thrusting beats and harrying riffs add their lures, the song surrounds ears with hungry enterprise, the wiry tendrils of Scranney’s guitar rich spicing.

Illusion of Choice draws on the grungier side of the Temple of Lies sound, fusing it with their ever ferocious and enticing blend of metal. Instantly the track is on the boisterous balls of its feet, rhythms scything and riffs snarling as vocals and hooks collude in a virulent temptation with a touch of Disturbed meets Spineshank to its short but fiercely persuasive body before Modus Operandi lays down its individual creative intent. Often tempting like a fusion of Monster Magnet and Suicidal Tendencies, the track has ears and imagination hooked in no time, every twist a captivating moment, each turn a fresh treat merging the familiar with the unpredictable; an essence which applies to the whole of The Serial Killer Suite.

Latest single Skin is next, the track starting with a great bass grumble and proceeding to place layer upon layer of growling dexterity whilst creating another seriously catchy proposal. Shaw again prowls it all with vocal character and quality, every syllable spawned from the psychotic menace of the album’s heart. It is inescapably magnetic stuff pretty much matched in the irritable presence of I Cut You Bleed, though the song for personal tastes just misses finding the final persuasive ingredients of its predecessors. In saying that, there are also times when the song has ears and pleasure truly in the palms of its venomous hands.

Through the calmer though still instinctively volatile Sleep and the tenebrous tone and heart of its initial single, Dark Energy, the album has ears firmly gripped and enjoyment full. The first is a mellow proposal compared to those around it but deviously dark and tantalising with Scranney again showing his melodic craft and invention. Its successor also offers a less imposing proposition initially but there is a tempestuousness and emotional toxicity which brews and catches throughout the track’s poisonous embrace.

Both are tracks which also do not quite reach the heights of earlier roars yet leave the listener wanting for nothing before being eclipsed by the crabby rock ‘n’ roll of Teeth, another song with a great whiff of the crossover thrash of the previously mentioned Mike Muir led Californians in its snarl. Gamble’s beats leave the senses bruised from within the compelling encounter, the grievously addictive tone of Jags’ bass mutually greedy as Shaw and Scranney again enthral.

In turn Face of Grey hits the spot with its almost carnally toned intent and nature though it too is overshadowed by the following Symbiotic Parasite. As soon as church bells and senses intruding beats rise, there is an air of something special brewing, a suggestion only added to by the nagging riffs and controlled but fiery net of fleeting grooves. Subsequently things erupt in a voracious stomp, a swarm of infection and energy though still on a ferocity rein sparking a gripping tapestry of adventurous enterprise.

Nihilist Dreams brings things to a fine conclusion, the song an epilogue of emotional admission and creative resourcefulness which grows more tempestuous and imposing with every passing second. It is a great end to one of the year’s most enjoyable moments so far. Certainly being picky, it would have been interesting to see Temple Of Lies push the majorly adventurous and unpredictable moments of the album with an even bolder intent, to see it become truly distinctive, but there is nothing about The Serial Killer Suite that leaves disappointment or a lack of rich enjoyment. Temple of Lies is ready for global recognition; whether the world is ready for them time will tell.

The Serial Killer Suite is out now through Attic Records on iTunes and @ https://templeoflies.bandcamp.com/album/the-serial-killer-suite

http://templeoflies.co.uk/   https://www.facebook.com/templeoflies/   https://twitter.com/lies_of

Pete RingMaster 11/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Ward XVI – The Art Of Manipulation

Grabbing attention, certainly for a moment or two is pretty much within the ability of most artists with an inkling of imagination in their sound and presentation; sustaining it across a parade of tracks and releases is not so easy but a prowess well within the capabilities of British outfit Ward XVI. They poked at ears and an initial awareness of their individual adventure with a self-titled debut EP in 2015 and now truly stoke the fires of both with their first album. The Art Of Manipulation is a 16-track escapade as diverse and bold in flavours as it is compelling in theatrical imagination and oh so enjoyable and fun.

Hailing from Preston, Ward XVI is a sextet of musicians bringing an array of widespread inspirations into their individual and united creativity. Since the release of that first EP, the band has shared stages with the likes of William Control and The Men that will not be Blamed for Nothing, played the main stage at O2 Academy Leeds in the final of the Soundwaves Music Competition, and increased their reputation and success across their native North West with a host of headlining shows. Recently signing with Germany’s Rock ’N’ Growl Records, the band is now teasing and tempting national recognition with The Art Of Manipulation, a release which has you rocking in body and imagination from start to finish with its multi-flavoured avant-garde rock.

A concept album telling the introspective story of a female psychopath locked away in a high security asylum, each track a delving into her past life and telling the story of how she manipulated a man into killing for her using her feminine charm, The Art Of Manipulation introduces itself with doctor and protagonist tempting and contemplating the story leading to the waiting embrace of Ward XVI. Take My Hand emerges from its lead, melancholic guitar and keys caressing the senses as vocalist Psychoberrie adds her potent lures to its entrance. Soon a gentle stroll, the song swiftly reveals an infectious swing, a low key flirtation which soon finds a hungrier intent as the song explodes with a fusion of metal/rock tenacity. Two minutes of rousing rock ‘n’ roll, the song sets up appetite and attention with ease and ready for the album’s following title track. Again a mellow start beckons ears, guitars weaving an elegant web before the darker shadows of Beardy McStumble’s bass and the senses clipping beats of Jake step in. There is an elegant but portentous air to the joining keys of Min, a threat which ignites as the song slips into a tempestuous canter of riffs and rhythms led by the increasingly enticing and impressive tones of Psychoberrie. Theremin lures add to the intrigue and appetising character of the track, punk and metal essences colluding with the rapacious rock ‘n’ roll steered by the guitars of Lex Whittingham and Dr. Von Stottenstein with the song ebbing and flowing in energy and aggression across its eventful body, every second a tease and temptation to devour.

A verbal interlude bridges one rich highlight to another as The Flight takes over, the track at first a heavy boned hard rock stomp but soon surrounding its heady march with electro revelry. It is a glorious rousing mix, a fusion of flavours which, though not exactly in a similar sound, ignites the imagination like a fusion of Kontrust and Russkaja, heavy metal flames extra spicing to the fiery mix. By now the diversity of the Ward XVI sound is inescapable, a magnetic trait among many which continues into the next up and brilliant Crystal Ball. Instantly capturing ears with its open Stolen Babies inspiration, the song quickly adds some gypsy dance revelry to the mix, Min’s accordion a flirtatious enticement as it aligns with Molotov Jukebox like antics and emerges as another unique track in the Ward XVI asylum.

The piano nurtured beauty of Hold Me calms things down a touch, the key’s suggestive writing courted by spicy guitar strains and the bewitching voice of Psychoberrie as the song irresistibly serenades the senses. Becoming more volatile with each passing minute, the track keenly captivates before another revealing interlude splits its draw and the equally potent call of Blackened Heart. A heavy rock roar, the song shares its own creative dance of varied spices and individual craft to keep the pleasure flowing even though it misses the bolder attributes of other tracks around it such as Run For Your Lives. The track is a boisterous mix of antagonism and flirtation, the keys mixing gypsy punk with the hard rock throes of riffs and rhythms and with vocals just as textually mixed and gripping, irritability increasingly brewing in them as the sounds until the carnival dance of its finale, it is another pinnacle of an already highly addictive proposition.

Adrenochromania seduces like a dark dream, its predacious shadows and spatial melodic caresses a weave of emotional disorder and euphoria; a union careering towards rock ‘n’ roll psychosis which breaks with zeal and enterprise as the guitars subsequently sizzle and keys progressively weave with equal relish. Psychoberrie gives the recipe to manipulation within it all, her tones a lingering essence as the song departs for the lively electro rock ‘n’ roll of Cry Of The Siren to step up and stir up body and energy.

Its potent temptation is instantly overshadowed by the psychotic nursery room smile of Toybox, the song recalling Stolen Babies again with a touch of Venus De Vilo to the vocal dance of Psychoberrie. Accordion and guitars wrap around rhythmic trespasses as the song hits its full weighty voice though it is that initial innocence spawned discordance which steals the passions most on its subsequent return into the track’s muscular tempest.

The outstanding Inner Demon has ears and thoughts flared up again with its rapacious punk ‘n’ roll, hooks and grooves as dangerous as the edge in the vocals and the song’s rhythmic infestation of the senses. Providing another major highlight, the song brings another hue to the landscape and adventure of the album, as all those before it, pushing and stretching the band’s sound and drama to another slightly different and deranged quarter without losing the inherent infectiousness of the release.

The album closes with the track Ward XVI, its own and its inmate’s final destination reached. An initial keys crafted gentle start deceives; its suggestion of contrition and realisation soon consumed by the raging blaze of sound and intensity which erupts as the release burns its final success into the senses and imagination. It is a fine end to an encounter which offers a little more with every listen; a striking affair from a band we for one are already hungrily waiting to hear more from. The Art Of Manipulation is a must for the bold, musically adventurous, and yes slightly deranged.

The Art Of Manipulation is out now on Rock ’N’ Growl Records @ https://wardxvi.bandcamp.com/album/the-art-of-manipulation

http://www.wardxvi.com/     https://www.facebook.com/WardXVI/

Pete RingMaster 11/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Eat Dirt – Self Titled EP

Punk rock has lost much of the anger it first set sail with back in ’77; certainly it is not as audible or open with modern bands seemingly worried more about, dare we say,  accomplished traits in their sound than their inspiring and rousing ire driven counterparts of yesteryear. One exception though is ‘Pissed Off Punk Rock Collective’ Eat Dirt, an outfit which has unleashed one of the irritable treats of the year in the shape of a self-titled debut EP. It is raw and uncompromising, belligerent and angry offering bringing a quartet of raging roars which yes are also skilfully crafted.

Forming in late 2016, Eat Dirt is the coming together of members of previously of well-established UK acts, putting “their frustrations with real life together.” From within its mysterious ranks, one of the band has admitted, “I’d given up on music. I wasn’t really angry enough. I had nothing to sing about anymore. Then the whole Brexit thing happened. I’m mad at people. I’m mad at the world around me. As a group, we need to vent. EAT DIRT is that release.

With inspirations drawn from the likes of The Bronx, Every Time I Die, Gallows, and Comeback Kid, Eat Dirt get right down to business with the EP’s thirty odd seconds title track. Instantly a wall of riffs and rhythms descend on ears, vocal scowling in their tow before a raucous stroll is in place. The unrelenting caustic attack is tempered by mellower backing vocals, their child nurtured ganging up as infectious as the brief but still eventful, hook lined proposal.

The great start is matched by the antagonistic prowl of Pigs. A call to arms littered with its own irresistible punk hooks, many old school bred, the track snarls and vents within an equally rousing web of guitars and rhythmic incitement. There are no frills, no unnecessary detours, just raging rock ‘n’ roll making its forceful point but with the imagination to leave ears hooked and spirits aroused.

48. follows swiftly after, the song badgering fifty seconds of fury and furious hardcore punk rock like a mix of Angelic Upstarts and Sick Of It All to again ignite the instincts and passions before Dead brings it all to a close with its contagious escapade. Almost flirtatious in comparison to its companions, the track has an anthemic catchiness and vocalised swing further continued in its hooks and swagger. There is no escaping bouncing bodies and swerving hips breaking out to its roar or a rising irritability with life alongside its own biting incite.

The track is a glorious end to a release which has the passions for not only punk rock but music itself alive and ready to snarl. The Eat Dirt EP is a defiance driven punk fuelled treat which we truly hope is just the first of many from its creators.

The Eat Dirt EP is available now as a free download @ https://eatdirtuk.bandcamp.com/releases

https://www.facebook.com/eatdirtpunk/

Pete RingMaster 11/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright