The last four years has seen British trio, Nosebleed establish and declare their voracious presence on the UK live scene; time which equally has seen their sound honed and reputation built, it all leading up to the moment they launch themselves at nationwide recognition. That time is now with the release of their debut album, Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor. It is a brief but relentless stomp of garage punk nurtured devilry allowing no time for a breath but giving a wealth of insatiable moments to breed instinctive lust for.
Thirteen virulent songs over twenty and a small handful of minutes, Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor flies from the speakers flinging song to song hooks like confetti and springing inventive twists like a mad professor. It is a rock ‘n’ roll dervish but with a devious control and scheme which sees feet, hips, and the imagination merciless to its manipulation.
Recorded live across one weekend alongside producer Andy Hawkins (Hawk Eyes, The Pigeon Detectives), Scratching Circles on the Dancefloor sets its intent with its first lungful of breaths. The initial guitar lure of opener I’m Okay wags an inviting finger before being quickly joined by hungry rhythms and the vocal mischief of guitarist Eliott Verity and bassist Ben Hannah. For fifty odd seconds the song rigorously hops around, Dicky Riddims’ beats setting the tone for the punk infested romp.
As the excellent start lays its last jab, its successor I’m Shaking is in the starting blocks, loco grooves teasing away as the track bursts into manic life. As rhythms pounce and hooks infest, the song sinks its mania into the imagination like a fusion of King salami and The Mobbs; teasing and fingering the psyche with its viral appetite and character. Superb does not quite cut its magnificence; a height of bliss eagerly backed by the addictive antics of Time And Time Again which quickly entangles the listener in its swinging grooves and excitable rhythms.
The voracious design of the album simply continues with the next pair of Wrong and Start Again. Not for the first or last time across the album, there is a whiff of seventies punk band The Cortinas especially in the first of these two with its sharp almost spiky hooks and instinctive catchiness while the second uncages a riot of bullish rock ‘n’ roll as punk as it is fifties scented honed into another irresistible and individual Nosebleed infestation.
As soon as the rhythmic rumble of Everybody breaks the momentary silence between songs, body and greed was sparked here; the track trapping an easy submission with its web of grooves and hooks let alone vocal incitement while Slow Down does the complete opposite as it had hips swinging and limbs flying with its dirt stained rock ‘n’ roll. Both tracks not only get under the skin but deep into the blood taking over spirit and soul simultaneously yet still get outshone by Scratching Circles. Like a puppeteer, the song dictated movement and energy; its Stones kissed heat and tenacious enterprise delicious spice in its creative irritancy and riveting manipulation.
Can’t Stay Here harasses like a child which will not take no for an answer to what it wants, the song bouncing around with its eyes firmly on the prize before Psycho grabs best track honours with its psychobilly hued rascality. Like the bad kid your mother warned you to stay away from, the track leads to wicked habits and salacious antics and boy does it reward for going astray.
A sixties garage rock hue lines the attitude soaked Kick Me When I’m Down next; swinging grooves and agitated rhythms gripping attention from its first touch, flames of melodic seduction from the guitar adding to its rich lure while I Can’t Tell You Anything creates a maze of hooks and grooves impossible to escape from, not that you will want to; an intent which is seeded in the album’s first note and only intensified thereon in.
It all comes to a close with What You Have Done, a ravenous collusion of grumbling filth lined bass, intrusive beats, and predacious riffs all linked by the band’s persistently anthemic vocals. It too has rockabilly/psychobilly infested fuel to its roar as well as a mouth-watering Misfits seeded glaze bringing the album to a close in majestic but certainly rampantly salacious style.
There are encounters which just inflame the individual instincts of us all, Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor is one for us, a release leading us to drooling ardour. We will not be alone as quite simply the album is a garage punk classic, indeed a rock ‘n’ roll masterclass from a band surely about to take national attention by the scruff of its neck.
Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor is out now through TNS Records and available @ https://tnsrecords.bandcamp.com/album/scratching-circles-on-the-dancefloor
https://www.facebook.com/nosebleedband/
Pete RingMaster 11/04/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
The album’s piano nurtured atmospherically chilling Intro sets the tone alongside Sharone’s painting of words; its poetic scene setting the portal into the dark charms and cold breath of the following Graveyard. Once more the piano of Michelle Bailey captures ears and imagination as richly as the powerful and imposingly graceful tones of Sharone, both aligned to the infectious rhythmic manipulation of bassist Zach Barerra and drummer Anthony Hester. With sonic flames from the strings of guitarist Alex Goldsmith adding to the captivation, the outstanding track immerses the listener in dark magnetic theatre where whether calm and seductive or aroused and burning the senses, it engulfs the senses and imagination.
Produced by James LeRock Loughrey (Skindred, White Zombie, My Vitriol, Bjork, Def Leppard), Valley of Thorns kicks off with its lead single, Mind Games teasing the senses with its sonic mist before boldly strolling through ears with a Deftones meets Spinnerette like captivation. There is a haunting air and emotive depth to the song yet it has a virulent swing to its gait and rhythmic persuasion which has the body swaying and appetite greedy in no time. A track epitomising the seductive persuasion and nagging irritability in The Kut’s sound, it is pure mesmerism which has become stronger and more striking across multiple plays.
A whiff of old school lines next up Caveman.com, the excellent feral stomp something akin to The Vibrators meets Turbonegro but distinctly DBD while Stop Shouting similarly taps into seventies punk for its core hook and riffery, draping it in the band’s inimitable anthemic rock ‘n’ roll instincts. Only the deaf could evade its physical and persuasive holler though even Fazzo’s incisive rhythms could probably stir their senses. Both tracks get body and spirit bouncing though maybe not as hungrily as 11th May or the following Mummy’s Boy. The first jabs and harries with beats and riffs, vocals commanding participation as the body throws itself around to the sounds while its successor flies through ears with seventies punk ferocity and DIY aggression to stir even greater involvement.
The excellent start is forcibly backed by the raw and concussive antics of Filth, the track a predacious confrontation crawling across the senses with ill-intent in its devilry. A touch of Devildriver lines the beast, the song almost leering and drooling over the listener with its nagging riffs and salacious grooves; guitarist Tomas Åkvik laying down sonic pheromones. Its primal temptation moves over for the blues lilted, stoner dusted Dead Man’s Song. As its predecessors, it is a web of grooved and rhythmic tenacity merging the familiar with wholly fresh imagination and invention. It did feel the least original proposition within the album yet it certainly emerged as one of the most captivating.
Winter of the Wolf is just as eager to engage the listener, riffs and rhythms climbing and rapping upon the senses driven by the rapacious energy inspired by the guitars. There is a caustic edge to the track too which only adds to its quick appeal but tempered by the melodic tendrils and twists which bring an array of worldly spices. As it marches through ears or tenaciously smoulders on the senses, the song seals keen attention with Ventura again escalating the persuasion.