Sinnergod – Self Titled

For quite a while now and across a handful of releases, British alternative/gothic rockers Sinnergod has suggested they are in line to seize the British rock scene with their dramatic and ever growing sound. With their new self-titled offering the Manchester hailing outfit has come to that day, their second album a compelling and increasingly irresistible theatre of dark rock and metal announcing the band ready to help lead British rock.

Formed by twin brothers Mark and Chris Hampson in 2007, Sinnergod quickly grabbed attention and plaudits. Within months of hitting their stride live, the quintet earned a slot playing Bloodstock Open Air Festival. A trio of EPs followed, Two Thousand and Never in 2009, A World in Grey three years later with Behind Every Corner uncaged the following year. Each provided an ear and imagination pleasing proposal, each showing fresh evolution and adventure in the band’s sound leading up to the well-received and impressive debut album Seven Deadly Sinphonies in 2014, a release featuring special guests Bill Moseley (Devil’s Rejects, Texas Chainsaw Massacre) and Tobias Keast (Esoterica). Live too, the band has continued to establish themselves as one of Britain’s finest propositions, sharing stages with the likes of Misfits, Deathstars, Orgy, KMFDM, Sarah Jezebel Deva, Voodoo Six, and Blaze Bayley along the way.

This has now all been eclipsed by their self-titled offering. The new album is a monster of an adventure; a collection of songs which roar and resonate in ears and imagination. Sinnergod draw on the catchiest of eighties hooks and electronic seducing to light the darkest portrayals of emotion amidst an enjoyably invasive sound. It is music which at first appears familiar in some way but needs mere moments to reveal its own distinct and magnetic character.

It opens up with Dead Of The Night, its intro a shadowy and suggestive symphony drawing the listener into the subsequent and swiftly addictive mix of choppy riffs and melodic reflection. As the swiping beats of Chris Hampson land the guitars of Mark Hampson and Sam Saint collude with the keys of Paul Swindells to cast a transfixing weave of emotive sound. Mark’s impressive vocals soon share their heart; lying melancholically upon the blossoming landscape of enterprise as a dark edge is provided by James Dunn’s bass, its shadows in turn prowling the infectiousness of the track’s rousing chorus.

The impressive start is quickly outshone by Burn. The track is glorious, slipping in on the mist of keys as slightly deranged vocals tempt. Once in full heavy motion, riffs and rhythms march masterfully across the senses, vocals and steely melodies combining to further trap the listener. The song is a creative predator, challenging and seducing with every imaginative stride growing into something akin to Nine Inch Nails meets Poets Of The Fall but unique in its own skin.

As the last track is different to the first, The Endless with its symphonic hues offers yet another shade of adventure to the album. As unapologetically catchy as it is muscularly voracious, the song ebbs and flows like a sonic storm, moments of relative emotion packed calm instantly hit by surges of tempestuous energy and sound for another plateau of craft and enjoyment within the release, a success matched by the electronic stomp of I Never Had a Gun. Creating a tapestry of essences found in the likes of Abandon All Ships, Fear Factory, and Silent Descent, the track simmers and bubbles over as it strides relentlessly through ears and into the psyche before making way for the crystalline opening of 1000 Sins. Pretty soon though, its sinew swung rhythms and pulsating theatre of sounds swamps ears; eighties electronic flavouring hinting at bands such as Depeche Mode and Gene Loves Jezebel in tandem with Sinnergod’s own creative might. Addictive and fiercely persuasive, the listener will find themselves quickly emotionally and physically involved, certainly going by the effect song and album had on the office here.

 There is also an element of early synthpop fuelled Ministry to the track, before Al Jourgensen dived head first into metal, and a flavouring which soaks the next up serenade of The Watched. Another which sonically simmers but with a liveliness which infects hips and feet, the song is a hug of melodic and harmonic expression and beauty.

Across the gothic electronic and keys shaped dance of Joshua’s Day and the engrossing darklight of Supernatural, a seducing with the open scent of Dave Gahan and co to it, band and album simply flow over the senses, like poetic fog laying heavy but welcomingly before We’ve Been Expecting You rises from a single evocative melody with gothic and orchestral majesty to stand god like over ears while casting its magnanimous musings. As with many songs, it feels like something you may already know yet every note and twist is a new and fresh exploration to album and the dark rock world Sinnergod are poised to take in their creative palms.

The thickly satisfying Johnny Sits Perfectly Still is arguably the least adventurous track upon the album yet needs little time to have ears and participation secured before We Don’t Have Anything looms from portentous shadows and erupts into a Korn/Machine Head spiced foray into ears and passions. The song epitomises the Sinnergod sound; meaty and dark, heavy and melodically aflame with an unrelenting intensity and energy to tempt and lift the spirit. It is an explosive and thrilling end to the album, though the minute long desolate and forlorn soundscape of instrumental XII actually brings the album to a close but it is its predecessor which leaves the last lingering imprint.

Sinnergod is a band on the march and heading to the frontline of British rock/metal, though to be honest their new album suggests they are already there.

The self-titled Sinnergod album is out now through all platforms.

https://www.facebook.com/sinnergod/  http://www.sinnergod.com/  https://twitter.com/sinnergodUK

Pete RingMaster 15/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Los Cabrones Profanos – Ogun Vodun

Hailing from Milan, Los Cabrones Profanos is a band creating incendiary stomps from the collusion of varied strains of country blues and garage punk. The evidence can be found on the band’s new album Ogun Vodun, thirteen tracks of illegitimate stomping and blues-blooded mischief. More we can tell you about the Italian band though is limited though they consist of guitarist Blind Frankie, drummer El Cabron, vocalist Il Reverendo, and mandolin player Pollo Braineater, and have unleashed one excellent treat with Ogun Vodun.

The album opens with the sinister lure of Intro the distress; a brief guitar cast instrumental awakening ears and thoughts before its sonic tail is joined by striding rhythms and the body of Midnight Blues. As dark and dangerously seductive as its name might suggest, the track is soon strolling with a devilish swagger equipped with spicy hues of harmonica and dour yet magnetic vocals. Its air is raw, almost predacious as the song sizzles upon the senses while heading to an explosive and irritable finale of sound and energy.

Bad Boys Boogie follows taking similar spices into its punk ‘n’ roll rioting, spilling irresistible hooks and recognisable rockabilly riffs second by second. There is a touch of US duo Into The Whale to the song, though its fifties nature is most vocal and pleasing before Il Blues è morto shares its sultry and melancholic landscape of evocative guitar melodies and vocals with the harmonica adding additional flaming to the compelling wake.

The album’s great start only continues in full charge as firstly the volatile cowpunk romp of No fun down in Nashville rumbles and grips ears alongside an already eager appetite for what is on offer and straight after Brace viciously erupts upon the senses with its Black Flag meets Powersolo like dementia. The track is glorious, a flavouring of The Cramps adding extra potency to the invasion of the senses.

Siesta is 20 seconds of raw snoring, literally, before the dark swing of Figlio del Voodoo reveals its Cajun sorcery through voice and mandolin devilment against guitar temptation. The first of the two is just what it is and soon passed over across subsequent listens but its successor is pure bewitchment which never explodes into the devilry it suggests it will but thrills and blossoms because of that restraint.

Incroci has a Latin slicing to its mandolin seducing, the rest of the song’s body providing a mariachi nurtured stomping with a touch of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers to its infectiousness, while Il Blues dei miei peccati mixes the band’s penchant for cowpunk and country blues in another quaintly hued and inescapably catchy canter with plenty of imposing shadows and fiery temptations for appealing measure.

As expected I Stomp does exactly what it says on the tin, its incessant wave of hooks and vocal simplicity a call to hips and feet, not forgetting vocal chords to rock ‘n’ roll, all only finding rest once the enjoyable dusty balladry of Hank takes over.

Completed by the Outro in Hell, another potent instrumental persuasion, Ogun Vodun leaves thick pleasure and a just as big want for more in its wake. Without breaking wholly new ground, the album is as fresh as it is inexcusably mischievous while Los Cabrones Profanos is a band all dark blues and garage punk fans should become acquainted with.

Ogun Vodun is available now @ https://loscabronesprofanos.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/loscabronesprofanos/

Pete RingMaster 15/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Eastern Swell – One Day, A Flood

If one word had to be used to describe One Day, A Flood, the debut album from Scottish quartet The Eastern Swell, it has to be spellbinding. From the first listen the tapestry of genres which shape its songs catches the imagination but it is with subsequent listens that the real bewitchment blossoms. Inspired by and weaving together essences from the likes of progressive folk, experimental rock, and neo-psychedelia among numerous other flavours, The Eastern Swell combines poetic storytelling and melodic suggestiveness in one impressive captivation.

Edinburgh formed, The Eastern Swell emerged in 2014; the Anglo-Scottish foursome of guitarist/vocalist Chris Reeve, vocalist Lainie Urquhart, bassist/vocalist Neil Collman, and drummer Andy Glover first going by the name of Lainie & The Crows. With a well-received EP, name change, and the signing with excellent Scottish label Stereogram Recordings under their belts, the band set about creating their debut album with producer Pete Harvey (Modern Studies, Meursault, and King Creosote) in his own Pumpkinfield Studios. Themed by tales of “about vulnerability and the frailties of being human”, One Day, A Flood casts individual reflections linked by the underlying premise and a fluid movement from one song to another. Enjoyably working individually, the album’s tracks also impressively create a single experience which is just as potent, maybe even more so, taken in one listen. With self-admitted inspirations to the band, when creating One Day, A Flood, including the likes of Syd Barrett, Led Zeppelin, Neil Young, Fairport Convention, King Crimson, Pixies, Thee Oh Sees, Cat Power, and Gillian Welch, it is fair to say that the album is a rich collusion of styles and flavours honed into one kaleidoscope of imagination.

The album opens with the outstanding Rattling Bones, a track drenched in drama and emotive intensity. A sonic mist first encases ears, this quickly followed by a gloriously evocative riff soon joined by an equivalent lure from the bass. A sudden drop into a sombre air of melancholy with a dour but tempting melody, as the warm tones of Urquhart caresses ears and thoughts, then enjoyably wrong foots. Soon though, the track develops a lively stroll to its gait, marked by the bold roll of rhythms as provocative strings from guest Pete Harvey further toy with the imagination. The song is superb, a seamless patchwork of enterprise and creative hues setting the scene and character of the album.

What’s Done Is Done is next up; sharing the dark throated riffs and bass tone of its predecessor as essences of psychedelia and late sixties/early seventies melodic rock merge and the great blend of harmonies across Urquhart, Reeve, and Collman embrace. It oozes a seductive touch with every exotic sigh, warm surges and electric impulses uniting in a gentle but dynamic rousing of ears and spirit. The excellent proposition is followed and matched in temptation by 1000 Yard Stare where the vocal mix again grabs attention as they immediately cradle ears while psych and folk pop streams of enterprise kiss the imagination. Crescendos of lo fi intensity contrast and work perfectly with this golden glow of voice and melody, the compelling encounter almost tempestuous at times in its Wicker Man like climate and emotion.

The acoustic grace and warm melancholy of Temples is next, Urquhart’s voice uniting with the evocative strains of the cello before brighter guitar melodies and quaintly lit keys dance in ears. Its captivating low key proposal is echoed in the individually bold serenade of Muckish Mountain straight after before Too Little, Too Late reveals its own swing of rhythmic hips and melodic gaiety. Once more the fine and contrasting blend of male and female vocals seduces, a match emulated in the dark throes of the rhythms and radiant smile of guitars and keys. With a subsequent hook to lust after, the song is an intimate yet all-embracing festival of sound and energy providing another major highlight to One Day, A Flood.

The fuzzier air of Quick As A Whip makes a swift engaging between song and ears, harmonies and warm textures only reinforcing its potency before the album’s best moment arrives in the shape of Dancing Zombie Blues. Like a devilish concoction bred from The Dead Weather, Bird Blobs, and Old House Playground, the song rattles and rolls with gothic folk majesty, coming to an abrupt end from which a sonic wash brews and develops into closing enticement Run Down Country Palace. Its nature is of similar breeding though once its raw climate is set, the track’s electric veil parts for the reflective charms of vocals, strings, and a folk honed melodic appraisal. As all tracks though, things are never straight forward, The Eastern Swell creating tapestries that perpetually move and evolve.

Another reward provide is that One Day, A Flood never seems to stop growing in ears and imagination listen by listen, creating an adventure very easy to recommend from a band in The Eastern Swell that we will surely be hearing much more of ahead.

One Day, A Flood is out September 16th via Stereogram Recordings.

 http://www.stereogramrecordings.co.uk/artists/the-eastern-swell  https://www.facebook.com/theeasternswell/   http://www.theeasternswell.com/

Pete RingMaster 15/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Spaztic Robot – Skip Rope Rhymes

“On an empty sunny day in 1990, when I was nine years old, I saw two dead dogs. Each at opposite ends of the same street. One was big and brown, the other small and grey. Both greeted me with the exact same pitiful manner. Their sunburnt tongues bathing on the gravel gave the illusion of salmon rising from black tar rivers. As the odour began to rise with the dusty heat, I felt like I’d snorted fizzy pop. I chucked up. Through teary eyes I scanned the motionless street in which I stood. Nothing. Nothing but ugly new houses. Ugly new houses with identical square gardens laid out in front of them.

I wasn’t to know it at the time, but Spaztic Robot was born at that very moment. With no evidence offering itself to the mystery of the dead dogs, my nine year old self began to piece together his own chain of events…a different one lending itself to each house on the street. I was convinced that behind the bricks and mortar of one of these seemingly inconspicuous houses lay a dirty little secret.

Skip Rope Rhymes was created in the same vein. It’s a gathering of characters and stories. Characters and stories that could all easily exist, in one street, behind the closed doors of ugly new houses with identical square gardens laid out in front of them.”

This biography placed introduction to Spaztic Robot pretty such sums up the air and dark intensity which floods a myriad of sounds and imagination making up Skip Rope Rhymes, the band’s debut album. In a broad array of characters, songs offer shadowed adventures all equipped with intimate secrecy, like behind closed doors insights as dramatic and often cinematic as they are seriously captivating.

Spaztic Robot is the solo project of Robbie Sparks, vocalist/guitarist/songwriter of Stourbridge punksters Rebel City Radio. With the band taking a break from gigging and writing over the past year or so, Sparks has used the time to dive into the writing and creating of this his debut album. Recently released, Skip Rope Rhymes has taken little time in drawing eager praise. Its potent diversity means some tracks more forcibly connected with personal tastes than others but from start to finish it is one compelling exploration easy to hear why it has lured strong attention.

The album opens up with Robot Rape, metallic sounds immediately surrounding the senses as whispers in the dark outskirts of the piece share their paranoia. Samples and infectious rhythms soon join the enticement, varied vocal eruptions and a pulsating throb in tow as Sparks begin infesting the imagination in word, tone, and sound. It is an enthralling start which leads into the magnificent theatre of Walk The Long Way Home. Again bold ideas collude with a whiff of insanity as they lead the listener into a sinister noir lit drama of intent and emotion. Nagging and virulent in its catchiness, the track is like a bedlam bound Brian Brain (aka Martin Atkins of PIL, Nine Inch Nails, and Killing Joke fame), a contagious infestation of ears and psyche from repetitious invention and nagging imagination. It is off kilter, bordering deranged, and inescapably irresistible as waves of intensity and psychosis engulf the listener.

The Ants! follows sharing everyday observation in alignment with broader dangers. It sweeps over the senses with again heavily pulsing rhythms and electronic shadows suggestively courting thoughts as much as the intimacy of the vocal and guitar melody. Its low key but involving presence makes way for the pop toned exploits of Confetti Crowns, a song which was one of those not quite igniting ears and imagination as much as those encounters around it. Musically and in songwriting, the song does little wrong yet feels like it is there to provide an accessible doorway and infectious invitation into the real and challenging heart of the album where for us the major excitements lie. Nevertheless, the song does please before the Aphex Twin meets The Cure like Ugly Flower and the scuzzy neurosis of Fingered At The Disco steal their share of attention. The first is a shadow thick serenade of sorts whilst its successor again has a tinge of Brian Brain alongside essences hinting at the likes of Fad Gadget, Pere Ubu, and Wire. It is a glorious and disturbing slice of rhythmic dementia and sonic aberration matched in creativity and emotion by Spark’s schizophrenic vocal delivery.

The melancholy soaked embrace Birth (Goodbye Roggar) offers a collage of flavours and samples next, reminding a touch of Cardiff producer Conformist as it flows like melodic mist through ears with whirls of creative and emotional disturbance interrupting its tempestuous calm while This Is God! induces smiles and glances over the shoulder as the introspective story of death bound life comes with the nag of throbbing rhythms, repetition fuelled melodic temptation, and the stable reflection of its provocateur. Another pinnacle of the release, the track bewitches before Sparks infests the classic (Don’t Fear) The Reaper with his own haunting and acoustic imagination to fine effect.

Skip Rope Rhymes concludes with firstly the creative delirium of At Daggers Drawn, a song which absorbs ears in its society bred dementia and finally the invasive yet solemnly beauteous darkness Extinction Song. Both tracks ignite ears and imagination while challenging each, a quality which infests and shapes the whole of Skip Rope Rhymes in varying ways.

Only listening to Skip Rope Rhymes does it true justice though words like ours, as with Confetti Crowns, hopefully become an enticement to want to leap into the dark and thrilling realms of Spaztic Robot; the rewards are swiftly evident for those that do.

Skip Rope Rhymes is out now across most online stores.

http://www.spazticrobot.com/   https://www.facebook.com/spazticrobot   https://twitter.com/robbiesparks

Pete RingMaster 08/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Ruts DC – Music Must Destroy

Back in the day, The Ruts stood to the fore of the punk scene in sound, presence, and lyrical insight, an attack which evolved but never diminished as Ruts DC emerged from the sad death of still missed frontman Malcolm Owen. Two albums before and two after his passing provided an innovative and snarling voice for a generation and more before the band disbanded. Reforming for a benefit show for their guitarist Paul Fox, following his diagnosis of lung cancer and who died not long after, remaining members John ‘Segs’ Jennings (bass and vocals) and Dave Ruffy (drums) carried on and released the mighty Rhythm Collision Vol. 2, another glorious dub fuelled vat of diversity to echo the success of Vol.1. Now the band are poised to uncage a new tour-de-force in the shape of Music Must Destroy, a release, to get straight to the bottom line, which is quite possibly the finest rock ‘n’ roll album you are likely to be aroused by this year, maybe this decade.

Music Must Destroy is one glorious anthem made up of ten ear and imagination sparking proposals. Segs and Duffy with Leigh Heggarty have taken their time to write, hone, and step forward with their latest collection of songs but, aided by a host of guests such as Henry Rollins, Captain Sensible, Boz Boorer, Marco Pirroni, Jake Burns, Kirk Brandon, Tara Rez, and Paul Laventhol, have created another landmark in punk fuelled rock ‘n roll. The album’s variety of incitements sit somewhere between the raw challenge of The Ruts and the experimental exploits of Ruts DC, the band calling themselves The Ruts DC for the new offering suggesting the band came at the album from the same angle. The trio has explored their past and inspirations across the fan funded Music Must Destroy to create some of their most inspiring and fiercely addictive songs yet.

It all starts with recent single Psychic Attack, it alone a highly charged and intoxicating incitement to get greedy over. With a Damned like scent to its riffs, the song strides from its initial shimmer with imposing rhythms and one mouth-watering bassline. Within seconds the nagging riffs and Segs’ potent tones grip ears further, his words and expression getting as much under the skin as the twisting and turning character of the song itself.

Starting off a release with such a momentous moment would put a strain on many offerings from other bands, but The Ruts DC simply follow it up with matching peaks of imagination starting with the band’s upcoming new single and album’s title track. Featuring Henry Rollins, Music Must Destroy also makes its initial coaxing with rhythmic and repetitive guitar shared bait which needs mere seconds to get under the skin. Melodies and drama spread as the song expands its theatre of intent, group harmonies pure infection around Rollin’s call to arms before a chorus to stir armies pulls thoughts and spirit into the song’s galvanic prowl.

Surprise steps forward next carrying a broader rock air to invasive seduction. Like a blend of Ruts single West One (Shine on Me) and the sound of 999 at certain times, the track crawls over the senses, sweeping them up into another virulent chorus and nature before the highly emotive and haunting Second Hand Child takes over. This too infests body and emotions with ease, its poetic melodies and evocative vocals as magnetic as its sound with the dusty lure of The Duel’s Tara Rez’s voice extra temptation to be tempted by.

Soft City Lights is another recalling the early days of the band, its reflective melodies and shimmer infused in a smouldering embrace of evocative adventure and harmony. With rhythms casting darker shadows and intimidation, the track is aural alchemy and like those before it and indeed to come quite irresistible, a success emulated by the anthemic and predacious roar of Kill The Pain. A track which stalks the listener with a challenge in its voice as potent as the virulence in its infectious character, it too has bodies bouncing and attitude aflame.

The mellow seducing and evocative pleads of Peace Bomb follows, the song a Bolan-esque engagement showing more of the album’s diversity, variety continuing  across the psychedelic shimmer and melodic jangle of Tears On Fire and the hard rock soaked exploits of The Vox Teardrop. It is impossible to pick a best track within Music Must Destroy but the first of the pair always features in first thoughts while its successor simply stirs blood and spirit each and every time.

The album concludes with Golden Boy, a poignant ballad seemingly inspired by the death of previous band mates and a captivation as powerful as anything before it with its heart offered vocals, emotionally charged melodies, and provocative strings.

The track is a breath-taking end to a simply electrifying rip roar of an album. Music Must Destroy has all the qualities and boldness expected of The Ruts/Ruts DC past and present. The guys might be a touch older than those early inspiring days but they still have the energy, snarl, and invention to provide something seriously special which can also spark a new generation.

Music Must Destroy is released September 16^th via Westworld/Sosumi Recordings with the single/title track released September 9^th.

Album pre-order links: CD digi: http://bit.ly/MusicMustDestroyCD and Vinyl double album: http://bit.ly/MusicMustDestroyVinyl

http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/ruts-dc-psychic-attack

https://www.facebook.com/theruts   http://www.theruts.co.uk/

Pete RingMaster 01/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Psykokondriak – Gloomy Days

Offering anarchic imagination and musical unpredictability is French rockers Psykokondriak, a band, to use a term in their new album’s press release, which “is a sixheaded hydra, a rock ‘n roll and hip-hop chimera.” They are also an encounter which on the evidence of Gloomy Days leaves a grin on the face and spirit as its parade of deranged adventures posing as songs spring inescapable fun fuelled incitements.

The band’s sound is like a mix of Hollywood Undead, Beastie Boys, Toumaï, and Red Hot Chili Peppers; groove infested and as funky as a swingers party and all led by a voraciously infectious hip hop devilry. Formed in 2006, Psykokondriak went through numerous line-up changes before releasing debut EP Hôpital Psykotrip six years later. Mid-2014 saw the current line-up in place, MC’s Y.B. (aka Mc Body) and Braeckman (aka Mc BOY) linking up with guitarist Tristan Florin (aka Docteur Florkin), bassist Cédric Desneulin (aka le comte Eskarfesse), drummer Aurélien Desneulin (aka L’empereur Mark Oreill), and DJ Julien Delville (aka DJ Stam Iff). Following an appearance on the Christmas compilation album Walt the Fuck last year, Gloomy Days is the sextet’s biggest nudge on attention and result of the band expanding their sound, a release with numerous familiar aspects and fiercely enjoyable and unique exploits.

Introducing the Body Boys is the short entrance into the album, the vocalists announcing themselves and the forthcoming adventure as sturdy strikes of sound engage in ear pleasing coaxing as turntables sizzle. It leads straight into Psyko Waltz, Pt. 1, a continuation in sound and style of that initial invitation. The bass instantly sets out on a funk infested grooving as vocals bounce around, a lure entangled in sonic interplay as swinging beats entice a tempest of twists and raw energy. The track easily recruits ears and appetite for its somewhat recognisable sounds yet individual character of imagination which in turn only develops and expands as the track continues to grow. By its closing, the track is as heavy and invasive as a Korn meets (Hed)p.e. proposal and as enjoyable.

The Fine Art of Terror follows, thrusting hungry riffs and funk bred grooves through ears as vocal declaration and predacious attitude drive the energy and character of the excellent encounter. Again hips and feet are swiftly gripped by the creative and contagious drama escaping Psykokondriak, the band raging and swinging with matching dexterity before Workless Dance opens up its inescapable flirtation with wiry hooks and vocal revelry. In no time the track is a festival of lean grooves and thicker expulsions, at times carrying the scent of a Primer 55 or at other moments exploring something akin to 633 meets Crazy Town, every second leading to an unexpected turn.

A similar template provides the canvas for Monstros Incorporantes next; punk rock, metal, and hip hop colliding in a jungle of swiping beats, predacious bass and guitar grooves, and vocal infectiousness. Again familiar elements entangle fresh enterprise as the track grips ears and bodies before the brief cinematic instrumental interlude of Gunfight Helicopters sets up the raucously psychotic Think It Up. Like Flea and co losing their sanity as early Faith No More interferes, the deranged engagement jumps around like its feet are burning on hot creative coals, again the imagination as hooked as ears on Psykokondriak’s fun soaked bedlam.

The album’s best track comes next, Spookadelic Fever Mansion opening with much of the classic Alfred Hitchcock TV show intro before sauntering into an aural spook fest of swaying rhythms aligned to a low slung bassline. With its cartoonish swagger and the rapacious aggression which blossoms in certain moments, it plays like a Scooby Doo meets Beetlejuice soundtrack while lyrically snarling. The track is glorious; reason enough to take a look at Psykokondriak and quickly backed up by Hot Day Hotter Night and its funk stroll with moments of climactic eruption and anthemic vocal roars; it all simply impossible not to get thickly engaged in.

Closing on the dark strains of Unherited Culture, a track reminding a little of nineties UK band Honky but exploring its own experimental and threatening shadows, Gloomy Days simply hits the spot for something fresh and exciting. Musically at times it is not the most unique yet every recognisable aspect is countered and surpassed by moments of imagination and craft masked as lunacy.  Whether Gloomy days will break Psykokondriak into new hungry spotlights time will tell but it will definitely recruit a horde of new fans with us to the fore.

Gloomy Days is out now across most online stores and streaming @ https://psykokondriak.bandcamp.com/album/gloomy-days

https://www.facebook.com/Psykokondriak

Pete RingMaster 01/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dive Your Head – Le Prix du Sang

As much as the sounds and intensity of the release are highly agreeable there is a creative savagery to Le Prix du Sang (The Price of Blood) from French metallers Dive Your Head, which simply hits the spot. The debut album from the Sens hailing quintet is brutal and angry; a raging roar upon the senses but equally, though its body has a familiar feel at times, it offers a fury of imagination which sets it apart from most like inflamed offerings.

Formed in 2012, Dive Your Head quickly became a potent and well supported force on the local metal scene, subsequently venturing further across France from 2014 taking in over twenty shows across the country last year alone. Musically they seem to draw on bands such as Slipknot, Of Mice & Men, and Wunjo; at times bruising the senses with their infectious animosity like a brutalising Rise of the Northstar as Le Prix du Sang swiftly and powerfully reveals.

Though lyrically songs are delivered in the band’s mother tongue there is no escaping the fury and emotional ferocity behind them, intensity backed by similarly unleashed sounds as evidenced by opener Les Rois Perdus (The Lost Kings). From its first breath thick grooves and hungry riffs invade ears, an infectiousness shadowing their antagonistic nature as the rhythms of drummer Amaury Pereira take no prisoners. Vocalist Luca Depaul-Michau is soon in the midst of the wall of aggression, venting his heart and raw vocal chords as grooves continue to entangle ears and an already keen appetite for the band’s sound. It is not the most unique proposal yet the track needs little time to grab attention and spark the imagination being quickly and as forcibly backed by Avaritia (Greed). Stalking the senses with a slightly slower gait, the song is a tempest of riffs and heavy grooves cast by guitarists Maxime Schmitt and Mickael Altmeyer and though just a few big breaths over two minutes long, it makes a potent impact to continue the strong start of the album.

Featuring LeXa, Luxuria steps forward next to instantly lay down a nagging riff swiftly joined by a likeminded and darker invitation from the bass of Xavier Mansiot. The track prowls the listener, those early riffs continuing to offer a repetitive lure as Depaul-Michau mixes his raw squalls with cleaner tones. As good as the previous pair of tracks are the third takes the album up another level, Dive Your Head showing greater and more distinct imagination.

Gula equally shows this kind of invention which maybe was not as open at the start of Le Prix du Sang, its scything twists and rapacious turns still mixing with established sounds and hues but providing the imagination with something fresh to chew on before Superbia (Pride) provides arguably the most sonically violent and certainly cancerous assault. Again though, there is a nagging virulence to riffs and grooves aligned to an overall catchiness which infests the senses scything swing of the excellent encounter.

A matching savaging comes through Ira next, its turns from lumbering predation to livelier rancorous trespasses highly enjoyable though the song lacks the same inventive spark of its predecessor at times. Nevertheless it only adds to the appeal of album and a sound which Postmortem elevates as its web of steely melodic tendrils and punishing rhythms entangles great clean vocals alongside the expected throat ripping roars. The kinder delivery works a treat providing a striking contrast which would be good to see the band use in future, its success here reinforced by the same success in closing track Invidia (Envy). Both tracks are as vicious and uncompromising as anything upon the album but show great potential for future explorations from the band. The final song features Kevin Fauvel and Maxim Keller, and a fusion of vocal styles which stir ears as the rest of Dive Your Head go to creative work on the senses with imposing riffs, harsh rhythms, and a compelling unity of craft.

Le Prix du Sang is not likely to be the most unique thing you will hear this year but it provides a great introduction to Dive Your Head which will ensure you will only, like us, want to hear much more.

Le Prix du Sang is available now via most online stores and @ http://www.diveyourhead.bigcartel.com/

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Pete RingMaster 02/09/2016

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