Suicide Generation – 1st Suicide

Basking in its own dirt and scuzz, the Suicide Generation sound is a fervid rush of trashy goodness which ensures the band’s new album is an unmissable treat for all fans of uncompromising rock ‘n’ roll. The bastard son from a salacious collusion between members of Atomic Suplex, The Cavemen, and Trash Culture, the London based punksters feverishly graze ears with a raw wash of garage punk/rock from start to finish within their debut full length 1st Suicide, sucker-punching the senses along the way with rapacious hooks which just worm into the psyche like a virus.

Supposedly coming together “to fill in for cancelled support slots across the Tuesday night London gigging circuit”, Suicide Generation has quickly become an eagerly devoured proposition on the capital’s live scene with their chaotic and explosive shows; their attack and intent as unpredictable as their sound. Recently linking up with Dirty Water Records, the band is now gunning for bigger attention with 1st Suicide, a release which swarms through ears like a plague of buzzsaw carrying harpies.

The album descends on ears with opener Suicide Generation first of all; one minute and a handful of seconds of clanging rock ‘n roll led by the exasperated tones of frontman Sebastian Melmoth. Every aspect of the track is as muggy as it is concussive but veined by intricate melodic acidity which winds seductively around the fuzzy antics of Emily Crowler’s rhythm guitar. It is a potent, enticing smog of sound swiftly out powered and shone by Why Can’t I Play With You. The second track needs mere seconds to lay down heavy seductive hooks within a similarly intensive weight of sound. A Cramps-esque hue smokes vocals and sound alike, Suicide Generation finding a gripping rawness which even their assumed inspirations would have eagerly embraced as the song flirts and dances with garage rock and punk irritability.

Set Me On Fire has a certain air of The Reatards to its similarly crotchety rock ‘n’ roll straight after, guitars scything across the senses as rhythms rumble with tenacious zeal, while Nora aligns a fifties smoulder with seventies punk waspishness for its individual stomp. Both tracks have the body and imagination eagerly throwing discord loaded shapes before London Blues strolls along with dirty blues punk falling like drooling saliva from every note and syllable. An open psychosis oozes through voice and music alike, its mercurial heart unpredictable and constantly in flux as it captivates and assaults the listener.

They are instantly involved with the brawling escapade of Love Is Hate straight after, the track a beguiling animus of sonic and emotional testiness enjoyably harassing the senses with the clamour of guitars and the spite of rhythms. It is a mix also fuelling next up Little Mama, the track resembling The Phantom basted in rock ‘n’ roll filth whilst sending the hips into an anxious frenzy.

That same instinctive primal sound infests Evil Everywhere and once again the band twists it into something distinct within the release and other propositions; the track a hyperactive dirt ball of sound and energy leading into the closing treat of You Love Me. Initially prowling ears with a devious glint in its creative eye, the band’s punk instincts soon ignites in a high-strung blaze of sonic causticity and wired verbal dexterity driven by rhythms which just seduce attention whether the track smoulders or roars.

1st Suicide is a collection of songs which just please themselves with a similarly arrogant creativity, in turn their brashness and swagger turning on ears and an ever keen appetite for unpolished rock ‘n’ roll. The Suicide Generation is here and openly ready to tear up your world.

1st Suicide is out now on Dirty Water Records @ https://suicidegeneration666.bandcamp.com/releases and http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/Suicide-Generation-First-Suicide-album-download/p/86922972/category=2749844

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Pete RingMaster 12/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

 

Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons – Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll

pic debbie-attwell

pic debbie-attwell

As the band work and finish material to grace a new album, British rockers Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons have linked up with Dirty Water Records for the long awaited digital release of second album Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll and quite simply if you missed it first time around and have an instinctive appetite for insatiable bordering salacious punk infested rock ‘n’ roll, than it is a must.

Formerly in a band just called The Johnsons, the Basingstoke hailing trio is fronted by the wild feline wiles of vocalist Puss Johnson with founding guitarist Dirty Jake (Feckle, Lube) and drummer Filfy Antz (The Krewmen) alongside uncaging their own raw and incendiary antics. It is an explosive combination which saw their 2010 debut album Exercise Your Demons earn many plaudits as too over the years a blistering live show seeing the band share stages with the likes of The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Thee Oh Sees, The Fuzztones, Mad Sin, The Damned, 999, The Polecats, The Creepshow, The Rezillos, Bow Wow Wow, The Meteors, The Vibrators, Resurex, DragSTER, Trioxin Cherry, and Atomic Suplex.  Three years later, Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll was the cause of even greater eager attention and acclaim upon Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons; a spotlight sure to be regenerated by its digital uncaging ahead of as mentioned a new album.

Featuring eleven tracks spun from attitude loaded threads of everything from punk, garage rock, glam, psychobilly, garage punk and any other form of rock ‘n’ roll you wish to offer, Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll is an explosive riot for senses and body alike. Produced by Alex McGowan and featuring guest double-bassist Phil Bloomberg of The Polecats on a couple of tracks, the album instantly prowls the listener as opener Burying The Bodies settles in to place, once set continuing to stalk but with an infectious swagger led by the biting beats of Antz. Straight away there is an obvious devilment in the band’s sound and the lusty roar shared by Pussycat, her presence and delivery a snarling seducing. With big hooks and winding grooves, the slab of predacious rock ‘n’ roll is an irresistible start to a release proving to be unrelenting in its fiery creative and aggressive incitement.

Hell Bent is swift agreement, its whining grooves courting flying rhythms and Pussycat’s plaintive cries, all united in another tenacious track which eyes you up with distrust yet reveals the most compelling enterprise amidst mouth-watering unpredictability before Livin’ With Mum And Dad sees the band move from raw rock ‘n’ roll into a more seventies flavoured encounter as much glam rock and power pop as it is old school punk. For personal tastes, it lacks the bite and spark of those around it but with its Pistols-esque hook and caustic catchiness there is no escaping being sucked in.

front-cover_RingMasterReviewPsychobilly flavours the magnificent stomp of Get Outta My Face next, Bloomberg bringing his masterful slaps to the Batmobile meets Imelda May scented stroll with Pussycat like a punk Wanda Jackson. Fiery guitar and senses badgering beats bolster the seriously rousing proposal as the song shows another aspect to the album and the Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons sound.

The scuzzy blues punk of She Don’t attacks and excites next, its corrosive character and sound as virulently infectious as anything upon the album while Mirtazapine uses similar strains of flavouring for its own individual trespass. With a touch of post punks Bone Orchard to its untamed garage punk challenge, the track is a superb mix of rapacious restraint and unbridled furor taking ears and imagination into the darkest shadows of the fiercest volcano.

There is no let-up of the enjoyably exhausting confrontations as Why Do You Hate Me? sears the senses with its punk rock lava around a rhythmic tempest while Dirty Li’l Dog, with the magnetic craft of the Polecat returning, leaps around with uninhibited rhythmic rioting as blues guitars embrace numerous other spices around the carnival barker leadership of Pussycat.

The final trio of songs just epitomise the variety and devilish imagination in the band’s songs; Sort Yourself Out a fuzzy blend of growling punk and toxic blues within The Pirates like rock ‘n roll and Souvenir simply one glorious invasion of garage punk with a scent of The Cramps, Animal Alpha, and In Evil Hour in its unique best track earning triumph.

Closed out by the adrenaline fuelled and feeding Hideous, a final belligerent detonation of rabble-rousing incitement, the outstanding Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll is its title and so much more. It might not be a new release but it deserves this new exposure and Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons the fresh attention ahead of what can only be anticipated as another uncompromising uproar.

Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll is available digitally through Dirty Water Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/Pussycat-and-the-Dirty-Johnsons-Dirty-Rock-n-Roll/p/75045471/category=2793895 with physical options @ http://thedirtyjohnsons.com/shop/4564430166

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Pete RingMaster 14/12/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Atomic Suplex – Fourteen Inches of Fist

Atomicsupplex_RingMaster Review

Great rock ‘n’ roll always benefits from a good dose of creative dementia in its devilry and you get plenty of that and more in the bedlam that is Fourteen Inches of Fist. The new album from London quartet Atomic Suplex is nonstop ingenious lunacy, a dangerous riot for body and soul, and quite brilliant.

The UK quartet has been stirring up sonic trouble for a number of years now, earning increasing acclaim with every release and a reputation as one ferociously exciting and uncompromising band live. Stages across the UK and Europe, as well as Asia, have been shared with the likes of The Hives, Guitar Wolf, The Gories, The Adolescents, Nobunny, The Kids, Jet Boys, Armitage Shanks, Richard Herring, The Spits, The Fat White Family, The Buzzcocks, Theee Bat amongst many more whilst singles and EP’s over time, and certainly acclaimed 2010 debut album Bathroom Party on Crypt Records, have marked the band out as a must investigation for a growing horde of fans. Now it is Fourteen Inches of Fist raising a storm since its recent release, and declaring Atomic Suplex as not a must but the essential riot for all rock ‘n’ roll fans.

Sound and album is garage rock, punk rock, noise rock…any kind of dirty, insatiable rock ‘n’ roll you can think of and a torrent of fun from its first to last breath. One Man Party kicks things off with the announcement “When I say I’m a dick, you best believe I’m a dick! D- I- K.” It sets the aggressive belligerent tone which rousingly fuels the whole album, and a song which is soon erupting into a salaciously tenacious slab of punk ‘n’ roll driven by the rousing tones of Jim Suplex. A sonic web of noise is soon grasping ears through his and Emma Leaning’s guitars whilst a gloriously throaty bass sound is conjured by Dan Suplex amidst the wicked swipes of drummer JD Kickdrum. The track is pure attitude, like early Damned merging with The Sonics, and instant slavery.

The album’s title track comes next, it too a concussive explosion of sound but this time infusing honky-tonk piano, blues rock spicing, and garage rock ‘n roll devilry into its mix of raw sixties and seventies rock ‘n’ roll. Flames of brass only add to the theatre of the muggy scenery as too the gritty backing vocals of Emma behind Jim’s raw incitement. As its predecessor, the track has ears and appetite lustful, a success 14 Inches of Fist relentlessly achieves from first song to last.

Cover_RingMaster Review   Set It On Fire has limbs scything through air next with seventies punk antagonism meets psych rock contagion, its guitars and brass a resourceful scorching, whilst Wild Love invites naughty deeds with a Rocket From the Crypt meets Dick Venom and the Terrortones infestation of sound. Both tracks are ridiculously compelling persuasive yet find themselves outshine by the outstanding Firing Line. The song is manna for the ears and heart, its Mighty Mighty Bosstones like opening alone igniting the instincts to party before rhythms provide a jungle of unstoppable temptation frequented by wonderful squirts of sax. They develop into subsequent deranged toxicity further in, colluding with a just as rigorously arousing web of guitar and bass enterprise. As ever like a side show barker, Jim adds his vocal stirring to the mix for one slice of irreverent creative alchemy.

Fifties inspired and seventies coloured rock ’n’ roll gets the Atomic Suplex corruption next, the raw and caustic devilment of S. U. P. L. E. X. a tempest of sonic and vocal raucousness pierced by melodic bait and fiery hooks. It is less than a minute and a half of catchy mayhem before Two Girls flirts like a punk incarnation of The Shangri-las tutored by The Rezillos. As all songs though, air is raw, sound scuzzy, and the encounter as abrasive as it is virulent, and again thrilling.

   J.D. Attack pounds the senses like the bastard son of a Showaddywaddy and Reverend Horton Heat union, its thumping rhythms and heavyweight brawl of sound one party you know would welcome gate crashers with devilish relish whilst the corrosively scarring Ass Tecnica is noise punk knavery which, as in the previous song, twists anything from surf and r&b to garage rock into its ravenous bellow. The pair unsurprisingly leave exhaustion and exhilaration in their wake, as too the eighteen second punk assault of No Pain No Gain, a song more than backing up its title.

Like The Cramps meets The Mobbs, You’ve Got Some Nerve has the body throwing moves hips were surely not made for across its forty odd seconds, a wonderful physical test followed by some respite through the hex that is Pancho. Sultry sax caresses ears initially though in no time it is joined by a wall of sonic intrigue and adventure which has a whiff of Oh! Gunquit to it. Continuing to spill funky hooks, searing grooves, and a garage bred invention; the song is as psychotic as it is clear infection, and another pinnacle of a very lofty landscape to Fourteen Inches of Fist.

Chicken Rich is a ragtime hued haunt seeded in the past which descends into anarchy the further its nostalgia persists whilst closing track White Shoes is quite simply incendiary rock ‘n’ roll which manages to spin a tapestry suggesting everyone from Billy Haley to The Cramps, King Salami and The Cumberland 3 to Turbonegro, and Screaming Jay Hawkins to Johnny Thunders within its epidemic of unbridled energy and senses inflaming rock ‘n’ roll.

Fourteen Inches of Fist is one of the best real and organic rock ‘n’ roll album this year and of a few before, maybe the best, and Atomic Suplex the one band you were meant to lose your sanity with.

Fourteen Inches of Fist is available now via Dirty Water Records on 12” vinyl, CD, and digitally.

RingMaster 25/08/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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