Bastard Disco – China Shipping

Maybe more recognised for its metal diversity and prowess, over the years we have found that the Polish independent music scene breeds some rather fine propositions within other musical flavours. The latest to come to our attention is the noise rock fuelled alternative rock of Bastard Disco and particularly their new album, China Shipping. Across nine ear grabbing tracks, the Warsaw quartet’s sophomore full-length is a magnetic affair as raw and hungry as it is melodically seductive; one of those encounters you cannot help taking real notice of.

Formed in 2015, Bastard Disco finds inspiration in the likes of Fugazi, Quicksand, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, and The Pixies for their own individual sound. 2017 saw the well-received release of debut album Warsaw Wasted Youth via Poland’s oldest independent label, Antena Krzyku. The band has united with the label once again for China Shipping, a release swiftly engaging ears with opener Sophia. The coaxing grooves of guitarist Kamil Fejfer lay down a potent lure, the accompanying grumble of Paweł Cholewa’s bass and the swinging beats of Marek Kamiński soon eagerly accentuating the early temptation. As vocalist Yuri Kasianenko’s melodic tones join the captivation, the track almost haunts the imagination, its hooks and quickly established enterprise proving very easy to devour.

Future Crimes follows, opening with the great dirty growl of Cholewa’s bass before contrasting its grumble with the melodic jangle of guitar. As with its predecessor, familiar essences collude with bold fresh endeavour to create an individual character and presence; its melodic and harmonic boisterousness adding to that distinctiveness. There is a sonic mugginess to song and sound too which similarly just lured ears in and though maybe missing the striking hooks of the opener, the track effortlessly held court before Time Traveller offered up its own humid noise cultured breath. Something akin to Dinosaur Jr meets Big Black the song proved increasingly compelling and contagious as it nagged an already eagerly involved appetite.

Next up is Clear!, a slice of scuzzy indie rock with punk voracity to its infectious holler. Its highly potent persuasion soon matched by that crafted by the outstanding Shining Confidence. The track was pure fascination, its melodic seduction and sultry climate a mesmeric setting for the track’s devilish groove spun chorus. It is another with familiar elements but never proved anything but unique to Bastard Disco while Ministry of Self-Defence emulated that originality straight after with its own sonically dissonant bounce and confrontation. Ferocious yet melodically seductive, feral but craftily conjured, the track provides another particularly compelling highlight before Game of Patriots stole the show. Its first breaths bring the hypnotic coaxing of Kamiński’s beats, every subsequent one exposing his manipulative dexterity as the equally nefariously antics of bass and guitar just enforce the track’s virulence. Kasianenko is just as magnetic alongside their tenacious enterprise, providing further impassioned flaming to the song’s fiery eruptions.

The closing pair of Sink or Swim and B-side Son ensure China Shipping leaves as potently as it arrives, the first enjoying the union of a grumble dark rhythmic incitement and scuzz lined melodic intimation around the perpetually tempting vocals of Kasianenko. The final track is all spirited bounce and creative contagion beneath vocal and emotive energy; a rousing memorable finale to an equally stirring release rather easy to highly recommend.

China Shipping is out now via Antena Krzyku; available digitally @ https://bastarddisco.bandcamp.com/album/china-shipping and on CD/LP through http://www.antenakrzyku.pl/en/shop/bastard-disco-china-shipping-lpdownload-preorder-release-date-030519-kopia/

https://www.facebook.com/bastarddisco/

 Pete RingMaster 21/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dewaere – Slot Logic

Pic by titouan massé

With a sound something akin to a mutated fusion of Big Black, Fatima Mansions, and Melvins but openly distinct in its own roar and skin, Dewaere is a French band unleashing a rousing noise punk incitement very hard for us not to get excited over. Their music is a contagiously imposing trespass rich in imagination and enterprise and found in full devilment within recently released debut album Slot Logic. It is a cauldron of noise and raw temptation which harried, ravaged and seduced the senses from start to finish.

Hailing from Saint-Brieuc, Dewaere create an inescapably manipulative senses searing holler bred from the combined creative antics of vocalist Maxwell Farrington, guitarist Julien Henry, bassist Marc Aumont, and drummer Hugues Le Corre. As immediately revealed by album opener Get Down, the band’s music is nurtured in noise rock and punk flavours and inspirations but equally has an appetite for post punk and an additional array of sonic trespasses present and past. It all makes for a riveting insurgence of sound and adventure revelling the opportunity to infest ears. The first track initially teases with a guitar jangle which is swiftly joined by the commandingly and increasingly magnetic tones of Farrington. Almost as quickly the thumping beats of Le Corre descend as Aumont’s bass enticingly grumbles; it all coming together for a ferocious encounter but one with fluid moments of relative calm and composure. As an introduction to the band, the track is raw and majestic, and as a taste of things to come across Slot Logic quite delicious.

The following Budapest is similarly immediately compelling. The gnarly bass alone made an already keen appetite greedier as too the senses scything swings of Le Corre. The guitar insurgency of Henry is equally as invasive as it is hungrily seductive; corruptive hooks and grooves aligning with rhythmic predation to corrode and inflame ears and senses. The catchiness of the song is as powerful as its character of invention and matched within next up Happy Hour, another proposition which forces itself upon the listener before dancing with their rock ‘n’ roll instincts. A predatory affair led by the ever alluring vocals of Farrington, his presence as dynamic and devilish is in many ways akin to the likes of Cathal Coughlan (Fatima Mansions/Microdisney) and Guy McKnight (The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster), while the track itself is its own snarling contagion in the album’s continuing revelation.

Through the likes of Garden, a primal irrepressible serenade of a treat, and The Vase with its almost carnal incitement around rapier swung beats, Slot Logic only further blossoms in sound and imagination, both tracks feral but sublimely crafted predators before the band next up delivers a cover of The Korgis’ song Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime. Whilst embracing the original’s pop breath, Dewaere unleash their own corrosive power pop like bent alongside their never diminishing sonic causticity; unleashing an adrenaline fuelled gear never envisaged in the track originally. It is a spicing further developed within the outstanding St-Tropez In Summer which follows. There is at times a certain Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster meets Engerica flavouring to the band’s distinctly individual sound but a twist in the wonderful bedlam here which again also hints at a Fatima Mansions influence or coincidence.

The thumping stomp of Aye Aye within a sonic cyclone keeps release and pleasure flying before October casts a web of scorched and scorching sonic discontent around a darkly intimating vocal croon. The track hurts and seduces in equally measure, leaving ears sore and the imagination alive before Wot U Lyk completes the release with its pop hungry garage punk ‘n’ roll; the body swiftly bouncing to its own fevered energy and catchiness.

It is a fine close to an album which just impresses more and more by the listen much as Dewaere themselves with every passing creative exploit and invasion.

Slot Logic is out now via Phantom Records and BiGout Records; available @ https://phantomrecords.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/dewaereband   https://dewaereband.bandcamp.com

Pete RingMaster 04/01/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Artificially Yours – The Merger

Ravenously invasive, teasingly seductive, and verging on the creatively psychotic, The Merger EP is the new three-track offering from British trio Artificially Yours. It is a release which has been eagerly anticipated, especially since the Essex outfit’s recent link up with 1-2-3-4 Records; one which rewards that intrigue with a ferociously compelling dissonance fuelled adventure.

Created by vocalist Chat soon after the demise of his previous project which hailed its departure supporting Killing Joke, Artificially Yours has grown from an initial solo project to the three pronged attack of its founder and the electronic prowess of Grumb and Ad. Their sound is a rabid eddy of noise and imagination; post and garage punk thickly lining its distortion fuelled space rock with the rabid tendencies of many more rich flavours involved. Aligned to a lyrical and vocal trespass invading and echoing the growing dystopian landscape and the controlling selfish hands shaping it, it all makes for a proposition which makes you pay attention and question the world, one’s own thoughts, and indeed the magnetic almost feral incitement the band offers.

The Merger opens with its title track, a senses suffocating smog of sound as corrosively apocalyptic as it is coarsely captivating. Sonic winds buffet ears and imagination as rhythms swing, Chat’s vocals with their invasive threat and echo equally as magnetic within the inventive maelstrom. Swiftly it is an infectious affair and as quickly a debilitating irruption but one with imaginative control to its visceral tempest and raw temptation. Though having its rabid claws in ears and appetite almost straight away, it grew its addictive persuasion by the listen; a transgression on the ‘coffee cup capitulation’ steering modern society , as declared by the band, which just gets under the skin and into the psyche.

The following Terror Town matches its predecessor’s stirring heights with its own fully individual character and prowess. Slowly stirring its body into action, the song slips into a magnetic stroll with a somnambulistic air where post punk seeds and electronic intimation collude. Akin to a fusion of the infectious prowess of Tones On Tails and the carnal dexterity of Big Black wrapped in the wiry strands of The Jesus And Mary Chain, the seductive track is swift and ever increasing intoxication; its own intemperance exposed in great woozy bursts of keys within the vocally dark, rhythmically moody exposé.

Final track, Tree, uncages its own uniquely carnal proposal, one as virulently catchy as it is unapologetically frictious. Its psych rock breeding is smothered in unruly noise and enterprise though neither can diffuse its infectious swing with a definite touch of T-Rex meets Joy Division to its nature and tenacity. Adding yet another distinct eclectic shade to the EP, it makes for a glorious end to one striking release.

Formed last year, Artificially Yours has already been stirring up keen attention and can now expect tides more through The Merger. If the world is going down, it could not wish for a better soundtrack with just a glimpse of a survival plan.

The Merger EP is released August 24th via 1-2-3-4 Records.

Upcoming Live Dates:

WED 29th AUG – OLD BLUE LAST, Shoreditch

THURS 13th SEPT – THE VICTORIA, Dalston

 https://www.facebook.com/artificiallyyours99/

Pete RingMaster 12/08/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Buñuel – The Easy Way Out

If the soundtrack to the fall of the world is The Easy Way Out, the new album from Buñuel, then our arms for one can easily embrace the demise of all. The eleven track tempest is simply glorious, a collusion of sonic and emotional dissonance within a voracious carnival of noise which devours as it seduces.

The Easy Way Out is the successor to the quartet’s acclaimed 2016 debut album A Resting Place For Strangers, a release pushing the walls of the former’s ferocity, imagination, and psyche twisting trespass far further. The US/Italy hailing foursome create an often suffocating, frequently corrosive, and perpetually rousing assault of invention from within its walls, taking ears and emotions on an visceral rollercoaster ride fronted by the vocal prowess of Eugene S Robinson, already renowned for his part of Oxbow. Like a barker to its twisted sideshow but decisively more ringleader than narrator, his lyrical inharmony breeds a vocal dissidence and tenacity which is pure magnetism. Equally the ravenous sounds cast by bassist Pierpaolo Capovilla and drummer Franz Valente (both One Dimensional Man, Il Teatro Degli Orrori) alongside guitarist Xabier Iriondo (Afterhours) inspire as they corrupt, arouse as they deviously manipulate.

Opener Boys To Men emerges from its dark depths on a ponderous yet hypnotic prowl, Robinson instantly crawling all over its muscular drone bred awakening with vocal aberration as delirious as it is lucid. Inescapably transfixing across its increasingly tempestuous, intense fibrous yawn, the track invades like something akin to Swans meets Pere Ubu, and simply had ears and imagination afire.

The Hammer / The Coffin follows and instantly takes its own tight grip on attention as the feral temptation of Capovilla’s bass aligns to the swinging rabidity of Valente’s beats. Vocals and guitar toxicity are soon infesting song and listener, their carnivorous discord raw contagion as the noise rock seeded invasion swiftly has body and thoughts bouncing with equally bedlamic eagerness before the track releases its puppet into the waiting subversive rock ‘n’ roll jaws of Dial Tone. Harmonic toxins vein the boisterously bruising stomp, lighting up its heavy tenebrous flood of sound to easily get under the skin whilst exhausting the senses though it in turn is just a warm up for the even more debilitating roar of A Sorrowfull Night. With strand like hooks recalling The Fall within its tsunami of voluminous sound, the track is a post/noise punk trap to which capture and addiction was a done deal within its first few breaths.

Next come the monotonous sludge thick advance of The Sanction where rhythmic and citric enterprise bewitch alongside the ever compelling presence and dexterity of Robinson while Happy Hour twists and turns straight after like a punk dervish, flinging visceral grooves and sonic splinters with relish. The first of the two epitomises so much of the album with its mercurial landscape, its unpredictable terrain of imagination evolving and wrong-footing with ease, the second a less pronounced but just as inspired echo within its carnal punk ‘n’ roll.

Next up is The Roll which is simply magnificent. From its opening dance of keys against the raw discordance of the bass, the song invites as it taunts. Female vocals alongside Robinson similarly grab ears as they light the hungry onslaught before Augur stalks and fingers the senses with its rock ‘n’ roll schism. Like a meeting between Big Black and The Filthy Tongues with Shellac looking in yet truly unique to Buñuel, it is raw magnetism from start to finish.

Shot is just wild noise punk at its best, fifty seconds of anarchy before Where You Lay intimidates, threatens, and physically harasses the senses and psyche. Vocally, Robinson is as imposing and invasive as the sounds uniting around him, the track like a disconnected tangle of sinews and tones coming together layer by layer never disguising the portentous corrosive outcome their unity will bring.

The album concludes with Hooker, a final but accepting fissure on the album’s theme within a sonic misting as toxic as it is deceptively calm; a last corroded breath in the stark, barren outcome of the album’s sonic apocalypse.

With the amount of releases we are blessed to be sent it is not too hard to find plenty to get excited over but to be truly blow away by it a rare occurrence but one The Easy Way Out achieved. It is a definite album of the year contender with already a grip on top spot but easy to suggest also one of the decade’s most essential moments.

The Easy Way Out is released July 27th via La Tempesta International and Goodfellas Records.

https://www.facebook.com/Bunuelband/

Pete RingMaster 24/07/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Easter Teeth – Truckstop Fear

Within numerous instinctively magnetic musical lures for us is the temptation of rock ‘n’ roll duos. The past few years has unearthed a host of exciting and stirring propositions across an array of styles and adding to that seemingly ever expanding list is California’s Easter Teeth. Comprising of the Eymann brothers, Josh on vocals/drums and Tim on vocals/bass/keys, the band creates a predacious mix of punk infused post punk and noise rock and as proven by latest album Truckstop Fear, a blend which is quite irresistible.

Growing up listening to their mother’s array of cassette tapes including James Brown, Sam & Dave, and The Rascals while riding in back of the family station wagon, the siblings bring those spices with their subsequent discovery and love of punk, hardcore, and math rock into their own sound. It is as funky as it is irritable, as soulful as it is agitated and with its slim but rich body of rhythmic trespass and vocal energy a real fresh DIY breath in the world of noise.

Truckstop Fear is the successor to 2013 debut album Being Alone With Your Thoughts is for Inmates, the two full-lengths surrounding a split 7” EP with Moral Monsters in 2015 and two track single Shake Hands with Danger released early 2017. Within mere seconds the latest album grips ears and attention as opener Honey from the Carcass whips ears with Josh’s crispy beats, the bass a waiting hum as shouts and hits break into a hectic shuffle. Swiftly hips swing to the track’s funkiness, the senses cowering before its raw edge and scything beats; it all a corrosive temptation coloured by the electrified fuzz of keys. As the music, the vocal union of the siblings is bold and instinctive, a direct incitement hard to turn down.

The following Baby’s Got Cold Feet casts a minefield of shuddering beats as a groove woven bassline strolls with grumbling dexterity within the melodic flourish of keys. Like a scowling tango built on the attributes of Pigbag and Swell Maps, the song hits the spot with increasing addictiveness though it is soon eclipsed by the caustic Art Attacks meets mclusky tango of Play the Harp, Throw the Spear. It is a rabid trespass but with a restraint which only escalates its impact before the album’s title track raises the ante yet again. It too has the scent of numerous decades of rock ‘n’ roll in its uncompromising proposal shaped by the imposing skeletal steel frame set by Josh. Hooks and catchy enterprise erupt across its barbarous stroll, a blend of contrasts just as potent within the pair’s infectious vocal insurgency.

As the previous songs, each in turn built upon and outshone by the next, Good Intentions Paving Co. soon steals the limelight, its kinetic saunter an irresistible collusion between bass and drums enhanced by the ever rousing union of voice and Tim’s squirts of mania lined keys. The track is noise at its most majestic, and demonic, a virulent tirade of manipulative rock ‘n’ roll with a chorus only the deaf could resist joining.

Sit Down Party has its own breed of addictiveness, a fevered but again skilfully controlled incursion of sound and enterprise bearing hues of bands such as Pere Ubu, The Mae Shi, and Big Black in its design. What grabs ears though is something unique to Easter Teeth, an individual character of sound confirmed once again within the rhythmically viral, sonically lusty Inspiration Indiana and the senses stalking Just Curves, a track with something of The Mekons to it.

The album ends with Pick a Puppy, a piece of poppy noise punk with volatility in its heart and virulent dance. It is a superb end to a release which sparked a lustful appetite and hunger here for the band’s sound. At times the best rock ‘n’ roll comes raw, undiluted, and with a tart almost acrimonious flavouring; the evidence there within the wonderful wickedness that is Truck Stop Fear.

Truck Stop Fear is available on ZAP! Records @ https://easterteeth.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/easterteeth

Pete RingMaster 09/01/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Hypochristmutreefuzz – Hypopotomonstrosesquipedaiophobia

There is music which is bred out of bedlam, sounds which are seemingly born out of creative psychosis and challenges which are feverishly psychotic; and there is that from Hypochristmutreefuzz. The Belgian noise-rock outfit create a psyche infesting collusion of all that and more; a theatre of fun coming to an insatiable head on their debut album Hypopotomonstrosesquipedaiophobia.

Meaning the phobia of long words, Hypopotomonstrosesquipedaiophobia immediately hints at the mischief and insanity at play with its off-kilter title spelling; traits swiftly infesting body and spirit from its first seconds. Instantly it has the body bouncing and imagination dancing, unpredictability and that creative madness fuelling every fascinating, entrapping second.

Hailing from Ghent and taking their name from an avant-garde jazz piece by Misha Mengelberg, Hypochristmutreefuzz has already teased and lured acclaim through a self-titled EP in 2015 and a host of surrounding singles. Hypopotomonstrosesquipedaiophobia though takes things to a whole new inventive and magnetic level. Drawing on inspirations ranging from The Residents, The Birthday Party, and Sonic Youth to Pere Ubu, Television, PJ Harvey, and The Germans, the quintet instantly traps attention with opener Finger. Teasing tendrils of guitar beckon first, their lures intermittently joined by an electronic throb. It is a lingering enticement with the sonic post punk causticity of Bauhaus and the instinctive though waiting dance antics of an Axis Mundi rising up alongside. The union continues to imposingly quiver as the vocals of guitarist Ramses Van den Eede add their uniqueness, his tones as distinct as the sounds brewing up around them and with all the ingredients in place, the track strolls along with a raw and infectious air; a touch of Asylums and Allusondrugs meets The Residents further colouring the irresistible adventure.

It is a compelling, thrilling start causing hips to swerve and appetite to lick its lips, a tempting just as potent in the following Gums Smile Blood. Getting down to even swifter business, the song offers a punk toned, electronically nurtured virility to its mouth-watering creative animation. Like a blend of De Staat, G.R.I.M, and Big Black, the track prowls and swings with the seduction of a rabid pole dancer before Hypochondria invades with the scuzzy antics of guitarists Jesse Maes and Van den Eede courting the jabbing beats of Elias Devoldere. Carrying a more primal edge compared to its predecessors, the song still flirts with a lightness of whimsy through the synth of Thijs Troch; dark and light, heavy and fuzz entangling across its eventful drama.

Chromakalim is a far calmer experience, its minimalistic entrance reeking of deceit and espionage as vocals stalk attention. That imagined tempest does erupt with unbridled rigour before swiftly settling down again waiting for its return in a volcanic chorus. The bass of Sander Verstraete struts with menace throughout, its intensity leaking into the discord of guitars and keys as the track spreads its mercurial heart. Nothing less than captivating it is still eclipsed by the sauntering haunting of Music Of Spheres. A noir lit, jazz cloaked venture to the atmospheric darkside, the track is a maze of sound and evocative incitement taking ears and imagination down shadow cloaked paths.

From there the album hits its pinnacle with a couple of quite manipulative encounters. First up is Elephantiasis, a slice of schizophrenic yet restrained noise rock which has the listener involved from its first trespassing breath and in eager participation by its vocal and musical meander a host of seconds later. A track which haunts the memory after just one listen it too is then overshadowed by a successor in Clammy Hands. The song is an asylum of imagination and enterprise; a fusion of flavours and styles which too needs barely a handful of breaths to seduce and enslave. A patchwork of vocals amidst an equally varied synth palette of enticing steals the passions even before its chorus has vocal chords hollering and limbs punching.

The mellow though no less cracked balladry of Don’t Drown only mesmerises if without the major impact of the previous duo while One Trick Pony simmers then boldly romps in with a rhythmic tenacity as vocals and add their lively smoulder to that of the sounds. The skittishness of the beats and throb of the bass has the body in eager motion whilst ears are drawn to the melodic beauty sharing their moment. Within it all causticity lies in wait, igniting its fuse further down the line for a scuzzy, electrifying and almost terrifying finale.

The album closes with the funky, noise jaunt of Spitter; a breeding of movement which starts in the big toe and has the whole body popping by its first vocal line and feverish by the time brazzy flames course through the tango of sound. Of course there is an acidity and rough play within its dance; textures only adding to the fun and energy of the encounter when spreading their addictive toxicity. Throw The Magic Numbers, Billy Momo, Pere Ubu, and Primus into a pot, stir with psychotic vigour and you have this, one gripping conclusion to one mighty album.

Its title might be impossible to say, still not possible after twenty tries or and indeed spell with ease, but the contents of Hypopotomonstrosesquipedaiophobia are manna to the ears and the loco in us all.

Hypopotomonstrosesquipedaiophobia is out now across most stores an @ https://hypochristmutreefuzz.bandcamp.com/album/hypopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia

 http://www.hypochristmutreefuzz.be/    https://www.facebook.com/Hypochristmutreefuzz/    https://twitter.com/HypoFuzzMusic

Pete RingMaster 15/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Idles – Brutalism

Photo by Stephanie Elizabeth Third

An infestation of the senses, a raw roar on all our responsibilities, and a contagious noise fuelled trespass on everything in between, Brutalism is one of the essential incitements of not only 2017 but we would suggest the decade as a whole. The debut album from British quintet Idles rips into personal and social issues with the insatiable attitude and defiance unleashed in the late seventies, its irritable sound as much punk rock rage as it is a post punk/noise rock  enslaving of the imagination and psyche.

Each song from the Bristol five-piece of Joe Talbot, Mark Bowen, Lee Kiernan, Adam Devonshire, and Jon Beavis is a creative growl, a visceral antagonism with an infectious edge and mischief just as bruising and incisive. Dedicated in part to the loss of Talbot’s mother, who adorns the record’s cover, Brutalism is stretched with such invasive treats, from start to finish a mordant adventure, challenge, and accusation as witty as it is vicious, as devilish as it is ferocious. With Idles in the early days of an UK tour, their first album is sure to see it’s already eagerly devoured and anticipated 25 dates embraced by even greater fevered support.

Straight away band and album show uniqueness within a proposition which also swiftly inspires thoughts of bands such as The Fall, Swell Maps, and early The Horrors. There is so much more to it though as that originality shows, opener Heel_Heal cantankerously striding from an initial dispute with an intrusively nagging riff and rhythmic tenacity which alone lures keen attention as Talbot’s equally confrontational vocals snarl. Punk rock infested with crabbily textured noise, the track rumbles and grumbles; band vocals as anthemically rousing and spiteful as the general character of the outstanding starter.

Fellow Bristolians, The St Pierre Snake Invasion also come to mind with the song and successor Well Done, the second a sonically twisted and lyrically spiky shuffle making use of body and imagination like a peeved puppeteer. Its persistent jabs tenderise the senses for the scourges of sound which erupt to further scorch, Idles pressing all the right buttons for lusty reactions before uncaging the equally enslaving Mother. An irresistible bassline cores the next track, its dark tempting soon surrounded by swinging beats and scuzzy riffs, all uniting with Artery meets Gang Of Four scented tempestuousness. Again no punches in sound and word are pulled, one of numerous traits within the Idles sound which leaves there little to be taken lightly but plenty to find a seriously keen appetite for.

Date Night reveals a tango loaded with a rhythmic incitement which barely stays in the same place more than a second or two, its beats on hot coals but with a composure which aligns perfectly with the monotone growl of the bass. As guitars saunter and blaze, Talbot magnetically assaults with word and character, the volatile squall of the track then emulated in its own way by Faith In the City and its post punk ‘n’ roll causticity. A rousing irritant exposing essences hinting at bands such as again Artery and The Nightingales, submission to its lively acerbic inducement is quick and just as rapid as next up 1049 Gotho waltzes with irritated intent and pounding beats into ears and psyche. For all it and the other song’s choleric probing and inventive dexterity, sonic squeals a delight, there is a melodic lining which as subtle as it might be at times just inflames the catchiness and adventure of all escapades.

Wiry tendrils have ears encroached and alive as Divide & Conquer rises with its own particular grumble of sound, the guitars creating a web of raw enticement as bass and beats prowl with a testy air, Talbot stalking it all with his increasingly compelling tones. The increase in energy and ferociousness only adds to the captivation before Rachel Khoo and Stendahl Syndrome irascibly serenade and fractiously critiques respectively; both unloading their sonic and lyrical venom with snappy and quarrelsome devilry.

Next up Exeter has a slightly lazier gait but still imposes its punk ‘n’ roll canter with addiction forging rhythmic cunning as guitars and vocals get under the skin with their respective exploits like a Fatima Mansions/ Big Black collusion exploring creatively fresh impositions. Both tracks leave an already greedy appetite hungry for more, a lust more than fed by the kinetic stomp and sonic psychosis of Benzocaine and equally by the punk grumble and waspish word prowess of White Privilege.

Idles leave their arguably greatest moment for its final track, though each listen only elevates another moment to drool over. Slow Savage is a haunting dyspeptically lined embrace living up to its title as keys and voice fill the low-key and stark atmospheric mist hugging the imagination as a heartbeat of rhythm throbs. It is a dark, melancholic rapture violating as much as seducing the senses and a thrilling end to one exceptional release.

Being truly excited by something new or unique is a treat rarely found these days, Idles though have cracked that desire in fine style with Brutalism.

Brutalism is out now on Balley Records through iTunes and other stores.

Upcoming Dates on the Brutalism Tour…

March 2017

Thursday 16th – Brighton – The Prince Albert

Friday 17th – Tunbridge Wells – Forum

Saturday 18th – Bedford – Esquires

Monday 20th – Oxford – The Bullingdon

Tuesday 21st – Sheffield – The Plug

Wednesday 22nd – Newcastle Upon Tyne – Think Tank

Thursday 23rd – Aberdeen – Tunnels

Friday 24th – Dundee – Buskers

Saturday 25th – Edinburgh – Sneaky Pete’s

Monday 27th – York – The Crescent

Tuesday 28th – Hull – The Adelphi

Wednesday 29th – Nottingham – The Bodega

Thursday 30th – Liverpool – O2 Academy 2

Friday 31st – Wakefield – Unity Hall

April 2017

Monday 3rd – Stoke-On-Trent – The Sugarmill

Tuesday 4th – Preston – Guildhall

Wednesday 5th – Cardiff – Clwb Ifor Bach

http://www.idlesband.com/   https://www.facebook.com/idlesband    https://twitter.com/idlesband

Pete RingMaster 14/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright