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No doubt Halloween 2015 will be noted for numerous reasons though few maybe as thrilling to a great many people as that day in time being the moment that the long awaited debut album from The St Pierre Snake Invasion was uncaged. Fans have been waiting for a fair time to chew on its noisy dessert whilst without realising, British rock ‘n’ roll has been similarly biding time for a release like it to re-ignite its potent but smouldering landscape. A Hundred Years A Day is that incitement, a furious punk ‘n’ roll blaze of noise and alternative rock that takes all the potential of the band’s previous encounters to a new volcanic plateau.
The Bristol hailing quintet’s sound has always been an incendiary challenge on the senses and imagination, a riveting and intoxicating roar which is like that rebellious friend you know your parents and the bland norm will take an instant dislike to, especially as they lead you into mischievous deeds and salacious habits. The St Pierre Snake Invasion creates music which is brash, belligerent, and increasingly compelling, with primal beauties like A Hundred Years A Day the glorious result.
Formed in 2010, it was with debut EP Flesh the following year that The St. Pierre Snake Invasion lit, as for so many, our fires, stoking them for bigger lustful reactions with its outstanding successor Everyone’s Entitled To My Opinion in 2013. Such its continuing presence in our for pleasure playlist it is hard to believe it has been another couple of years until opening of curtains on the sonic theatre of A Hundred Years A Day. But it has and the wait has been well worth the impatience offered, a recognition needing only opener Thanks But The Answer’s No to prove.
The song smothers ears in an initial noise smog from within which, a steely nagging groove springs its bait. As the mighty rhythmic pokes of drummer Sam James batter rising riffs, the ever distinctive vocal roar of Damien Sayell leaps out. In no time the track is stomping with heavy anthemic feet and hip swaying inducement, the guitars of Szack Notaro and Patrick Daly spinning an inescapable web of enticement for body and emotions. It is a typical TSPSI proposal in devilment and potently fresh and unique in design, even as a dirty noise rock storm.
The brilliant start never misses a persuasive beat as David Ickearumba swaggers in next on a thumping of beats as a tangy mesh of guitar wraps the calmer but no less zealous delivery of Sayell. Amongst them, the dark, slightly bestial bass temptation cast by Mark Fletcher grabs ears and an already enlivened appetite for the encounter; it’s throaty beckoning an especially potent seduction in nothing but thick lures fuelling the song. With the voice of Sayell showing another range of its psychotic mastery of expression, emotion, and ears, the track produces a rock ‘n’ roll contagion with a healthy dose of volatility to it, that tempestuousness more vocal in the stalking delight of When I See A Sycophant Fly. Bass and drums lead a swarm of sonic stings, a perpetual union even as the track swings between mellower intimidation and infectious drama as prowling confrontations of intensity line its cynical air. Both guitarists add great backing vocals across song and album, here adding calm and unpredictable breath to match the increasingly fiery maze of sound. Like a mix of Nick Cave, The Melvins, and The Dropper’s Neck, another pinnacle is sculpted within A Hundred Years A Day, the album three for three at this point.
Rock ‘n’ Roll Workshops is pure manna for noise punk fiends, its rhythmic shuffle alone irresistible and its De Staat like energy and devilry the perfect courting of feet and the passions. Under the further potent lure of Sayell’s presence, the track bounces around like a dog with a vet’s finger up its bum, exhausting and inflaming as it leads to the glorious devil bred croon of Sex Dungeons & Dragons. The darker hues of a Birthday Party and schizo charm of Mclusky collude here as the band spin a tale of intrigue, musically and narratively, in turn enticing and inciting ears and senses at every turn of craft and imagination. Again diversity upon A Hundred Years A Day is rich and compelling yet still only TSPSI in touch and character, as shown of course by the track’s successor Like A Rag To A Red Bull, it another sonic sandstorm littered with bone splitting rhythms and at forty odd seconds more effective and arousing than most multi-minute proposals elsewhere.
Jesus, Mary & Joseph Talbot has the body throwing shapes like a rag doll in the hands of a child, manipulating limbs like a crazed puppeteer as the skills of the band work resourcefully on thoughts and passions. Listening to the track you wonder if The Stooges were starting out now, this is what they would be inspired by, a wonder turning to a convinced idea as The Great Procrastinator matches the powerful success of its predecessor with its own slavery of the listener. A song which recalls early seeds of the band, songs like Last Words Of A Bent Cop from the Flesh EP, it soon builds its own particular compulsion of enterprise and intrusive devilry gripped by virulent contagion.
Eight tracks in an truthfully there has been no dip in persuasion or invention on the album, song nine, Refauxlution keeping the trend with its predatory canter equipped with tantalising sonic enterprise and a rhythmic targeting pinning ears to the wall in joyful submission. Each song is a maelstrom of physical and emotional turbulence guided by the unavoidable vocal alchemy of Sayell but as shown by Refauxlution, so sublimely crafted and imagined that you often feel relaxed and in a mellower climate as the song chews its way into the psyche.
The album is brought to a mighty close by firstly its title track, a glorious slow meandering smoulder of voice and sound which brews up a crescendo of angst fired ire to singe the senses before slipping back into its shadow thick serenade. If The Only Way Is Essex You Can Kill Me Now is given the task to follow it and end things on a high, which it does in a fuzzy tempest of hook ridden punk ‘n’ roll.
Recorded with Sean Genockey over apparently only three days, A Hundred Years A Day is the raw, live, and creative might of The St Pierre Snake Invasion in one dynamic and intoxicating place. Their previous EPs have been irresistible but there is a new depth in songwriting and sound with a persistent consistency in major success across A Hundred Years A Day. It is also an announcement that the band has not only come of creative age but opened the gateway to even bigger, bolder, and daresay brawly treats ahead.
A Hundred Years A Day is out now digitally @ http://tspsi.bandcamp.com/album/a-hundred-years-a-day and on CD @ http://tspsi.bigcartel.com/product/a-hundred-years-a-day
http://tspsi.co.uk/ http://facebook.com/thestpierresnakeinvasion http://twitter.com/tspsi
Pete RingMaster 04/11/2015
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
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Even The Odds (They Mean You No Harm) is the first track on the release and immediately brings a raw and fiery proposition to bear on ears and thoughts. Guitars and rhythms make a formidable invitation which is easily accepted, even more so when an underlying melodic lure is given clarity as the initial tempest relaxes and the expressive tones of Dom Noble come in. There is still a muggy air to the song, and a siren-esque shadowing to the track which with the exotic enterprise arising from the guitar of Alex Malliris and the keys of Jordan Robson, entices like The Doors meets The Birthday Party. The song continues to immerse and swallow the senses with its sultry almost erosive beauty, increasing its glamour as it heads towards the moment it slips seamlessly into the following Blame It All On Me.
intensive fire of sonic intrigue and mystique, another virulent call on thoughts and emotion. Throughout the strings of Ragone tease and tempt within the heady hooks and lures of bassist Joe DeCarolisa and drummer Dave Cherasaro, all combining to infect the senses and passions with a thrilling toxicity, soon matched by the potent sweltering charms of H#TE and LUST. The first of the two worries melodic intervention and harmonic persuasion into breeding an acidic haze of bristling energy and punkish provocation whilst its successor emerges from a striking suggestion of intimidation through fine guitar rubs to enslave with sinister vocals and resonating noir clad mystery crafted by the combined inventive shadows of the band’s imagination.
Fusing sonic manipulation, melodic discord, and compelling noise into an inventive and startling persuasion, UK band Hey Colossus has never stood still in stretching their and our boundaries, but with new album Cuckoo Live Life Like Cuckoo the band has created their finest hour for possibly our most rewardingly intrusive pleasure. Released via MIE, the eighth album from the London/Somerset octet has evolved their previously unrelenting and arguably sadistic sonic furnace into a sound which still offers nothing less than delicious abrasion but now takes its time to envelope, seduce, and corrode the senses.
