Playing hard rock with a tantalising blend of funk, blues, and other varied flavours to it, Italian band Hogs have just released second album Fingerprints. It is an encounter which builds on a debut from Italians which certainly courted keen attention and has all the imagination to take the Florence outfit to a far broader placed audience.
The band’s seeds began in 2012 with guitarist Francesco Bottai, bassist Luca Cantasano, and drummer Pino Gulli; their creative union the spring board for the emergence of Hogs. The band’s line-up was subsequently completed by vocalist Simone Cei. 2015 saw the release of debut album, HOGS in fishnets via Red Cat Records who the band has again linked up with for Fingerprints. It was an encounter openly suggesting potential and imagination within its accomplished body; intimation now realised within its highly enjoyable successor.
Fingerprints opens up with Man size and instantly chunky riffs tempt with tenacious rhythms in close quarter. As it settles down, a blues spicing fires up within its classic rock setting, Cei’s potent tones at the core matched by the guest vocals of Carlotta Cocchi. Catchy in its swing, robust in its touch and wonderfully unpredictable in its enterprise, the imagination is soon caught in its drama, its array of styles and flavours woven into one strong magnetic start.
Stinking like a dog follows and is instantly casting a tantalising shuffle shaped by the dextrous swings of Gulli and the animated touch of Botta’s guitar. Hips could not escape the effect of the song’s swing, its funkiness, driven by the excellent tenacity of Cantasano’s bass, soon getting under the skin.
The infectious exploits of Mr. Hide is just as manipulative; its bluesy stroll and melodic rock shaped tempting a captivating launch to sonic flames and vocal reflection before making way for the warm sonic climes of Australia summerland. Again there is a classic rock breath to the song and though it misses the more unpredictable and adventurous twists of its predecessors, it leaves ears and appetite more than satisfied especially with the individual craft of the band in full display.
The jazzy air and touch of Down to the river needs little time to stir the imagination next, its reggae flavoured instincts just as magnetic as the organ of Federico Pacini; its inviting sway and the heart bred expression of Cei, a rich lure on top.
Across the likes of the boisterously magnetic Another dawn and the rousingly raucous Man of the score, enterprise and imagination fly from the speakers. The second of the pair is especially compelling with its animated rock ‘n’ roll while the increasingly captivating Can’t find my home is a web of alternative, hard and blues rock which teases with the familiar and refreshes with the individual. Pacini adds his keys to the escapade once again as too in Jewish vagabond which follows, this song a ballad with a lively smoulder and melodic elegance which too just became more magnetic by the minute and play, country borne sighs courtesy of Paolo Giorgi’s peddle guitar adding to the sunshine of the song.
Both songs relish the imagination open in varying degrees within the album, unexpected turns which surprise among more recognisable strains of enterprise and to be found within the closing pair of Don’t stop moving and Just for one day. The excellent first is one of the songs which seems so familiar from start to finish yet only pleasures and recruits keen participation alongside the imagination. The final track is a calm emotively cast ballad; a sunset of melodic and vocal intimation which caresses as potently as it flames around ears.
It is fair to say that the Hogs sound is not one we would naturally be drawn to but Fingerprints is a release we just took too. It is one which also grew in potency and persuasion play by play so worth a good look at we reckon.
Fingerprints is available now through Red Cat Records/7Hard now through most stores.
https://www.facebook.com/hogsband
Pete RingMaster20/05/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
It is a stunning start quickly matched by Medi-Monster, a slightly livelier affair in energy with brooding shadows to its wiry melodies. Vocals are a wonderfully dispirited incitement, magnetic and mournfully introspective but luring full participation with the song’s almost disturbingly catchy chorus. It is impossible not to get physically and emotionally involved with either of the first pair of proposals or with the albums title track which follows. Its rhythmic shuffle has a touch of Fatboy Slim to it making a kinetic canvas for the dark folk serenade of voice and melody. A blend of contrasting textures, the track seduces hips and thoughts with ease even if not quite matching up to the lofty heights of its predecessors.
Recorded in New York with producer Kahan James, and mastered by Kevin Blackler (Raconteurs, RHCP etc.), Make Some Money, Buy Some Love opens up with Lifer, the alluring tones of Katie cradled by melodic coaxing as the bass strolls with a controlled but carefree grace. Crisp beats add to the enticement instantly flirting with ears, the song’s underlying funkiness infesting its gait and the listener as pop catchiness and lyrical romancing tempt. Drama is never far from a Jingo twist and turn, its boldest attraction lining Katie’s vocal prowess especially here in a gem of an introduction.
The following Ursa Machina is an even more imposing and tempestuous affair. Its doom bred heart instantly crawls over the listener yet in its air a smouldering melodic heat resonates with suggestive, devilish eroticism. That siren like comparison is no more apt than here with High Priestess Nighthawk’s tones the beacon coaxing ears from within the track’s haze lit predatory rocks. From its bewitching start, the song lumbers with a raw seductive swing, its carnivorous creative bones prowling the senses and imagination as vocals heartily croon. As with its predecessor, the song’s landscape is an evolving adventure, uncaging new energies and inventive gaits to match its fuzzily flickering canvas of sound.
Time Will Tell follows and soon has ears and appetite engaged in a Hammond spun romancing alone, a lure only built upon by the dazzling guitar craft on offer from the Marsh boys. It is a recipe repeated in its own design by the slow saunter of Tide Pool and though neither track quite catches personal tastes as fully as those before them both only spark full enjoyment before After the Burn forcibly hits the spot with its hip enticing stroll. It is one of those encounters which feet and bodies instinctively move to as ears feast on highly persuasive vocal and melodic endeavour.
The variety in the band’s sound has been an open book and illustrated in the garage blues blaze of Nekrosexual and the following drama of Bewitched as well as across the album. The first is a scuzzy roar while the second again uncovering a hook which just fits an eager appetite, uncages predatory basslines and irritable riffs as Rose scowls in the colourful horror punk confines of the excellent encounter.