Wizard Rifle – Self Titled

Like a sonic devil they tempt your pigeonholing and defining of their sound and with the same Mephistophelian glee side step every attempt with their infernal webs of sound. They are Oregon rockers Wizard Rifle and their latest album epitomises their devilish conjuring of creative deception. Their self-titled offering also provides one of the most rousing and thrilling encounters of the year. Their sound is punk, sludge rock, psych and thrash punk, noise rock, metal and much more besides in one cacophonous temptation; quite simply it is feral rock ‘n’ roll and across forty four minutes pure contagion.

Emerging in Portland in 2009, Wizard Rifle are no newcomers to high praise as their electric live presence, which has seen them share stages with the likes of The Melvins, High On Fire, YOB, Lightning Bolt, Bongzilla, Buzzov*en, Black Cobra, and Church of Misery, over time has been accompanied by two well-received full-lengths in Speak Loud Say of 2012 and Here in the Deadlight two years later. Now the duo of guitarist/vocalist Max Dameron and drummer/vocalist Sam Ford are ready to take on the world with a release which embraces the building blocks of its predecessors and shapes a proposition which defies convention, relishes devouring expectations, and sets out its own unique agenda in virulent noise.

Rocket to Hell ignites the babel of sound devouring the senses from with the album though there is no confusion in its creation and enterprise. The opener teases from its first breath with the plucking of guitar strings, the gentle lure the persuasive deceit before the ferocious babble of sound momentarily waiting to erupt. And break out it does with ravenous intent; the pair’s united vocals as harmonious as they are untamed as around them sonic squalls casts melodic and sonic temptation as raw as it is virulent. The track continues to infectiously nag as it rapaciously ravages, that tempest of flavours previously mentioned blended into a predacious trespass strapped with the keenest of hooks and salacious grooves.

As discord and melody craftily entangle it is a glorious incitement and matched by that within the following Cevaman Waltz. Rhythms prowl as a chugging guitar goes eye to eye with instincts, a devious grin lining rapid grooves and an epidemic of infection while equally compelling vocals ride its hungry currents. Again it is a mix which nags and harries but with less voracity than its predecessor though that is replaced by a pressure of urgency which only accelerates by the minute until erupting in a cyclone of wild and fertile commotion with those original grooves still steering the greed for the band’s invention.

A Celtic spicing infects the compelling landscape of next up Beneath the Spider, its emprise a tapestry of rabid intent and collected melodic dexterity spun with craft and imagination. There is a great manipulation to the Wizard Rifle sound, its hooks and grooves an infestation of the body as melodic irreverence grip the imagination and no more inescapable and powerful than within the eight minutes making up this slice of potent incitement.

The next twelve minutes plus comes in the shape of Funeral of the Sun, the closing cyclonic tempest of the previous track reaped of its incessant sonic persecution by the opening bait of its successor. Dangling acidic guitar lures it entices and then devours in swirls and expulsions of creative ruthlessness and barbarity but an assault which is pure untamed catchiness. Similarly vocals harmoniously invite and venomously bite before the progressive heart of the track emerges to just as potently seduce. The tide of noise cannot be abated for long and it returns but with a much more melodic breath. Pure fascination exudes the track, which never suffers in its length, as pleasure floods ears before it.

V concludes the release, psychedelic seducing radiating from within its intrepid venture of sound and ambition. Seductive and fierce, subtle and bold, the track provides an unpredictable multi-textured furnace of flavour and captivation.

Wizard Rifle’s album is a glorious contradiction; it is animatingly wild yet cleverly composed, boldly untethered but chained to distinct imagination and craft. It is also another of the year’s major pleasures which should see the band burst beyond previous boundaries of attention.

The Wizard Rifle album is out now via Svart Records; available @ https://wizardrifle.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/wizardrifle/

Pete RingMaster 06/09/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

William English – Basic Human Error

w.english_RingMaster Review

The most intimidating and thrilling cauldrons of hostility are those which spit and burn even before you get dirty and scorched within their blistering ferocity, and so it is with Basic Human Error, the debut album from UK noise violators William English. It is a release which singes flesh from ears and boils the senses from its first breath alone, only impacting and thrilling with harsher and richer intensity once you actually delve into the depths of the seven ravishments. The Norfolk quintet lit a fuse in the passions with their first single from the album Bud Vessel a couple of months ago, but hindsight shows its triumph barely scratched the surface of the wonderfully hellacious Basic Human Error

The William English sound is a prowling rabidity of doom enriched, tar thick sludge which is just as open and voracious with heavy strains of hardcore, noise, and dark metal. It makes for a menacing and uncompromising proposition yet one with an array of virulent toxic grooves and rapier like rhythms aligned to slithers of invention embroiled in anything from punk to noise to post punk. It is an invigorating and punishingly exhausting consumption of body and psyche, which only gets fiercer and more scintillating with every listen.

Cover_RingMaster Review   It is Bud Vessel which lights the touch paper to the album, its two minutes plus of vicious addictiveness an instant onslaught of barbed hooks and spicy grooves encased in fuzz soaked, snarling causticity. With mercilessly stabbing beats from drummer Joe Woodbury in the driver’s seat, the track careers through ears with the squalling hardcore tones of vocalist Shane Miller an acidic burn in the hostile and contagious smog of the song. Stoner seeded grooves spring their bait throughout too, everything colluding to ignite ears and emotions in a blaze of cancerous temptation.

The opener is as much a punk roar as anything else and quickly contrasted yet emulated in many ways by Life Of A Fisherman. The song is a slowly invading protagonist, a crawling and persistently expanding threat initially which once settled kicks up a gear and unveils a masterful swagger rich with ravenous and inviting grooves around a volatile nest of barbarous rhythms. Spilling sonic ire and addictive lures with every passing minute of the track’s weighty length, guitarists Ryan Carter and Dave Vickers sear and ignite the senses and imagination respectively, their hostile invention, as across the whole band, forceful and riveting whether slowly trespassing through or raging with tsunami effect at the listener.

The epic assault finally makes way for a just as intensive examination from Seaweed, a track venomously lapping ears with steady persistence, and as the last, creating moments of sheer violence. The bass of Callum Gibb is a predatory stalker within the crushing weight and intensity of the song whilst vocally Miller uncages his full punk spite and expression, especially devouring the air with an effect covered might when the song slips into a cavernous, post punk spiced, doom soaked passage of insidious calm. The torrent of rugged riffs and rhythms provide a constantly evolving and nagging proposal but as other aspects around them are regularly unafraid to switch gait and hostility as the ever gripping drama of the grooves persist in their addictive tenacity.

     Captain Tugboat unleashes its own distinct violation next, bringing extra tang and ingenious unpredictability to a fury of hooks and toxic grooves in a presence which embroils torment and rage in one corrosive and once again irresistible animus of sound and emotion. As the album, at times the track sparks thoughts of bands like Eyehategod and Buzzov*en but equally of others like Coilguns, KEN mode, and Neurosis; raw whiffs just as suggestive in the following Grandpa Sorrow Pt. 1, another taking such elements and sculpting them into something solitary and predacious to William English. The track stalks the senses with a laboured but hungry intent from start to finish, eventually dissipating for A Monger to cast its individual sonic coaxing and bracing creative hostility. There is no escaping its slow encroachment and the subsequent raptorial explosions breeding mouth-watering savagery, nor the spellbinding effect of its unbridled barbarity in tone and sonic enterprise. Bass and the song’s truculent atmosphere provide a bestial embrace, the vocals an ever shifting in delivery and belligerence throughout whilst the guitars emerge carnivorous in invention and enthralling in craft for another viscous treat.

The album closes with the eleven minute sonic opus of Grandpa Sorrow Pt. 2, a full journey in its own right exploring every flavour and inventive corner within the William English invention, ability, and sound. It is as dramatically appealing and darkly ruinous as the world we live in, every passing second and twist a creative cacophony of raw seduction and jaundiced attitude shaped by fearsome tapestries of viscid sludge spawned ingenuity.

The track is a tremendous end to a thrilling first album from William English. Basic Human Error is sure to be an encounter seeing many fleeing for the hills in fear but similarly one to breed plenty of lustful hunger and stalker like attention for its creators. We are the latter and suspect we will be heftily joined in that club over the coming weeks.

Basic Human Error is available now via Grandad Records @ https://williamenglishband.bandcamp.com/

and http://grandadrecords.bigcartel.com/product/basic-human-error-william-english

https://www.facebook.com/WilliamEnglishBand/

RingMaster 01/07/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Grime: Self Titled

With parts of the UK right now being consumed with unprecedented torrents of rain and storms, intrusive merciless floods, and oppressive land and mudslides, the perfect soundtrack to it all comes in the shape of the debut self titled release from Italian sludge metallers Grime. The six track album is a destructive monster of unrelenting ravenous aural filth, a dirty and vicious assault of expansive grievous grooves and crushing vile riffs to devour the senses. It is arguably maybe not the most original but certainly stands as one of the most severe and brutal which can never be a bad thing.

From Trieste the quartet of vocalist/guitarist Marco, guitarist Lorenzo, bassist Paulo, and Chris on drums, came together mid 2010 with a shared passion for the likes of Black Sabbath, Pentagram, Grief, Sourvein, Eyehategod, and Buzzov’en and the want to create their own intrusive and to be feared sounds. What emerges as evidenced by this release is a sound which leaves a wasted carcass in its wake, their combination of slow towering riffs, caustically scorching grooves, and murderous rhythms an annihilatory assault brought with the uncontrollable intensity of an avalanche. The band which features ex-members of The Secret and Pianoearthquake, has shared stages with the likes of Cough, The Secret, Tombs, Morkobot, and Leechfeast and increasingly pulling in acclaim which their debut can only accelerate.

Released via Mordgrimm the album offers an intense and inescapable maelstrom of sludge metal escalated to inhuman levels with equally abusive doom oppression and stoner melodic greed, all mutated and distorted into a mugging of decaying hungry intensity. It is harsh, at times almost unbearable but ultimately very rewarding. The opening track Self Contempt immediately overwhelms the ear with an insistent brew of corruptive riffs and drum bitch slaps entwined with a plaintive groove as inwardly insatiable and sadistic as the song title suggests. The vocals are sonically acidic within the spewing scrambling growls to further draw every vindictive and venomous essence the track can find within its black heart.

It is an impressive start easily backed up and bettered by following song The Journey. With a lumbering energy and groove as additive as it is manipulative beside the wonderful the ear flaying vocals of Marco, the track leads the senses through a cess pit of staggering onerous intent. It is nasty, it is insatiable and it is glorious dare one say even beautiful.

The album is in full consumptive near excruciating malevolence now, something Charon and Chasm only force home with further brutality and to dehabilitating effect. The first emerges from the lowest downtuned depths to create the thickest and rawest tsunami of bulk dragging intensity. The riffs turn lethargy into an art form, their punishing ponderous crawl borne of the mightiest predator. The second of the pair is a charnel house of festering senses and twisted emotions, a bedlam of dragging visceral insanity. Midway the track lurches into a resemblance of energetic intent to throw unpredictability into the underlining inventive textures beneath the wall of sonic mud, its effect thrusting the already unhinged assault into overload.

Completed by the unbridled spite and ignited stoner energised attack of the outstanding Born Sick and the excellent swamp fresh blistering of Wife Beater, the album is an equally testing and deeply satisfying release. It does and brings exactly what it says on the tin, well the band name, with a quality one can only hungrily feast upon and shout about. It is borne from a similar thick pit of soiled passion as from the neighbouring likes of Noothgrush, Eyehategod, and Sourvein, but fuelled with its own nasty intent to stand apart. Grime is stuff of nightmares and the perpetrators with their debut release of pure satisfaction.

RingMaster 07/07/2012

Copyright Pete RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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