Voice Of Addiction – The Lost Art of Empathy

This started out as a piece on one track from their new album, an introduction for us sent by Voice Of Addiction which was so persuasive the whole album had to instead be the focus of attention. A multi-flavoured punk rock roar from the Chicago based band, The Lost Art of Empathy is one rousing confrontation which has the body bouncing and spirit leaping with its boisterous escapades from start to finish.

Becoming a potent part of the Chicago punk scene through their explosive live shows, Voice Of Addiction have been stirring up ears and venues since 2004, with a handful of releases and a host of compilation appearances marking their way. At their centre is vocalist/bassist Ian “JohnnyX “ Tomele joined upon the latest Voice Of Addiction stomp by drummer Dennis Tynan, guitarist/backing vocalist Jake Smith, and backing vocalist Luke Ostojic. Listening to the treat that is The Lost Art of Empathy, it seems impossible that the band is not a more widely recognised proposition within the global punk scene; a prospect their new album just might trigger.

With politically and socially challenging lyrics matched by a sound which bites however it comes across it’s twelve tracks, The Lost Art of Empathy opens up with that first song heard here. Rustbelt instantly coaxes ears with a spicy hook which is soon joined by a grouchy bassline and jabbing beats. Together they surge at the senses, developing an infectious urgency as Tomele’s vocals with equally potent backing swiftly capture the imagination. In no time the romp is igniting ears and appetite, its drive towards one irresistible chorus just as manipulative as everything from hardcore, pop and classic punk seems to get involved.

The following Dead By Dawn has a rawer manner in tone and touch but is equally as contagious with athletic beats and the grumbling bass shaping the assault from within which a collage of vocals and the clang of guitar entice. Smith spins a web of sonic endeavour as unpredictable as his riffs are rabid before Unity brings its own belligerent defiance to the party. Tomele’s bass again whips up the appetite, its magnetic prowess matched by another potent mix of vocals across the band.

Petty Schemes swaggers in next with a knowing mischief before bounding into a snarling and keenly eventful melodic punk blaze while the soulful Corporate Pariah evolves into a ska punk canter before which feet and hips are leaping as thoughts are provoked by the tracks incisive words. Both songs hit the spot, the second especially persuasive before Lockwood uncages its sonic spiral and subsequent punk contagion to eclipse both. Across the album bands such as NOFX, Bad Religion, and Angelic Upstarts come to mind, this track especially hinting but there is no denying that Voice Of Addiction embrace all into their own individual furor.

The street punk fuelled I Can’t Breathe invitingly brawls with the listener next, the band merging US and seventies UK punk for its tenacious attack and triumph; a success matched by the visceral punk holler of Everything Must Go. It too is a collusion of styles within the punk banner; alternative and math rock flirting with hardcore tendencies to enthral and arouse.

Through the caustic yet melodically hued tear up of Ad Nauseum and the equally uncompromising and enticing Eviction Notice, the album continues to grip attention even if the songs do not hit the same level as those before them; a plateau Alcorn Queen definitely flirts with straight after with its Mars Volta meets Converge like adventure and animosity. The track is superb, stealing best track honours at the death though there is still time for the acoustic brilliance of Are We Even Human Anymore to shine with Tomele vocally luring ears like moths to a flame.

The Lost Art of Empathy is a moment in time not to be missed; indeed all punks should make it their cause to share its compelling sound as too the presence of Voice Of Addiction. America is catching on, now it is our turn around the world.

The Lost Art of Empathy is available now @ https://voiceofaddiction.bandcamp.com/album/the-lost-art-of-empathy-2

https://voiceofaddiction.com/    https://www.facebook.com/voarockers/    https://twitter.com/VoArockers

Pete RingMaster 09/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Domestics – Cherry Blossom Life

The Domestics - Cherry Blossom Life - MPF2 (Charlee Ramsey- PNMT)_RingMasterReview

Pic Charlee Ramsey

A predator of the senses and the injustices infesting the world today, the hardcore furious sound of The Domestics has grown into one of the most riveting and compelling assaults within the British punk scene since the Suffolk outfit launched itself at apathetic barricades in 2011. Across two albums surrounded by a host of EPs, split releases, and compilation appearances, the band’s fusion of US hardcore, classic UK punk and raw Japanese influences has grabbed attention by the scruff of the neck. It’s ‘victims’ have been confronted with uncompromising lyrical commentary as a primal catchiness infects body and imagination. That being said, everything before has now been overshadowed and taken to a new level by third album Cherry Blossom Life, a release as viciously virulent as it is rapaciously antagonistic.

With The Domestics slimmed down to a quartet since the release of 2014 album Routine & Ritual, the band has equally stripped down their sound to simultaneously bring out and increase its venomous irritability and instinctive contagiousness. Its twenty minutes unleashes 16 tracks to challenge and stir up body and thought; a brief rewarding moment in a day which is proving to be almost as essential as eating and Cherry Blossom Life takes no prisoners from the first breath of opener Dead in the Dirt. The gnarly bass of Rhodes instantly has the appetite licking lips; its dirty grumble wrapped in a lurking sonic twine which blossoms into its own unclean temptation as the band uncages a tide of ravenous riffs ridden by the vocal animus of James Domestic. The senses and emotions are instantly on edge and the body roused as the album gets down to business in fine style.

The following Snuffed Out zooms in like a jet plane, the bolds beats of Simon Battery instinctive incitement as Ted Mint’s guitar spins a savage web around the equally catchy and pugnacious assault of voice and bass. Addictively inhospitable, the track’s imposing triumph is swiftly matched by that of Don’t Tell Me What Love Is, itself also less than a minute of unapologetic scrapping equipped with primal hooks and memorable causticity. The gang vocal bruising of Homegrown Violence proceeds to emulate and eclipse that gripping pair though, its brute force a deceit to skilfully spun hooks and infectious sonic tendrils.

cover_RingMasterReviewInitially, No Deposit, No Return allows a breath with its prowling entrance, the bass portentously courting the imagination before sparking a swinging canter which in turn bursts into a hellacious dispute of sound and voice. Unpredictable at every turn and adventurous with every twist, discord and animosity a superb combative mix, the song is irresistible before making way for the bare boned poetry of Human Ikizukuri; its visceral touch absorbed by the following sonic and lyrical rancor of Punch in the Guts.

Through the anthemic vendetta of Authentic Arsehole and the unbridled senses harrying tempest of Frustration, album and pleasure make kindred spirits while Guilty as Charged twists and turns with some of the most infectious hooks and inspired antics heard anywhere this year. Maybe its boldness is not pushed far enough, its fifty odd seconds not allowing time for further adventure, but the track leaves an indelible mark on ears and imagination.

Self Abuse scowls and feuds with the listener next, a richly satisfying assault with the creative dexterity of Mint and the feuding prowess of Domestic guiding the inescapable persuasion with Death Trap pushing pleasure to yet another level with its bearish bad blood and predacious stroll. Like a mix of Dead Kennedys, Angelic Upstarts, and Converge, the song simple hits the spot, its tenacious jaws a quick clamp on the passions. Its best track claim is then straight away rivalled by Bullshit Parasite, a bullish, balls swinging anthem impossible not to get physically and emotionally enrolled in.

There is no let up on enjoyment either as the home straight of Cherry Blossom Life is hit; A Poison Too Far a breath-taking ferocious declaration of sound and word harassing the senses and Stalinist Purge a corrosive squall of emotion and sound blustering around another glorious crunchy bassline and the creative agitation of the guitar.

The album finally closes with Happy, a piece of lyrical prose caught in a shaken snow globe of organic sound, and the only following thought is to throw oneself into its clutches straight away again. From word to music, Cherry Blossom Life is UK hardcore and The Domestics at their best, indeed the band at their finest yet.

Cherry Blossom Life is out now through TNS Records and Kangaroo Records; available @ https://tnsrecords.bandcamp.com/album/cherry-blossom-life   https://www.tnsrecords.co.uk/?product=domestics-cherry-blossom-life  and http://www.kibourecords.bigcartel.com/

2017 EURO TOUR DATES:

27/08: T. Chances, London, UK (Fuk Reddin Fest)

28/08: Vrankrijk, Amsterdam (Netherlands)

29/08: Tbc

30/08: Underwerkt, Copenhagen (Denmark)

31/08: Blitz, Oslo (Norway)

01/08: Snövit, Stockholm (Sweden)

02/08: Venue Tbc, Gothenburg (Sweden)

04/08: Tbc

05/08: Köpi, Berlin (Germany)

06/08: Stö, Leipzig (Germany)

07/08: The Pit’s, Kortrijk (Belgium)

https://www.facebook.com/TheDomestics/

Pete RingMaster 08/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

All At Sea – Systemized

It is fair to say that All At Sea are pissed off; driven by a rage and fury which makes no compromises for the injustices and crimes of modern society. It is an anger which escalates in their new EP and a sound which uses the fuel to create one seriously rousing and thrilling incitement. Fusing the raw and instinctive essences of hardcore and groove metal, the UK outfit roar and trespass with the combined irritability of a bear and the lithe prowess of a predatory pole dancer, a union ensuring that Systemized is much more than a mere attention grabbing proposition.

From England’s North East, All At Sea first hit out from quickly incited local success with the release of debut EP Divided in 2015. It was a potent nudge of national awareness which did not quite find the strength of success its visceral bellow warranted. It is hard to see Systemized not finding richer success devouring its presence, its voracious nature commanding and antagonistic voice a demanding trespass easy to embrace.

Opener Wake Work Repeat offers a few seconds of controlled coaxing before unleashing its emotional and physical blaze. In no time riffs and rhythms unite to badger the senses as vocalist Jack Tyreman brawls with a variety of snarling growls supported as potently by the just as irritable tones of Ross Adam Blackmore whose guitar alongside that of Scott Marks conjures tides of bracing and abrasing riffs. Like a furious mix of Rage Against The Machine and Converge, nu-metal and punk rock involved in the band’s instinctive fusion of animosity, the track breeds an infectious virulence as invasive as its sonic and vocal ire. Grooves continue to entwine and incite the listener, the rapier swings of drummer Tom Cox bone splintering as Josh Walker’s basslines crawl across the damage.

It is a thrilling creative ferocity more than matched within next up Consume. From its first breath grooves bait and trap the imagination and hips, the bruising of further predatory rhythms and the malice of vocal antipathy soon arising as the scent of a Bloodsimple joins  punk irritability as much CIV as it is High On Fire like. Stalking the senses with more ursine dexterity and rigour, the track is viral vindictiveness but itself slightly eclipsed by its successor in the shape of the new All At Sea single Gimme The Mic. Initially there is a similar holler and shape to its attack to the previous track but an essence soon woven into and consumed by the song’s own groove laden, spite fuelled stomp. There is a bluesy taint to that grooving which simmers rather than flames within the sonic fire and rhythmic battering but adds another great hue to the uncompromisingly intrusive and anthemic battle front of the encounter.

That bluesy toning is even richer within the grooved lattice of Life Value, the guitars spinning a deceptive web of invitation as their sonic dexterity sears and rhythms raid the senses. With the blend of vocals and their delivery as magnetically choleric as ever, the track is primal rock ‘n’ roll to lose inhibitions with; exhaustion and aroused argument ensured before Business Of Faith offers its own kind of raptorial rhythms and sonic bad blood. Vocals challenge and incite as riffs plunder and grooves share venomous yet captivating intoxication. Like a grizzly with the lustfully flirtatious moves of a feline, the track is a sly and artfully seductive vendetta of enmity bringing one gripping exhilarating encounter to a masterful conclusion.

The song is not as feral as others within Systemized but adds a just as fiercely enjoyable and blistering moment in its barbarously inventive and intensively charged tempest. If Systemized does not put All At Sea firmly on the biggest metal maps, attention succumbing to its unbridled storm, something will be seriously amiss.

Systemized is out now @ https://allatseauk.bandcamp.com/album/sytemised

https://www.facebook.com/AASNEUK/

Pete RingMaster 16/05/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Fashion Week – So Last Season

Like the fall out and indeed initial impact of the detonation of a nuclear device, the sound of US noise mongers Fashion Week is a ravenous inescapable scourge feasting on flesh and senses. Debut album Prêt-à-Porter was savagely enjoyable proof of the fact, its release on Solar Flare Records a testing and thrilling examination of body and emotions. Now two years after its scorching eruption, the band has released So Last Season. A coming together of rare and unreleased material, including Fashion Week’s first demo, two EPs, live tracks and a couple of covers, the album oversees the birth of the band and its growth in sound right up to that first inimitable album.

Founded in 2009 by vocalist/guitarist Joshua Lozano (Inswarm, Jarboe, Cobalt, Family, Shai Hulud, Vampillia), NYC hailing Fashion Week quickly drew eager attention with their diverse, melody tinged swarms of noise. Taking inspiration from the diverse likes of Unsane, Coalesce, and Botch through to Nirvana, Dinosaur Jr, Melvins, and Quicksand with plenty more embraced under their creative wing, Fashion Week soon sculpted their own distinctive dirty sound as evidenced by first EP, Applicator in 2011 and its successor Coextinction #11 two years after. Prêt-à-Porter was the wake-up call to broad attention which the striking re-emergence of earlier and rare material courtesy of So Last Season can now only reinforce.

The album opens with the three tracks which made up Coextinction #11, songs the band were invited to record for the internet label of Unsane’s Dave Curran, Coextinction Recordings. The raw, at times almost carnal assault of Heroin Chic is first. As nagging citric guitars and a gloriously grumbling bass instantly descend, an underlying melodic lure simmers and brews, subsequently taking its central spot in the grungy smog of sound. Warm vocals spring from within the addictive assault, welcoming yet as edgy as the intimidatingly voracious sounds around them.

Andrew Cunanan follows, its rural harmonica shared comeliness soon a tempest of hungry rhythms and greedy riffs with that snarling bass again addictive bait alongside the furnace of voice and guitar. As its predecessor though, melody and restraint get involved, hand in hand prowling the senses as the former laces seductively wiry grooves. The track is pure magnetism, a trait matched in strength by God Save McQueen. Its hardcore rapacity smothers ears before twisting them with a web of flavours all bleeding aural and emotional tartness.

The brief rabid attacks of both Fab and Smyze follow; two live cuts which infest body and psyche with their caustic holler and predatory sonic trespass with the second a beast of a proposal stalking the listener with its sludge bred intent. Their debilitating prowess is followed by a cover of the Helmet track, I Know. A calmer affair with harmonies instantly slipping their invitation into the more fractious draw of guitars and bass, the song flirtatiously twists and swings like a primal seductress, never moving out of second gear but only increasing its siren-esque appeal with each enterprising second.

The next three tracks come from un-released EP Little Black Dress which seemed to have been pushed aside as the band worked on Prèt-â-Porter. Lydian Hearst dances with discontent and melancholic charm first, melodies a sombre enticement and rhythms a truculent incitement though they too develop a vibrant if filth lined swing led by the ever gnarly bass. With Lozano’s vocals a plaintively bracing squall, a squall in time joined by a tamer presence, the track boils in touch and temptation before So Last Season unveils its abrasive grunge clad pop ‘n’ roll on the table. The song is a spiral of contrasts, like a maelstrom of Converge, Sofy Major, and Melvins, and as imposingly catchy as it is greedily corrosive.

The following Little Black Dress, featuring guest vocals from Dave Castillo, Kurt Applegate, and Tom Tierney, equally has infectiousness coursing irritable rock ‘n’ roll seeing bodies bouncing as the senses shrivel under vocal causticity and increasing sonic hostility, only to be re-animated by the spicy grooves entangling song and listener.

It would have been a crime if the EP had never seen the light of day, one of many major reasons to grab the album, a felony repeated if Rich Hallister, a song originally recorded for Prêt-à-Porter which the band eventually did not feel fitted, was not heard. It too is ferocity of noise and attitude with a virulent catchiness which enslaves ears and hips, rogue beats alone a busy temptation as vocals increasingly lose their grip on composure being matched by the growing bedlam of guitar.

With Vinny Signorelli of Unsane guesting on drums, Fashion Week takes on his band’s track Only Pain next. A potent mix of sample and keys draw the listener into the waiting doomscape of sound and emotion, Lozano searing it with his raw throated delivery backed by the equally apocalyptic and melancholic roar and melodic suggestion of guitars. It is a compelling take on a great track arguably giving an even grittier and rawer aspect to its emotionally decayed antipathy.

The digital version of So Last Season is completed by the re-mastered version of the band’s original demo, Applicator, which also comes as an additional 7” with a vinyl edition of the album. Beginning with the rusty hues of Fierce, the four tracks making up the release are the heart and seeds of Fashion Weeks’ current sound, the source of uncompromising intent and endeavour making up the impressive stature of Prêt-à-Porter. The track is undiluted sonic threat and emotional turmoil, a vat of creative rancor matched by that festering within the equally corrosive and catchy Heidi Klum and the hook wired Bryant Park, the second a web of guitar woven tempting and intrigue wonderfully sullied by Lozano’s flesh grazing vocal deliver and increasingly ruinous vitriol.

Completed by the hardcore scourge of Fabulous, the track pure venom in noise and presence, So Last Season is a must for newcomers to the band, for those who missed out on their earlier assaults and noise rock victims as a whole.

So Last Season is available now @ https://www.fashionweek.bandcamp.com/album/so-last-season

https://www.facebook.com/FashionWeekBand       https://fashionweeknoise.com/

Pete RingMaster 29/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Nomad Stones – Self Titled

ns good band pic_RingMasterReview

The press release from Brutal Panda Records for the debut album from US trio Nomad Stones suggests that their “punk-infused blast of rock n’ roll sounds like Dinosaur Jr. meets Black Flag.” It is a description which it is hard to dismiss though throughout the eight-track encounter with the New England band we could not help thinking this is what The Dickies might have sounded like if they had slowed down, got grungy, and embraced the raw rock ‘n’ roll of Johnny Thunders. Numerous times the punk pop mischief of the LA punksters is encroached within the Nomad Stones album but always infused into their bubblegumless and fiercely rousing punk ‘n’ roll.

Formed in 2015, Nomad Stones consists of guitarist/vocalist Adam McGrath (Cave In, Zozobra, Clouds), drummer JR Conners (Cave In, Doomriders, ex-Goatsnake, etc.), and bassist Erik Szyska. With already shows under their belts alongside Mutoid Man, United Nations and numerous others, the threesome has certainly stirred intrigue and attention, and easy to hear why now their first release is spreading its ferocious yet contagious temptation.

Wrapped in the art work of Converge’s Jacob Bannon, the album opens up with Dead Batteries. Firmly punching beats set things off, grumbling riffs soon in tow as McGrath shares his vocal prowess in a virulent stroll mixing the punk of The Damned with the dirtier scent of Dinosaur JR and the dark growl of Misfits. It is a rousing and compelling start, a spirit and appetite sparking beginning reinforced by the following stomp of Dirty Boots and A Friend Named Goo. With swinging rhythms and mischievous hooks entangled in another scuzzy antagonistic snarl of a sound, the song brings seventies punk into the visceral infectiousness of modern punk ‘n’ roll, hitting the sweet spot within seconds and only reinforcing its persuasion as distorted guitar enterprise plays.

mininomadstones_RingMasterReviewDrain Brain comes next bringing a monotone nagging of the senses as riffs groan and shimmer while vocals add their singular but magnetic coaxing. Grungy and again old school punk seeded, the song grumbles and transfixes before The Frugal Yankee strides in and inspires that Dickies reference. Previous songs hinted but the fourth track especially recalls a sterner and heavier take on the Leonard Graves Phillips, Stan Lee, and Chuck Wagon led band, whether by coincidence or just in our ears.

A slower prowl comes with Glory Days next, its slow but eager crawl thick with emotive and rhythmic shadows adding another creative shade to the EP and an intriguing proposition for ears and imagination to embrace. Carrying a bit of Fugazi in its character, the excellent encounter steps aside for a rousing version of the Buddy Holly classic, Heartbeat. Just beefing it up gives the track a fresh lure but Nomad Stones also add fiery melodies and even more aggressive nagging to its riffery to leave ears greedy and pleasure rife.

The rowdy air and intent of In Too Deep ensures satisfaction is full next too, the song without the same spark as its predecessors for personal tastes still only leaving a want for more which closing track, The Sandwich Police provides as again, much like the last song, Nomad Stones venture into the epidemic strains of pop punk united with the threat of Black Flag/Converge scented confrontation.

The track is an outstanding end to an excellent introduction to Nomad Stones. There is buzz rising around the band and we can only add to it as raw and punk infused rock ‘n’ roll does not come much more enjoyable than this.

The Nomad Stones EP is out now via Brutal Panda Records @ http://nomadstones.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/Nomad-Stones-564184443733217/

Pete RingMaster 02/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Attan – From Nothing

ATTAN_bw_RingMaster Review

In their own words, “there’s nothing but ice and darkness” to the far northern border of Norway where noise breeders Attan was bred, but equally going by the band’s debut EP there is also plenty of frustration, rage, and creative turbulence nurtured by the landscape. From Nothing is a five track onslaught of blackened hardcore with a voracious metal bred antagonism to it. To that doom seeded breaths are conjured and inflamed emotions vented; the result a release which potently hits and impresses initially but just gets fiercer and more compelling in its persuasion from thereon in.

Oslo based, the quintet draw on inspirations and flavours found in the likes of Converge, Emperor, Neurosis, Will Haven, and VOD; influences as their Shelsmusic released EP shows, open in the band’s sound but twisted into something if not yet explosively unique, certainly invigoratingly fresh and riveting.

ATTAN COVER_RingMaster Review   Recorded and mixed in a barn in Lunner, a village in the municipality in Oppland county, From Nothing quickly abrases ears and ignites attention with opener Nocebo (I Shall Harm). It is a stonking bruising of a track from its first second to last, straight away offloading beats and riffs that batter and rub the senses respectively. A bass and thick sonic confrontation joins in soon after as early rhythms become broader and rasping vocals erupt to enticing effect. Straight away you can easily imagine essences which have inspired the band but as the punk fury lays richer abuse and volatility on ears, the venomous contagion springs its own character in the Attan sound. Like Shevils meets Converge, catchy toxicity colludes with undiluted ire and hostility, the track continuing to grow and surprise against the maelstrom of vocals which mix piercing squalls with the new additive of dark grizzly tones.

It is a great start to the encounter matched in success by the even more irritable and punishing Lost Words Of The Mothkeepers. The again double sided assault of vocals is a swift tempting within the searing intrusion of sound, rhythms barbarous as a sonic tempest niggles and intrudes with its searing tone and invasive touch. The unbridled onslaught ‘calms’ as the song progresses, though not in spite as a doom blossomed oppression of noise smothers the senses. Still there is virulence to the proposal though; an element which easily captivates from within the perpetual turbulence.

Full Circle/Full Stop comes next, its initial approach a ‘mild mannered’ sonic trespass with emotive hues and prowling rhythms. The whole nature and gait of the track is a stalking of ears and emotions with repetitious lures and a hypnotic shuffle cast by the drums. Midway it too explodes into a provocation of punishing dynamics and tortured vocals but simultaneously brewing up another torrent of infectious bait to align with the physical raging.

Such the sheer force and rabidity on offer in all tracks, there is a surface familiarity at times which you sense some will not get beyond, but as Black Liquid Marrow reveals, below that skin Attan spin a web of intrigue and creative hostility which seems to unveil a new twist and depth with each listen. The fourth track is more openly unique than the first trio, so that extra attention is less needed but willingly given such the drama and tenacious enterprise within the doomy oppression of sound and emotion.

As all songs, it is an increasingly magnetic and persuasive protagonist, but as others shaded a touch by the closer Edward. Admittedly, the track took longer to spark the same height of reactions as its predecessors, but over time, providing new tempting and aspects each listen, it seduced with its sonic nagging and rhythmic dynamics. Alongside them the excellent mix of vocals continues to please as sour melodies wrap around the doom coated spine of the song, though it is the almost post metal invasion of the imagination and bordering on emotionally cancerous heart of the incitement which seals the deal between band and pleasure.

Attan are going to be too intensive and merciless for some it is easy to suspect, especially those unprepared to explore their sound and the EP’s layers, but for others, From Nothing will be an introduction to get a touch excited over; we can vouch for that.

The From Nothing EP is released November 30th digitally via Shelsmusic @ http://shelsmusic.bandcamp.com/album/from-nothing and on Limited Edition Vinyl (300) @ http://www.shelsmusic.com/label/store.php

https://www.facebook.com/Attanband

Pete RingMaster 30/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/

Pigs – Wronger

pigs_2015_RingMaster Review

If you are looking for a noise rock treat to end the impending year’s end on a high, we have the new Pigs album to suggest. Equally if you are looking for a ferocious punk rock tempest, or an uncompromising rock ‘n’ roll confrontation, Wronger fits the bill perfectly too. The new album from the New York City trio of Dave Curran from Unsane, Jim Paradise of Player’s Club and Freshkills, and Andrew Schneider (renowned producer with the likes of Cave In, Converge, Made Out of Babies, Unsane, and Keelhaul on his CV), is a brawl you will only get increasingly excited to be swallowed up by. It is a blaze of scarring imagination as virulently addictive as it is mercilessly abrasive, and indeed bracing. Pigs made a mighty debut with first album You Ruin Everything in 2012, cemented and pushed their refreshing presence with the Gaffe EP the following year, but Wronger is a whole new caustic bitch slap of pleasure and aggressive adventure to get fired up by.

It opens with the sonic infestation of A Great Blight, a diseased web of noise hypnotically living up to the creeping invasiveness of its title. The instrumental piece crawls over the senses and into the psyche, eroding defences with its repetitious whilst The Life In Pink waits in the wings to fill its departing void. The second track though rather than quickly assaulting ears weaves in on a flirtatious hook cast by Curran’s guitar, its successful lure shaking under the impact of Paradise’s composed and resonating beats. In no time the bass of Schneider growls with a predacious passion whilst the riffs and vocals of Curran add grizzled attitude and prowess to the song’s emerging heavy stroll. It is a raw and thickly enticing bluster, tempestuous rock ‘n’ roll which ensures an inescapable persuasion, especially with the re-occurring delicious hook which sets things rolling.

pigs_wronger_cover_RingMaster Review     The following Bet It All On Black leaps in with a punk swagger and impossible to resist rhythmic devilry, willing feet and hips recruited as rapidly as ears and imagination through another delicious hook which this time has a whiff of post punk addictiveness to it. Schneider swings an equally magnetic and infectious groove through his ever bestial toned bass, another spice to the gripping drama and threat of the track, an intimidation emulated in Amateur Hour In Dick City though it pursues a more hard rock flavouring to its noise rock volatility. As in all songs, things evolve though, turn in on themselves and bring new twists and exploits to contemplate. Without quite matching its predecessors, there is only an infection to the eventful song which flows eagerly before Mope descends on the listener with its scuzz woven tapestry of meandering grooves, intoxicating hooks, and predatory rhythms. A smothering cloud of raw noise is the best description, this veined by virulent temptations and, within certain brief partings of its worrisome clouds, melodic toxicity for major addictiveness.

     Wrap It Up is the same, its hostile climate and abusive physical invention increasingly persuasive with every sonic lancing and rally of rhythmic bullying colluding in something quite bewitching as it corrodes the senses. Imagine Joy Division meets Unsane and you get a sense of part of the excellent encounter, though again it is a proposition shifting tact and character minute by minute.

The Cajun twang of Mouth Dump and its thumping beats around a trio of spoken vocals spark thoughts next, its short insight a respite yet provocateur in a way setting up the scathing roar of Make Sure To Forget, another sonically cancerous slice of punk/noise agitation with its own tasty Buzzcocks scented hook. As seriously pleasing as it is, it does not rival in success other songs around it, emphasizing their might, and is unlucky to be followed by the majorly outstanding Bug Boy, a song which makes you forget the past three or so minutes as soon as it scurries under the skin. Featuring guest vocals from ex-Made Out of Babies/Battle of Mice front woman Julie Christmas, the track is a ravenous tempest once again entwining imagination infesting grooves and hooks, barbarous rhythms, and a vocal bedlam to get greedy over.

Wronger is brought to a close by firstly its physically cantankerous title track and lastly the extensive bellow of Donnybrook. Both songs grip forcibly as they abrase and tempt, the first hitting its sweet spot around midway when it dips into a haunting melodic aside still walled by raw shadows and waiting to bellow sonic animosity. Its eight minute successor prowls and lurches through ears with doomy breath and volatile temperament, becoming more unpredictable and magnetic as a warm calm emerges from its erosive landscape and in turn brews its own dark imposing atmosphere which becomes the dominate wind of fascination. A slow burner compared to some, the track is undoubtedly a mighty end to a thoroughly enjoyable trespass.

The album is easily Pigs finest moment to date, but you get the feeling still just a step to bigger and bolder things from the band. As Christmas lists are being drawn up, Wronger is one to place at the top for all violent rock ‘n’ roll fans with no regrets found through this thrilling beast

Wronger is out now via Solar Flare Records on 12” vinyl, CD, and digitally @ http://music.solarflarerds.com/album/wronger

http://www.pigsnyc.com     https://www.facebook.com/pigsnyc

Pete RingMaster 13/10/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/