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

Frauds – With Morning Toast & Jam & Juice

It cannot be just coincidence that year on year December brings some of the relevant year’s best and often most dramatic releases. Maybe it is just that they generally come within a concentrated two week burst with the year’s final pair of weeks more likely to be party time for all so that it is more noticeable than in other equally productive months but there does seem to be a real gathering of striking encounters  as the year makes its departure. The debut album from UK duo Frauds simply adds to the evidence, With Morning Toast & Jam & Juice a glorious cacophony of noise bred rock ‘n’ roll infested with post punk and post hardcore rapacity.

Formed in late 2012, Croydon hailing Frauds consists of Chris Francombe (drum/vocals) and Mikey Alvarez (guitar/vocals), a musical partnership which seems to hail from well before their latest venture burst into life. Inspired by the likes of Nick Cave, Tom Waits, Sonic Youth, Fugazi, Mclusky, Hot Snakes, and Drive Like Jehu, the pair initially began jamming together again with the intent of only playing covers. Soon though their own imagination and creativity took over and new songs emerged. Since then the band has become a potent presence on the capital’s live scene sharing stages with the likes of Idles, Life, HMLTD, Tigercub, Demob Happy, Kagoule, USA Nails, Slaves, Blacklisters, Queen Kwong and site favs The St. Pierre Snake Invasion along the way. Fresh from tour dates alongside ex-Reuben front man Jamie Lenman, Frauds are poised to nag national attention with Morning Toast & Jam & Juice, a niggling hard to see failing such its raw majesty.

Let’s Find Out kicks things off, a riveting tendril of guitar winding around ears and soon joined by the thump of Francombe’s beats. Second by second the web expands, Alvarez’s guitar creating a clamorous jangle with post punk hues to its sharp spice. Vocals equally have a caustic edge, courting the repetitious magnetism of the encounter with punk attitude and ferocity. Sonic shimmers and distortions only add to the virulent nagging, the track as much an intro as a complete offering luring ears and instinctive attention into the waiting depths of the album.

Next up, Smooth instantly twists and turns around the senses, its post punk/alternative rock antics as invasive as they are seductive. Like the spawn of a union between The Three Johns, The Droppers Neck, and Mclusky, the song swings along drawing the listener deeper into its feral majesty before The Feeding Frenzy envelops ears with its noir clad atmospheric drama. Sonic smog devours as vocals provoke, the underlying volatility brewing a ravenous toxic drone as flirtatious as it is debilitating.

From its virulent inhospitality, the mischievous exploits of Sandwiches emerge, the song a rash of hooks and rhythms around brash vocals; all carrying a liquor of humour and captivating causticity. Again there is an eighties post punk discordance in allegiance with modern creative antipathy and again everything uniting in a corrosion of punk irritability which simply sparks ears and an instinctive appetite for noise rock. As it evolves with increasing imagination, the track feeds ears with a delicious groan of bassoon-esque guitar; its barracuda tone pure manna for these senses and matched in addictiveness by the duo’s vocal lures. There are numerous major moments within the album but this is the pinnacle with ease.

The psychotic rock ‘n’ roll of Just Come Of Age comes next to be a strong rival though, beats a kinetic psychosis matched by the wandering tendrils of guitar and vocal theatre. The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster easily comes to mind as the song plays with the imagination, crawling over the senses with predacious glee and tenacity.

Suck Jobs keeps the thrills high with its senses scathing sonic enticements and vocal abrasions, the song mercurial in air and relentless in infectious dynamics while Doom prowls and seeps through the body with grievous intent. Its suffocating tones devour mood and thoughts, dragging attention by the throat into a finale which is pure punk ferocity. The track is one of the least easily accessible trespasses provided by the album but joining all in leaving pleasure brimming.

With Morning Toast & Jam & Juice concludes with firstly Could’ve, Should’ve, Would’ve, another carnally tart and compelling stroll with an Engerica hue to its visceral contagion, and finally through the transfixing saunter of Give In. Rhythmically hypnotic and melodically haunting with a just as appetising acrid edge, the song slowly entangles the senses, its own individual drone like bait viral persuasion becoming more chafing and disturbing second by second.

With a hidden scar of punk as its actual final breath, With Morning Toast & Jam & Juice leaves pleasure high and anticipation for their next move lustful. As earlier mentioned there have been numerous really stirring propositions this year yet it is hard to remember many as glorious as the debut from Frauds.

With Morning Toast & Jam & Juice is available now through Till Deaf Do Us Party Records and available @ https://fraudsfraudsfrauds.bandcamp.com/album/with-morning-toast-jam-juice

https://www.facebook.com/fraudsfraudsfrauds/

Pete RingMaster 19/12/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Shot Of Hornets – Make Out A Picture

Shot Of Hornets Promo Shot_RingMasterReview

A release to make a lingering impression, Make Out A Picture is the debut EP from British alternative rock band Shot Of Hornets. Consisting of four tracks which snarl and rousingly seduce with equal measure, the encounter is a beast of an introduction to the Welsh trio. There is a predacious edge to every element making up its gripping drama and forceful enterprise just as a virulent contagion fuels the anthemic unpredictability shaping its ear pleasing character. Together it provides a creative and impassioned theatre of sound and imagination as compelling as it is so often breath-taking.

Hailing from Mold in North Wales, Shot Of Hornets consists of brothers Daniel (guitar/vocals) and Conor Cahalane (drums/lead vocals) alongside Charlie Farnham (bass/vocals). Emerging last year with inspirations from the likes of early Biffy Clyro, At The Drive-In, Hundred Reasons, and Fightstar in their creative arsenal, the threesome soon began making potent impressions with their fierce live presence and shows. Now it is Make Out A Picture set to rattle national awareness of Shot Of Hornets, with success surely an inevitable return for the EP’s galvanic might.

Shot Of Hornets Cover Artwork_RingMasterReviewThe band lays a tight grip on ears and appetite straight way with opener Corrosive, needing little time to tempt both as swinging beats and an instantly grumbling bassline starts things off. Angular strikes of guitar and group snarls behind the inviting tones of Conor swiftly join the affair and increase the infectiousness already sparking the senses. Smooth slips into mellower moments and discord kissed twists leads to a seriously rousing chorus, all the time an intensity and volatility seemingly lying in wait, eager to erupt but instead simply adding great depth to the song and enterprise persuading ears; when it does escape a great Reuben-esque feel flows through the track, ending in a scintillating finale which in tone continues into the song’s successor.

Don’t Go Chasing Shadows, Arthur is exceptional, from its initial lively stalking of the senses and barbarous tempest through to its quirky and deranged character one of the best tracks heard here this year. Vocally and musically the band prowls and leaps upon the imagination with their unique ideation and adventure, keeping things as enthrallingly off-kilter and seriously infectious. At times the song reminds of the now demised UK band Engerica, in other moments courting something lying between System Of A Down and Hundred Reasons, and relentlessly leaving ears and pleasure greedy for more.

The brief instrumental interlude of Firm Handshake provides a tantalising atmospheric hug though truthfully instincts after the first listen is to dive straight into closing track Everything With Nothing. The closer is another track which emerges as one kind of creature and slowly evolves into something different as one inventive minute follows another. The song’s initial abrasive growl is soon replaced by a melodic and emotive reflection though certainly vocally that raw edge still lurks. Subsequently, inescapably catchy lures and fiery flames add to the track’s theatre, spiky rhythms and riffs joining scything grooves and grisly punk infused predation as the song twists and turns and in turn bewitches with every unpredictable moment.

If Make Out A Picture is a sign of things to come, expect to hear plenty more of Shot Of Hornets in sound and acclaim. The EP is a debut which demands attention, rewarding with songs which bring the imagination and spirit through a band with very healthy horizons ahead of them.

The Make Out A Picture EP is released July 1st through all stores.

https://www.facebook.com/shotofhornets     https://twitter.com/SOHbandUK

Pete RingMaster 30/06/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Deepshade – Everything Popular Is Wrong

Deepshade Promo Colour Picture_RingMaster Review

Copyright Ashley Hardman Photography

Highly anticipated by many and set to excite a whole new crowd of hungry appetites for the band’s sound, UK band Deepshade release debut album Everything Popular Is Wrong. It is a masterful and magnetic fusion of alternative and psych rock with grungy tendencies and thick streams of imagination across ten exciting slices of sonic fascination. Imagine The Doors meets Queens Of The Stone Age with the occasional rich tonic of anarchic energy from Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster or Engerica, and you get a whiff of the magnificence lying in wait within Everything Popular Is Wrong.

Wigan bred Deepshade was formed in 2013 by vocalist/guitarist David Rybka, bassist Tom Doherty, and drummer Paul Barlow. Little time passed before the trio enticed a potent and loyal local following and began being featured on the likes of BBC Introducing and numerous shows and alternative radio stations within Britain, Europe, and the USA; The Guardian newspaper announcing Deepshade around the same time one of the ‘Hot Top Ten Unsigned British Bands To Check Out’. Their presence and reputation continues to grow and now with the band recently signing with Ambicon Music Group, the national release of Everything Popular Is Wrong allows the country and beyond to hear why.

Deepshade Cover Artwork_RingMaster ReviewRecorded with producer John Kettle (Merry Hell, Moko, Tansads) and mastered by Fran Ashcroft (Spin Jupiter Spin, Gorillaz), Everything Popular is Wrong opens with the tantalising shuffle of Time and an immediate lure of spicy grooves and just as vibrant riffs and rhythms. Seventies spice colludes with nineties fuzziness straight away, whilst an underlying snarl carries an alternative/punk snarl to echo the description given a few lines earlier. The string invention of Rybka matches his vocal prowess whilst the dark lines of Doherty and firm swings of Barlow cast hefty shadows and a driving energy to devour swiftly.

It is a great start but soon put in the shade a touch by its successor and increasingly so by the following pair of songs. The Line is next up and quickly leaps into a bluesy revelry with again irresistible tangy grooves and thumping beats courted by a growling bassline. Feet and hips are soon taken for a feisty ride by the track, its bracing energy as lively and infectious as the fiery nuances toning every subsequent melody and sonic temptation.

Out Of Hand steps up next to raise the bar again, its slower warm stroll hypnotically coaxing sonically entwined ears, subsequently leading them into a web of virulent hooks and melodic incitement. Again there is a raw air and scuzzy hue to it all which only adds to the addictive drama and the gripping tension which seems to breed within the track as it explores its invention and the imagination. As outstanding as it is, Tattoo shows it a clean pair of heels. Released as a free download earlier this year and understandably being part of the reason why so many were hungry for Everything Popular Is Wrong, the song prowls with a flirty if predatory gait and an open creative devilry similar to The Dropper’s Neck, slipping into fierce and fiery expulsions of noisy enticement from time to time too. Quite simply the track is like a lap dance for ears, swinging slim rhythmic hips wrapped in sonic curves with temperatures rising accordingly.

A southern breeze joins the melodic caress of the following Haven’t Said A Word, it a Kyuss like tempting which feeds the dirtily textured crescendos of intensity and emotions which erupt throughout the mesmeric and increasingly evolving croon whilst Bring The Axe Down straight after, twists a rockabilly like riff into a virulent seduction equipped with off-kilter imaginations of sound and theatre. The song is sensational, something akin to Josh Homme and Guy McKnight redesigning Powersolo and ridiculously more addictive with every listen; stealing the show each and every time.

Lowlights arguably carries the thickest grunge hues within the album in its creative body, its Alice in Chains/ QOTSA serenade a rousing proposal often as bruising as it is melancholically reflective whereas The Mud, The Blood, and The Tears (written as The Blood, The Mud, and The Tears on the album cover so take your pick) casts an enthralling bewitchment drawing on essences of Jim Morrison and co, The Walker Brothers, and Pearl Jam, and turning them into something unique and spellbinding to Deepshade.

The final two songs upon Everything Popular Is Wrong ensure the album continues to excite from a great height; Chairman first to spring a gentle yet agitated swing within sultry melodies across atmospheric skies as vocal harmonies captivate and the bass of Tom Doherty devilishly entices against the masterful skittish adventure of Barlow’s swings. Sad Sun has the pleasure of closing up the release and does so in riveting style. It brings all the nastier, scuzzy qualities of the band’s sound out in appealing style but equally the richness of its charmed melodies and smouldering ambiences, all qualities of every song on the release. Here though they all seem to be given full rein to vent or seduce but within a tapestry of craft and invention which ensures it unites perfectly to perpetually beguile and thrill.

Without doubt Everything Popular Is Wrong is one of our favourite incitements of 2015 and hard to imagine it will not be yours too. There is of course only one way to know, so we suggest you go get some Deepshade down you.

Everything Popular Is Wrong is available digitally and on CD from September 25th via Ambicon Records through most online stores.

Pete RingMaster 24/09/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Dropper’s Neck – Nineteen|Sixteen

The Droppers Neck Promo shot_RingMaster Review

To date there has always been a licking of lips in anticipation of any new encounter with The Dropper’s Neck and each time so far they have rewarded with dark rock ’n’ roll which simply infests body and imagination. True to form the UK quintet has done it again with their Nineteen|Sixteen EP, the dirtiest, sludgiest, most aggressively provocative offering from the band yet, an aural proposal perfectly suited to and reflective of its lyrical theme. The EP is inspired by The Great War and takes the listener along with its protagonist into the initial ‘glamour’ and lure of conflict, through its fierce pestilence before leaving them in the stark aftermath which follows. This all comes with the familiar but ever evolving fusion of psych and noise rock, punk and psychobilly brewed by the band, and quite simply it is another ravishing treat from The Dropper’s Neck.

Formed in 2011, The Essex band quickly pricked attention and appetites with early songs and releases but it was debut album Second Coming which lit an acclaiming and hungry spotlight. Drawing on influences such as Gallows, Blood Brothers, Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster, Cancer Bats, Every Time I Die, and Dead Kennedys, band and album unleashed something familiar yet powerfully unique, a distinctiveness which has festered and blossomed through the incendiary single Line Me Up For The Firing Squad and now to stronger depths with Nineteen|Sixteen. The single was certainly a potent teaser for the EP, though in hindsight just one glimpse of the dark throes and adventures now uncaged.

The Dropper's neck Cover Artwork_RingMaster Review   The release opens with the scene setting 57,470, an intro thrusting ears and imagination right into the landscape of rifle fire, thunderous artillery, and fear soaked horses. It’s violently portentous hue leads into King & Country, a sonic bridge to the incoming bruising beats and ravenous riffs entangled in an invitingly spicy groove. Rousing and anthemic, the track is a sign up of ears and emotions as potent as the bait enticing the young men of the narrative. Already though there is a snarl and corrosive edge to the music, expulsions of vocal hostility from Lloyd Mathews aligning with his expected and great monotone laced delivery. Hard rock ‘n roll stirring up air and body, the track is a forceful incitement setting things in compelling motion.

Somme comes next, the rhythmic and anthemic overtones of its predecessor veining its initial coaxing whilst hooks and grooves are soaked in even sharper, almost venomous incitement. Striding with an Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster meets Engerica like warped swing and brawling with a caustic Cancer Bats/KEN mode like ferocity, the latter becoming more intensive in ears as the reality of the horror of war is opened up, the track is little less than deranged bestial contagion.

Its increasing hellacious presence makes way for the even more psychotic Line Me Up For The Firing Squad, the track a maelstrom of rabid sounds, scarring vocals, and blistering viciousness. Within its raw and merciless tempest though, grooves and rhythms create the addictive shuffle of bait and infectiousness renowned from the band, the bass of Jack Turner especially seductive at times within the muddy and humid atmosphere of the unforgiving blaze. Production across the release is raw and very often as cold as the soundscape being explored; an aspect some have offered as a slight flaw but it only adds to and represents the physical effect and filthy ambience of the ground the EP’s context is inspired by.

The thumping beats of drummer Jamie Abela trap and push ears into the scuzzy punk ‘n’ roll of 200 Volts next, the guitars of Chris Blake and George Barrows creating a creative antagonism of defiant riffs and provocative grooves respectively. The predatory spine of the song is a virulent enticing which sends searing flames of sonic fire and expels hardcore spawned vocal hostility from its sobering bait with increasing tenacity and rage. It is an abrasive storm exciting and scarring already bruised and tender senses, no respite coming with the outstanding contagiously toxic and inventively addictive Monster. The track swarms through ears and over the psyche with its rhythmic emprise and sonic nagging, its body as the previous encounter, a garage punk spawned dynamo of bracing angst and violent intoxication, and the best track on the release, though there are so many rivals such as the closing Stutter which rampages straight after. Everything about the song, from jabbing and military seeded beats to erosive riffs, vocal diversity to scything grooves, is sheer inventive and hostile virulence, rock ‘n’ roll to honour the dead and incite the darkness of horrors past.

With a bugle announcing the end of hostilities in hidden track The Eleventh Hour, the Nineteen | Sixteen EP comes to a haunting close leaving thoughts rife and satisfaction full. The release is not a history lesson but certainly it makes a provocative and striking proposal with its pungent theme whilst musically revealing another thrilling exploit from one of the UK’s most exciting bands.

The Nineteen | Sixteen EP is available from 13th July @ https://thedroppersneck.bandcamp.com/album/nineteen-sixteen

https://www.facebook.com/thedroppersneck

RingMaster 10/07/205

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Damn Vandals – Too Lazy To Die Too Stoned To Live/Cities Of A Plastic World

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Providing another irresistible taster and invitation to their widely acclaimed, album of the year contender Rocket Out Of London, UK psyche rockers Damn Vandals are unleashing a new double A-sided single. Comprised of two tracks distinctly different but deviously united in stealing the passions, the release is a ridiculously contagious and venomously caustic stomp. Both Too Lazy To Die Too Stoned To Live and Cities Of A Plastic World worm under the skin with compelling ingenuity and voracious enterprise, offering another inescapable temptation bred from a riveting brawl of garage punk infused with psyche and stoner rock from the London band. Quite simply it is punk infused rock ‘n’ roll at its most rigorously captivating and addictive.

Damn Vandals first gripped the passions with their Beautiful Mind EP, itself surpassed by debut album Done For Desire in 2012. Earlier this year the Julian Simmons (Midlake, Ed Sheeran, Guillemots, Goldheart Assembly) DE Ade Mulgrewproduced Rocket Out Of London set a new plateau for the band and template for emerging garage punk bands, the new single brings a stirring reminder with its sonic and deranged alchemy.

Both songs on the single provide a startling and magnetic scourge of unique sound and invention. Too Lazy To Die Too Stoned To Live makes an early vocal declaration before the track slips into a sultry and feverish stroll of melodic acidity and sonic expression. There is a sweet and sour twang to every slither of guitar incitement cast by Frank Pick whilst the bass of Adam Kilemore Gardens provides a throaty temptation which flirts with ears and imagination. Driven by the vibrant sinews of Chris Christianson’s beats and lorded over by the deliciously unique tones of Jack Kansas, the song finds a higher gear as it unleashes a captivating canter to its discord licked persuasion. Like Fatima Mansions meets Queens Of The Stone Age, with a flavoursome side dish of Engerica, the song is a glorious haunting of ears and passions.

   Cities Of A Plastic World breeds its own distinct veining of warped endeavour, a web of drama drenched sonic intrigue from the guitars aligning with jabbing beats for a delicious nagging on the senses and thoughts. A mischievous intimidation comes with the bass lures whilst vocally Kansas again parades the lyrical narrative with devious and raw expression whilst pure virulence soaks the dynamics and discord fuelled breath of the song. Complete with psychotic imagination to its rebellious nature, the track is one of the band’s finest moments to date.

If Damn Vandals has managed to escape the clutches of your attention then getting your teeth into the infectious heart of their new single is a must. Theirs is a sound which seduces and infests body relentlessly right through to emotions for the richest long lasting rewards; the twin temptation Too Lazy To Die Too Stoned To Live/Cities Of A Plastic World the perfect vehicle for their corruption of your soul.

Too Lazy To Die Too Stoned To Live/Cities Of A Plastic World is available on CD and digitally on iTunes and all major download sites from 22nd September.

www.damnvandals.co.uk

RingMaster 21/09/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Japanese Fighting Fish: Day Bombs

pic by Scot Salt.

pic by Scot Salt.

Ever since Just Before We Go MAD tantalised and teased the ear back in 2011, an eager soft spot for UK taunters Japanese Fighting Fish has been waiting patiently for the band to bring forth some more of their devilry to devour and lust quietly over. Now the Leeds hailing, London based quartet return with their second album Day Bombs and quite simply it far surpasses hopes and expectations bred during the wait. Consisting of ten unique and inventive temptations, the album is pure refreshment to the ear and the UK alternative rock scene, so much so that it is almost a swipe at the lack of ambition fuelling the efforts of so many other bands. Boldly adventurous and unashamedly refusing to conform, the release is a scintillating mischievous triumph and poised to steal album of the year awards.

With two of its members swimming away (sorry could not resist) to join a samba band in Brazil, the remaining pair of Karlost and Gareth Mochizuki Ellmer from watching ‘a documentary on how the Foo Fighters recorded their last album in what effectively was a high-end studio in Dave Grohl’s garage’, decided to go down the same road with this their second album. Using several ‘skuzzy’ garages in Leeds and London on limited funds, the band with Joe John Flannery and Phil Keating now enlisted, went to work creating Day Bombs, eventually shooting over to New York for its final mixing in a studio built in an old taxi repair shop by a friend of the album’s producer. The result is a masterpiece of imagination and contagious sonic belligerence crafted into one of the most riveting and expressive joys this year.

Whereas their debut  had a Latin temperament and carnivalesque vaunt to its theatre, Day Bombs unleashes a punk and noise rock clad 1069396_10153078929340226_618406295_nfire to its breath and sound, sinews and rhythmic enslaving as potent as the at times caustic but always tempting melodic flames which lick at senses and thoughts throughout the individual dramas. Vocalist Karlost returns with his expected one of a kind tone and delivery yet also has a greater control of its intent and flavoursome incitement.  From the moment opener Bloody Fingers starts tempting the ear with a dance of rhythmic enticement around a great throaty bass lure attention is alert and licking lips, especially once Karlost offers his almost theatrical delivery. Immediately the sense of something different is rife, the guitars riling against thoughts with hungry riffs whilst a sonic siren call flirts through the feisty surface and touch of the song. Firm without being aggressive and heavy without bludgeoning down doors it is an impressive and stirring introduction to the album.

Whereas there is a touch of Engerica and The Dropper’s Neck to the track the following He Doesn’t Know What He Wants walks in with a swagger not out of place on a Mike Patton composition. With electro kisses playing on the muscular yet respectful canvas and the bass especially gracious with its predatory voice, blazes of sonic fire and melodic raucousness stir the track into a sensational wash of creative knavery and primal seduction.

The two singles from the album approach to lay down their traps for the passions next. First up is the exceptional Greatest Escape with its Foo Fighters like whisper within a sinisterly romantic narrative, though whether it is supposed to have that menace we will have to learn. With a Slavic lilt to the band vocals and Cossack like bounce to its gait, the song is an irrepressible lead into the album for newcomers backed up just as potently by They Lie. Starting like Mud meets the Sex Pistols but soon unravelling its own form of diablerie as Karlost arguably for the first time on the album fully unveils his melodramatic mischief, the song is a gem and challenges He Doesn’t Know What He Wants as the pinnacle of the album. By its departure there is the shadowed roguery of an Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster adding extra pleasure and might to ensure you just need to have one more listen before moving on.

Both Flick The King and Ben stretch the album and passions further, the first with its discord laced sabre like riffs and mesmeric rhythms casting a rich hue around the ever enthralling vocals before they all unite into an infection causing stomp and its successor through a noir coloured venture of musical and lyrical intrigue and impossibly magnetic ingenuity, a noise driven Melvins or The Fat Dukes Of Fuck like bait adding extra flavour.

A Queens Of The Stone Age attitude and sultriness gently coaxes Legs to add more variation and exploration to its fertile trickery, song and vocals grazing and antagonising with resourceful inspiration whilst So Drunk And Wasted takes a louder essence of Homme and co with a touch of Therapy? into the overall maniacal brilliance of Day Bombs.

The Vandal Records release takes its leave with firstly the so–so Mister Mandolin, a gentle acoustic/vocal song which is so low in sound and production that it barely makes an impression sadly and the sizzling closer Senses. A burning furnace of noxious sonic intent and raw ear scorching intensity which almost suffocates the vocals of Karlost at times, it without finding the heights of the previous tracks is still a tempest of a conclusion to a simply cracking release.

If you were won over by Just Before We Go MAD, you will pee your panties as Day Bombs makes that victory seem barely an appetiser to this sensational alchemy.

http://www.japanesefightingfish.co.uk/

9.5/10

RingMaster 05/09/2013

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