Eat Dirt – Death Is Death

Emerging in 2016, it is fair to say that UK punks Eat Dirt had us fully aroused within a year through their uncompromising exploits within a self-titled debut EP. Annoyingly a subsequent EP managed to evade us but now the band’s first album has descended on our radar and once more their particular riot, defiance, and anger has us fired up.

Death Is Death is an uncompromising roar of dissent fuelled hardcore lined punk rock; an angry trespass bursting with the frustration and ire not forgetting punk goodness which marked that first encounter with Eat Dirt. Yet it has its own character of sound and flavour, one the band admits is inspired by the “Epitaph Records 1990s roster and the Tony Hawks Pro Skater soundtrack.” Across its fourteen swift assaults on ears and its predominant themes of death, the album bites and incites as it violently stirs and infectiously arouses; numerous textures and styles keenly embraced in its punk bred ferocity. It makes for a release which is quickly recognisably Eat Dirt but with an element of unpredictability which keeps you on your toes and the band as one of British punk’s compelling protagonists.

With only a few of its tracks reaching the two minute mark, Death Is Death swooped by in no time but provided twenty five minutes or so of undiluted vitriolic pleasure starting with opener Make Peace.  Instantly a crazed infection loaded hook gripped ears with rhythms soon bitch slapping the senses as vocals hollered with equally contagious enterprise and aggression. Instantly with an Eat Dirt song you realise there are no frills involved, no tricks or deceits, just passion and aggression from a true punk heart but it does not mean they lack the cutest hooks or devious enterprise; the album’s first fury soaked incursion outstanding proof.

Almost before the listener can take a second breath, the brilliant starter shoots off and Worms Of The Earth bursts in. Its machine gun rally of rhythms splintering bone as guitars wire their incendiary intent around the fragments; the song quickly unleashing its own feral demands and ferocity. A whiff of Gallows and early Bronx infests the tempest, manipulative antics just as prevalent as the assault rivals its predecessor in firing up its victim before the multi-flavoured Come And See steps forward to tease with a lone guitar lure. Appetite for its coaxing is soon rewarded by a senses stalking wall of sound and vocal causticity, the track continuing to hound ears rather than savage them to fine effect.

Moribund swings its fists next but every raging blow is wrapped in melodic almost pop punk incited catchiness while the album’s title track revs up its engines to prowl and ravage ears with its punk metal/hardcore inflamed hostility straight after. Anthemic in its rancour and inventively crafted hook equipped design, there was no escaping breeding a lusty appetite, one just as easily held by the following pair of Punk Rock Con and Dog. The first is a punk ‘n’ roll assail of riffs and rhythms, each as barbarous as the next as they stirred up emotions and participation while its successor picked at the remains left by the first with rapacious rhythmic teeth and sonic toxicity around vocal dissonance, melody nurtured hooks only accentuating the reed sparking punishment.

The opening rhythmic shuffle of Night Terrors quickly foraged under the skin as the album continued to impress, the song swiftly building on its infestation with its virulent swing and punk clamour; The Beast emulating its prowess with its own contagion loaded collusion of punk and rock ‘n’ roll exploits before Bones uncaged scars and venom within its similarly involving punk contamination. All three left greed for more in their wake even if maybe they did not quite inflame the senses as numerous predecessors within Death Is Death.

The album’s final quartet of tracks ensured its stirring standards were just as high and potent, Out of The Fire rampaging with almost salacious hostility and emotive discord with Ballad in turn spurting tension through its creative nostrils as jarring rhythms align with harmonic lures and almost carnal enterprise.

As the physical punk ‘n’ roll carousing and vocal inciting of Spend Your Life and the cunningly infectious Pull Out brought it to a thrilling close, the final track especially irresistible, Death Is Death simply demanded and got the quick decision to go all over again. It is one of those albums which proved really hard to tear oneself away from; Eat Dirt once more proving themselves as one formidable and fiercely enjoyable lawless uproar.

Death Is Death is out June 2nd via Bearded Punk Records; available @ https://eatdirt.bigcartel.com/product/death-is-death-pre-order

 

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Pete RingMaster 01/06/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Rancid – Honor Is All We Know

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It is approaching six years since Rancid unleashed their last album Let The Dominoes Fall but the wait for another provocation individual to the band is now over with Honor Is All We Know. The California quartet has sculpted a presence truly unique within an intensive and expansive punk scene, and it is that sound and invention which again fuels the new release. A greatly satisfying and undemanding stomp, Honor Is All We Know is quite simply what Rancid does best; creating short stabs of contagious incitements which hit home lyrically and musically, punk and ska entwined in mini provocations.

Upon the fourteen track stomp, the band seems to revisit old times from across their years though they are certainly also mixing it with fresh attitude and energy. It is fair to say that surprises are low and familiarity high, resulting in a typical yet virulently addictive slab of sonic Rancid bred prosperity for ears and emotions. Expect some raising dissatisfaction at its almost ‘safe’ rioting in sound but fans will definitely and greedily lap it up whilst it is easy to see uninitiated pop punk fans making the leap into the bosom of one of modern punk’s founding fathers.

Released via Hellcat Records and produced by Bad Religion’s Brett Gurewitz, Honor Is All We Know instantly has feet and emotions alive with Back Where I Belong, a prize bull of Rancid incitement which roars and sonically squalls through ears. Guitarist/vocalist Tim Armstrong straight away stands tall and distinct in the infectious brawl whilst the bass lure of Matt Freeman pulsates with its similarly additive bait. Everything about the track is prime Rancid, the beats of Branden Steineckert insatiable whilst Lars Frederiksen also flares and sizzles on guitar and vocals, and whilst it feeds expectations there is nothing at play in the song to leave an already established appetite unfulfilled.

The following Raise Your Fist strolls in on a dark bassline whilst guitars layer caustic glazes of temptation. It soon settles into an imposing and unfussy stride, beats and vocals driving the raw punk tone and attitude of the track. Employing a healthy dose of oi to its again recognisable minimalistic landscape, the song also flirts with melodic scenery but it is just added colour to a rugged anthem which is matched by the fiery enticing of Collision Course. There is a feel of the band’s Let’s Go moment in time to the song linked to a Transplants spawned causticity, both uniting for another unavoidable anthemic persuasion which has body, voice, and hunger heavily involved.

Evil’s My Friend leaps in next with ska bent hips and riffs twisting and enticing respectively, keys just as flirty as guitars whilst the bass saunters and seduces with throaty temptation. The song is one inexhaustible bounce, its irrepressible energy and melodic irreverence pop/ska punk a contagious treat recalling the pinnacles of Armstrong’s solo album A Poet’s Life.

Both the title track and A Power Inside pound ears and imagination with raw riffing and pungent rhythms aligned to melodic and cantankerous enterprise. The first is a senses grazing slice of punk ‘n’ roll loaded with bruising antagonism whilst the second is a muscular yet easy going call to arms with infectiousness as insatiable as the plague. It also, around a delicious flaming of sonic endeavour, finds the band at its rawest and almost unruly in vocals and presence, lifting a good song to greater success before the aggravated intimidation of In The Streets snarls over ears      with its heavier rock intimidation. The track like many hits the spot without setting a blaze but still provides full enjoyment before the snarly dance of Face Up pushes up the ante again. With a sizzling melodic lilt to the guitar’s enterprise and thumping predation to rhythms courted by another binding bassline, the song has that familiar Rancid devilment and prowl which is maybe predictable but inescapable.

The raging hostility of Already Dead provides the next barracking, its spaghetti western climate over a ferocious canvas of antagonistic vocals and riled riffing speared by a devil spawned heavy bassline. The song is a riveting croon which does spread into new terrain for the band in some ways before the rhythm slinging, riff growling stomp of Diabolical grabs its moment in the spotlight. The track enslaves within seconds, never relinquishing its forceful devilry until the pop and sixties garage rock brew of Malfunction leaps upon the passions, it an irresistible hop of sound and energy with the flaming hues of keys as potent as the duelling vocals and cheek slapping beats of Steineckert.

The angry, busy barracking of Now We’re Through With You kicks up a bruising provocation next, its presence a senses tramping bitch slap of a treat whilst Everybody’s Sufferin’ slips into ska flirtation for a glorious two-tone shuffle which instantly makes subservient slaves of feet and emotions. Both tracks leave ears and appetite full but are surpassed by the closing triumph of Grave Digger, a quarrelling slice of street punk which has no excess to its lean confrontation but offers a fat anthemic lure which lingers as it brings the album to a mighty end.

It is hard to make claims that Honor Is All We Know is bringing anything truly new from the band and difficult to be convinced that it can convert those aware but not already enamoured with the band into their fold, but for a rigorously enjoyable assault of Rancid punk rock, it is another richly appetising scrap.

Honor Is All We Know is available from October 27th via Hellcat/Epitaph Records.

http://www.rancidrancid.com

RingMaster 27/10/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Menzingers – On The Impossible Past

As much as the likes of Bad Religion and Brand New continue to create essential punk sounds and offer insightful thoughts and incisive with their releases there seems to be a reached pinnacle. Their new material always engages and pleases but the element of surprise or boundary stretching has diminished, they are not predictable but you know pretty much what you are going to get. With Philadelphia-based punk rock band The Menzingers, though they bring a blend and attitude that incorporates elements of both bands they infuse it into their own heart spawn sensibility and fresh energy to give a variable and distinct engagement to light up the senses, something their influences used to do but now seem less able to.

The Philadelphia based quartet of Tom May, Joe Godino, Eric Keen, and Greg Barnett release their third album and their debut on Epitaph Records, in the expressive shape of On The Impossible Past on February 20th. Their previous two albums, released via small indie labels, gathered strong acclaim as did their dynamic lives shows and supports for the likes of Anti Flag and Against Me! All this led them to the attention of Epitaph founder and President Brett Gurewitz who has commented about The Menzingers that “These guys play the kind of pure punk rock that I grew up with. They are seriously talented songwriters and I’m happy to welcome them to the Epitaph family. “He is not far wrong about the band being talented songwriters as the songs that bristle and grab attention within On The Impossible Past are insightful, emotive and easily register on a formidable personal level.

The album does not attach itself with easy to digest hooks and obvious simple melodies but eases its way deeper through personal, reflective and emotive understanding that one can relate to instantly. The album saunters in on the opening subdued mix of guitar and voice at the beginning of  ‘Good Things’ before bursting into a strident clash of guitar and raised emotive vocal delivery from May. As the whole album proves to be, the song hits home without thrills and spills, a direct and compact piece of good punk rock that lets its energy and attitude give all the impressive enjoyment. It carries a combined Bad Religion and Stiff Little Fingers mix that is far more satisfying than the pop influenced flavours that come as part and parcel of most contemporary punk sounds.

This is not to say The Menzingers neglect or ignore melodies and pop accessibility as tracks like the inspiring ‘Burn After Writing’ and the brilliant ‘Gates ‘show. These songs swing upon the ear with ease and instantaneous appeal but are well crafted with defined skill and creativity a strong feature of the band’s music. The latter of the two is a wonderfully written and crafted song, a track that relates on many layers and lingers emotionally and aurally after its departure, helped not only by the emotive melodies and lyrical intent but also the vocals from Barnett. It is a song that epitomizes the bands passion and ability to touch the listener far deeper than the ear.

It is impossible to point out a weak song upon the album, and whether their music or release works for you or not there is no denying the skilful and cultured song writing on show. The album is also one of those rarities that is not only has an immediate attraction and lure but evolves into a stronger and more inspired release the more one shares  time with it. For all its high consistency though some tracks really stand out. ‘The Obituaries’ is a raucous anthemic track with scorched melodies, driven riffs, and an emotion that all can relate to. It is one of those tracks that you cannot resist joining in with no matter how much you try but the difference here it is not just a chant song, its passion to the fore throughout making it a special treat.

Songs like the stunning ‘Sun Hotel’ that carries a Midnight Oil feel at their bitter best and the irresistible ‘I Can’t Seem To Tell’ are of equal quality and take the album into essential listening territory all on their own. The second of these two is an amazing concoction of discordant acidic riffs and melodies, eager rhythms, and a moody bassline to drool over, a classic.

On The Impossible Past is one of the best punk albums heard in a long time and a refreshing and satisfying alternative to the easy and at times heartless pop punk that fills the genre currently. That is what The Menzingers have to their music, heart and that makes for a release that should have your attention.

Ringmaster 03/02/2012

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