Saint Apache – Wolf Machine

The suggestion of a bold new roar within the British alternative rock scene came with a self-titled debut EP last year, now Eastbourne hailing quartet Saint Apache confirm their potent emergence with its ear grabbing, spirit sparking successor. Wolf Machine is a blaze of muscular and tenacious multi-flavoured rock ‘n’ roll, a proposition often as bruising as it is rousing taking the potential of their first encounter to new creatively accomplished and energetically hungry heights.

Formed in 2015, Saint Apache weave their blaze of sound with an array of influences said to include the likes of Every Time I Die, Buckcherry, and Rage Against The Machine. It is a fiery mix with a volatility of thought and intensity which catches the imagination with ease within Wolf Machine. As mentioned, their debut EP was a potent opening encounter with the band; a promise fuelled introduction swiftly pushed and eclipsed by the rapacious presence of their new creative challenge.

The release opens up with a richly enticing hook; You’re Not A Slave instantly laying down a rich scuzzy lure quickly joined by imposing riffs and thumping rhythms. The equally compelling tones of vocalist Thom Meredith soon roar from within the magnetic nagging tide of sound, Saint Apache stirring up the senses and spirit with persistent and boisterous enterprise. Familiar and fresh hues collude within the fire, unpredictability brewing and grabbing its moment as the track slips into a restrained passage with post punk and invention nurtured twists dancing on the ears. The guitar of Leo casts a tapestry of endeavour and imagination, every second a web of hooks, grooves, and spikiness matched by vocals and the rhythmic predation of drummer Adam Oarton and bassist Luis T.

It is a tremendous start to the release, stoner and heavy rock mixing with punkier intentions and continuing to unite their elements within the following exploits of The Story Doesn’t End Here. The wiry tendrils and fuzzy breath of the guitar brings in a psych/stoner-esque smog, grooves shooting from its midst with again a recognisable yet invigorating character. The growling tone of the bass is a physical addiction all on its own, with an irritable presence just as enticing within Meredith’s vocals and snarling lyrical expression. Rage Against The Machine essences within the first song are a thick spice within the second, giving its swagger thicker liquor to intoxicate the listener with.

Halfway Dead similarly weaves a trap of closely acquainted grooves and hooks for the appetite but again with a tenacity and enterprise which has ears and bodies greedy and bouncing. As with all tracks, it is hard to say that originality is an overpowering essence yet in the bold and craft sharing hands of the band, everything comes in an unworn design and with unique nature. Previously mentioned inspirations again can be grabbed from the track but equally there is something of bands like Damn Vandals and Turbonegro to the raw and virulent attack.

The EP’s title track brings things to a close offering a drama coated, intensity loaded temptation from its first breath which may lose some of its threat as things ‘calm’ a touch and vocals become entangled in spicily wiry grooves but never loses its intrusive touch or creative appetite within its thrilling attitude loaded incitement. It is a gripping end to a continually galvanic proposition hard to find anything other than real pleasure with.

The Wolf Machine EP is audacious and impulsive in character and sound if admittedly not so much in major originality but even there the seeds are openly being sown and bred within its four songs for blossoming further down the line. Saint Apache is ready to make their mark and if Wolf Machine is a hint to the things to come, bring it on.

Wolf Machine is out now across most stores.

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Pete RingMaster 25/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Eat Dirt – Self Titled EP

Punk rock has lost much of the anger it first set sail with back in ’77; certainly it is not as audible or open with modern bands seemingly worried more about, dare we say,  accomplished traits in their sound than their inspiring and rousing ire driven counterparts of yesteryear. One exception though is ‘Pissed Off Punk Rock Collective’ Eat Dirt, an outfit which has unleashed one of the irritable treats of the year in the shape of a self-titled debut EP. It is raw and uncompromising, belligerent and angry offering bringing a quartet of raging roars which yes are also skilfully crafted.

Forming in late 2016, Eat Dirt is the coming together of members of previously of well-established UK acts, putting “their frustrations with real life together.” From within its mysterious ranks, one of the band has admitted, “I’d given up on music. I wasn’t really angry enough. I had nothing to sing about anymore. Then the whole Brexit thing happened. I’m mad at people. I’m mad at the world around me. As a group, we need to vent. EAT DIRT is that release.

With inspirations drawn from the likes of The Bronx, Every Time I Die, Gallows, and Comeback Kid, Eat Dirt get right down to business with the EP’s thirty odd seconds title track. Instantly a wall of riffs and rhythms descend on ears, vocal scowling in their tow before a raucous stroll is in place. The unrelenting caustic attack is tempered by mellower backing vocals, their child nurtured ganging up as infectious as the brief but still eventful, hook lined proposal.

The great start is matched by the antagonistic prowl of Pigs. A call to arms littered with its own irresistible punk hooks, many old school bred, the track snarls and vents within an equally rousing web of guitars and rhythmic incitement. There are no frills, no unnecessary detours, just raging rock ‘n’ roll making its forceful point but with the imagination to leave ears hooked and spirits aroused.

48. follows swiftly after, the song badgering fifty seconds of fury and furious hardcore punk rock like a mix of Angelic Upstarts and Sick Of It All to again ignite the instincts and passions before Dead brings it all to a close with its contagious escapade. Almost flirtatious in comparison to its companions, the track has an anthemic catchiness and vocalised swing further continued in its hooks and swagger. There is no escaping bouncing bodies and swerving hips breaking out to its roar or a rising irritability with life alongside its own biting incite.

The track is a glorious end to a release which has the passions for not only punk rock but music itself alive and ready to snarl. The Eat Dirt EP is a defiance driven punk fuelled treat which we truly hope is just the first of many from its creators.

The Eat Dirt EP is available now as a free download @ https://eatdirtuk.bandcamp.com/releases

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Pete RingMaster 11/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

American Standards – Anti-Melody

Pic Jacob Reynolds

What started as social commentary on the growing divide in our society became very personal when our founding guitarist (Cody Conrad) passed of suicide and then soon after, my father of cancer. We went back in to re-write much of the album and in a lot of ways used it as therapy to cope with the experiences. Although intimate, at its core Anti-Melody is centred around the universal theme of separation on many levels.

The words of American Standards vocalist, Brandon Kellum, reveal the heavy climate and emotion new album Anti-Melody emerged from. Equally though you sense there was a determination in its creation to make it something special in tribute to the two men and there is no doubt that it was an aim the Phoenix hailing band achieved. The eight track is superb, a new plateau in the chaotic hardcore/noise punk sound and invention of the quartet. It is raw with emotion and energy, vocal in heart and aggression but all aligned to the boldest imagination and biggest step forward in sound from the outfit yet.

Since emerging in 2011 and providing the attention grabbing, psyche twisting Still Life EP the following year, American Standards has only increased their reputation through another pair of EPs and an explosive live presence which has seen the band play alongside the likes of Every Time I Die, Norma Jean, The Dillinger Escape Plan amidst plenty more. Each release has seen the band explore new depths and aspects to their sound but maybe no more boldly and certainly impressively than within Anti-Melody.

The album opens with recent single Writers Block Party and instantly stirs up a roar of trouble and temptation. The vocal ferocity of Kellum triggers a tempest of sound, the guitar of Corey Skowronski abrasing the senses with rapacious riffs bound in tendrils of tangy grooves. That alone is a hellacious affair but add the belligerent bassline of Steven Mandell and Mitch Hosier’s vicious beats and it is a full-on accosting of ears. Equally though, it provides a virulent contagion of hungry hooks and inventive twists, all unpredictable and imaginatively leaping around with sonic Saint Vitus Dance.

Something akin to Norwegian band Shevils, the track ensures eager attention is locked in and ready to be plundered by next up Carpe Diem, Tomorrow. Just as keen to ravage the senses, it uses a compelling tangy groove as its lure, winding it around ears as inner attitude boils and festers fuelling the rhythmic antagonism and sonic web shaping the fiercely magnetic track.

Church Burner twists harmonic dexterity into its own fevered clamour, compelling contrasts blending as the track creates an individual tapestry of instinctive challenges and tantalising enterprise to match and at times outshine its predecessors before Bartenders Without Wings steps forward from a less forceful introduction. As Kellum’s heart pours emotion, melodic expression soaks the guitar, that raw energy and emotive power continuing to line every aspect of the powerful encounter. It is a creative and emotional outpouring which captivates in a completely different way to those before it but just as potently with its own open turmoil.

The ferocious untethered turbulence of Danger Music #9 bursts free next, its sonic ire flowing through another tapestry of unpredictability and imagination driven trespasses of the senses while CancerEater boils and vents in its cauldron of punk forged, noise infested animosity. Even when a track is raging within Anti-Melody, it shows a tenacity of invention and devilment, traits the song revels in as much as any around it.

Both imposingly enjoyable encounters are subsequently eclipsed by Broken Culture. With its swinging groove and boisterous percussive bait, the song needs mere seconds to enslave especially when the bass groans with irritable intent. The combined enterprise unveiled unites in a devilish swagger quickly stood astride by Kellum’s vocal confrontation, that irritability infesting all except a delicious breath of melodic and harmonic seduction which steals its own few seconds of major persuasion. With a controlled yet tempestuously volatile nature, the song continues to tease and harass the senses, treating them to a whole new American Standards adventure for the album’s best track.

The release comes to a close with the crabby crawl of Chicago Overcoat, a rapacious consuming of ears with instinctive liveliness to its energy and choleric design. It is a striking end to easily the finest thing to escape American Standards. The band has never been slow in providing memorable and stirring encounters but Anti-Melody is their most complete yet, a hungrily inventive proposal and easy to suggest the key to greater recognition.

Anti-Melody is available now @ https://americanstndrds.bandcamp.com/album/anti-melody

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Pete RingMaster 02/05/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Gnarwolf – II

Photo credit: Scott W. Coleman

Not to be confused with the equally fine British hardcore band Gnarwolves, Gnarwolf is a primal roar from Texas whose snarl is also hardcore bred and demandingly distinct. The Austin hailing foursome of Andy, Trent, Steven, and Polo are about to release their second EP, II. Like its title, musically the band gets to the point without fuss. There is no beating around the bush in sound and intent, just raw and intensive examinations of the senses and emotions; a trespass which is merciless, abrasive, and increasingly tasty.

There is no mistaking the admitted influence of bands such as Every Time I Die, Norma Jean, and The Chariot in the Gnarwolf sound, essences which fuelled last year’s debut EP. Abandon was a formidable introduction to the band and it seems quickly picked up a whole new flood of fans the way of the quartet. It is success easy to imagine II finding as a bare minimum. There is a new wealth of inventive hostility and unpredictable imagination to their sophomore release without defusing any of the venomous causticity and cacophony of antagonism which enhanced its predecessor, as well as the potential of even bolder things nestling in its stirring body.

It starts with Harold: The Hero where straight away beats rap at the door before ravenous metal seeded riffs and senses slamming beats join throat scarring spite flavoured vocals in breaking through the defences. It is an instant punk roar to get off on, the technical dance of the guitars enhancing rather than distracting from the instinctive belligerent holler. That unpredictability is already at play, adding an almost schizophrenic hue to the dirty frenzy gripping ears and a quickly awoken appetite.

Its persuasive challenge is followed by that of Jessie: The Sheriff, an even more agitated and concussive affair veined by toxically spicy grooves and mixed vocal uproar. For a minute and a half it bullies, ravages, and invigorates body and satisfaction, hitting the sweet spot in noisy discontent and ferocity before Mr. And Mrs Jenkins: The Mayor And His Wife unleashes its own infectiously irritable clamour of sound and heart where sonic ire twists and turns with increasing corrosive seduction.

Anne: The Widow entwines ears in its own intoxicating but fearsome hooks next; the flirtation of a citric melody quickly accompanied by vocal exasperation and in turn a gloriously predatory bassline. It all merges into something harsher and filthier within a few more seconds, a brawling cloud of ill-content eventually losing its shape as that first sonic lure frees itself again with vocal harmonics as raw as they are warmly enticing in tow. The song is pure captivation eventually leaving lingering wounds on emotionally and sonically scoured flesh and senses.

From there Hector: The Foreigner simply throws its mordant might at the listener, guitars and vocals a scalding scourge as rhythms prowl with their own dark intent. For personal tastes, some of the twists do not come off as well as elsewhere within the release but are fleeting moments in another highly bracing and pleasurable assault.

The EP concludes with The Dodge Brothers: The Cowboys, a maelstrom of spiralling guitar incitement, rhythmic blitzing, and vocal acrimony but also a theatre of melody woven drama as keys court thoughts and emotions from within the turmoil to brew a haunting epilogue.

There seems to be an exciting wave of noise-mongers emerging right now, new and those finally seeing some attention from their place within the underground. Gnarwolf seal their place to the fore of that outbreak with II, a release as punk and metal as it is noise and hardcore, and more and more one thrilling invasion of the psyche.

The II EP is released April 8th.

For more info check out…

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Pete RingMaster 31/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Czar – Life Is No Way To Treat An Animal

cover-front_RingMasterReview

Finding something which stands out from the crowd let alone presents something truly unique gets harder and harder but Czar and their new album Life Is No Way To Treat An Animal easily tick both boxes. Creating a compelling experimental, bordering on psychotic, brew of sound bred in the raw essences of anything from progressive metal, hardcore, and grind to mathcore, post punk and more, all woven with avant-garde tendencies, the Tacoma, Washington based Czar infest ears and infect the psyche with relish. Certainly it is a challenge not all will take to, yet every intrusive assault, off-kilter trespass found within their album has an instinctive infectiousness which rewards as it devours. Like a mix of Dillinger Escape Plan, Mr. Bungle, and Psyopus, yet as suggested creating its own individual character, sound and indeed Life Is No Way To Treat An Animal is one of those times when you really feel something special is in the making.

The album makes a subdued entrance with the beginning of Owls, etc; electronic throbs and melodic coaxing a minimalistic but potent lure. Soon the enjoyably strained and captivating tones of vocalist Dr. Landon Jared Wonser join in with lively beats and a brooding bassline alongside. The track is still restrained but smouldering greater volatility in its belly. With the funk of Red Hot Chili Peppers and the progressive lilt of The Fall of Troy laced into its Every Time I Die like swing, the song never does explode and only benefits from that teasing of expectations for a thrilling start to the release.

Too Many Yetis quickly follows; its agitated heart and enterprise a caustic invasion as the guitar of Nicholas J. McManus drizzles sonic psychosis upon the rhythmic battering of drummer David Joseph Dorran Jr. and Peter Joseph Ruff’s throbbing bass meandering. Its brief but potent escapade further whets an already awoken appetite before Arachnochondriac casts its unhinged waltz on the senses, guitars a web of irrational melody and bass a roaming grumble as the keys of Christopher Duenas intensely sizzle. It is a frenzied ear twisting affair as magnetic as those before it with its unstable yet skilfully nurtured trespass.

Antelope Mask steps to the fore next, it’s extremely short hunt the perfect appetiser for Beware the Flies, Orestes and its unleashing of a post punk woven landscape littered with cold stabbing riffs, steely grooves, and vocal predation. The eye of its tempest sees keys sharing a classical beauty as harmonies float behind the corrosive squalls of Wonser, the combination as riveting as it is enjoyably testing as it leads ears into the Latin kissed melodic festivity of Vultures Never Eat In Peace. This is a hot bed of unpredictability and cracked emotional turbulence hugged by the toxic sonic craft of guitar and the perpetual imposing enticement of rhythms; drama soaking every twist, sinister deceit each throat spewed syllable.

With a psychedelic lining, The Worm Enters the Moon prowls the listener next, its theatre of sound and imagination sharing attributes found in UK band Japanese Fighting Fish and indeed Dillinger Escape Plan. The open variety of the flavours making up the band’s sound and individual songs is already clear and only reinforced by Canine, No Eyes Just Teeth, spoken word nestling in raw lo-fi sound and straight after the ferocious punk and metal bedlam of Shark Cancer, a track suffocating and igniting the senses simultaneously. Its mordant assault is then matched by that of The Golden Calf, its breath scathing and touch scalding yet equally captivating as it fluidly shifts from venomous pattern to corrosive irritability; and even when the movement is more of a clunky sidestep it works perfectly.

Through the creative surf hued snare of Mister Reindeer and the melodic calm of Domesticated Wolves, ears and imagination are effortlessly reeled in with the rest of the body disturbed into compliance by the predatory jazz infested mania of the exceptional first and the poetic serenade of the second. That track is an oasis in the certifiable invention and nature of the album, a gripping dementia fuelling the crumbling climate and emotional erosion of You Were a Comatose Lion and in turn the jazzily bipolar Wine Hog, both revealing an array of crazed facets to their attention demanding personalities.

So often a nineteen track release is sharing a filler or four along the way but there is no such moment within Life Is No Way To Treat An Animal, the celestially bent x̌ʷiqʷadiʔ provoking grateful reactions while Blind Mice provides a bewitching espionage of twisted enterprise and haunted frenzy with interruptions of dark repose with their successors in Prawn and after that RxABBITS invasively exploring and stretching the psyche respectively. The later of the songs is especially striking with its incendiary fusion of raw and composed sonic belligerence.

Concluded by the minimalistic lure of Taking Roadkill to the Vet, a track warming up to the task of seducing the listener with sonic malignancy through every second of its low key but haunting  electronically spun three minutes,  Life Is No Way To Treat An Animal is a rare gem as creatively murderous as it is formidably tempting. Czar themselves are a fresh breath which you will not have to go searching for; their music and talent will do the hunting.

Life Is No Way To Treat An Animal is out now @ https://czar.bandcamp.com/album/life-is-no-way-to-treat-an-animal

http://czarband.com/   https://www.facebook.com/czartheband

Pete RingMaster 08/02/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dead Hands – Nobody Exists on Purpose EP

thumbnail_ep-cover_RingMasterReview

Just over a year ago, we were taken by and aback by the noise infested fury of British band Sexwolf! and their debut release, the Hangin’ With The Boys EP. Our submission to their senses devouring sound was followed by their demise in the first half of this year. It was a frustration though quickly replaced by intrigue as three quarters of the band, linking up with one half of fellow Midlanders A Werewolf and a second guitarist, emerged as Dead Hands. They have just released debut EP Nobody Exists on Purpose and fair to say any gap left by the loss of one band has been more than filled by a new encounter which sears ears as it excites them.

Creating a maelstrom of fiercely infectious noise from texture reaped from the likes of mathcore, hardcore, grind, and numerous other punk and metal based savagery, Dead Hands have taken little time to stir up attention and it is easy to hear why with Nobody Exists on Purpose. The six track violation is an irritable tempest of abrasive sound and toe curling intensity delivered through an invasion of twisted hooks and demented grooves within a sonic savaging fuelled by some viciously catchy enterprise. It is merciless, at times painfully inhospitable, and constantly a joyously addictive abuse of body and senses.

It all starts with the band’s recent acclaimed single Open Bracket. Straight away guitars are squirting sonic toxicity, tangy riffs soon joined by the heavy insatiable rumble of bass and the scything viciousness of drummer Jenks’ rhythms. It is intensive furious stuff just as infectious as it is barbarous with Richard Phillips spilling his lyrical and vocal venom into the compelling mix. All the flavours mentioned above and more are in open sight within the furious turbulence, all adding to the thick lure of the track.

It is a sign of things to come within the EP, the following Elephants Crush People just as crabby and uncompromising and just as fascinatingly littered with unpredictable trespasses, inventively virulent hooks, and ear catching twists. A mix of The Chariot, Every Time I Die, and Dillinger Escape Plan is an obvious but maybe closest equivalent to the Dead Hands roar with additional Cancer Bats/Brutal Truth hostility.

Diving Board (Jack Christ-Ho) instantly and fractiously devours and punishes while gripping the appetite with more virulently contagious enterprise, it all springing from the Jenk’s initial rolling rhythms. Guitarists Niall Jones and Dabby Gough in turn lay their creative snares, further unavoidable traps as the song overwhelms and sparks body and mind into lustful responses. Of course this is not going to be for everyone but if noise does not annoy but inspires than Dead Hands have the ability to raise the strongest ardour through songs like this and its successor Buck Angel’s Challenging Movies. Arguably the catchiest proposal within the release, the track is a quarrelsome stomp led by the deliciously testy tone and grooves of Daniel San Mogg’s bass, its truculence matched by that of the guitars and vocals. Moments of calmer, post punk lined imagination only adds to the thrilling character of the song, the pinnacle of the EP with ease.

The closing pair of 7 Days (of Craig David) and Close Bracketté finish off Nobody Exists on Purpose, the first a mouth-watering ear plundering wall of heart bled enmity and sonic rancor while the last blasts and tangles ears in a tetchily red-blooded incursion of technical and emotional fury. Both tracks also come equipped with even bolder invention and experimentation and it is no coincidence that as each song gets braver the EP only gets stronger and more irresistible ending on a rousing high.

 Nobody Exists on Purpose is superb, a triumph in many ways with its seeds in the previous exploits of Dead Hand members but blossoming into not only something totally new to them but distinct to pretty much anything else out there. It is a must!

The Nobody Exists on Purpose EP is out now @ https://deadhandsband.bandcamp.com/releases

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Pete RingMaster 14/10/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Massacres – Brutus

Massacres Promo Shot_RingMaster Review

With a sound that does a fair job on the senses replicating the suggestiveness of their name, UK hardcore quartet Massacres have announced their introduction in ferocious and heftily enjoyable style with debut EP Brutus. The four-track fury is a merciless tempest of hardcore antagonism and belligerence loaded with punk rock hooks and a rock ‘n’ roll breeding which just compels ears and incites the body. Bolder things may be heard this year but for thoroughly exhilarating and fresh imaginative hostility, Massacres hits the floor running with Brutus.

Formed in the Spring of 2015, Massacres swiftly set about creating a collection of ravenous tracks before unleashing them on the live scene to increasingly fevered and acclaiming responses. Soon references were understandably offered to the likes of Every Time I Die, John Coffey, Pissed Jeans, and Cancer Bats; spices easy to bring up whilst listening to Brutus which the band began working on last summer. Uniting in Stakeout Studio with producer Jason Wilson (Reuben, Fightstar, The Ghost Of A Thousand), the London quartet emerged with an EP that barges into ears, bullies the senses, and ignites a keen appetite for more.

Massacres Cover Artwork_RingMaster ReviewOne Of The Boys launches at ears first, a nagging sonic scything from the strings of guitarist Kris Mayzee colluding with the similarly stabbing vocal spikes of Dave Rogers as the track gets a foothold in the psyche straight away. Soon venomously prowling the senses with urgency and grouchy invention, bruising intensity and burrowing hooks aligning for a potent lure, the song irritably stomps like a mix of Every Time I Die and Reuben with the additional animosity of Cancer Bats yet equally Norwegian band Shevils and British noise fiends The St Pierre Snake Invasion are nudged into thoughts to describe the predominantly individual flavour of the song and indeed subsequent release.

It is a rousing and increasingly addictive offering powerfully backed by the rawer viciousness of Death Knell. Again hooks and grooves are a persistent tonic in the volatile climate and character of the track; grooves especially spicy and insatiably alluring as they wind around the pleasing vocal variety shown by Rogers. The bass of Martin Walker is a bestial incitement, though it too develops an irresistible swing at times as it bridges the scorching temptation of guitars and the insistent brutality of Andy Sartori’s rhythmic swings.

New single Everything I Want To Do Is Illegal rages next; exploding off of a singular tendril of guitar bait with robust rhythms, fiery grooves, and the uncompromising emotive squalls of Rogers. As Max Raptor like infectious as it is The Ghost of A Thousand like choleric, the track is a dynamo of energy, hook loaded enticement, and unbridled emotion with the band giving their virulent all in craft and arousing intensity.

To The Victor, The Spoils brings the release to a close by crowding in on ears with a controlled barrage of predatory rhythms and vocal crabbiness amidst intrusive sonic enterprise. Within the stormy confrontation though, kinder melodies hang in the shadows where equally a catchy gait lurks, both waiting to escape the combative swell of sound and discontent. It is a intent that never occurs as such but all the time they add inescapable imagination to the unforgiving animus of the song.

Brutus is a strong and, more importantly, thoroughly riveting entrance by Massacres on the UK hardcore scene, an area of ferocious rock ‘n’ roll easy to see the band growing to be a driving force of if they fulfil their potential.

The Brutus EP is available through all platforms on from February 5th.

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Pete RingMaster 04/02/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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