For any sporting or physically demanding endeavour it is advisable to go into some sort of training. With music it is not a requirement that is until you come up against the new album from Swedish rock ‘n’ horror fiends, The Dahmers. The band has just released Down In The Basement, a beast of a record bursting with eighteen tracks of rock ‘n’ roll fever as ferociously energetic as it is virally infectious. From its first heartbeat to its last the bands third full-length is an insatiable incitement keeping the body rigorously and eagerly bouncing. It is relentless, exhausting, and pure pleasure from start to finish.
Bromölla hailing, the Dahmers has been no strangers to keen attention having released a pair of ear enticing albums in Demons (2015) and In the Dead of Night (2017). Each has shown and evolved a sound which is bred on a patchwork of numerous flavours ranging from garage and classic punk to vintage rock ’n’ roll, sixties pop and garage rock. Each of those releases certainly pleased ears but have now been imply blown out of the crypt by the simply irresistible and irrepressible Down In The Basement.
With a mass of tracks the size Down In The Basement offers you would expect a few fillers here and there but they are conspicuous by their absence; from the opening surge of Blood On My Hands the album a full-on meal of prime cuts. The first track bursts into life on a tide of voice and guitar bred persuasion, straight away twisting and turning like a dervish whilst unleashing a wave of catchy mischief. The vocals of Christoffer Karlsson lead the way in manipulation but more than matched by his and fellow guitarist Josef Underdal’s devious hooks and the rhythmic salaciousness of bassist Tobias Augustsson and drummer Karl-Oskar Hansson. Something akin to The Hives meets Asylums the track simply stomped into ears and the passions setting the album off on a mighty course.
The following Murder Ride is just as reckless and tenacious in its own punk infused charge, sending insistent grooves and rapacious hooks through ears with a fifties rock ‘n’ roll meets seventies punk irreverence before Street Of the Dead brings its garage rock/indie pop boisterous to the already devilish party. More reserved than its predecessors but just as equipped with ripe catchiness, the song had the body fully employed in no time.
Across the classic hard rock tinted antics of Down On My Knees and the corrupted boogie woogie nurtured devilment of The Ripper new flavours and rascality sweeps across Down In The Basement, The Dahmers already revealing their most diverse web of sound which Hit ‘N’ Run exploits for its contagion loaded adrenaline fuelled punk ‘n’ roll romp. All three tracks infested body and spirit with ease, the latter mercilessly before Howling merged the rock ‘n’ roll decades with its nefarious holler for a matching success.
As suggested the album is a perpetual rush of treats which simply continue with the revengeful punk ‘n’ roll of I Spit On Your Grave and the fiendish infestation of Demon Night. Both had the body twisting like a possessed soul, their pop seeded rascality pure manipulation and inescapable corruption in the outstanding second of the pair.
Classic rock gets a nudge within next up Creepiest Creep, another track with hooks and grooves which worm under the skin like invaders into a six foot buried offering while Reoccurring Dreams is just a punk rock scourge of temptation draped with surf molestation. Both make a play for best track honours though already the list is a fair size and only about to grow as Without a Face declares its option through a sixties pop ‘n’ rock spiced saunter abound with rousing vocals and rhythms heated with fiery melodic flames.
The cinematic breath of Kiss of Dario has the imagination as busy as ever, Man Obsessed straight after sparking grinning lips as it flirts with Blondie for its prime hook as it teases an already lustful appetite for the album. Even so both are outshone by the voracious rock ‘n’ roll rascality of No One and a quite glorious cover of the Devo masterpiece, Social Fools. Both tracks show The Dahmers at their most irresistible, the first a prize roar of their untamed imagination and boldness, its successor of their inimitable punk ‘n’ roll enterprise which did not improve on an existing gem but certainly re-energised its might.
The final pair of November with its deceptively calm sixties hued, pop coated calm and dark instrumental The End brings the album to a magnetic close. The last track is another moment of cinematic intimation, an industrial creased piece which replaced a bouncing body with an imagination conjuring suggestiveness to keenly intrigue.
Down In The Basement is a momentous offering from a band due bigger and broader attention; it is not just us saying that but a collection of tracks which demand your soul.
Down In The Basement is out now via Lövely Records across most online stores.
Upcoming Live Dates:
02/11 – Skövde In Rock Fest Skövde, SWE
03/11 – Halloween Meltdown Eskilstuna, SWE
04/11 – Kulsturkvarteret Kristianstad, SWE
15/11 – Cinema Aalst, BEL*
16/11 – Dusseldorf Ratinger Hof, GER*
17/11 – Eindhoven Helldorado, NL*
* Supporting The Dwarves
https://www.facebook.com/Dahmers/
Pete RingMaster 26/10/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
The band embraces more hard rock like hues for next up Johnny Demented, its raw sonic haze magnetically tempered by Coulson’s angelic tones. The song did not quite raise the roof as its predecessors in appetite and the passions here yet from start to finish it is a full captivation raising the ante as its holler and breath erupt across its eventful body.
It is an outstanding rousing start as potently backed by the relatively gentler antics of Dead Predators. A web of noise fuelled clamour, earthy bass led swing, and sonic enterprise, the track quickly beguiles and tempts hips and imagination into an animated collusion before Another World To Call Your Own launches its own untamed will upon the listener. Across the three tracks alone there is no escaping a strong whiff of bands such as Nirvana and The Pixies, a breeze teasing throughout the release yet already there is a distinct character and presence which is all Primals as epitomised by their latest single which is next up.
The following Thief is soon into its carnal swing, its unapologetically raw air and flesh instantly magnetic and bawling away with proto punk causticity. As with the first, there is an inherent catchiness which had the body bouncing even when tempered by the song’s feral garage rock belligerence. Abrasive and bracing, the track just hit the spot as too unerringly did next up Motley. Like a mix of a proto punk Queens Of the Stone Age meets the hungry rock ‘n’ roll of The Sea, the song is another predatory trespass which simply aroused body and spirit.
Aidattu Tulevaisuus opens with Turbo-Mondeo, the song emerging like sonic steam from a hidden pipe; coming closer until in engulfs the senses and that swiftly enterprising bond of guitars begin weaving their captivating tapestry. It is an assault though which is a blend of mellow and forcefulness, brewing a more volatile state as vocals and harmonies entice with a raw siren-esque hue. Already the variation in flavour and texture is uncaged, the track unveiling its tempestuousness in between unpredictable serenity for a perpetually infectious trespass.
The outstanding Party Shark Shake is next up, the song as the band’s actual name triggered by a book, no surprise here, about sharks by Susan Casey. You can almost feel the warm liquor soaked sand between the toes as the track stomps through ears, the swell of its melodic tides dragging the imagination and hips into the dangerous currents and depths below the biting dynamics of the song. Across the riveting attack, it builds up to rousing crescendos though at no moment is it anything less than an over powering incitement to body, spirit, and imagination. Imaging The Ghastly Ones and The Trashmen in collusion with The Damned and The Revillos and you get a whiff of the album’s greatest moment.
Five tracks barely touching five minutes in length, the EP immediately has ears cowering and thoughts disoriented with Sados. Its corrupted entrance eventually bursts into a rabid onslaught as guitars and rhythms join vocals in scarring the senses. It is a maelstrom of dissonance yet has an instinctive undercurrent of catchiness bred from its punk natured seeding.