The Scaners – Self Titled

Create a sonic kaleidoscope made up of particles from The Ramones, Devo, The Dickies, and The Screamers with essences of others such as Brainiac, Useless Eaters, and Acid Baby Jesus and you get the glorious garage synth punk sound fuelling a release which surely will be announced one of the year’s best moments come its annual awards. The cause of such thoughts is the self-titled debut album from French punksters The Scaners which despite those references at the beginning, or because of them, is one unique and quickly addictive incitement of sound and mischief.

Hailing from Lyon, The Scaners proudly and openly embrace their inspirations in their music; influences which from their label, Dirty Water Records, to reviewers and fans are universally recognised within something as individual as you could wish for. A four track 7” hinted at and teased ears with its inimitable antics last year, lures and revelry now in full roar and enterprise within the band’s first full-length.

Recorded with Lo Spider at Swampland in Toulouse, the album sets off on its sci-fi fuelled flight of fun with opener Abduction. Like a dance party in Area 51, the song swings its rhythmic hips to its own sonic infestation of devilry, vocalist Pav Scaner vocally hot-footing across the strands of temptation like a dervish as the keys of his organ dance. Hooks fly as beats bounce, seventies punk flirting with its synth punk/garage rock tenacity as ears and appetite are instantly baited and trapped.

The cosmos wraps the imagination next as Spacecraft lifts off with a punk rumble; bassist Tama Scaner and drummer BX Scaner rousingly fuelling its brief but irresistible surge before I Don’t Want To Go swaggers in on addictive beats and vocal dissonance. Pav’s keys again entice like sonic liquor as his voice wonderfully trespasses the shuffle; a riveting incitement matched and escalated by the spatial theremin gas and raw guitar prowess of Dédé Scaner. As the first, both tracks simply infest the imagination, getting under the skin like an infernal but exciting itch which you want to scratch but never lose.

Checkpoint Planet is a slightly calmer waltz which just as easily has the hips swinging and appetite devouring with its virulent infectiousness. As throughout the album, Pav’s lead vocal explorations are just as magnetically supported by the rest of the band’s throats, though it is the animated throb of Tama’s bass which steals the biggest portion of the passions before The Dries bursts in on a The Dickies bred lure to uncage its own voracious stomp. A fusion of sixties, seventies and current punk ‘n’ roll, the song is simply irresistible; manna to the devil in us all.

Darker and heavier textures line the B52’s hued aeronautics of Enjoy Your Flight; a trespassing bounce of a track which masters limbs and spirit like a cosmic puppeteer while No Place In Space steals best track honours with its post punk/garage punk saunter with a healthy essence of The Horrors to its reined but open diablerie. The first single from the album, the band apparently has two versions of the song; this the “slow” shadow accompanied drift through space; we cannot wait to hear the fast flight.

The pop virulence of the following We Want To Talk To Your Leader has the body romping within a breath or two, its new wave flaunt of sound and enterprise pure addiction which teases with nods to The Ramones; flavouring simply grabbed full-on by Video Tape next with again simply contagious results. Both tracks, though to be honest as all songs, leave the body breathless and greedy for more, a hunger quickly fed with great relish by the irritable sonic escapade of Flying Fuck and the flirtatious parade of Modern Fissure. The first is a furious surge of boisterous sound and brazen seduction and its successor a calmer but no less instinctively raw and rapacious slice of synth pop and both quite delicious to the ears.

The album ends with Levitation Train 2077, a swirling maelstrom of electronic punk as controlled as it is feral creating one glorious finale. All bands should have a theme tune to our thoughts, something recognisable and addictive announcing their arrival, like all the best TV shows, and this is undoubtedly the one for The Scaners.

Everything about the album was liquor to our intoxication and as the introduction of The Scaners to our ears, the spark to a lusty following hereon in; there is the feeling we will not be alone.

The Scaners album is out now via Dirty Water Records, Dirty Water Records USA, Adrenalin Fix Music, Casbah Records, Dangerhouse Skylab, Teenage Hate Records, Strycknine Recordz, and Trokson Records and available at!/The-Scaners/c/27034946/offset=0&sort=normal and

 Pete RingMaster 27/02/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Hell Fire Jack – Chains

It is dirty, raw, and unforgiving or in the words of the band itself, “Brutal Blues” which escapes the creative throes of ‘angry bastards, loud as Hell’ British duo Hell Fire Jack. It is also one compelling trespass on the senses and emotions which has come to a glorious head in the band’s debut album Chains. Imagine Seasick Steve infested by the spirit of Lux Interior as The Hangmen infuse their own devilry and you get a sense of the rapacious roar at the heart of the band’s first full-length.

Formed in 2012, Hell Fire Jack is vocalist/guitarist Alex Trewhitt and drummer Josef Karl, a pair from Yorkshire creating addictive toxic sounds which sizzle on the senses as they get rhythmically bitch slapped. It is not for those who want their music to be a comfort; an easy going escape without danger but for those who love to feel threatened whilst rocking out like a dog in heat, Chains is a thrilling demonic puppeteer.

It is also an album which simply blossoms song by song, each bringing something fresh and varied to the blues heart which breeds their predacious incitements. It is not just the sound which lures the listener into the dark, lyrically songs find seeds in “mental instability, insecurity and a constant struggle with modern life” to provide an intimacy which works away at thoughts just as the music gets under the skin and into the psyche.

As you might have surmised, we were seriously taken by Chains, it gripping attention and appetite from pretty much the first deep breath of opener Hell-O. The coarse but inviting riffs of Trewhitt’s guitar quickly lead ears into the waiting lures of his wiry grooves and the swing of Karl’s fevered beats. The former’s vocals are soon similarly magnetic, the pair creating a rousing concussive stroll leading feet and hips into fevered antics as shadows crawl the imagination. The track is irresistible, a stirring roar of blues and garage punk trespassing air and listener with every essence shared.

Cyborg swaggers in next, every beat a shuddering lead, each riff a rapacious scour on the senses but it all as virally infectious as the vocals cruising the inescapable persuasion. As the song epitomises, there is a great nagging quality to Hell Fire Jack propositions, an imaginative persistence which has body and appetite bouncing, and success Dark Horse only emulates. Its initial atmospheric smog is soon pierced by Karl’s anthemic swipes, it all building to caustic catchiness spewed by the guitar in an In The Whale/ Dick Venom & The Terrortones spiced shuffle.

The sonic liquor of Old Whiskery echoes assumptions going by its title, a sonic intoxication which deviously flirts in groove, voice, and beat while The Hustle chugs along with many similar traits of its predecessors to equal if less striking effect. It is familiarity though which gives Hell Fire Jack its individuality and incites a greed for more as words and syllables persistently bite within it all.

A sonic liquor swollen party comes in the shape of Don’t Come Knocking next, the track harrying the senses as a rousing vocal assault grips the imagination. It swiftly has its hand on best track heights before losing that honour to the quite brilliant Mr. Sinister. The track is horror blues punk alchemy, a proposition to breed lust over even with there being something indefinably recognisable about it.

Through the controlled but open sonic fever of Take a Hold and the predatory intimation of Sunday Best the album only reinforces its potency and persuasion though neither song can quite live up to the previous slices of rock ‘n’ roll manna. Each so they just grip attention with their varied enterprise, the following Lock and Key with its old school hues and garage punk dexterity then matching their heights with its composed but incisive swing.

Another major highlight is sprung with Better the Devil, its atmospheric, haunting melodic welcome alone enough to crow about but adding the subsequent tempestuous landscape and the Danzig-esque spicing which grips its tenacious blues prowl and the track simply escalates in character and prowess as well as impressiveness.

The album’s title track brings things to a close, a song which crawls through ears and thoughts with the instinctive infection of old school rock n’ roll and the lithe meandering of blues rock, it all boiling up and igniting in sonic blazes which sear the senses. Enthralling second by second, the track is rock ‘n’ roll at its basest and most compelling and a transfixing close to one thrilling release.

Hell Fire Jack never truly hit the brakes with their high octane attack and sound but when they do give them a nudge, you get taken to the darkest most seductively menacing places. Simply put Chains is a real pleasure pretty much like no other.

Chains is released February 14th on iTunes and @

Upcoming live dates:

Sat Feb 17 Hell Fire Jack album launch party, Harrogate, United Kingdom

Tue Feb 27 Lending Room @ The Library, Leeds, United Kingdom

Fri Apr 6 Al’s Dime Bar, Bradford, United Kingdom

Fri Apr 20 Verve, Leeds, United Kingdom

Sat Apr 28 THE FERRET, Preston, United Kingdom

Pete RingMaster 06/02/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Wild Evel and the Trashbones – Digging My Grave

Digging My Grave sees the Austrian infestation that is Wild Evel and the Trashbones return with a second full dose of their salaciously offered, instinctively untamed rock ‘n’ roll. Unleashing thirteen tracks of sixties bred garage punk with an appetite for similarly spawned beat and garage rock, all tenaciously messed up with decades of misconduct and devilment, the album is a rabid trespass of sound and feral fun which just gets more addictive by the second.

Wild Evel and the Trashbones first escaped to tease and violate ears back in 2008 when Wild Evel, the frontman of Austrian garage punks The Incredible Staggers linked up with members of former teen beat outfit The Roadrunners. Following an ear grabbing first single and a couple of splits with Wild Evel’s day job and The Satelliters respectively, 2012 saw the band released acclaim gathering debut album Tales From The Cave. It was an attention grabbing, reputation building stomp more than backed by another split, this time with Batman that same year, and more irreverent slices of sound posing as singles. Now we have Digging My Grave to greedily get down and dirty with; a collusion easy to grab straight away but with greater lust thereon in.

In its press release, the likes of Billy Childish, The Miracle Workers, and The Stomachmouths are referenced, all easy to understand as too the constant comparison to Screaming Lord Sutch but as Digging My Grave proves, the Vienna/Graz hailing Wild Evel and the Trashbones provide their own very individual proposal. It all starts with Der Bucklige, a brief slice of devilish instrumental bait warming up the crypt cold setting the band will parade their primitive rascality from. Its character is sheer temptation and revs up ears and appetite in no time ready for predacious antics of the album’s title track. Raw and scuzzy with an instantly virulent swing, Digging My Grave brings its soiled swagger to bear on the imagination, Wild Evel roaring with rapacious intent as the rhythmic trespass of Berni Trashbone’s beats pound with magnetic effect. In turn, the grooves of guitarist Powl Howl wind the flourishes of Fernando Terror’s farfisa organ with arcane intent, together it all making for a death dealing party impossible to not gate crash.

The following Bugs On My Back has a lighter touch with vocal expression to match but equally has an underlining psychosis which inflames its air from time to time. An inescapably catchy piece of beat infused garage rock around the pulsating prowess of bassist Murphy Morphine and the increasingly venomous swings of Trashbone, the song is as invasively infectious as its predecessor and soon matched in success and contagion by power pop infused punk ‘n’ roll of The Mess I’m In. Its own swagger needs barely seconds to get under the skin, fuzzy textures and flaming melodies escalating the temptation before eager ears and appetite are incited to greater greed by the rhythm ‘n’ blues soaked 300 Pounds with its King Salami and the Cumberland 3 styled shenanigans. The track is superb, quite simply close on two minutes of pure addiction stoking flirtation.

The melodically webbed garage rock saunter of Ain’t It Hard and the dark garage punk chicanery of Why Can’t We Be ensure pleasure is thick and unrelenting even if the tracks just miss the pinnacle of their predecessors for personal instincts. To be fair though, both songs still hit the spot with ease and swift success, the second an open homage to The Satelliters in word and sound before Coyote has hips and imagination hooked with its primarily instrumental playfulness.

The excellent dark toned Telling Lies easily courts attention next with its dirtier garage punk rumbles. With rhythms a tenaciously unpredictable incitement beneath the electrified melodic frolics of voice, organ and guitar, the song refuses to be ignored while Gotta Leave Town strolls along with an Escobar like volatility to its ravenously infectious and increasingly strung out rock ‘n’ roll. Both tracks are major favourites in nothing but and swiftly joined by the vampish jest of Fried Chicken Legs with its blues kissed harmonica and garage pop instincts.

The final promiscuous throes of the album come through firstly I Lost My Mind, a track which whilst not grabbing the passions as tightly as its companions certainly left the imagination bound and an appetite for more even greedier before T-R-A-S-H-B-O-N-E-S simply enslaves with its anthemic chant. You can just see the waves of manipulated bodies bouncing in unison to the track at live shows as it plays its tricks on the senses and spirit. The track provides a quite simply glorious end to an album which just gets more immorally tempting, ridiculously captivating, and insanely crafty track by track, listen by listen.

Digging My Grave is out now on Dirty Water Records London and available @

 Pete RingMaster 29/11/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Baronen & Satan – Why Does The Blood Never Stick To Your Teeth? / Satan Is A Lady

As each year passes it seems harder to find something truly unique to feast upon so those encounters which do carry that special character make a most striking impact and hopefully temptation. The sound of Swedish outfit Baronen & Satan magnificently fits that claim and hope, its nature a psyche twisting trespass and voice a senses searing incitement which together go to make one glorious seduction on body and imagination.

Though formed in 2014 after guitarist Philippe Jean-Piere Dominique Sainz met vocalist Linda Rydelius, the pair uniting in love and creativity once meeting, our introduction to Gothenburg hailing Baronen & Satan is now through Dirty Water Records USA and their releasing of the band’s new EP, Why Does The Blood Never Stick To Your Teeth? in tandem with the re-release of 2016 album Satan Is A Lady. It is a long overdue meeting as hindsight shows the band has been teasing attention across a horde of tracks and years but one we like so many others are greedily devouring. Completed by bassist Marie Bergkvist and drummer Stefan Young Sik Olsson earlier this year, Baronen & Satan create what we assumed has been self-penned as “Garagedeath”.  Whatever you call it, the Baronen & Satan sound is a wonderfully invasive yet flirtatious trespass of reverb grafted adventure conjured from a mix of garage and psych rock, garage punk, noise, and punk rock with plenty more teasing away in its predacious and haunting swamp thick sonic psychosis.

Produced by Jim Diamond (White Stripes, Dirt Bombs), Baronen & Satan’s new EP greedily consumes the senses from its first breath. Why Does The Blood Never Stick To Your Teeth? opens up with new single Elisa and instantly consumes ears in a tide of riffs and rhythms entangled in spicily melodic tendrils. As a bass grumble teases, beats fly with fevered energy, Sainz’s guitar weaving away with salacious grooves as the distinct and unique tones of Rydelius deliciously ‘whine’. Her presence almost steals all attention but with the devilish textures and enterprise at play around her, the whole song seduces in equal measure to get things flying.

The following Buttermilk Sky has a similar but fully individual presence and sound, its psych and garage rock bred rock ‘n’ roll an incitement to appetite and hips as it dances provocatively in ears. Its citric melodic spicing is less kind in the second track compared to its predecessor but just as alluring; the song offering a beefier intrusion taken to darker temptation yet again in the EP’s title track. With the swinging biting beats of Olsson rampant and Bergkvist’s bass sound gnarly, seduction is swift from personal tastes; add the sonic squall of Sainz and Rydelius hellish beauty in voice  and submission to the track’s rapacious rock ‘n’ roll is welcome slavery which the melodic toxicity with its tinge of Echo and The Bunnymen compounds.

All three tracks unite for one unwavering increasing addictive proposal to have us reeled in hook line and sinker; a triumph equally matched by last year’s album, Satan Is A Lady. It similarly needs mere seconds to tempt and begin brewing up a tight grip as opener Lady Creature lies its initial sonic nagging upon ears. Quickly the boisterous beats of Olsson descend and romp; the track bouncing around with eager tenacity as Rydelius casts her riveting vocal antics into the stomping devilment of a proposal. At times Scottish trio The Creeping Ivies is provoked in thought by the track but a great spicing to something again as unique as all the subsequent essences and adventures across the album prove to be, all hues in viral sonic toxins particular to Baronen & Satan.

Next up is Catwalk, its feline prowl lively and predacious with Olsson’s swings marking every step with zeal. Always fuelled by a boisterous spirit, the song stalks the listener as vocals wrap their flirtatious clutches around psych and garage infestation. Magnetic drama, the song sublimely bewitches before the even more energetic exploits of Asskisser bound in. With shimmering sonic suggestion and more rhythmic rascality, a PiL-esque sheen invading its bold canter, the track commands the listener like a puppeteer, its noise nurtured tendrils veining its wonderful manipulation.

Headcuts lurks and taunts with an instantly open Cramps inspiration, continuing to size up its victim before launching into a rapacious garage punk stroll with fifties rockabilly spicing. As its predecessor, the track is glorious; caustic manna for ears and instincts which a fine line of sixties garage rock a la Cradle to add another twist.

Expanding and thickening its ravenous enterprise and character, Satan Is A Lady hits another sweet spot with the sonic buzz of The Projects, a minute and a breath of irresistible niggly punk rock which Comet emulates in success with its own demonic affair for ears and imagination. As most tracks, its core is a relentless nagging which gets right under the skin; heavy dark bait bred on rhythmic and sonic almost wanton dexterity honed into a cauldron of virulent temptation as carefully woven as it is rabidly unleashed.

The album’s title track swings in with muscles tensed next, a riveting PiL meets Siouxsie and the Banshees hook circling ears as once more the compelling tones of Rydelius grip the bold intrusion. Sainz’s initial bait swiftly develops a Buzzcocks spiced essence as the track flexes its animated imagination, every second a beguiling and infectious scheme to enslave.

Through the psychotic stomp of Pony and its sonic Cramps meets the Orson Family moonshine pleasure only escalates, the latter of those hues a bolder essence in the dark saunter of Sugarwalls which too only inflames an already greedy appetite for band and sound. Invasively ethereal and ravenously portentous, the song also gives a glimpse of what you might imagine bands like Blood Ceremony and Jess and the Ancient Ones could sound like if mutant off springs of Lux Interior and Jim Morrison.

The album ends with the invasively haunting Underwater Love, an immersion into a sonic sea of intrigue and unpredictable imagination steered by the alluring vocal ingenuity of Rydelius. It is dark, bordering on suffocating and a compelling end to a quite thrilling and refreshing album.

Uniqueness is rare but when it comes it should be devoured especially when it bears the dark discord and beauty of Baronen & Satan.

Both Why Does The Blood Never Stick To Your Teeth? and Satan Is A Lady are out now @  and respectively.

Pete RingMaster 07/11/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Bridport Dagger – Wolves/Trembling Sky

Sometimes you just do not know the goodness which is on your doorstep. Recently we had the pleasure of being introduced by one of their numbers to Bridport Dagger, a band which it turned out rehearsed and recorded in their singer’s home studio merely ten minutes away from The RR. Even more enjoyably, the meeting left us with the UK outfit’s new single in our eager hands and the urge to tell you about its rather tasty contents as well as the important message to constantly check out and support your local scene as you never know what treats you may find.

There is not a great deal of info we can tell you about the band except that it consists of vocalist/guitarist Jason Idnani-Powdrill, guitarist Lawrence Rice, bassist/guitarist Chaz Foster, and drummer/keyboardist Arran Goodchild. The quartet draws on the inspirations of artists and flavours such as Suicide, Nadine Shah, Roy Orbison, Guadalupe Plata, Clinic, The Gun Club, Flamenco, Get Your Gun, Fado, Ennio Morricone, and film noir especially the work of Wim Wenders and recently performed in an echo chamber under the river Thames and supplied sound design for a seven day immersive play in Berlin. But their sound you ask…well the most important thing here is a dark and seductive collusion of numerous flavours and textures but is maybe best described as Nick Cave and The Walker Brothers meeting Echo and The Bunnymen on a Tarantino set as Japanese Fighting Fish share their creative devilment. What emerges is something individual and magnetic to Bridport Dagger as epitomised by the double A sided lead of new single Wolves/Trembling Sky.

The single is actually a real meaty chunk as it also includes the band’s previous EP Knife through Water including a re-mastered version of its lead track and a couple of songs from that earlier mentioned soundtrack . The single opens with Wolves and an immediate clash of sound as rhythms and guitars collide. From within the inviting clamour a rumble brews; its tone rockabilly like as the guitars between them wrap a jungle of riffs in a sultry melody as Idnani-Powdrill’s vocals begin the shadowed croon of the song. Already the magnetism is addiction level, the subsequent scythes of guitar compelling across the captivation of bass and beats as the band’s rock ‘n’ roll shares dark flirtation. Every passing second brings a new twist of drama and sound, unpredictability as thick as the imagination flowing through the outstanding encounter.

Its partner, Trembling Sky is instantly a less intense proposition, a psych rock melody dancing over the darker hues of bass and again grumbling riffs. There is a Doors-esque air to the song, a shadowed lining to its lively spirit and bounce, and a sixties instrumental tone to the guitars which only adds to its instinctive attraction. As its predecessor, the song just hits personal wants and tastes full on though at two and a half minutes or so it frustrates when it ends just as lust rises.

The rest of the release starts with tracks found on that previously mentioned EP released last year with a re-worked mix of acclaimed track Harry Dean Stanton first up. As this piece is being composed news has just come through that the actor has died; a sad timing which instantly brings a poignant edge to song and its embrace of ears and focus. The song is a dusty shimmer on the senses, a poetic sigh spiked by shards of glassy guitar and soaked with the serenade of keys; a proposition which is masterfully enthralling from start to finish.

Next up is Cowboy Drone, a track which nags and teases like a menacing mix of The Birthday Party and The Doors that sizes up the listener with every note and breath before taking them through a tombstone littered climate soaked in post punk/psych rock discord and theatre. The track is glorious, a noir drenched drama of sound and voice which thrusts the imagination into the heat of dark trespasses.

Taken from the soundtrack of the Twin Peaks inspired theatre performance Bridport Dagger created the music for, The Dangling Man is one of two original songs it was bookended by, the following Lyra the other. The first is a sombre, almost caliginous play for ears and imagination with vocals and music a shadowy lure and the melodramatic caresses of sax courtesy of George Cleghorn sublimely suggestive while the second is a fifties hued dark ballad with more than a touch of Roy Orbison to its emotional humidity. Both tracks transport the listen to a dark and intoxicating place impossible to resist lingering within.

The livelier rock ‘n’ roll of The Butcher of Rome has hips swaying and appetite dancing, bass and beats alone a rousing shuffle to be enslaved by, a trap tightened by the teasing jangle of guitars, the seductive strokes of keys, and the storytelling prowess of the vocals.

The release is completed by the sweltering emotional drenched spectacle of Wilderness, a song which gets bolder and more psychotic and discordant with every passing minute for a mouth-watering finale of provocative noise and melodic toxicity.

Wolves and Trembling Sky as a single is one of the year’s most riveting experiences on the year so far; add the rest of its treats and you have one of the most essential come its release in October.

Wolves/Trembling Sky is released October 13th.

Upcoming live dates:

21st September: Bethnal Green Working Mens Club, London

29th September: Insomnia, Berlin

8th October: Twin Peaks UK Festival, London

10th October: Half Moon Putney, London

13th October: The Lexington (with the Flaming Stars and Get Your Gun), London

4th November: Paper Dress vintage 4th Birthday Party, London

Pete RingMaster 16/09/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Suicide Generation – 1st Suicide

Basking in its own dirt and scuzz, the Suicide Generation sound is a fervid rush of trashy goodness which ensures the band’s new album is an unmissable treat for all fans of uncompromising rock ‘n’ roll. The bastard son from a salacious collusion between members of Atomic Suplex, The Cavemen, and Trash Culture, the London based punksters feverishly graze ears with a raw wash of garage punk/rock from start to finish within their debut full length 1st Suicide, sucker-punching the senses along the way with rapacious hooks which just worm into the psyche like a virus.

Supposedly coming together “to fill in for cancelled support slots across the Tuesday night London gigging circuit”, Suicide Generation has quickly become an eagerly devoured proposition on the capital’s live scene with their chaotic and explosive shows; their attack and intent as unpredictable as their sound. Recently linking up with Dirty Water Records, the band is now gunning for bigger attention with 1st Suicide, a release which swarms through ears like a plague of buzzsaw carrying harpies.

The album descends on ears with opener Suicide Generation first of all; one minute and a handful of seconds of clanging rock ‘n roll led by the exasperated tones of frontman Sebastian Melmoth. Every aspect of the track is as muggy as it is concussive but veined by intricate melodic acidity which winds seductively around the fuzzy antics of Emily Crowler’s rhythm guitar. It is a potent, enticing smog of sound swiftly out powered and shone by Why Can’t I Play With You. The second track needs mere seconds to lay down heavy seductive hooks within a similarly intensive weight of sound. A Cramps-esque hue smokes vocals and sound alike, Suicide Generation finding a gripping rawness which even their assumed inspirations would have eagerly embraced as the song flirts and dances with garage rock and punk irritability.

Set Me On Fire has a certain air of The Reatards to its similarly crotchety rock ‘n’ roll straight after, guitars scything across the senses as rhythms rumble with tenacious zeal, while Nora aligns a fifties smoulder with seventies punk waspishness for its individual stomp. Both tracks have the body and imagination eagerly throwing discord loaded shapes before London Blues strolls along with dirty blues punk falling like drooling saliva from every note and syllable. An open psychosis oozes through voice and music alike, its mercurial heart unpredictable and constantly in flux as it captivates and assaults the listener.

They are instantly involved with the brawling escapade of Love Is Hate straight after, the track a beguiling animus of sonic and emotional testiness enjoyably harassing the senses with the clamour of guitars and the spite of rhythms. It is a mix also fuelling next up Little Mama, the track resembling The Phantom basted in rock ‘n’ roll filth whilst sending the hips into an anxious frenzy.

That same instinctive primal sound infests Evil Everywhere and once again the band twists it into something distinct within the release and other propositions; the track a hyperactive dirt ball of sound and energy leading into the closing treat of You Love Me. Initially prowling ears with a devious glint in its creative eye, the band’s punk instincts soon ignites in a high-strung blaze of sonic causticity and wired verbal dexterity driven by rhythms which just seduce attention whether the track smoulders or roars.

1st Suicide is a collection of songs which just please themselves with a similarly arrogant creativity, in turn their brashness and swagger turning on ears and an ever keen appetite for unpolished rock ‘n’ roll. The Suicide Generation is here and openly ready to tear up your world.

1st Suicide is out now on Dirty Water Records @ and!/Suicide-Generation-First-Suicide-album-download/p/86922972/category=2749844

Pete RingMaster 12/07/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright


Dirty Jane – Boogie Monster

There is a new hypnotic rumble brewing in the belly of the Birmingham underground scene and it goes by the name of Dirty Jane. This salaciously flirtatious garage punk ‘n’ roll filly is not exactly brand new, the British trio emerging in 2014 but they have just made their national introduction with debut single Boogie Monster, a track with a primal swagger which simply infests body and spirit.

Consisting of vocalist/guitarist Jack Brown, bassist John Beadsmore, and drummer Elliot Morris, Dirty Jane has become an eagerly supported and talked about proposition within the Midlands music scene; earning a fine reputation for their energetic live presence amidst shows alongside the likes of The Strypes, The Sherlocks, The Computers, The Dirty Nil and most recently Hvmm. As mentioned, Boogie Monster is the band’s first fingering of national attention and surely lustful reactions such the infectious devilry breeding the single.

Fusing garage punk and punk rock with fifties rock ‘n’ roll, the Dirty Jane sound prowls ears and psyche like a fusion of The Cramps, The Phantom, Dick Venom and The Terrortones, and Eighteen Nightmares At the Lux; a creative breed of temptation which instantly has ears and appetite inflamed as the single sonically and vocally shatters the silence. Within another breath, rhythms are prowling the senses with a lively almost predacious gait casting catchy menace for Brown to vocally embrace. With insatiable hooks equally grabbing ears all along his guitar’s swarthy grooves, a delicious grumble to Beadsmore’s bass alongside, and the whole of the band courting thick involvement with their vocal roars, the song demands lusty participation, Morris’ tenaciously swinging beats extra incentive.

Produced by Gavin Monaghan, Boogie Monster is quite simply irresistible; its psych rock essences icing on the diablerie escaping the band and if a sign of things to come, the beginning of major mischief and adventure for and from Dirty Jane.

Boogie Monster is out now on 7” from the Magic Garden Vinyl @ and digitally through iTunes.

Pete RingMaster 04/04/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright