Photo by Greg Gutbezahl
As a viral infestation continues to consume the world we suggest there is a second outbreak imminent this time in the delicious contagion of the insatiable sound that the Mr Sophistication EP unleashes. The record is the new offering from US outfit Mean Motor Scooter, a release which could be no more seductively sinful and soul enslaving than if the Devil had cast it whilst holidaying amongst the vixens upon Planet Venus.
Hailing from Fort Worth, Texas, Mean Motor Scooter has insistently lured attention and acclaim through the likes of their 2017 uncaged debut album, Hindu Flying Machine, and last year’s EP, TV Baby. Though new to the band, if we are honest, hindsight listening reveals exactly why they have gripped keen local and national support and a further deluge of listens to Mr Sophistication can declare that the quartet has bred their most essential moment yet with.
The band’s unique sound is distilled in a bedlamic liquor of garage rock and punk with surf and psych rock stilled froth. Its character lustfully springs belligerent mischief upon the ears as its exploits chop away at the senses whilst urging the body to dance. It is a proposition which swiftly and urgently infested our musical instincts and desires through EP opener Aristobrat.
Immediately Sammy Kidd’s guitar swings through air, its riffs a compelling cleaver to the senses quickly followed by his just as magnetic vocals and the equally gripping rhythmic antics of bassist Joe Tacke and drummer Jeffrey Friedman. With the temptress backing vocals of Rebekah Elizabeth escalating the temptation as she enterprisingly fingers keys, the song lustfully got under the skin in no time, breeding an even richer unshakeable contagion through its subsequent riot of a chorus. Like something akin to a meltdown between The Scaners, Escobar, Jay Reatard and The Vibrators but with attitude stamping down unmistakeable individuality, it is an addictive start for the EP and a dependency which only escalated thereon in.
The Void quickly fed our craving, its opening hook alone enough to have us twisted up in its bait before the song followed it up with vocal and rhythmic manipulation which bordered on pandemonium. Kidd again is the ringleader to the creative disorder, his words bitch slapping the world as Friedman’s beats pummel the senses with unscrupulous dexterity. With punk and garage rock textures colluding with surf harmonies and frenzied melodies, this too is a song which had us in drooling fixation; Portals soon drawing further lust as it unveiled its surf rock breeding within a warped psych rock atmosphere. Luring and seducing with every breath, the track tangling the imagination up in its psychotic twists and increasingly volatile breath.
Zombie Cop is visceral pop within a cosmic soundscape bullied by punk rock tempestuousness and simply gripping from the first to last second of its exhausting two minute carnal stomp before leaving Put Me Down Like a Dog to spring a just as riveting finale on ears. A psychobilly riff chained the appetite first, its melodic clang instant manna to these ears and soon backed by a broken blister of lo-fi trespass; a feral captivation again infested by the seductive haunting of Elizabeth’s keys. That initial mutant groove continued to centrally vein the track, everything swinging from its incessantly hypnotic hold as the sonic maelstrom around it discharges just as irresistible slavery.
Untamed and ravenous, it is an energy sapping, pleasure igniting end to an EP even more voraciously intoxicating with every element and song united. The world is under siege again but this time only good if debilitating times are set to devour courtesy of Mean Motor Scooter.
Mr Sophistication is released May 1st via Dreamylife Records: available @ https://meanmotorscootersounds.bandcamp.com/album/mr-sophistication
https://www.meanmotorscootertx.com/ https://www.facebook.com/meanmotorscootermusic https://twitter.com/MnMtrSctr
Pete RingMaster 02/05/2020
Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright
The superb start is swiftly matched by the rawer air and antagonism of KFC Called The Cops On Me, the band blasting out defiance and attitude whilst springing another round of rock ‘n’ roll virulence lit up by voice and the incendiary spark of sax; that mix of rich tempting quickly shaping the following Who Gave What To Who? and its hook equipped antics. Evoy’s great vocals again just stoked participation and attention alone though the creative misbehaviour around him was just as much an instigator to the bounce which infested bodies at the same time.
The instant jangle of Mat Durie and White’s guitars immediately enticed keen attention as rhythms pounced, the psych flames of Matty Reed’s sax only intensifying the tempting. From its first breath quickly after, the song’s stroll is an eager bounce, the animated beats of drummer Dave Mulvaney as encouraging as the dark swing of Pierce Kingan’s bass, it all wrapped in the just as infectious hug of Durie’s keys. Together the ingredients made for a virulent and addictive enticement, one as rousing, bordering on the rowdy, as it was dark and invasively provocative.
Things only grow more compelling and contagious as 2Fives and Twos sets its creative trap, it too another song which needs mere seconds to grip ears and appetite as Cordery winds addictive melodic wires around both. Punk and rockabilly soon converge on the rock ‘n’ roll instincts of the song, its tenacious gait and contagiousness a quick infestation of body with the Pauline Murray-esque tint to Sonic’s voice icing on the delicious cake.
The sing-a-long canter of Ma Claque just commands participation next up while Je Suis Le Boss owns ears with its sepia shaded sixties shuffle blessed with the intoxicating jangle of keys and the harmonic flaming of Monbel; another great pair which is still outshone by another as Drogue ‘N’ Roll swaggers in with unapologetically flirtatious grooves leading devilish power pop tainted moves and garage pop sprung temptation.
Celestial heights are ventured once more through Please Kill Me, its prowling flight a sizzling wind of psych fuzz and sinister rock ‘n’ roll. At times it merges gothic psychobilly reminding of The Orson Family and the scorched punk of The Scaners to its compelling body, all the while niggling away at the imagination before Earworm uncages its own feral swing. Echoing the grungy wildness of Escobar in its breath, the track is a cyclone of salacious garage rock as punked up as it is melodically caustic and more than living up to its moniker.
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.
The band’s new single, Who We Are, does both with relish and tenacity straight away. The devilishly earthy stroll of the bass instantly had imagination and appetite hooked, its inescapable lure aligned to the perpetually lively dynamics of Mason’s rhythms. Both continue to arouse and manipulate as guitars and vocals join the song’s incendiary holler; a union brewing a delicious slab of punk ‘n’ roll as virulently catchy as it is rapaciously invasive.
Hailing from Århus, Rolled Up Sleeves is a young band in presence and individual ages consisting of Christian Askehave, Magnus Krag Nielsen, Oliver Alexander Landgren, and Søren Schroll Rasmussen. Apparently they have been kicking up some real attention in their homeland and it is easy to hear why through their new four track release. Receiving its international release through Mighty Music, Pointless immediately gets down to business with opener Happy And Alone. Straight away beats rap at the senses, stabs of guitar swiftly joining their baiting presence with spicy grooves in close quarter. Once hitting its infectious stride, the track stomps along with attitude in vocals and swagger as hooks work their devious intent. It has a bit of an old friend feel to its character but the song is as fresh as anything heard this year and all addictive contagion to our ears with a bit of a Escobar meets The Senton Bombs scent added pleasure.