Nosebleed – Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor

The last four years has seen British trio, Nosebleed establish and declare their voracious presence on the UK live scene; time which equally has seen their sound honed and reputation built, it all leading up to the moment they launch themselves at nationwide recognition. That time is now with the release of their debut album, Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor. It is a brief but relentless stomp of garage punk nurtured devilry allowing no time for a breath but giving a wealth of insatiable moments to breed instinctive lust for.

Thirteen virulent songs over twenty and a small handful of minutes, Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor flies from the speakers flinging song to song hooks like confetti and springing inventive twists like a mad professor. It is a rock ‘n’ roll dervish but with a devious control and scheme which sees feet, hips, and the imagination merciless to its manipulation.

Recorded live across one weekend alongside producer Andy Hawkins (Hawk Eyes, The Pigeon Detectives), Scratching Circles on the Dancefloor sets its intent with its first lungful of breaths. The initial guitar lure of opener I’m Okay wags an inviting finger before being quickly joined by hungry rhythms and the vocal mischief of guitarist Eliott Verity and bassist Ben Hannah. For fifty odd seconds the song rigorously hops around, Dicky Riddims’ beats setting the tone for the punk infested romp.

As the excellent start lays its last jab, its successor I’m Shaking is in the starting blocks, loco grooves teasing away as the track bursts into manic life. As rhythms pounce and hooks infest, the song sinks its mania into the imagination like a fusion of King salami and The Mobbs; teasing and fingering the psyche with its viral appetite and character. Superb does not quite cut its magnificence; a height of bliss eagerly backed by the addictive antics of Time And Time Again which quickly entangles the listener in its swinging grooves and excitable rhythms.

The voracious design of the album simply continues with the next pair of Wrong and Start Again. Not for the first or last time across the album, there is a whiff of seventies punk band The Cortinas especially in the first of these two with its sharp almost spiky hooks and instinctive catchiness while the second uncages a riot of bullish rock ‘n’ roll as punk as it is fifties scented honed into another irresistible and individual Nosebleed infestation.

As soon as the rhythmic rumble of Everybody breaks the momentary silence between songs, body and greed was sparked here; the track trapping an easy submission with its web of grooves and hooks let alone vocal incitement while Slow Down does the complete opposite as it had hips swinging and limbs flying with its dirt stained rock ‘n’ roll. Both tracks not only get under the skin but deep into the blood taking over spirit and soul simultaneously yet still get outshone by Scratching Circles. Like a puppeteer, the song dictated movement and energy; its Stones kissed heat and tenacious enterprise delicious spice in its creative irritancy and riveting manipulation.

Can’t Stay Here harasses like a child which will not take no for an answer to what it wants, the song bouncing around with its eyes firmly on the prize before Psycho grabs best track honours with its psychobilly hued rascality. Like the bad kid your mother warned you to stay away from, the track leads to wicked habits and salacious antics and boy does it reward for going astray.

A sixties garage rock hue lines the attitude soaked Kick Me When I’m Down next; swinging grooves and agitated rhythms gripping attention from its first touch, flames of melodic seduction from the guitar adding to its rich lure while I Can’t Tell You Anything creates a maze of hooks and grooves impossible to escape from, not that you will want to; an intent which is seeded in the album’s first note and only intensified thereon in.

It all comes to a close with What You Have Done, a ravenous collusion of grumbling filth lined bass, intrusive beats, and predacious riffs all linked by the band’s persistently anthemic vocals. It too has rockabilly/psychobilly infested fuel to its roar as well as a mouth-watering Misfits seeded glaze bringing the album to a close in majestic but certainly rampantly salacious style.

There are encounters which just inflame the individual instincts of us all, Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor is one for us, a release leading us to drooling ardour. We will not be alone as quite simply the album is a garage punk classic, indeed a rock ‘n’ roll masterclass from a band surely about to take national attention by the scruff of its neck.

Scratching Circles On The Dancefloor is out now through TNS Records and available @ https://tnsrecords.bandcamp.com/album/scratching-circles-on-the-dancefloor

https://www.facebook.com/nosebleedband/

Pete RingMaster 11/04/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Starsha Lee – Post-God Metaphysics

You venture into the dark dusty corners of a previously unexplored attic and within find the predictable, almost dauntingly alluring yet sinister looking dolls house long told tales and visually evocative movies often portray. You peer through its small enticing windows and wonder what goes on within their plastic panes, what adventures play out within the surrounding walls in the darkness. The imagination conjures, thoughts tease…then as their distinct sounds search out both from speakers below, the possibility is obvious; they just might house the unique world of Starsha Lee.

Not that the sound of Starsha Lee is nursery room fit, unless it is those lurking within the distorted lines between reality and nightmares. As in evidence within the band’s debut album, Post-God Metaphysics, it is a rapacious psyche trespassing endeavour spawning songs borne of discontented snarls with characters bred in demon haunted mania. It is also one fiercely addictive treat which may find itself a challenge too far for some but fingered our passions from start to finish within an album that just demands attention.

Though undoubtedly highly individual, the Starsha Lee sound also has a side to it which is akin to a fusion of the rebellious punk rock of In Evil Hour, the noise bred catchiness of Melt Banana, and the mischievous alternative rock of Daisy Chainsaw. The latter is no surprise as they and Starsha Lee are inflamed by the distinct senses scathing, spirit rousing guitar enterprise of Crispin Gray, also formerly of Queen Adreena, and Dogbones. Beside him, the quartet consists of the rhythmic adventure of Lenny Verallis (Dumbjaw/You) and, headed by the vocal devilment and lyrical incitement of Portuguese singer/ visual artist Sofia de Oliveira Martins. Epitomising the uniqueness of the band tenfold, she can best be described as having the vocal prowess of Lene Lovich twisted and distorted through the hands of Jigsaw as the juices of KatieJane Garside (Daisy Chainsaw/Ruby Throat) and Dawn Lintern (Das Fluff) are squeezed into their high pitched results. It all adds up to anarchic beauty in a release which had us drooling with lust rather quickly.

Post-God Metaphysics opens up with Love Is Superficial and immediately Gray is teasing ears with sonic intrigue, coaxing them and the imagination with infectious rhythms in close quarters. As swiftly the richly enticing tones of Martins flirt and dance on the blossoming landscape of the song, it all as infectious as it is musically and emotionally predacious. The track is superb and just the beginning of one exhilarating creative emprise.

The punk rock throes of People Are Horrible follows, its rhythmic raps and sonic writhing spinning a web of stop go virility entangled with Martin’s vocal rascality. In its far too short a stomp, the song, as all, embraces an array of flavours in one devious recipe, all spicing up ears and an already greedy appetite here for the album’s loco lined exploits.

With the guitar again laying the first line of bait, next up Holy Hatred seduces and feverishly ignites within its opening breaths; growing from a gentle caress into a metal infused blaze of incendiary rock ‘n’ roll with venom in its voice and sounds before Life Is Suicidal shares its own sonic pyre with virulent contagion to its bold vocal blend and bounce. The nihilistic tone of word and heart floods the proposal, another constant menacing allure across the album, and bonds perfectly with the raucous bounce and captivating discord conjured.

Post Modern is an electric scowl, the guitar almost grimacing with acidity as Martin’s skilfully and heartily delivered intimation are again aligned to the harmonic breath of Gray’s backing vocals. Verallis and Zahra-Hall stamp rhythmic authority on the temptation, working on hips and neck muscles as the song serenades with open causticity while within the more hard rock nurtured Used To The Bruise, their rhythmic arousal comes wrapped in melancholic harmonics and emotive suggestion. Both tracks simply captivate with ease, the latter an inescapable lure to participation before Even God Doesn’t Know Your Name ensnares the senses with its addiction sharing punk ‘n’ roll canter. With a Cauldronated like hue to its tenacious body as Martins vocally writhes around, the song matches, at times eclipses, the temptation of its predecessors as another major highlight within the album drew further lust.

Through the scuzzy climes of Sterile Girl and the similarly raw discordance of Uncle Nietzsche, Starsha Lee just increase their grip; the first with a gentle twist and the excellent latter with a tug like one induced within an inflamed sexual endeavour. It stomps through ears with a hunger which veers on the rabid but with a controlled predatory nature matched in the following swagger lined march of Glass Diamonds. Its Marilyn Manson-esque swing underpins a senses scorching flame of sonic toxicity, an aural drug which   bewitches and bewilders with craft and imagination.

Laugh Of God and (I Am) High And Divine bring things to a close, the first a cauldron of punk, metal, and garage rock which scars and seduces by the second, Martins once again a vocal Harley Quinn centre stage. Though not quite living up to other songs, it simply grabbed eager attention but was in turn overshadowed by the closing track’s acerbic croon. A song epitomising every aspect of the Starsha Lee sound if without continuing the line of springing essential hooks on the imagination, it brings Post-God Metaphysics to a glorious conclusion.

It is fair to say that Crispin Gray has been behind and involved in numerous bands which have unerringly hit the spot and instincts of us and a horde of others, but few if any striking dead centre the same way Starsha Lee has with Post-God Metaphysics.

Post-God Metaphysics is out now on digital download, streaming, CD and vinyl via Syndicol Music; available @ https://www.syndicolmusic.com/store

http://starshalee.wixsite.com/starsha-lee    https://www.facebook.com/OFFICIALStarshaLee/

Pete RingMaster 27/03/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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 https://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/The-Scaners/c/27034946/offset=0&sort=normal and https://thescaners.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/thescaners/

 Pete RingMaster 27/02/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Fuzzy Vox – Ba-Da-Boom

With one of our favourite escapades last year being the No Landing Plan album from French rockers Fuzzy Vox you can be sure that news of its successor got us rather excited, a lusty reaction which only got more exuberant upon hearing its quartet of boisterous escapades. Ba-Da-Boom is a romp of the band’s feverish rock ‘n’ roll taken to a new pasture of imagination and fun, the year between releases seeing an evolution in sound and flavours, confirming the band as one exciting and creatively excitable proposition.

With new drummer Jeremy Norris alongside vocalist/guitarist Hugo Fabbri and drummer Nico Maïa, Joinville le Pont hailing Fuzzy Vox are continuing to stir up attention with their rousing, mischievous sound through Ba-Da-Boom. It is a success first poked with debut EP Technicolor in 2012 and accelerated by the band’s first album, On Heat two years later and subsequently reaching a peak through its successor No Landing Plan. Now their fusion of garage rock, power pop and instinctive rock ‘n’ roll is ready to spark another burst of acclaim and revelry through Ba-Da-Boom and as it stomps around in ears it is hard to see anything getting in its way.

It opens with I Fell In Love With The World, a track which saunters in on a spicy groove and rapacious rhythms which as they leap are just waiting to unleash their full energy which they do a touch in the subsequent flirtatious stroll of the track. Loaded with tasty hooks, eager vocals, and swinging harmonies, the song blossoms into a seductive roar of sixties teased garage rock and pop rock devilment with a chorus which is inescapable creative bait. Providing hips and the spirit one anthemic vehicle to lose composure with, the track is irresistible.

A potency swiftly matched and pushed further by the pop ‘n’ roll fuelled Eyes On You. Again beats thump as they tempt with chords and riffs alongside, all colluding in almost salacious incitement as vocals command the tenacity of it all. With a great punk boisterousness to its stomp and psych rock tendencies in its melodic explorations, the song is superb, reason alone to check out the EP.

Cold Justice follows and quickly shares more of the new broader flavoured sound of the band. Sixties pop and seventies power pop fused with pub rock shenanigans, the song swaggers along with mischief in its antics and charm in its melodic glaze. It is a truly magnetic affair becoming more physically involving by the minute and thickly compelling by the listen.

The EP ends with I Want Drums, a ‘showcase’, if any further proof was needed to his prowess, of Norris’ rhythmic dexterity. His skittish beats come with poise and a rousing agility which is equally matched in the revelry of his companions in voice and sound. With sixties garage rock again fuelling the fire, the track is like an illegitimate offspring from a union between The Monks and Jon Spencer Blues Explosion but bred on its own imaginative mischief.

It is an outstanding end to another delicious endeavour with Fuzzy Vox, a release which may not eclipse that brilliant last album but stands right by its side whilst revealing a fresh new venture in the hunger of the band’s insatiable sound.

Ba-Da-Boom is out now and available @ https://fuzzyvox.bandcamp.com/album/ba-da-boom-2

http://fuzzyvox.com/     https://www.facebook.com/fuzzyvox    https://twitter.com/fuzzyvox

Pete RingMaster 05/12/2017

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 @ https://wildevelandthetrashbones.bandcamp.com/album/digging-my-grave

https://www.facebook.com/trashbones/    http://trashbones.com/    https://twitter.com/WildEvel1

 Pete RingMaster 29/11/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Royal Podencos – Broken Bones

Released earlier this year, Broken Bones is an album well worth taking a close listen too especially if you have an appetite for boisterous garage rock. The second album from Spanish quartet Royal Podencos, it offers much more than that garage rock tag, the Santander outfit creating their sound with a  just as rich flavouring of punk, blues rock, and power pop for a proposition as fresh as it is enjoyably nostalgic.

The successor to 2014 debut What´s your plan, the eleven song strong Broken Bones needs little time to get the body bouncing and an appetite for the band’s rock ‘n’ roll brewing with opener Sexuality. The foursome of Jonny, Jota, Toni, and Hans instantly tease with a rockabilly riff, its lure aligned to a rousing hook and melodic devilry as rhythms dance invitingly in the ears. With great distinctive vocals riding its mischievous almost salacious antics, the song swiftly springs its inescapable trap to inspire the body and imagination to be as lively as its own escapade.

It is a rousing start to proceedings which is never outshone within Broken Bones but certainly rivalled like by its successor Break us down. Its own swinging flirtation and gait brings a more sixties flavoured adventure but one quickly revealing its seventies punk instincts as vocals and hooks unveil their infectious intent. As the first song it is a highly catchy and addictive proposal, a slice of pop infused punk ‘n’ roll to get the hips and spirit dancing; their energies given no respite by the following more bluesy rock ‘n’ roll of The dog you found. With a Tom Petty-esque scent and drawl to its stroll it too casts a contagious sixties power pop jangle with a truly virulent hook to grab ears and attention alike.

Though not quite finding the heights of its predecessors, Anything you want is no lightweight in persuasive rock ‘n’ roll either, its tenacious swing and sharp hooks leading the listener into eager involvement while Noone´s giving up in here, whilst keeping enjoyment full, allows a breath to be taken with its Americana kissed blues croon and suggestive guitar woven melodic web. Both tracks spread the rich flavours in the Royal Podencos sound further, each song so far revealing a different angle in the garage rock ‘n’ roll heart of the band.

A little creep has the inner bounce leaping again as it shares its pop rock contagion next, eager rhythms injecting its already enticing bait with moments of anthemic tenacity as riffs scythe across their swings before What´s wrong with you has thoughts going back to bands like Eddie and The Hot Rods, The Motors, and Tonight with its hepped up and highly enjoyable antics.

The discord lined canter of On and on hits the spot within seconds next, its punk nature and off-kilter harmony inescapable temptation against which Let me shake puts up its own blues laced raw pop ‘n’ roll to matching persuasive success. As with most tracks within the album, each has an instinctive knack in setting traps and hooks which are impossible to evade or ignore resulting in another very agreeable rock ‘n’ roll workout.

The closing pair of You got a home and Tell me why are no different even without quite hooking up with the passions as naturally as others within Broken Bones. Nevertheless, their respective individual moments of garage pop punk and classic blues rock leave pleasure high and the album impressing right up to its last breath.

While sensing something even more unique is lurking, just waiting to break out in the Royal Podencos sound, Broken Bones consistently hits the spot with moments of lustful pleasure on top. If you are looking for some new varied rock ‘n’ roll to get dancing too then Broken Bones is well worth tangling with.

Broken Bones is available now @ https://royalpodencos.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/royalpodencos/

Pete RingMaster 21/11/2017

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 @ https://baronenandsatan.bandcamp.com/album/why-does-the-blood-never-stick-to-your-teeth  and https://baronenandsatan.bandcamp.com/album/satan-is-a-lady respectively.

https://www.facebook.com/baronenochsatan/

Pete RingMaster 07/11/2017

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