Rotten Mind – Self Titled

photo_by_Mikael_Lindqvist

Talking about the band’s new self-titled album, Rotten Mind vocalist/guitarist Jakob Arvidsson stated that, “Our main idea was to work in a new way. We had no rush and the songs were written during a period that lasted for over a year.” Whether that intent and process was the reason or the spark, the Swedish quartet’s second album has emerged with new maturity and creative roundedness in sound and songwriting. Without losing the punk snarl of its predecessor, it is a proposition which has attention on board within a handful of seconds and firmly held until its final breath.

The album sees Rotten Mind uncage their distinctive fusion of punk, garage rock, and post punk, a sound which simultaneously feels familiar yet forcibly fresh. It is a mix which saw their debut full-length, I’m Alone Even With You, eagerly received and praised upon its release in 2015, its success followed by a torrent of live shows and two tours across Europe. Indeed the writing of its successor, taking over a year, simultaneously occurred as shows came thick and fast; songs relishing the experiences and inspiring sights found to push on in all aspects from its predecessor.

As evidenced from its opener alone, the album flings physically gripping hooks and imagination inciting melodies at will; all keener and more powerful than anything the band has conjured before while rhythmically the release is a cauldron of anthemic temptation. It is fuelled by the scuzzy almost suffocating Rotten Mind sound which marked the first album and the Uppsala hailing band’s potent live presence; Wish You Were Gone starting things off revealing all of those established  attributes and plenty of new ones.

Dangling bait sonic initially, one soon entwined with a spicy melody, the first song soon bursts into a virulent stroll, the album’s first essential hook from Johan’s guitar wagging an irresistible finger as the rhythms of bassist Rune and drummer Victor collude in rolling infectious bait. The temptation only increases as the track boils, Jakob’s vocals just as magnetic as that first strand of piercing persuasion continues to persist while revealing psychobilly tendencies against the track’s intensifying punk punch.

There is a touch of Psychedelic Furs to song and release, nothing concrete just a scent which continues in the more irritable rock ‘n’ roll of Things I Can’t See. At times, as beats jab and riffs bite, the song feels like it is slamming its fists down on the table temperament wise but discontent aligned to a catchy restraint ensuring great volatility in the rousing incitement of sound and enterprise. The track is one of two singles laying down potent teasers for the album earlier this year, the second following straight after.  Still Searching sonically shimmers before laying down a trail of rhythmic manna, the brooding voice of the bass courting rapacious beats. The track’s post punk persuasion makes swift slavery of ears and appetite, its bait only accentuated by the subsequent acidic hook and swinging groove loaded gait of the song. Kind like a mix of The Jesus and Mary Chain and Sex Gang Children, the track, as the album, simply seizes ears and appetite with relish second by second.

Dark Intentions bounds along with contagious energy and rhythmic dexterity next, its atmospheric and emotional shadows just as potent as its melodic suggestiveness before Got Me Numbered reveals a seventies inspired punkiness recalling the likes of Buzzcocks and The Vibrators. Both tracks have the body bouncing and spirit ignited while When You Come Back meanders along in a web of wiry melodies as rhythms grumble. Infectious vocals especially within the potent chorus only add to its lure, its tapestry of flirtatious strums and inventive persistence demanding inevitable and lustful listener involvement.

Through the creatively and emotionally agitated Real Lies and Out Of Use with its darker predatory hues,  enjoyment is an eager torrent, the first captivating with robust rhythmic incitement and hard rock infused melodic jangle while the second prowls the senses with a union of primal and fiery contrasts. There is a surface similarity to many tracks within the album, but a deception greater attention defuses with both tracks showing potent diversity, with the second especially bold.

The rock ‘n’ roll clash and holler of Safer Place keeps things feverishly lively, its dark haunting textures surrounding a sonic blaze of invention before I Need To Know brings things to a richly satisfying close with its boisterous croon.

It is a fine end to an album which brings greater individuality to the Rotten Mind sound though there still feels like there is plenty of room for greater uniqueness to blossom which on the thick enjoyment of their album only adds further excitement for the future.

The Rotten Mind album is out now through Lövely Records @ https://lovelyrecords.bandcamp.com/album/rotten-mind-rotten-mind

https://www.facebook.com/rottenmindua/

Pete RingMaster 27/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Madjive – Business first

All work and no play makes…. well you know the rest though no one seems to have told French rockers Madjive. There new album suggests that it is Business first but it is a sentiment which does not stop the band taking the listener on a feverish, mischievous, and riotous rock ‘n roll romp which is all about fun, fun, fun…

Hailing from the east side of France, Madjive has been unleashing their creative devilry since 2008. As their third album reveals, theirs is a sound which evades guidelines and rules, Business first a cavalcade of various styles and textures woven into a proposition as punk as it is hard rock, as garage rock as it is funk. Across two previous albums, a trio of EPs and a split vinyl release, the band has only cemented and increased their reputation while live Madjive has stomped across the broad landscape of Europe to matching acclaim, sharing stages with the likes of Powersolo, Richie Ramone, The Phenomenauts, Fuzzy Vox, The Jancee Pornick Casino, The Inspector Cluzo, Nada Surf, Lords of Altamont, VCPS and many others along the way. Business first is the wake-up call to those yet to be infested by the outfit’s devilment, a boisterous and excitable encounter which would not surprise if it incited global attention.

Ignition program turns the album’s key, its scything riffs and tenacious beats wrapped in a vocal web before leaping into a punk rock stroll sparking the body into a blur of eager movement. The funk growl of the opener twists into the punk ‘n’ roll of I am addicted. Again guitars chop and entangle the senses with their agitated jangle whilst rhythms shuffle within the quickly established funk infested saunter of the song. Led by more lively vocals, it continues to bounce and infest ears with a persuasion causing reactions living up to its title.

Its masterful temptation is swiftly eclipsed by the salacious lures of Same bone; a feisty charge of bold rock ‘n’ roll with the growl of Rocket From The Crypt and the instinctive devilish catchiness of  The Phenomenauts. At barely a handful of breaths over a minute in length, the glorious pleasure is sadly sort lived but imposingly memorable and thrilling before A spooky bargain brings its own haunted impishness to the party. Hooks escape its imagination at will, keys and guitars alone conjuring seductive bait as vocals colour and incite proceedings with mutual dexterity. Hints of Neal Hefti, the creator of the classic Batman theme tease throughout; the adventure recalling his finest moment within creative shenanigans all Madjive.

The contagious punk rock of Kid bazooka bursts to life next, it too equipped with appetite piercing hooks and devilment before the album’s title track declares its intent with rousing vocal unity quickly joined by forcibly persuasive rock ‘n’ roll. The track feels like a prelude to the bigger picture of Draft, sketch and outlines, the meeting’s  minutes setting the tone before its successor twists and turns with forceful enterprise and garage punk meets funk rock roguery. At its final statement, a moment of jazzy rascality comes over the album and ears, its unexpected detour leading to the blues funk playfulness of I can’t complain, a track somehow managing to sound like a hybrid of Red Hot Chili Peppers, System Of A Down, and Kings Of Leon without making such influences more than a whiff of a scent.

Both the previous tracks leave pleasure full if without quite at the heights of earlier tracks or found in the heavier rock ‘n’ roll of Rigged show. The track is a muscular and gnarly yet controlled and flirtatious encounter demanding subservience to its scything beats and sonic antics. There is hint of bands like Cheap Trick and Golden Earring to the song, but small hues in a certainly seemingly familiar but distinct escapade.

If the last song was relatively composed, We’re clear let’s manic traits fuel its character as it escapes speakers and the enslaving restraints of life to stir up body and imagination ready for the stormily sultry adventure of Desert peddler. The Morricone laced climate of the song is pure western drama, suggestiveness bound in similar descriptive intensity and artfulness to which Helldorado revel in, and quite glorious.

The album concludes with the vocal and melodic chicanery of Another guidance, a track trying to be composed and refined but it just cannot keep its punk heart chained, involving ears in a thrilling burst of garage rock high jinks with more than a keen nod to old school rock ‘n’ roll.

Business first, from its first dose of addictively satisfying and enterprising misconduct, inspires a hankering to get back with it as soon as possible, even before it actually comes to an end. It is a powerful lure from a stomp any fan of rock ‘n’ roll knavery will find a lusty appetite for. Throughout it does seem to persistently nag and remind of one band in particular, though one our thoughts have still yet to pin down, but Business first only announces Madjive as a band ready to stir up the rock world with inventive capers.

Business first is out now across most stores and @ https://madjive.bandcamp.com/album/business-first

Upcoming live dates:

16.04.207 – Clou – Grünberg – Germany

22.04.2017 – Cafe Ohne – Emerkingen – Germany

12.05.2017 – La Rodia – Besançon – France w/ Imperial state electric

16.06.2017 – Festival Erbasons – Etupes – France

30.06.2017 – Atelier des Moles – Montbéliard w/ CJ Ramone

25.11.2017 – La Taverne – Nevers – France

http://www.madjive.fr/    https://www.facebook.com/Madjive/   https://twitter.com/Madjive

Pete RingMaster 21/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

King Salami and the Cumberland 3 – Goin’ Back To Wurstville

If there is one band in this fast paced world which gives the body an even more intensive and thorough workout it is undoubtedly King Salami and the Cumberland 3. This is a band where an Automated External Defibrillator should always be on hand at every show they play, waiting and ready to revive the inevitable wasted bodies.  Now that need has been transferred to the band’s records. When playing all three of the band’s albums back to back, apart from a danger to health, it is a hard choice to say which is best, all in their openly individual ways an equal treat, but without doubt Goin’ Back To Wurstville is the most demanding and exciting for heart and limbs yet.

The new album from the Sultan of Sausage and his fellow creative rascals is a blur of incitement, a cavalcade of irresistible temptation for feet and hips. Each of its thirteen songs teases and infests the psyche, sharing groove woven rhythm & blues punk ‘n’ roll to lose all shades of sanity to. As ever, it is a busy time for the quartet; gigs coming up at a rate of knots across the globe before and even more so after their highlight performance on the BBC show The UK’s Best Part-Time Band last year. With the outfit in the middle of a UK tour right now and featuring in Roger Corman’s movie, Death Race 2050, you can be sure that Goin’ Back To Wurstville is only going to accelerate the demand on the boys and their riotous sound.

Featuring Spencer Evoy from fellow body contorters MFC Chicken and his salacious sax, Goin’ Back To Wurstville quickly gets down to business with Pineapple Mama, the song feeding off the album’s lively Intro with an initial bass groan and flames of fiery sax, they leading to an insistent romp of riffs and rhythms led by King Salami’s inevitable energy and vocal revelry. It is party time, the song swinging from the rafters with body enslaving grooves dangling their insatiable bait to further ensnare ears and limbs. Soul, r&b, rock ‘n’ roll and more excitable flavours all get involved in the multi-flavoured proposal, King Salami and co straight away feeding greedy hopes with a fresh new adventure.

The pugilistic rascality of Nosebleed Boogie is next, guitars and sax colluding in a devilish enticement of melodic theatre as King Salami uses Ali like vocal footwork to evade the rhythmic punches, his magnetic prowess like a blend of Bo Diddley and Little Walter before offering even feistier fun in the boisterous romp of Busy Body. An infection of spicy grooves and virulent riffs, the song ensures the listener is on the end of major manipulation echoing its title before the glorious adventure of King Ghidorah rises up from its oriental bed with sixties cinematic adventure fuelling its melodies and rhythms. With King Salami a dramatic narrator, T. Bone Sanchez’s grooves are a three headed tempting of flirtatious hookery, melodic seduction, and tenacious persuasion, theatre skirted by the addictive rhythmic rumble of bassist Kamikaze UT Vincent and drummer Eric Baconstrip.

There is no escaping the frisky intent of the following King Size Love, its rockabilly nurtured stroll manhandled by addiction shaping rhythms and coloured with more of the salacious enterprise which continually and artfully springs from the guitar of Sanchez across the album. Feet and hips are swiftly lost to the song’s shuffle, lungs already gasping for breath by this point within Goin’ Back To Wurstville but managing to find plenty more air for the blues strung jungle of She Was A Mau Mau and after that, the garage punk lined surf rock lit antics of No Stoppin’. The first of the two is a sweltering near on muggy affair for the heart whilst its successor is a blaze of instrumental rock ‘n’ roll which has the body at its most frenetically subservient in the hands of the album.

The treats just keep coming too; Tiger In My Tank keeps the listener moving like a puppet on tricky strings of rhythmic pestering and melodic misbehaviour, all urged on by the saucy blasts of sax and King Salami’s inexhaustible energy and spirited character.

Stutterin’ Sue leaps around with garage rock rapacity and raw captivation next while Camel Hop after that sees roving basslines and agitated beats stir up another voracious contagion of sound and spirit rousing enterprise, sultry Arabian scented  grooves winding around ears and appetite as rock ‘n’ roll rumbles in the belly of song and listener. Both tracks are an epidemic of temptation, unrelenting creative persistence more than matched by the Johnny Kidd and The Pirates hued Shiver which follows.

Concluded by the double diablerie of firstly the album’s dirt encrusted rock ‘n’ roll road trip going under its title track moniker and lastly the carnival of Latin summer fun that is Caramba!, the sensational Goin’ Back To Wurstville is bliss for ears and soul. With each of the King Salami and the Cumberland 3 releases we seem to offer nothing but lustful praise so with their third full-length we were determined to find something which might be suggested the band could improve upon. Quite simply we failed, though you know the band will still find something fresh and bolder next time and with regards to best album question, listening it as these fingers tap, yep Goin’ Back To Wurstville wins the debate.

Goin’ Back To Wurstville is out now on Dirty Waters Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/King-Salami-and-the-Cumberland-Three/c/2793708/offset=9&sort=normal

https://www.facebook.com/KingSalamiandtheCumberland3/

Pete RingMaster 22/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Masonics – Obermann Rides Again

masonics_RingMasterReview

Giving an instinctive passion for rock ‘n’ roll as big a work out as hips and feet, UK rockers The Masonics recently uncaged their ninth album, Obermann Rides Again, offering fourteen slices of their feverishly distinctive and tenaciously addictive sound. The trio rock and rumble through their new proposal with more of the beat infected garage punk which has seen them become the leaders of the Medway Beat first instigated by Billy Childish. In saying that, it equally breathes and roars with freshness again bringing something new and inspiring to ears and the scene around them, and most of all raw zeal and excitement to the listener.

The band consists of vocalist/guitarist Mickey Hampshire who was in the Milkshakes in the early 80s with drummer Bruce Brand who had played alongside Childish a few years earlier in the Pop Rivets and bassist John Gibbs once of Scottish group, The Kaisers. As The Masonics, the threesome have persistently cemented their position as one of the heads of British garage rock/punk with a sound becoming one of the essential inspirations of the ever eager charge of the genre’s young pups.

Released by Dirty Water Records as a limited 500 copies editions ahead of a series of limited vinyl and download releases from The Masonics’ back catalogue, starting with Outside Looking In and a new singles compilation, Obermann Rides Again swiftly reveals why the stature of the band remains stately. It all starts with I Ain’t Hurting For You and a guitar twang which provides the spark for a strolling jangle and rhythmic incitement forcibly engaging ears. The magnetic vocals of Hampshire are soon adding their lure; the boisterous sounds around him echoing his honest unfussy delivery. Within a handful of seconds feet are physically involved, appetite and those instincts just as eagerly hooked before the excellent opener hands its pliable slave over to the even more energetically captivating and persuasive Don’t Torment Me. With a Bo Diddley like stomp at its heart, the track twists and turns in its relentlessly vigorous shuffle with rhythmic rowdiness and sonic vivacity its virulent fuel. Rock ‘n’ roll was never meant to be flamboyant or polished to clean-cut limpness and this superb roisterer and its dirty ways proves why.

art_RingMasterReviewYour Dangerous Mind has a less undisciplined bounce, its saunter more flirtation than aggression and just as irresistible as Hampshire with grainy texture croons, backed by his cohorts within tangy grooves and hip inciting rhythms. The r&b essences of the song are just as ripe as its brisk punk serenade, chaining a body and imagination which is soon firmly hooked again by the sultry rumba of I Don’t Understand Her Any More. As with most tracks, a collusion of decades is at masterful play, sixties garage pop and seventies surf rock hues potent spices as too the fuzzy buzz of organ in the gentle but keen canter of a song.

Rhythm ‘n’ blues dexterity becomes even wilder in next up You Don’t Have To Travel; the beat swinging, hook casting romp has a flush of King Salami and the Cumberland 3 to it,  a more mild-mannered but no less devilish cousin enjoying juicy melodies and the temptress vocal charms of Ludella Black alongside Hampshire. It also pushes the already keen diversity of sound within the album on again, as even more so does I’m The Unforgiver. The track is glorious, a dark rock ‘n’ roll saunter with Cajun spicing evocatively colouring attitude loaded vocals, the fiery shimmer of harmonica, and heavily loping rhythms. It infests ears and psyche like the mutant offspring from a dirty union between Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers and Ray Campi; quite simply it is garage punk to get truly lustful over.

The following and equally outstanding You’re A Stranger leaves body exhausted, senses punch drunk, and spirit ablaze next with its contagion loaded punk rock carrying a touch of The Mobbs to its rowdy exuberance while You Won’t See Me Again finds a predacious edge to its swinging, deviously catchy garage rock bred swagger.

Throughout the whole album, there is no escaping the physical manipulation of Brand’s nefarious beats or Gibbs infernal rhythms whilst Hampshire’s wiry melodies and jangling melodic hooks are trespasses more often than not breeding slavery. All are at bold play in the beat punctuated blues flamed I’m A Redacted Man and straight after in the smouldering fifties rock ‘n’ roll/sixties pop spun What Do You Do. A procrastinating stroll and anthem for lost love and its enslaving grief, the second’s raw seduction roars with soiled Walker Brothers like charm and salty melodic spicing reminding a little of The Birds.

Come On My Little Darlin’ bounces around like a dancehall ruffian after them, sonically tempting and rhythmically taunting as a mouth harp again seduces before You Gotta Tell Me shows its blues breeding with intoxicating hooks and intoxicated keys for a salacious slab of imposing but controlled rock ‘n roll. Both tracks continue the album’s appetite igniting prowess though both are quickly eclipsed by its closing pair.

The swinging country rock a-scented beat ‘n’ roll of The Unsignposted Road is sheer infectiousness with Black back courting ears alongside the band as one passion stoking hook persists and old school melodies flame. It is delicious to the ear but too is slightly shaded by the brilliance of the album’s title track bringing devilment to its exceptional close. Punk ‘n’ roll calling on the goodness of past decades, it stomps around and grips body and soul like The Pirates, both the Johnny Kidd and seventies eras, meeting Thee Headcoats as the likes of The Blue Cats spur them on; a glorious end to an equally stirring and enjoyable album.

As suggested earlier, The Masonics are the head boys of UK garage goodness and Obermann Rides Again is evidence they are in no mood to hand over that position.

Obermann Rides Again is out now on vinyl on the band’s own Grand Wazeau Records and digitally through Dirty Water Records and available @ https://themasonics.bandcamp.com/album/obermann-rides-again

https://www.facebook.com/themasonics/

Pete RingMaster 05/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Playboy Manbaby – Don’t Let It Be

 

playboymanbaby_RingMasterReview

With their recent single still inciting mischief and bad behaviour, Arizona post funk punksters Playboy Manbaby have just uncaged their new album Don’t Let It Be, eleven tracks of creatively nefarious goodness infesting body and spirit.

The union of You Can Be A Fascist Too and I’d Like To Meet Your Parents was a devilish punk riot of a single leaving greed part of appetite and anticipation awaiting the band’s third album. The Dirty Waters/Lollypops Records released Don’t Let It Be soon shows that the Playboy Manbaby sound is broader than ever, bigger than an elephant’s backside in flavour and sound. Having caught up with their previous full-lengths in Bummeritaville and Electric Babyman, both released 2014, that variety will be no surprise to fans but their successor has really gone to town in adventure and diverse fun to truly leave all before it in the shade.

The Phoenix hailing sextet of Robbie Pfeffer (vocals), Chris Hudson( bass), TJ Friga (guitar), David Cosme (trumpet), Chad Dennis (drums), and Austin Rickert (sax) have become a big deal locally and across their homeland, shows alongside the likes of  Mike Watt & The Missing Men, King Khan & BBQ Show, King Khan & The Shrines, Rocket From The Crypt, Thee Oh Sees, Cosmonauts, The Spits, Black Flag, The Descendents, The Replacements, The Slackers,  and Teenage Bottlerocket to name just a few, pushing their reputation as potently as their sounds. Now having been already tenderised by the last single, global attention is surely poised to embrace Playboy Manbaby and Don’t Let It Be. Justice is never a given of course but neither do anything to deter that expected and deserved embrace.

You Can Be a Fascist Too gets the revelry going, a surge of guitar jangle and bass throbbing swiftly joined by the slightly derange and excitable tones of Pfeffer. Spicy melodies and tenacious riffs almost barge into each other as the garage and punk essences of the track bound through ears, salacious harmonies sparking thoughts of UK band The Tuesday Club. For less obvious reason, The Tubes also come to mind a little too as the song stomps around like a belligerent pup, its raw power pop punk quite irresistible.

art_RingMasterReviewThe zeal pumped diversity quickly comes to the fore with the following Last One Standing, brass instantly flirting with ears with saucy flames as the bass swaggers with deceptive innocence. There is an agenda at play; an intent to turn the listener into a physical puppet and there is no escape for feet and hips to the virulent lures of the rhythms and grooves teasing and taunting within the ska kissed funk escapade. The earnest screwy tones of Pfeffer again are sheer magnetism as too the evolving dark bait pulsating out of Hudson’s bass.

The outstanding track is quickly matched by the even livelier dance of Bored Broke And Sober, its catchy jazz funk garage punk as loco as it is skilfully woven to lure untied bodies. Hooks are as flirtatious as rhythms, every fondling by and flash from the Friga’s guitar ear chaining rascality, and the whole song as those before slavery.

Cadillac Car saunters in next, its low slung groove temptress like as vocals dance with drooling expression of defiance and attitude in the garage punk crawl before Self-Loathing In Bright Clothing throws its post punk/punk tendencies into the ring. A few blows short of a brawl, the track springs its creative agitation with infection loaded enterprise creating a rough and ready tango of fiercely captivating Reuben meets Dead Boys like provocation.

The sultry flirtatious garage r&b of Cheap Wine and the scuzzy pop punk of Popular bring body and soul to the boil again, the latter like a raw Mighty Mighty Bosstones in some ways while I’m So Affluent slips in with a slinky grace as noir lit air hugs skittish rhythms and vocal suggestion. Jazzy with a dark indie jangle recalling The Jazz Butcher, the song quickly blossoms its dark rock ‘’n roll into another majorly bewitching moment within Don’t Let It Be, one with an increasingly tenacious bounce complete with band calls just impossible to be left out of.

That indie sound fills next up Oprichniki too though as all songs it soon shows a jumble of spices and styles in its ballsy pop with Don Knotts In A Wind Tunnel straight after  engaging in dirty rock ‘n’ roll with a certain Rocket From The Crypt fever to its irritable bawl and brass igniting flames. For us it is joy to be unable to pin a sound down, this pair alone showing Playboy Manbaby get just as big a kick from defeating any attempt whilst pleasing their own devious imaginations.

Dark rock ‘n’ roll brings the album’s closing treat of White Jesus to ears, its meandering stroll and creatively incisive accosting portrait of a certain new world leader initially Nick Cave/Tom Waits like before ending as a concussive explosion of Dead Kennedys toned ferocity and bedlam.

The last Playboy Manbaby single set up anticipation for Don’t Let It Be perfectly but barely hinted at the bold inescapable fun and adventure to be found, both which will be hard to find any better on any release across the rest of the year too we suspect.

Don’t Let It Be is out now on CD through Dirty Water Records and cassette from Lollipop Records @ https://lollipop-records.myshopify.com/products/playboy-manbaby-dont-let-it-be-cass with its digital outing available @ https://playboymanbaby.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/ButterGravyButter    https://twitter.com/playboymanbaby   http://playboymanbaby.com/

Pete RingMaster 03/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Pink Pussycats From Hell – Hell-P

pink_pussycats_photo_RingMasterReview

Supposedly “A bizarre and unlikely alliance between one mad hunter and a dangerous rabbit gave birth to Pink Pussycats From Hell, a power rock duo formed decades ago just outside Hellsinki, not the capital of Finland, but a remote village buried deep in the forests of Portugal.” Whatever the origins, Pink Pussycats From Hell is a highly enjoyable invasion of the senses casting raw and scuzzy rock ‘n’ roll trespasses which only leave a want for more.

Debut album Hell-P growls and roars with abrasive lo-fi and viscerally raw sound, spreading blues and garage rock toxicity into the primal heart of their music and listener. It is fair to say that it is a challenge which is not going to be for everyone but whether the duo of guitarist/vocalist Mighty Hunter and drummer/vocalist Danger Rabbit simply wore us down or there was an instinctive appetite for their ballsy invasion of sound, by its close on just the first listen The RR was swinging and throwing itself around like a beast in heat.

Creating a caustic sound bound in essences recalling the likes of The Stooges, The Cramps, In The Whale, and Jackson Firebird, Pink Pussycats From Hell introduce themselves with Hello on the album, a fuzzy spillage of blues rock ‘n’ roll prowling the senses as vocals provoke attention. Initially subdued, rhythms soon become a punchy provocateur alongside the molten melodies and scavenging riffs of guitar.

Beats make a far livelier incitement in the following Hellmet, its blues rock straight forward but with the unpredictability which is swiftly revealed as a potent ingredient across the album and the Pink Pussycats From Hell sound. The song itself is a highly satisfying proposal if lacking the persuasion of the first or indeed of Hellga which follows which brings a smile to the face to match its own mischievous grin. The track is charred punk ‘n’ roll blessed with increasing irritability and bracing infectiousness which inflames ears and appetite ready for the even more heated and addictively enjoyable blaze of Hellvolution.

pink_pussycats_cover_RingMasterReviewThrough the baked or should that be half-baked stroll and declaration of Hellbow, the crunchy stomp of Hellephant, and the electrified blues blaze of Hellectric, the album continues to tempt and share more manic traits to its increasingly captivating character. The last of the three is equipped with the most irresistible hooks and pleasing rock ‘n’ roll cantankerousness subsequently matched in its individual way by those within Hellvetica, both tracks lava-esque rock to sear the senses.

Hellicopter pleases with its blues spiced garage punk assault next though it offers teases of mouth-watering enterprise and striking elements rather than actually releasing them to frustrate a touch. Its successor Hell Dorado is built on the same crazed imagination but is far more open as the track builds its schizophrenic rock ‘n’ roll but it too lacks the potency of earlier tracks though the sweltering Latin/mariachi hued melodies later on just hit the spot.

The next pair of tracks leaves ears and passions truly alive. Hell is Regina is first and unleashes a slice of dirty punk rock which just stays with the listener for hours after. A rousing celebration of personal differences with a snarl in its gut, the track is pure rock ‘n’ roll virulence you will find dancing around your head for ages after, especially its participation seizing chorus. Hellzheimer is the same in its own way, grooves and rhythms a familiar but rapacious invitation ridden by the pair’s catchy vocal trap.

The duo brings the album to a spirit inciting close with a raucous cover of the Berry Gordy and Janie Bradford written classic, Money (That’s What I Want). It is a galvanic senses roasting version ensuring Hell-P ends on another high, the listener too with an eager taste for the Pink Pussycats From Hell devilry in place.

Hell-P is out now via Raging Planet @ https://ragingplanet.bandcamp.com

http://www.ppfh.rocks   https://www.facebook.com/ppfhell

Pete RingMaster 07/02/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

High Tiny Hairs – LP

HTH_RingMasterReview

It is fair to say that High Tiny Hairs do not waste too much time thinking about names for their releases, their introduction being called EP and a debut album going by the name of LP, their names the distinction between two self-titled proposals. Where they do centre their attention is on a sound which tantalises and captivates. Creating a compelling mix of garage and psych rock as sultry as it is infectious, the band captured ears and imagination with their first EP, a tempting which has blossomed into something even more beguiling in its full-length successor.

The beginnings of High Tiny Hairs came in the spring of 2014, the band starting out as a solo project for Minneapolis songwriter/vocalist/guitarist Ben Bachman. He recorded and produced the High Tiny Hairs EP soon after before joining US garage rock band Fuck Knights on their European tour prior to its release. It was on the Spanish leg of that adventure where he met Spanish troubadour Cristina Mirica and found a union in music and loves. They kept in touch after his return to America, an emotional bond growing which Bachman put down to the cure to his writers block. Towards the end of that year, he returned to Spain and Mirica, the pair also creatively uniting for what stands before us, the band’s magnetic first album.

Mixed by Ross Nueske, the album opens up with Bcna, guitars quickly wrapping engagingly around ears as the warm serenade of keys flirt with the senses. Seriously catchy from its first breath, the song only grows in tempting as Mirica’s warm tones joins the swagger of bass and crisp beats. There is a surf rock scenting to the track alongside its sixties flavoured garage pop, a mix which has hips and appetite dancing and all warmed up for the just as lively and enjoyable stroll of Upside Down. Hooks and melodies entangle as rhythms bound with an irresistible swagger, Bachman’s vocals and keys sauntering along the infection loaded encounter.

As Night Walking engages ears next it is clear that the punk essences of that first EP have been more or less replaced with a richer wash of variety, the song’s warm and seductive swing embracing psych blues and broader rock elements. There is no escaping getting hooked up in its masterful sway or the seventies glam pop flavoured rock ‘n’ roll of the following Rattlin. With more than a passing nod to bands like Sweet, the song romps along with ear enslaving virulence as Bachman’s guitar weaves a web of melodic enterprise around beguiling vocals.

art_RingMasterReviewRolling Smoke dips back into the seeds of sixties garage rock next while Stained smoulders with psych rock imagination from the same era straight after; both tracks as diverse and unique as they are mutually captivating and creatively stylish. They are qualities which again shape the hazy canvas of My Mind, a track with a whiff of bands like The 13th Floor Elevators and The Electric Prunes to its dark pop romancing.

The album is completed by firstly On a Plane, a humid summer of psych and garage rock with underlying tempestuousness, and finally Sunset. The closer is a riveting controlled stomp of punchy beats, brooding bass, and exotic melodies aligned to just as hazy vocals and steamy keys. It is a delicious end to an album which is just as flavoursome and more as a whole.

With a line-up now expanded by the addition of Coda’s Guillem Gabarró and Raül Romero of Flashback Five, High Tiny Hairs is looking at a rather exciting year on the back of one rather fine release.

The High Tiny Hairs LP is out now @ http://hightinyhairs.bandcamp.com

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Pete RingMaster 25/02/2017

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