False Flags – Hexmachine

artwork_RingMaster Review

Casting belligerent revelry in a tempest of hardcore, punk metal, and noise rock within debut EP Hexmachine, UK quartet False Flags quickly suggest they are a raging on the ear that giving attention to can only be rewarding. It is a five track causticity loaded with noise infested hooks and discordance fuelled enterprise that snarls and gnaws on the senses with a combination of familiar and fresh ferocity. Major surprises are scarce, originality in some ways slim, but fair to say band and release stir up a very healthy appetite for their uncompromising persuasion of sound and intent.

Hailing from Leeds, False Flags emerged from the ashes of Red Stars Parade, Whores Whores Whores, and Year of the Man some when around 2011. Drawing on inspirations from bands such as Unsane, Breather Resist, Botch, and Coalesce, False Flags saw its members exploring new avenues for their hardcore bred ideation and adventure; better explained by guitarist Charles Pritchard, “after the break-ups of our previous bands in Leeds and all previously being friends from the DIY scene here, we wanted to form a band that took influence more from the noise rock / discordant hardcore end of the spectrum.” It was an aim soon finding success and a quickly growing following to a live presence which including sharing stages with the likes of Noothgrush, Narrows, and Envy. Long anticipated, Hexmachine is their first studio unleashing, a fierce roar on broader spotlights which more than lives up to the buzz their shows have bred.

The EP erupts with Earl Black, the opener emerging from a distant sonic haze in a brawl of thumping rhythms and caustic sonic violation. It is an assault bound in an infectious tenacity and lure too even though the vocals of Chris Jenkinson are throat raw, every syllable bearing the blood of his vocal chords as around him the guitars twist a mesh of flavours from punk to metal to heavy rock. Pritchard’s fingers keep song and imagination busy with his prowess on string as too the dark bass tempting of Mark Snellgrove, his prowling invention superbly aligned to the scything swings of drummer Mike McGoran. First impression of the track is strong, second great with it further impressing with each subsequent play.

The same applies to the following Last Screen Goddess. It makes a bolder entrance, beats badgering ears from its first breath as riffs and grooves entwine in a web of temptation. More predatory in gait and energy than its predecessor, the track is a cantankerous involvement which again only becomes more compelling over time. It is probably fair to say that it lacks the same imagination as the first song in the bulk of its body but saves that for a passage where everything twists around each other in a riveting and bruising noise infested trespass of the senses. Satisfaction is only left full across its bellow and filled again by the confrontation of Fate (Has a Driver). Like a blaze seeded in Sofy Major like rock ‘n’ roll and the scarring contagion of The Great Sabatini, the track heftily pleases; its grooves and bass rabidity especially incendiary sparking an even greedier appetite by this point.

Pet Wolf sculpts its barbarous infestation of air and ears from a similar canvas to the last song but turns it into a much more volcanic and volatile proposition veined by southern hued, sludge coated grooves. Bass and drum endeavour is as bewitching and punishing as the sonic incursion courtesy of the guitar, it all led by the harsh vocal and lyrical devilment. It is a great bullying which continues in the noise/punk inferno of Namedropper. Once more contagious hooks and flaming grooves join barbarous rhythms and vocal abrasion to create an assault as addictive as it is debilitating.

From one great track to another as Phone My Wallet brings Hexmachine to a rousing and brutal end, the track a bedlam of tasty repetitive grooves and intrusive hooks amidst a raging storm of voice, rhythms, and intensity. It sums up the False Flags sound in one invasive blow and ensures the EP leaves on a lofty plateau.

With a want for a touch more bold originality and diversity to Hexmachine the only slight wish of the EP it is an impressive and thoroughly enjoyable introduction to False Flags. With their pedigree and open talent, it already feels like the emergence of a unique character to their sound is on the cards; another reason to be confidently excited by the band.

Hexmachine is available from November 20th @ http://falseflags.bandcamp.com/

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Pete RingMaster 20/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Shevils – The White Sea

Photo by Jørn Veberg

Photo by Jørn Veberg

With a couple of singles in as many recent months setting the scene and platform for their new album, Norwegian band Shevils now unleash The White Sea, in turn confirming themselves as one of Europe’s finest hardcore incitements. It is a ten track sonic roar of hardcore aggression and noise rock imagination, easily Oslo hailing Shevils at their most addictively inventive and punishingly ferocious.

Since coming across Shevils through their single Is This To be (Our Lives)? in 2011, the year the band also formed, they have been a perpetual adventure to anticipate and be impressed by for our and their ever growing number of fan’s ears. Every time thoughts wonder if the band has hit their pinnacle, they have pushed on again, second album Lost In Tartarus a prime example as it took the strong and gripping prowess and sound of its predecessor The Year Of The Fly, and indeed The Necropolis EP before it, both also released in the band’s first year, to new heights of quality and bold adventure. As hinted at by the singles One Thousand Years and Shivers these past few weeks, they have done it again, their third full-length The White Sea digging deeper into bold craft and invention to move forward again from its 2013 uncaged predecessor.

The core trio of Shevils, vocalist Anders Voldrønning, guitarist Andreas Andre Myrvold, and drummer Anders Emil Rønning have created a twisted and angry beast in The White Sea, its nature and intensity echoing the social and political turmoil its lyrics seed their invention and fury from. With some of the songs also co-written by former member Christoffer Gaarder, the album is a voracious tempest of sound and emotion which at times becomes a writhing flirtatiously contagious predator and in other moments is an erosive sonic tempest of intensity and ire. From start to finish though, it is a gripping and ravenously compelling adventure which in one way or another exhausts and deeply pleasures in equal measure.

shevils-the-white-sea-cover_RingMaster Review   Produced by Marcus Forsgren, The White Sea stirs into rich life with I Wear The Skies, the opener coaxing with one, two, subsequently three and four layers of rich enticement once choppy riffs lure more spikily nagging hooks, keenly jabbing beats, and finally a groove thick bass tempting, it all uniting in an explosion of noise and impassioned vocal fire. Early hooks continue to lay down their addictiveness as the song grows, expanding their bait throughout as the short but glorious track boils to an anthemically ferocious close.

The outstanding start continues with We Could Leave The World, the bass of producer Forsgren almost skipping in its throatily pulsating prowl as again guitars stir up air with their sonic teeth posing as riffs. Band vocals roar and squall around the ever enticing lead tones of Voldrønning whilst the sweeping swipes of Rønning steer things into greater virulence, a contagion perpetually stretched and shaped by the craft and enterprise of Myrvold. Managing to eclipse the previous track, it only leads to another instant pinnacle within the album, a lofty peak going by the name of One Thousand Years. The earlier mentioned single bounds in on an inescapable rhythmic enticing, its enslaving hold matched by the grouchy blaze of guitar and vocals as well as the enjoyably predatory bassline. Sonic causticity and vocal rousing continue to collide and collude within the outstanding track; three proposals in and already The White Sea is emerging as one of 2015’s essential violating puppeteers on body and imagination.

The Death Of Silence has thick bait tempting ears from its first breath, a stroking of baritone guitar swift seduction quickly aided by a just as dark bass intimidation. Voldrønning’s mix of sandy and inflamed deliveries soon hold the reins of the song, especially as it evolves into a less imposing but similarly intensive affair with guitars melodically exploring and harmonies flaming in the surroundings of the abrasively catchy encounter. As with any Shevils track there is also an underlying drama in expression and imagination, here it boldly seeding a percussive shuffle and infectious swing helping to forge one invigorating incitement.

A rawer and more corrosive atmosphere floods Black Summer next, its textures matching the air as its hardcore heart pours passion and physical ferocity down the veins of the spiralling guitar enterprise. The track is a thickly layered and delivered protagonist, a consuming smog of sound which again has satisfaction full though it is instantly overshadowed by Shivers. As natural as breathing, guitars and bass spin a web of addictive hooks as beats slowly but forcibly batter the senses. It is a punk inferno pulsating with the band’s mighty roars and sonic ingenuity, and breeding anthemic toxicity which has limbs and voice enlisted in short time, moving on to twist and manipulate the imagination and psyche with every spin of its carnivorous inventiveness and rabid energy.

Both the vindictively prowling Wordsmiths and the transfixing Fireflies keeps release and emotions aflame, the first another defiance driven hardcore/punk antagonism as infectious as it is physically scarring. Its successor soon lives up to its name, guitars breeding glowing melodies which sonically flit across the evocative canvas of the song. Once more rhythmic imagination is as potent as dynamic tendrils of sound, uniting in an engrossing and wonderfully demanding onslaught, though a searing tapestry outweighed in spite by the hellacious When Will I See You Again?, a brutal assault tempered by catchy adventure in songwriting and individual craft.

It tempestuous tsunami is emulated by the album’s closing title track, The White Sea even more erosive and smothering as its sonic density and raging emotions devour and ignite the senses. It is the least welcoming track on the album, but no slouch in potent lures with haunting keys creeping through ears in the shadows of the crawling storm whilst a catchiness of sorts seeps into every volatile intent and trespass of riffs and scything beats.

It is a thoroughly exhausting end to the album, the band at its most creative and exploratory whilst freeing every ounce of their emotion and dark depths in a startling oppressive temptation. As their second album leapt on from the first, so The White Sea does again. It might not be as big a step on the surface in some ways but it is their most inventive one making Shevils one of the big excitements in noise invention. Like a hybrid of Cancer Bats, Refused, Sofy Major, and Melvins, this a band ready to stand aside such names whilst scarring your senses.

The White Sea will be self-released on 6th November.

http://www.shevils.com   https://www.facebook.com/shevils

Pete RingMaster 03/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Blobfish Killer – Self Titled EP

Blobfish Killer_RingMaster Review

It is a noise rock, hardcore, and metal fury; a sound as ugly as the face of the fish its creators were ‘born to eradicate, and just irresistible. The evidence comes as a brawling persuasion posing as the self-titled EP from French rockers Blobfish Killer, a three track release which set ears ablaze as the senses ran for cover and pleasure was whipped up into lust. Like a raw blend of Every Time I Die, Kvelertak, Sofy Major, and Them Teeth, the Marseille quartet take no prisoners but cast a lure of creative and mischievous devilry within their tempests, a mix which only has ears wanting to be abused more and more.

couv_RingMaster Review     The band’s EP was recorded with Evan Heritage of heavy rockers Hell Rules Heaven, and opens with the mighty Erotic Palace. Also featuring a contribution from Heritage, the song makes its first touch through a vocal sample which in turn seeds a scorching roar from the throat of vocalist Bleu as the track explodes in creative ire. The next few moments sees the song prowl ears as if getting its bearings whilst sizing up its victim simultaneously as riffs and rhythms intimidate and court attention. It is an intensive examination already breeding a contagious air which soon evolves into addictive grooves and spicy hooks within the quickly evolving diversity of the compelling incitement. The increasingly impressive proposal never lessens its abrasing storm as it twists into varying dramatic shapes within a web of diversely flavoured enterprise from the guitar of Flo against the devilishly prowling bass of Cesar. It is an exceptional track having ears and appetite enslaved by its first minute and ardour ripe before its dynamic body reaches its conclusion.

Party Hard takes over with matching riveting confrontation next, its initial presence again brutally bruising before a carnivorous bass line aligns to the rapier swings of drummer JP, grooves and antagonistic vocals swiftly colluding in the forceful invitation too. As its predecessor, the song springs a trap of predatory rock ‘n’ roll from within the volatile invention and air of its fury, an inner virulent tempting tempering and adding equally to the voracious energy and aggression consuming eager ears. Each song is thick in textures and busy invention in their tsunami of sound. It is a richness one listen cannot fully take in so numerous plays is where new elements and a broader unveiling of the imagination and craft fuelling each encounter is plundered; that in turn only increasing the enjoyment and fascination that is inspired from the first play.

Final track Never Again brings the release to a glorious close, its tangy niggling grooves intoxicating enticing alone as rhythms batter and the bass venomously growls over the senses. Vocals again side with the rawer, nastier side of the invention but bring their own potent variety to help leave every part of a track pleasingly unpredictable.

The only problem with the Blobfish Killer EP is it has only three songs; each tremendous and scintillating trespasses on ears and beyond sparking a real hunger for much more. If any of those names mentioned at the top light your imagination, and you can add the likes of The Bronx, Pigs, and Whores too, but want something different again, then this is a must.

The Blobfish Killer EP is out now as a name your own price download @ http://blobfishkiller.bandcamp.com/releases


Pete RingMaster 27/10/2015

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Grizzlor – Cycloptic

Grizzlor_RingMaster Review

As it ravished and destabilised the senses, last year’s When You Die EP sparked a lustful appetite in us for the raw and dirtily rabid noise rock infestation cast by US trio Grizzlor. It was a persuasion continuing in a split release with Norwegian duo Barron Womb earlier this year but now exploding into lofty new heights with the Connecticut trio’s new offering, Cycloptic. The 7 track 7” EP is sonic irresistibility as intoxicating as it is bruising and ravenously intrusive. This time around Grizzlor have not so much polished but stripped down their sludgy, hardcore trespass to its textured bones which in turn has fanned the fires of spiteful imagination and searing diversity. The result is something glorious, with Grizzlor now not so much one of our favourite propositions of the past twelve months since they first nudged our personal attention, but of punk/rock confrontations for many, many years.

New Haven hailing vocalist/guitarist Victor, drummer John, and bassist Wade first emerged as Grizzlor early last year, making a mark with their self-released debut EP We’re All Just Aliens, though fair to say it was its successor When You Die through Money Fire Records that stirred even more attention. Despite the impressive presence and strong persuasion of both, it is easy to suspect that Cycloptic will be a whole new ball game in luring acclaim and richer spotlights the way of Grizzlor. Its invention and fury are simply a declaration that the band is ready to be one of the major protagonists helping to inspire and reshape the scene ahead.

Cover_RingMaster Review   Cycloptic begins its intrusive contagion with Sundays Are Stupid which provides its first intrigue through a warped breath of vocal and air which quickly springs a rhythmic stalking crossed by acidic sonic swipes of guitar. Bass and drums court intimidation and appetite simultaneously, their prowling swing as instantly addictive as the hook laded groove of guitar and the overall collusion of punk and noise rock blossoming the virulent tapestry crowding the broadening vocal roar of Victor. Imagination is just as hectic too, a distorted shimmer midway turning song catching the listener on their heels before things get thrillingly tempestuous all over again.

Strolling straight out of the wake of its predecessor, a baiting bassline leads I’m That Asshole into ears and ardour, its attitude caked lure the prelude to antagonistic beats and vocals as guitars unleashes a caustic tirade of irritable temptation. No song reaches the two minute mark, most barely glimpsing its signpost, but at forty odd seconds, the second track is a fast acting short and busy predatory fondling of the senses.

     Life’s A Joke has a more even paced stride to its scathing and addictive volatility; the track teasing with the infectious toxicity of The Black Black and a primal noise/hardcore rousing reminiscent of Sofy Major, whilst Tommy takes the listener into the bedlamic emotive realm of its protagonist on a swing of funk infused demonic bass and tangy grooves with venom in their veins. Both tracks grip the imagination whilst frisking body and senses, the first being pure punk belligerence within a creative psychosis of sound and the second in a sinister incitement before Winter Blows twists and turns like a tornado flinging flirtatious hooks, scowling vocals, and rhythmic agitation from its stormy centre.

Already Cycloptic has ears and thoughts enslaved and ready to acclaim Grizzlor as hitting a plateau to match more established noise exponents, a suggestion only reinforced by War Machine. Feeling energetically more urgent than its stalking actually is, thanks to the violently frisky swings of John, the song spews its emotive animus within a tantalising surf rock hued climate; the sultry, salty tang of guitar providing a fraudulent sunset increasingly masking the ingrained dark intent and textures of the track. It is bewitching, a sonic weave of invention that seduces as it uncompromisingly ravishes.

The EP is concluded by Starship Mother Shit, a slow sludge thick creeping through ears with lumbering and intensive rhythms courted by psyche infesting guitar spawned enterprise. There is nowhere to hide as the song gets under the skin whilst rubbing its bracing force upon every inch of body and soul, and no place for anything less than rich enthusiasm for repeat prescriptions of its violating devilry.

As we mentioned When You Die had us enlisted to the Grizzlor last year, but Cycloptic simply leaves it in the shade with each of its delicious creative malefactions on the senses. If not doing so before, now really is the time to embrace the noise fuelled scourge of Grizzlor.

The Cycloptic EP is released late October 2015 through Hex Records digitally and as a limited edition red and white vinyl @ http://hexrecords.bigcartel.com/product/grizzlor-cycloptic-7

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Pete RingMaster 26/10/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Pigs – Wronger

pigs_2015_RingMaster Review

If you are looking for a noise rock treat to end the impending year’s end on a high, we have the new Pigs album to suggest. Equally if you are looking for a ferocious punk rock tempest, or an uncompromising rock ‘n’ roll confrontation, Wronger fits the bill perfectly too. The new album from the New York City trio of Dave Curran from Unsane, Jim Paradise of Player’s Club and Freshkills, and Andrew Schneider (renowned producer with the likes of Cave In, Converge, Made Out of Babies, Unsane, and Keelhaul on his CV), is a brawl you will only get increasingly excited to be swallowed up by. It is a blaze of scarring imagination as virulently addictive as it is mercilessly abrasive, and indeed bracing. Pigs made a mighty debut with first album You Ruin Everything in 2012, cemented and pushed their refreshing presence with the Gaffe EP the following year, but Wronger is a whole new caustic bitch slap of pleasure and aggressive adventure to get fired up by.

It opens with the sonic infestation of A Great Blight, a diseased web of noise hypnotically living up to the creeping invasiveness of its title. The instrumental piece crawls over the senses and into the psyche, eroding defences with its repetitious whilst The Life In Pink waits in the wings to fill its departing void. The second track though rather than quickly assaulting ears weaves in on a flirtatious hook cast by Curran’s guitar, its successful lure shaking under the impact of Paradise’s composed and resonating beats. In no time the bass of Schneider growls with a predacious passion whilst the riffs and vocals of Curran add grizzled attitude and prowess to the song’s emerging heavy stroll. It is a raw and thickly enticing bluster, tempestuous rock ‘n’ roll which ensures an inescapable persuasion, especially with the re-occurring delicious hook which sets things rolling.

pigs_wronger_cover_RingMaster Review     The following Bet It All On Black leaps in with a punk swagger and impossible to resist rhythmic devilry, willing feet and hips recruited as rapidly as ears and imagination through another delicious hook which this time has a whiff of post punk addictiveness to it. Schneider swings an equally magnetic and infectious groove through his ever bestial toned bass, another spice to the gripping drama and threat of the track, an intimidation emulated in Amateur Hour In Dick City though it pursues a more hard rock flavouring to its noise rock volatility. As in all songs, things evolve though, turn in on themselves and bring new twists and exploits to contemplate. Without quite matching its predecessors, there is only an infection to the eventful song which flows eagerly before Mope descends on the listener with its scuzz woven tapestry of meandering grooves, intoxicating hooks, and predatory rhythms. A smothering cloud of raw noise is the best description, this veined by virulent temptations and, within certain brief partings of its worrisome clouds, melodic toxicity for major addictiveness.

     Wrap It Up is the same, its hostile climate and abusive physical invention increasingly persuasive with every sonic lancing and rally of rhythmic bullying colluding in something quite bewitching as it corrodes the senses. Imagine Joy Division meets Unsane and you get a sense of part of the excellent encounter, though again it is a proposition shifting tact and character minute by minute.

The Cajun twang of Mouth Dump and its thumping beats around a trio of spoken vocals spark thoughts next, its short insight a respite yet provocateur in a way setting up the scathing roar of Make Sure To Forget, another sonically cancerous slice of punk/noise agitation with its own tasty Buzzcocks scented hook. As seriously pleasing as it is, it does not rival in success other songs around it, emphasizing their might, and is unlucky to be followed by the majorly outstanding Bug Boy, a song which makes you forget the past three or so minutes as soon as it scurries under the skin. Featuring guest vocals from ex-Made Out of Babies/Battle of Mice front woman Julie Christmas, the track is a ravenous tempest once again entwining imagination infesting grooves and hooks, barbarous rhythms, and a vocal bedlam to get greedy over.

Wronger is brought to a close by firstly its physically cantankerous title track and lastly the extensive bellow of Donnybrook. Both songs grip forcibly as they abrase and tempt, the first hitting its sweet spot around midway when it dips into a haunting melodic aside still walled by raw shadows and waiting to bellow sonic animosity. Its eight minute successor prowls and lurches through ears with doomy breath and volatile temperament, becoming more unpredictable and magnetic as a warm calm emerges from its erosive landscape and in turn brews its own dark imposing atmosphere which becomes the dominate wind of fascination. A slow burner compared to some, the track is undoubtedly a mighty end to a thoroughly enjoyable trespass.

The album is easily Pigs finest moment to date, but you get the feeling still just a step to bigger and bolder things from the band. As Christmas lists are being drawn up, Wronger is one to place at the top for all violent rock ‘n’ roll fans with no regrets found through this thrilling beast

Wronger is out now via Solar Flare Records on 12” vinyl, CD, and digitally @ http://music.solarflarerds.com/album/wronger

http://www.pigsnyc.com     https://www.facebook.com/pigsnyc

Pete RingMaster 13/10/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Athena's Word Online Promo Shot_RingMaster Review

Dutch Melodic Hardcorers ‘Athena’s Word’ release their jaw dropping debut EP ‘Lasting Legacy’ on Saturday 24th October. Pulling from the drive and potency of While She Sleeps and Heights, and adding their own engaging dynamics and footprint, the five-some have created an intriguing amalgamation of modern hardcore.

Officially born during the Autumn of 2014 in Holland and featuring Erik Voestermans (Vocals), Dennis Sjoers (Guitar), Tjerk Goselink (Bass), Jerry Klein (Guitar), and Kasper Stap (Drums), Athena’s Word have been relentless in their pursuit of progression and have carefully cultivated a sound spurred on by intense rehearsals and whole-hearted writing sessions. With glowing comparisons to Architects, Napoleon, and Blood Youth, the quintet are now braced to take their music out to the masses.

The band have persistently toured throughout their homeland, and the riff slingers are now set to span their wings out to mainland Europe this Winter with a cluster of prominent dates on the horizon. Besides focusing on their live reputation, Athena’s Word have also been holed up in the studio working on their new EP ‘Lasting Legacy’. The record is a true marker in the sand, kicking off with ‘Deserved Freedom’, which is stacked with breakneck riffage, full frontal vocals and ample groove. The EP continues to entice with the delivery of ‘Wolfpack’; this track is something special with its poignant phrasing and earnest exaction. With five glorious slabs of melodic metalcore, the EP is sure to propel the band to the frontline of the European scene and beyond.

https://www.facebook.com/AthenasWordhc https://twitter.com/athenaswordhc

Zebras -The City Of Sun

Zebras_RingMaster Review

If you could sum up the rage and discontent burning through the world right now it would be in the same kind of angry roar to be found in The City Of Sun, the new album from US punk metallers Zebras. The release is a brawl on the senses, a violent incitement for the emotions, and simply the best thing to come out of the band and arguably hardcore fuelled metal this year.

There is no surprise to the potency and hostility drenching the release, Zebras’ self-titled debut album of 2012 and subsequent release and songs, have all been virulent animosity equipped with the ability to stir addictive tendencies through fearsome hooks, wild rhythms, and searching grooves. The City Of Sun is exactly the same but the trio of guitarist/vocalist Vincent Presley, keyboardist Lacey Smith, and drummer Shane Hochstetler have taken and stretched everything to new benchmark setting levels.

Again like the uncontrollable bastard son of Lard and Dead Kennedys, but with its own ever increasing identity, the Zebra sound instantly burns as opener Hollow Earth brings The City Of Sun to dynamic life. An initial spicily grained groove pierced by thick rhythmic jabs grips ears and attention first, that lure within a few breaths unleashing antagonistic tension and weight as riffs and swinging beats descend with great zeal around the raw tones of Presley. An already in place appetite for the band through past successes explodes with greed as the song continues to twist and rage, the trio spinning a lethal yet contagious web of violence and doom bred turbulence.

cover_RingMaster Review   It is an invigorating and addictive start continued by The Turning Of The Bones, where again the toxic invitation of grooves binds and enslaves as Hochstetler batters and Lacey’s keys stroke the senses. The repetitious nagging quality of riffs and grooves is also easily devoured manna, an essence which enhances every track upon the album as Presley’s ire shapes and colours the confrontational energy and heart of each incitement further like in the outstanding death shuffle of My Apocalypse and the corrosive majesty of The Bell. The first of these two bounces along throwing sonic spears and bone splitting beats out whilst ingraining the imagination with a hook lined groove carrying a Biafra and Co breeding. From one peak to another as its successor seamlessly escapes from its companion with its own hypnotically debilitating rancor and seriously catchy tirade of guitar and bass enterprise. Ministry at their corrosively niggling best comes to mind as the song continues to bind and scar but again the face and character of the song is all Zebras.

Baalbek is a rather similar tempest next, its body and lures closely matched to the previous track though with admittedly equal success, but in the only ‘issue’ with The City Of Sun there is certainly a kind of surface similarity to the tracks, and between others, which less bold and determined listeners might be fooled into thinking the album lacks strong variety. As The Garden swiftly shows it is not the case even though the template for songs is a constant seed. Expelling a thrash like urgency and tenacity, the song goes for the jugular straight away, uncaging more of the prime ravenous riffs and infesting grooves Zebras are already and set to be further acclaimed for. Swarming over the listener from every angle as vocals and drums create a hellacious and addictive beating, the track has ears ringing and emotions lusty, both more than ready for the barbarous tango of Levitation where punk and metal collude in engagingly oppressive conflict.

There is no let-up in the emotional fire and physical ferocity, or indeed the pleasure as firstly Solomon shares its exhaustive ill will and synth led exoticism and then Vitrified which comes forward with a sultry climate around a predacious turbulence of word, voice, and sound. The track is a spellbinding proposal, another fresh spark for the imagination with arguably the album’s most inventive and experimental song, and nectar for the instinctive desire for twisted tapestries of noise.

Closing with the sonic blaze and rhythmic grudge of Filled With Fire, Zebras leave the body shattered, senses drained, and emotions aflame. With only a wish for the synth craft of Lacey to be a little more forward in the overall production of the fabulous turmoil, Zebras has crafted another stunning release but more so their greatest triumph yet. They are a band come of creative age and with recent times seeing the band supporting the likes of Jello Biafra, Black Flag, Negative Approach, Melt Banana, High On Fire, Goatwhore, and Die Kreuzen, The City Of Sun offers inescapable reasons as to why Zebras should be spoken of in the same kind of acclaiming breath.

The City Of Sun is out now @ http://zebras.bandcamp.com/ digitally, on vinyl, and Ltd Ed CD.


Pete RingMaster 07/10/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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