Snakerattlers – This Is Rattlerock

If ever there was a sound epitomising the dirty trespasses of the graveyard and the unbridled fetish escapades of cultish deviancy, it is that of British duo Snakerattlers. Like the occupants of those domains, the band’s sound is a lo-fi sonic trespass stripped to its bare bones but wearing the raw traits of a wealth of styles and flavours, all dirt sodden, feverish, and forcibly compelling. It is self-penned as rattle rock and is uncaged in full force within the pair’s ear gripping, spirit rousing debut album This Is Rattlerock.

The band is the creation of husband and wife Dan and Naomi Gott, previously of garage punk band The Franceens. Their new project, Snakerattlers unknowingly had its seeds sown when Naomi wanted to learn how to play drums. Going along with her to practices with his guitar, a sound and creative spark instantly caught their attention and thoughts that there was “the potential to be a lot more than just a rehearsal room jam band” in their exploration. What emerged is a fusion of garage rock, death punk, and psychobilly embedded into a rockabilly heart; a bold bare arsed roar of sound which now rips, rattles, and rolls the senses within the band’s sensational first album, a proposition recorded on reel-to-reel tape by Adam Richards of Leeds rockabilly outfit, X Ray Cat Trio.

Imagine the creative instincts of Link Wray, Hasil Adkins, The Cramps, Dick Venom, and The Creeping Ivies entwined and twisted and you get a flavour of the Snakerattlers infestation of ears and imagination. As mentioned, it is a raw and often scarring trespass which challenges and inspires whilst simultaneously thrilling and lustfully exciting from the opening seconds of first track, I Won’t Hold Back. The opener hits attention with a great guitar jangle initially, Dan’s vintage spice an instinctive lure soon joined by the punchy swings of Naomi as a Cramps meets Johnny Burnette like intrusion trespasses the senses and a swiftly established appetite. With the guitarist’s vocals an equally potent lure, the brief song prowls the listener, jabbing its lingering toxicity into the passions like a slow but determined tattooist.

The great start is continued by Let You Go where a thick almost throaty jangle is the tease into a more rampant and feverish stomp of swinging beats and tenacious riffs. Old school rockabilly infested by current day garage punk devilry and a plague of hooks which refuse to relinquish their hold of the imagination, the track is a roaring addiction within one listen, an eternal nagging thereon in but equalled by the more controlled but just as scuzzy exploits of Rattlerock Rumble. As a jungle of rhythms ensnare feet, guitar exploits use hips like a puppeteer in the predominantly instrumental incantation before Oh My Love lurches into view with a dark swagger and clamorous nature though both are wrapped in a restraint which only adds fuel to the song’s magnetic fire. Like Johnny Carroll meets The Novas, the track is pure bewitchment with an occasional venomous bite.

Let The Devil In Your Soul is another encounter which stalks the senses, its keen but controlled stroll belying a predatory nature taking swipes through the poised but examining beats of Naomi and the angular clamour of Dan’s guitar. With his vocals a soothing but equally volatile enticement, it is again impossible not to be hooked on the song’s seduction or indeed in turn on the more tempestuous instrumental rumble of Death Valley Driver which follows. It is an unrelenting road trip which has the body in motion and thoughts conjuring, both aspects again busily employed by the cinematic suggestiveness of The Love In Me. Like a sweaty kitchen sink drama, the song is a bare and honest hug of sound and emotion, its lines fuzzy and touch raw and oh so tempting. Even so, the great song is still eclipsed by the breath-taking stomp of Sweet Sixteen; a scuzz ball of rock ‘n’ roll woven from the decades of the genre and delivered with a fried electricity and concussive energy which leaves the senses reeling and blissful.

The zombie crawl of Bones infests the psyche next; its lumbering tenacious surge into the imagination littered with rhythmic bites and viscerally sonic waves as Dan’s vocals alone coax and prey. Once more submission to sound and album is swift and full leaving the final track to cap an already done deal between band and certainly these listeners. Ripper Rattle Rock simply lives up to its name like a fractious yet salacious fusion of The Cramps, Hasil Adkins, and Into The Whale. The track is rock ‘n’ roll in its unfussy prime but equipped with all the primal lures and seductions you could wish for as the album comes to one glorious unsterilized raunchy conclusion.

With The Franceens coming to an end earlier this year, the York pair have the time and energy to solely concentrate on Snakerattlers and they are going to need all of both if This Is Rattlerock catches the fire of attention that it simply deserves.

This Is Rattlerock is out now through Moon Skull Records @ https://moonskull.bandcamp.com/releases

http://www.snakerattlers.com/about.html    https://www.facebook.com/snakerattlers/

Pete RingMaster 28/06/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Cavemen – Too High To Die/I’d Kill

burgos-11_RingMasterReview

It has been a busy year for New Zealanders The Cavemen from just releases alone. April saw the unleashing of their exceptional self-titled debut album followed in June by the just as rousing and wonderfully arrogant two track single Juvenile Delinquent. Now the quartet of vocalist Paul, guitarist Jack, bassist Nick, and drummer Jake Caveman have freed new offering Too High To Die/I’d Kill ahead of yet another album; the single two slices of the band’s distinctive garage bred punk ‘n’ roll which is impossible not to get lustfully off on.

Now UK based, The Cavemen have arguably unearthed their most primal and trashiest sound for their new single; breeding both tracks with the kind of punk rock which has ignited and corrupted rock ‘n’ roll since the days of Gene Vincent and Jerry lee Lewis, through the likes of Hasil Adkins and The Stooges, and on to the likes of The Cramps, Gun Club, and The Ramones and more. Raw and cast in lo-fi manna, the single sizzles on the senses as it infests the body and purges the psyche like a predacious attack of sonic leprosy.

too-high-frontcover-copy_RingMasterReviewToo High To Die rumbles and grumbles from its first sonic lancing of ears, rhythms cantankerously bouncing as deranged vocal urgency colludes with the winy enterprise of the guitar. The whole song is like one giant chorus such its rousing catchiness with the fiery guitar solo additional toxicity to greedily devour.

Companion I’d Kill is just the same, a virulent stomp from first note to last but even more soaked in seventies punk with a touch of bands like The Saints and The Lurkers to it. A belligerent snarl with more contagion to its persuasion than any plague, the track alone but definitely in union with Too High To Die sparks even more impatient anticipation for The Cavemen’s impending second full-length.

Too High To Die / I’d Kill is out now via Dirty Water Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/The-Cavemen-Too-High-To-Die-b-w-Id-Kill-download/p/70351208/category=18119001

https://www.facebook.com/thecavemennz

Pete RingMaster 23/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Archie and the Bunkers + PowerSolo Split Single

sleeve_RingMasterReview

Dirt Water Records are never slow in giving us a treat or two and they have set the bar with the recent release of the split single featuring US duo Archie and the Bunkers and one of our sonic favs, Danish trash rockers PowerSolo. Offering up a juicy slice of their distinctive sounds each, the two pairs of brothers stir the instincts and arouse the spirit in a release all punk, garage rockers, and rock ‘n’ rollers in general should grab a bite of.

Archie_RingMasterReviewWith their self-titled debut album still ringing in and exciting ears since its release towards the end of last year, Cleveland hailing Archie and the Bunkers offer up The Roaring 20’s for the single. Taking their name from the classic US television sitcom All in the Family and drawing on inspirations from the likes of Dead Boys, The Animals, The Stooges, The Screamers, The Damned, Jimmy Smith, and Richard ‘Groove’ Holmes, siblings Emmett (drums/vocals) and Cullen (organ/vocals) instantly involve ears in a barrage of meaty and eager rhythms as the Hammond-esque tones of Cullen’s organ dances alongside. An emerging and lively blend of sixties garage rock/pop and blues infested psych devilry; the song starts as a fuzzy yet relatively controlled proposal but the passing minutes see a loco element brewing and subsequently bringing even more riveting discord and unpredictability to a rousing song and climax. As well as a tasty part of the single, The Roaring 20’s also provides a myriad of reasons to explore Archie and the Bunkers more and to check out their first album.

The same applies to PowerSolo and their offering. The truth is that if you have not been bitten by their sonic bug yet you have been missing out for a fair while PwerSolo_RingMasterReviewnow. Coming out of Arhus, brothers and string distorting guitarists/musicians Kim Kix and the Atomic Child are one of kind. Musically they seem bred from the same genes and inspired by the likes of Hasil Adkins, Charlie Feathers, and the Cramps, but as proven by their handful of albums, the duo defy one style, a single sound, and any tries to pin them down. Powersolo get the body shaking and swerving while the senses and psyche are being violated, all with delicious effect, and Fuzz Face, their contribution to the split, is no exception.

A single hook teases first, an accusation of one’s face quickly following before riffs and rhythms join the devilish affair. That initial hook continues to tempt, its lure simple but virulent as vocals and beats dance around with flirty shenanigans. With a perpetual swing which alone grips body and heart, the song and duo cast a soundtrack suitable for everything rebellious, frivolous, and downright naughty.

Two wicked bands and two irresistible romps, what more could anyone want.

The Archie and the Bunkers + PowerSolo Split Single is out now via Dirty Water Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/Split-single-PowerSolo-vs-Archie-and-the-Bunkers-7-+-download/p/67128820/category=13761039

https://www.facebook.com/archieandthebunkersofficial   http://www.archieandthebunkers.com/

https://www.facebook.com/POWERSOLODK   http://www.powersolo.dk/  http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/powersolo

Pete RingMaster 24/08/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Love Buzzard – Antifistamines

LB_RingMaster Review

A riotous stomp embracing rock ‘n’ roll over the decades within its psyche punk /garage rock bred escapades, the debut album from UK duo Love Buzzard is lo-fi, high grade devilry to get lustfully involved with. Antifistamines sizzles on the senses, creating a mischievous and increasingly incendiary introduction to the pair of vocalist/guitarist Kevin Lennon and drummer Al Brown (the man behind Fluffer Records). Love Buzzard has a sound living up to its name too, music which insatiably seduces whilst stalking and preying on the carcass of the senses.

From around the release of first 7”double A-sided single Everything About You / Caught in The Deed in 2013, Love Buzzard has played over 150 gigs around the UK single, sharing stages with the likes of Cerebral Ballzy, Slaves, and God Damn along the way. The end of 2014 saw the release of a five-track self-titled EP on Brown’s Fluffer Records, a fiery encounter raising potent anticipation for the band’s first full-length. Released last year digitally and on CD, Antifistamines recently had its rousing body unveiled on special edition vinyl via legendary punk label 1-2-3-4 Records, the home of The Buzzcocks, Arrows Of Love, and Bad For Lazarus. Quite simply it is a raw and ravenous slab of rock ‘n’ roll with a broad brush of variety that is sure to fire up the energies of punks, rockers, bluesmen, and post-punksters alike.

The album starts with a bang courtesy of Cash; the pounding beats of Brown descending on ears from the first second as the spicy grooves of Lennon fizz and fiercely shimmer on the senses soon after. Hooks are as vibrant as the overall swing of the song too, its garage rock tenacity like a mix of Eighties Matchbox B-line Disaster and US duo In The Whale and as tasty as that mix suggests. An all-out assault unafraid to relax into momentary blues seeded seducing, the stunning opener leaves exhaustion and rich pleasure in its wake before the even more muscular Headrush snarls and barges into view. It too has the instinctive virulence of pure rock ‘n’ roll aligned to a just as contagious metallic intensity, not forgetting Cramps-esque mayhem.

art_RingMaster ReviewThrough the stoner laced fire of Beams and the dark seduction of Creep And Crawl, band and album has the body increasingly bouncing. The first is an agitated ball of steamy grooves whilst its successor dips into its passion for the blues to uncage another ravenous haze of tangy rock rabidity, though its own boisterous exuberance is eclipsed by that of the psychobilly/garage punk infestation of the psyche that is Passion. As the opening track it breaches a plateau that all tracks seriously worry, staking its claim as one of the major pinnacles of Antifistamines. Its success is matched by the equally psychotic and irresistible Superglue where Lennon and Brown create a jungle of temptation with their searing grooves and anthemic beats respectively; the former subsequently unleashing his ever magnetic vocal energy and persuasion to seal the deal between sound and ears.

Recently released as a video to tease attention and ears into the album, Wild blazes away next. It is a muggy and inflamed embrace of garage rock, a captivation which singes the senses whilst stirring up the imagination with gentle melodies and emotive lures within an otherwise ferocious climate. For personal tastes, the song does not make the same impact as the tracks around it but certainly keeps an eager appetite fulfilled before the schizo shuffle of Give It Some Range and the surf rock romancing of Heaven’s Got An Electric Fence again has body and passion leaping around without inhibition. The two alone are glorious examples of the diversity and creative adventure in the album, a bold resourcefulness which never breaks the kindred spirit flowing through the album.

Origins is another slow burner compared to others for these ears but easy to devour with its toxic grooving whilst the album’s title track badgers and nags like a middleweight boxer, Brown taking jabs as Lennon’s guitar and vocals flirt and dance around. The latter of the pair especially rouses the spirit with its Fat Dukes Of Fuck meets Hasil Adkins like revelry and is quickly emulated in feverish kind by Lines and its catchy merger of blues and fifties rock ‘n’ roll before Tower entwines some southern goodness into its adrenaline fuelled punk ‘n’ roll stomping. The track is a mouth-watering end to the album though the vinyl version has another five slices of rousing goodness.

The first is the cavernously raw Oh and garage punk at its most deviously addictive. Its inescapable slavery is followed by the wiry charms and thick belligerence of the outstanding Caught In The Deed and in turn the psychobilly sultriness of Rule This Town. These three alone are worth the purchase of the vinyl version, even if already owning one of the other options, but add a deranged and masterful cover of the Gang Of Four track Guns Before Butter and it is a no brainer. The duo takes a classic and turns it into another, retaining the cold air and rhythmic hypnotism of the original whilst igniting a tempest of energy and psychosis to bask in. Make You Mine is the final bonus song, a twenty second sing-a-long which simply leaves ears and mood on a high.

In a time of impressive rock duos, Love Buzzard installs themselves as one of the most exciting and addictive through Antifistamines. Rock ‘n’ roll is meant to be raw, impassioned, and bred to lead all into bad habits. Their album has all that and plenty more, and believe us when we say Love Buzzard has only just started.

Antifistamines is out now digitally and on Cd @ https://lovebuzzard.bandcamp.com/ and on fluorescent green vinyl via 1-2-3-4 Records @ http://www.1234records.com/#!blank/ez8yd/e3b62f39-bef9-c7ac-6707-f65fd40866a2

http://www.lovebuzzard.com/   https://www.facebook.com/LoveBuzzard   https://twitter.com/Love_Buzzard

Pete RingMaster 23/02/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/

Norm And The Nightmarez – Psychobilly Infection

10338304_659631760781568_1219199448069057947_n

     “From within the thighs of hell’s most wanton temptress, a tempest of psychobilly grooves and rockabilly hooks will converge upon mankind to turn its existence into one incessant stomp of devilish predation and virulent demonic revelry.”

Obviously that is not one of the more well-known pestilences deemed suitable to be included in religious teachings but if it was, it would go under the name of Norm & The Nightmarez and debut album Psychobilly Infection. Thirteen tracks of wickedly contagious and warped rock ‘n’ roll cultured with rockabilly seeded guitar and psychotic imagination, the release is a storming slab of rapacious psychobilly which sets a new provocative and sinisterly sculpted template for emerging genre bands.

Hailing from Birmingham, Norm And The Nightmarez is the creation of vocalist/guitarist Norm Elliot. From first band The Phantom Zone in the eighties, the musician has played in a few bands, last year most notably Mickey & The Mutants where he linked up with ex-Meteors/ex-Guana Batz bassist Mick White and Sharks drummer Paul ‘Hodge’ Leigh. The trio released the outstanding album Touch The Madness, a release it was hard to see anything bettering in UK psychobilly for a long-time to come but then we did not foresee Norm & The Nightmarez preying on the passions. Completed by drummer Frank Creamer (ex- Colbert Hamilton & the Hellrazors) and double bassist Mark Bending (ex-Sgt Bilko’s Krazy Combo) for the Western Star released album, the band embraces the decades of rockabilly infusing their ripest essences into the insatiable jaws of old school bred psychobilly irreverence and invention. It is a varied and riveting incitement which steals the will of everything from feet through to emotions, taking all on a skilful and hungry romp of mischievous enterprise.

Produced by Alan Wilson, the album is straight away gnawing on the senses with opener Stompin in My Grave, its initial earth encrusted riffs immediate potent bait to which the wrist flicking rhythms of Creamer and the dark hearted slaps of Bending add even juicier lures. Unfurling around a repetitive hook led by Elliot’s guitar, his potent vocals colour the imagination with their lyrical enticement. A flame of melodic scorching also adds a rich hue before the song takes a breather, allowing the listener’s body one too before it revs up its hypnotic suasion all over again.

The addictive start is swiftly matched by The Mischief Maker, a dark hearted slice of intimidation with robust basslines and sultry grooves which enslave attentions whilst beats slowly bruise the senses. Whether unleashing a keen gait normandthenightmarezpsychobillyinfectioncdor stalking ears, the track is an incendiary protagonist to give a blissful appetite further hungry urges which are rapidly fed by the acidic twang of The Lights Went Out. There is a scorched country-esque lilt to the invigorating prowl, the guitar of Elliot entwining ears with citric melodies and pungent hooks whilst vocally he snarls with a grizzled tone which sparks perfectly off of the heated climate of the song. The track has whispers of Tiger Army and The Quakes to its rich imposing breath but as with all songs no matter the hints it stands alone as something distinct to album and Norm And The Nightmarez.

The title track, though living up to its title, is rockabilly spawned even with its slight punkish nature. The bass and guitars sculpt a weave of riff and lures which play with body and soul like a sly puppeteer, twisting and turning imagination and passions inside out for a fevered submission. Its contagion lingers far beyond its stay though both Nightmare and Ton Up ensure in their company it is a distant memory at least. The first of the two right away triggers thoughts of The Reverend Horton Heat and Matchbox with flavourings of Johnny Burnette and Hasil Adkins also spicing the fiery encounter. Rhythmically and sonically the song entrances before the adrenaline rampage of its successor rumbles across the senses. Beats descend on ears with an unrelenting coaxing whilst the bass call of Bending brings delicious dark textures to the irresistible road trip. Elliot as ever commands the scenery with his vocals and guitar exploits whilst the trio unite for another ridiculously compelling and magnetic parade of roguish rockabilly incitement.

The flirtatious Sex Kitten teases senses with a salacious sexuality next, its smouldering grooves and sensual melodic curves as infectious as they are seductive. There is no denying a certain Stray Cats swagger to the song but also a danger to its stroll which could be compared to something with the edge of Guana Batz and addictiveness of Gene Vincent. It is an inescapable persuasion though one soon left in the shadow of the wonderful instrumental Devil Girl From Mars. There is something poetic to an intensively crafted piece of psychobilly music with its primal predation and sonic toxicity, and certainly it comes with no finer shape and beauty than here. Imagine a blend of The Tornadoes and The Frantic Flintstones and you get a whiff of its virulent might.

Both Pardon Me and The Past is a Place that I Just Can’t Go have energies and passions in a raw riot of pleasure, the first with its caustic sonic grazing and thumping rhythmic enticement whilst the following track stretches a menacing bait over ears again with jagged riffs, pulsating throaty slaps, and ear crowding beats. As impressive as its predecessor was, the second of the pair is another merciless encroaching on freedom with its rhythmic slavery, melodic venom, and vocal rapacity. It is impossible to choose a track which stands out over the rest on the album but this is always a forceful contender.

The fun filled Elvis Was a Zombie keeps things stomping along nicely and though it lacks the spark of other tracks for personal tastes it is impossible to dismiss because of that mischief and its rhythmic badgering. Its paler presence is soon swamped by the brilliant closing of the album. Massacre at Devils Plain with its Native American croon and howls over a gritty stride of sonic stabs and heavy footed rhythms, sets the imagination alight next whilst final song The Man with the X-Ray Eyes, leaves Psychobilly Infection on arguably its highest pinnacle. Bursting from a sample from the film of the same name, the track is a psychobilly irritant at its most potent and brilliant. It is a predator of a track, rhythms climbing all over the senses whilst guitar and vocals stir up the imagination with rich imposing hues. It is fair to say the song has elements of The Meteors all over it; The Hills Have Eyes springing to mind, but again Norm And The Nightmarez defuse any comparisons with their distinct invention and adventure.

From start to finish there is no escaping the might and sheer glory of Psychobilly Infection and the emergence of a brand new creative devil in our midst, though whether the UK, come to that the world is ready for Norm And The Nightmarez and their hellacious tempting only time will tell.

Psychobilly Infection is available now via Western Star Recordings @ http://www.western-star.co.uk/western-star-releases—cds_36/psychobilly-infection—norm-and-the-nightmarez_146.aspx

https://www.facebook.com/Normandthenightmarez

10/10

RingMaster 29/07/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Listen to the best independent music and artists on The RingMaster Review Radio Show and The Bone Orchard from

http://audioburger247.webs.com/

MFC Chicken: Music For Chicken

Sometimes things are just meant to be and that is the strong feeling when it comes to rock n rollers MFC Chicken and the background story to the band. It all started with the arrival of Canadian Spencer Evoy who with his trusty sax in tow moved over to the UK around a year ago. On what he called a pilgrimage to the recording studio of Joe Meek he found himself outside a fried chicken shop on Holloway Road, London. With stomach yearning for the delicacies within but pockets financially incapable to fully assist, Evoy slipped out his trusty friend…his sax you naughty people…and proceeded to busk for his supper. His sounds made their eager way through the window of the flat above the shop leading to its occupant bassist Bret Bolton to call out his appreciation and thus two musical brothers were united from that point on, the pair within days forming a band named after the now closed down shop, MFC Chicken.

It is a story which almost reaches fact is stranger than fiction heights but surely is the proof that this band was destined to bless the world with its presence, and wow does it do that with its debut album Music For Chicken. The release is pure joy from start to finish, Evoy and Mancunian Bolton alongside Brazilian Alberto Zioli on guitar, and London boys Reverand Parsley and Ravi on keys and drums respectively, unleashing the purest joy with their poultry themed party of garage rock n roll driven rhythm and blues. There is one warning though, for some reason it will make you feel rather hungry by the end of its final slice of pleasure.

Released August 6th via Dirty Water Records, a label which cannot do any wrong right now with its releases it seems, the album strolls up to the ear with a confident swagger called Chicken, Baby, Chicken. With initially the guitar teasingly showing off alongside great group harmonic shouts, the song erupts into an eager tonic for the heart through a fiery blend of Billy Haley, Johnny Burnette and Hasil Adkins. It is a great start easily matched by the following Every Girl on The Tube. From its first surge of Evoy pumping the senses full of tenor sax goodness the song ignites a feisty air for its greedy sounds, a garage rawness which lights the fuse for further submission and adoration. The guitar of Zioli is as keen and wonderfully teasing as the sax play and combined with the beats, keys, and playful bass sounds makes for one exuberant track.

As each song leaves its crazed energy the album simply gets better and better. It is not that the latter songs are any better than the earlier ones just that the accumulative effect is overwhelming and leaves one grinning like a man who just got lucky, which I guess is what happened. Tracks like the hot and crazed instrumental  Wild Safari with its elephant sax sounds and slight Batman theme sounding hook has limbs and emotions jumping even if the lack of rampaging chickens and stampeding cockerels noises is disappointing, whilst the  throbbing Laundromatic  is a scorching melodic blitz upon the ear with seeds in the band which has influenced MFC Chicken by their own admission the most The Sonics, which simply excites.

Music For Chicken at times offers up flavours which are easily recognisable in other bands and songs though you always feel it is merely coincidence such as with Chicken On The Bone, the song a dead ringer for a Showaddywaddy song  well if it had been given steroids and introduced to Johnny Kidd and The Pirates. Wine, Women, Rock’n’Roll is another with familiarity from a seeming heavy spice of Johnny Carroll splashed with a wash of Screamin Jay Hawkins.

The album closes as magnificently as it started with the trio of Man-Sized Tissues, Family Value Meal, and Fifty-Seven Acres of Pain ensuring every drip of pleasure is wrung into the heart of their recipients. The middle of the three is especially wonderful, its explosive melodic beauty of keys and guitar punctuated with sensational sax clucking a delight not heard since the fifties Fat Daddy Holems song, strangely enough called Chicken Rock.

Music For Chicken is nothing but total pleasure and a party for the ear and heart to gate crash relentlessly  whilst MFC Chicken has one diving into the fridge, damn them.

https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken

RingMaster 10/07/2012

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The best and easiest way to get your music on iTunes, Amazon and lots more. Click below for details.