Mr Ted – El Dirty Sex

Amongst the mischievous and devilry loaded protagonists which help make rock ‘n’ roll so fun there is one certain rascal which is beginning to stand out more than most and that is UK outfit Mr Ted. We had a hint of their devilish manner, intent, and enterprise through a split release with Bisch Nader earlier this year on Society Of Losers and it is in full rebellious mood with debut album El Dirty Sex, again unleashed by the Liverpool label.

Consisting of Merseyside bred Peter Williamson, Mark Hughes, Phillie Collier, and Mark Charles Manning, Mr Ted create a sound embracing the best diablerie of punk and noise rock and the similarly roguish hues of grunge, alt rock, and other rapacious flavours. It emerges within El Dirty Sex as one captivatingly disobedient incitement as ridiculous in its antics as it is irresistible in its character and exploits with unbridled fun fuelling all.

Though hard to pin down with comparisons there is definitely something akin to Aussie band I Am Duckeye to the Mr Ted sound but as the album shows it develops new aspects in noise and misconduct song to song. The album opens up with Rage Quittin’, and immediately gets its bounce going as rhythms jump about with funk instincts. In no time riffs and hooks are adding their enticement with vocals matching their boisterousness yet all the while a darker, heavier edge infests the lining of the song; its doomier hue bringing thicker body to the instinctive predation of the quickly compelling encounter and its Houdini meets the previously mentioned Australians natured stomp.

It is an outstanding start to the album quickly matched by the alt rock shenanigans of The Bean Song with its animated moves and virulent hookery. Darkly hued rhythms incite and entice from the first second, guitars and vocals casting a web of temptation which effortlessly worms itself into ears and body with the inevitable involvement achieved by its monkey tricks including exploiting the equally infectious lure of The Kinks with a big grin.

The outstanding Shame is next up and similarly thrusts its inescapable hooks forward from the first breath; grooves which swing with knowing relish of their subsequent success in getting hips and lust to do their bidding. As crispy favourites fall as part of its lyrical observation, the song buried itself deep in the passions and psyche adding layers of voracious rock ‘n’ roll by each irresistible minute to seal such slavery before Sea Of Platelets shares an indie pop breeding and psyche rock shaping with matching eagerness; a touch of Television Personalities only aiding its thick persuasion.

Originally their part in that earlier mentions split release, Muscle Milk steps up next. Its lean but easily coaxing beginnings lead ears into the awaiting thick mass of dextrous sound; again grooves and rhythms inherently tempting in its rapacious but mercurial doom/sludge mixed body of contagious trespass. Still as irresistible as it was earlier this year, the track epitomises the core of a Mr Ted song and all the mischief and creative perversity found.

Through the punk ‘n’ roll ferocity of One 2 Panda, a predominantly instrumental track just as devious in its intrigue wired suggestiveness as it is predatory in its noise punk menace, and the feral contagion of the Happy Song, the album’s claws just dug deeper while Sexy Legs displayed its own funk and pop rock enterprise to take body and imagination on another energetic ride with unpredictability and misbehaviour for company.

El Dirty Sex goes out on the magnetic antics of firstly Andrew WK Party In Ireland, its title unsurprisingly giving clue to the major spice in its punk rock riot which also has a bit of Stiff Little Fingers to it with a Flogging Molly spicing breaking upon the folkish hues that emerge in the fun. Pickled Eggs and Snakes concludes the release, providing eight minutes of inimitable temptation taking essences of The Beatles, The Scaffold, Mischief Brew, and Half Man Half Biscuit in its increasingly volatile shanty. As everywhere though, it soon spreads its own unique voice and character of sound to leave us so hungry for much more.

Released in September we are a little late to the party but El Dirty Sexy has an open invitation which will never go out of date and should definitely be accepted.

El Dirty Sexy is out now via Society Of Losers Records; available @ https://mr-ted.bandcamp.com/album/el-dirty-sexy

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Pete RingMaster 19/11/2019

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Duckeye – PUCE

Three years after uncaging their most roguish, fiendishly dishonourable album yet, and their most irresistible in Songs From The Gunt, Australian reprobates I Am Duckeye have just unleashed an equally diabolical successor in Puce. Looking back across their previous three albums, EPs and singles, it is no secret that the band’s unpredictable fusion of punk, virulent metal, voracious rock, and unapologetically questionable humour has grown thicker and heavier in enterprise and weight. Now though the Melbourne outfit has dived headlong into the charnel house of noise and sludge flooded animosity whilst still embracing that initial breeding of sound and emerged with one challenging, raveningly feral, and compelling beast of a release.

Whether to mark this twist of direction in sound, though it is still very recognisable I Am Duckeye, the band has slimmed the band name down to simply Duckeye though they still use their full name everywhere else it seems. Being lazy we will use the shortened version as on Puce, a release also seeing another reduction, in the bands line-up. Duckeye has slimmed to the irrepressible trio of vocalist/guitarist Sam Haycroft, bassist Jules Medor, and drummer/producer Sean Bailey, a threesome unplugging the floodgates of sonic voracity whilst humour wise too, they have bred a fresh trespass. Certainly Puce does not hold back with a tongue hungrily pushing the cheek but it aligns to a deliberately caustic and social scowl on the world and people fuelling the chaos today; maybe some will say it is mischief which has grown up a tad but yes it still brings a ready childish grin to the face with regularity.

It is probably fair to say that Puce does not have songs which virally leapt from the speakers into our particular devilment as many of the band’s previous infestations yet all make for a fiercely memorable moment and all have attributes which just got under the skin and into our lustful appetites. Across the album riffs mercilessly trespass, grooves wickedly entangle, and hooks ensnare with nefarious ease and throughout the band’s punk metal instincts erupted to inflame ours.

Puce first erupts with Docks, Haycroft’s lone guitar casting steely strokes at ears with his just as untamed tones quickly stepping forward to its side. Then as swiftly the track stretches its muscles and strides forth, rhythms almost gleefully and definitely venomously dancing on the senses that grooves keenly infest. As suggested earlier, the contagious sound is as individual Duckeye as fans would hope but it is a new monster with no qualms about parading seductive enterprise within its voracious incitement.

In contrast to the excited gait of its predecessor, the following Stab Flats crawls over the listener; doom and gloom soaking its prowl as noise and sludge coated aspects collect in its magnetic bowels. Eventually it escapes its chains to angrily cavort through ears, with it a new wave of ravenous flavours and styles carnivorously clawing at the listener. Reverting back to its predacious drag of its irresistible Birthday Party hued sonic body it makes way for the equally examining exploits of Headlights, the senses caught on its sonic glare whilst the body is bouncing to its barbarous manipulation. Again at times there is an echo of eighties post punk to its corrosive toxicity but once more it just spices up that Duckeye uniqueness channelling through song to the pleasure it sparked.

It is often enjoyment loaded with punishment as witnessed in Dead End, the track just short of two and a half minutes of bestial incitement churning up the senses and every esurient lust you have inside through punk and dense extreme metal fired savagery. Addiction to it was inevitable with our appetites here, the song bordering cannibalistic as it devours its own virulence with just as captivating barbarity.

The lengthy trespass of the following Tree Puncher is more familiar Duckeye, initially luring attention with their established creative mischief but it too its soon flexing its grievous dexterity, the song a kind of bridge between Puce and the band’s last outstanding full-length. By its departure though, the track is all predator and simply corroding the senses, indeed disintegrating them with sonic scorching though they are soon brought back to life by the animated dissonance of Defeated. It is a song with post metal winds which absorbed if not aroused initially but then it goes and throws wicked grooved interruptions of lusty ire to raise the temptation and pleasure by multiple degrees

Both Sense and Finger deviously got under the skin, the first with its delicious initial gothic Bauhaus-esque hues and more so with its metal forged punk ‘n’ roll carousing and the second through its classic metal wired, stoner sludge stroll; again virulence flowing through netting of infectious veins.

The final pair of tracks on the album proves themselves just as unscrupulously tempting; Dead Eyes with its cold stare and predacious prowl masterfully wily and persuasive, villainous rock ‘n’ roll at its notorious best, while Blue Hand leaps on another wealth of fresh flavours to ignite its enterprise woven web.

Together they provide a richly gripping conclusion to an album which assaults and invigorates second by second, thrilling with every passing trespass. Puce only gets better and more addictive by the listen too so maybe this is the moment the world catches a dose of the I Am Duckeye virus; it would be a better place for doing so.

Puce is available now @ https://iamduckeye.bandcamp.com/album/puce

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 Pete RingMaster 09/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

I Am Duckeye – Songs From The Gunt

IAD_RingMasterReview

From the moment I am Duckeye had us Punching Dicks in 2013, the Australian quartet has been a devilish itch in unseen places leading to regular treatment of their riff loaded, highly mischievous rock ‘n’ roll. Across two albums and numerous singles, the band has whipped up a storm of bruising and invigorating sounds and eager bad habits. Now though, is the realisation that it was all merely the warm up act for the main show, Songs From The Gunt. The Melbourne quartet’s new album is simply in another league to its impressive and fiercely enjoyable predecessors. It is still a great menace of sex, dirty sex, and salacious revelry, but I Am Duckeye has truly come of age with their diverse and hungry sound in what will be one of the major highlights of the year.

Making their debut in 2008, I Am Duckeye first whipped up eager attention beyond their local borders with the Punching Dicks EP five years later. Already their home city had succumbed to the “comedy punk rock” which slips from the foursome of vocalist/guitarist brothers Sam and Matt Haycroft, bassist Jules, and drummer Sean as easily as the previous night’s curry, the morning after a drunken rampage. 2013 also saw the band’s debut album, Husband unleashed to increasing acclaim and rapture, though that was eclipsed in turn by its successor Commando Too the following year. As Songs From The Gunt, each album has been a successful crowd funded venture and the bringing of heavier and more voracious intent and sound from the band, which their third album continues. This time though, it sees them dive into a thicker tapestry of styles and flavours, unlock a bolshier arsenal of riffs and rhythms, and involve ears in moments of sheer licentious brilliance.

The anthemic intensity of Sex Fight gets the party flying, the song an immediate wall of spicy grooves and rapacious riffs driven by the roar of vocals alongside senses scything rhythms. It is instant evidence of the step up in heavyweight confrontation and antagonism fuelling the band’s sound but also of the diversity. The virulent grooves tempt with a funk bred devilment whilst the twists of infectious incitement is as punk as you could wish. Additional steps into melodic caresses and atmospheric deceits just reveal the new depth of a creative imagination which you feel has always been within the band but is now being shared with bold adventurousness amidst their instincts to rock and raise a meaty grin or two.

cover_RingMasterReviewThe outstanding start is more than backed by both Hectic and Hot Nuts. The first immediately swamps ears in a noise rock spiral of nagging; vocals bronco riding the tempest before things dive into another romping punk ‘n’ roll canter. Like a mix of The Fat Dukes Of Fuck and Melvins, the track relentlessly ignites ears and appetite, raising the depth of bait again when slipping into a tar thick sludgy prowl with the ever involving lure of the Haycroft led vocals. The song is glorious, repeating its cycle to greater effect across its body before allowing its successor to parade its punk rock seed loaded wares. Keenly weaving in strains of hard rock too, the guitars relishing the chance to flirt with sonic enterprise, the bundle of sweaty energy hits the spot dead centre.

The Binternet swings in with flirtatious hips next, its surrounding sonic shimmer wearing a post punk meets psyche rock sheen around the great agitation of Sean’s percussive skills. Lyrically cutting, even though delivered with usual mischief, the song tantalises and fascinates whilst again employing a clutch of varying spices to its muscular rock ‘n’ roll; a design emulated again in the enthralling rumble of Wide On. As much garage punk as it is heavy rock, as much punk as it is alternative metal, the track canters through ears like an attitude inflamed stallion on the persistent and contagious gallops of Sean’s rhythms; they in turn aligned to the predatory and anthemic lure of Jules’ fingers.

The grungy rock ‘n’ roll of Papsmear the Clown increasingly pleases as it leads to the psychotic majesty of Ben outta Ten. Here early surf rock hooks are quickly twisted and distorted into a fiery blaze which in turn sparks a ferocious assault of heavy rock which is kind of like Mastodon meets Triggerman. Mid-way though, the song suddenly loses its already loose sanity and evaporates into a sonic dissonance lined breeze with haunting touches to confuse and thrill thoughts further. As good as it is though, the track is soon forgotten as The Quickening emerges from its distant fog. A hilarious and mesmeric embracing of the Highlander films; the track drifts through ears and into the imagination with a folkish/progressive ambience around a military toned rhythmic skeleton draped in a Celtic lacing. As grooves emerge with intoxicating spicing, the track becomes more imposing and volatile, gripping attention tighter as it unpredictably twists into a swing loaded shuffle, which in turn breaks into an insatiable punk romp and so on…

Fart of the Year break the momentary calm that lays between songs with carnivorous riffs and a general rapacity to its grouchy rock ‘n’ roll whilst Uncle Reg growls and prowls from the great grizzly lead of Jules’ bass. Sam and Matt of course only build on that bait with their own debasing string spawned enterprise, casting an unrelenting nagging of the senses and the by now seriously greedy appetite for the release. The track is another major high in the lofty heights breached by each and every song so far, a trend only continuing as Clean Snap swings and swerves with seriously spicy grooves around a crunching parade of rhythmic and riff spawned dexterity. As throughout Songs From The Gunt, for all the impressive and new invention and imagination in songs, they are all at the heart pure instincts gripping rock ‘n’ roll very few can say no to.

The rousing show tune quality of Pish Paste is surely deserving of gracing a theatre somewhere, though hard to see it being on Broadway. It easily whips up a storm in pleasure and physical involvement leaving exhaustion in its wake to meet closing track Pledgends, a full-on heavy rock thank you and a ”passing of the blame” to all those helping the album come to light.

Songs From The Gunt is simply superb; as suggested I Am Duckeye hitting a new plateau in songwriting and sound without losing the reason we all flocked to them initially; raucous fun, irrepressible mischief, and brazen naughtiness.

Songs From The Gunt is released March 4th digitally and on CD and 12” green or clear vinyl @ https://iamduckeye.bandcamp.com/album/songs-from-the-gunt

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Pete RingMaster 01/03/2016

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In The Whale – Nate & Eric

InTheWhale R! 2

This week sees the release of the Nate & Eric, a fireball of rock ‘n’ roll from US duo In The Whale. The album is actually the putting together of the band’s last two EPs and if they have escaped your attention this is an encounter you should urgently add to your collection of crucial sounds. As eclectic as they are ferociously contagious, the songs making up the release are encounters bred in everything from old school rock ‘n’ roll and punk through to blues, garage rock, and plenty more. It is uncompromising, honest, balls out rock ‘n’ roll, and quite simply irresistible.

Formed in 2011, the Denver band consists of Nate Valdez (vocals and guitar) and Eric Riley (drums and backing vocals), a pair which much like Canadians The Black Frame Spectacle, turn two sources of roaring instrumentation into a full-on rapacious beast of sound and energy. In 2012 In The Whale unleashed debut EP Cake, a well-received proposition which was followed by a just as impressive live presence, which has seen the band play with the likes of Murder by Death, Local H, Reverend Horton Heat, and Electric Six as well as The Airborne Toxic Event, Agent Orange, Bob Log III, The Pack A.D. and Slash. Second EP Eric hit ears in the latter stages of 2013 with its successor Nate being unveiled earlier this year. Now the last EPs come together to create one of the most inspiring and mouthwatering propositions of 2014.

Nate & Eric opens up with the Nate tracks, and specifically Robert Johnson. From its first breath a flame of energy and intensity hits image10-5the ears through intermittent strikes of raw riffs and punching beats beneath the equally imposing vocal call of Valdez. Bluesy air oozes from all aspects too before the track settles into a predatory dance of raucous riffs and anthemic rhythms to which the vocals burn and roar passionately. The track is like a mix of the previously mentioned Canadians, Reverend Horton Heat, and Eagles of Death Metal, and just as devilish as that mixture suggests. It is Devil music and unapologetically irreverent in its infectiousness and psyche twisting charm.

If the starter was mercilessly tempting than the following Wedding Bells should be labelled as dangerous, its initial southern psychobilly twang toxic bait to which the band erupts into a garage punk enslavement with impossibly addictive pop punk relish. For less than a minute and a half, the track stomps with nagging rhythms and agitated riffs, leading into a ridiculously commanding chorus; this all under the again gripping vocals of Valdez. It is a fiery mix that Valdez and Riley conjure; alchemy of sound sculpted with an adrenaline fuelled inventive voracity through simply one predacious guitar, an antagonism lit drum kit, and flaming vocals.

Both the hard rocking Lake of Fire with its again blues kissed rabidity and the feverish brawl of Grandpa Pete keep passions and ears greedy, the first a frenetic blaze of stoner-esque heavy rock with punk urges. Acidic melodies and darkly shadowed chords equally add their potency to the fire dance, hooks and grooves just as prevalent and mischievously compelling too. There is a little tint of Wall of Voodoo to the song, though admittedly for indefinable reasons whilst its successor is pure punk revelry with metallic appetite. Holding a touch of I Am Duckeye and Melvins in its barging garage punk tenacity and devilment, the track is pure aural addiction.

The Eric half of the album begins with On A Roll and immediately a scrub of blues guitar swiftly joined by muscular rhythms and honky-tonk piano covers the senses. As Valdez opens up the narrative everything settles into an ordered yet disruptive canvas of unpredictable rhythms and searing melodies beneath those dramatically expressive vocals. There is a rich feel of Queens Of The Stone Age to the riot but only as a potent spice in a loudly individual proposition. Its triumph is followed by the best track on the release, The Clash seeded Girlfriend. Beats set out a plain but gripping frame for both men to lay down their anthemic vocal call before the track explodes into a blistering punk temptation. The Vibrators meets Rocket From The Crypt with that Strummer and co blooding, the song is an incendiary trap to dive into head first for the greatest pleasure and lustful satisfaction.

The release closes with Sunbeam where again the pair step into a stoner landscape but this time with coarse rock ‘n’ roll and seventies garage rock scenery. It is a smouldering abrasing of sound and sonic tempting, keys again adding richer colour to the riveting and shifting terrain of the magnetic provocation. It is a glorious end to a sensational release, as mentioned one which if the EPs individually have evaded your sweaty hands, is a must have, do not dawdle purchase. In The Whale expels rock ‘n’ roll in its purest yet adventurous form, a furnace to get persistently and brilliantly burnt by; the proof is all there on Nate & Eric.

The self-released Nate & Eric is available now!

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10/10

RingMaster 27/06/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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I Am Duckeye – Commando Too

pic Michael Reynolds

pic Michael Reynolds

Those insatiable Australian riff stalkers I Am Duckeye have returned with second album Commando Too and if you thought they could not exploit and distort the classic cacophonous swipe any more than they did on debut album Husband, then stand corrected as the Melbourne quartet has bred and plucked a whole new tsunami of belligerent riffery and merciless revelry. Consisting of fourteen tongue pressing slabs of salacious devilment and unbridled wickedness, album two spreads the toxins birthed in its predecessor into new insatiably irreverent and seriously compelling brawls.

From the first day of their rampage in 2008 it is probably fair to say that the quartet of guitarists/vocalists and brothers Sam and Matt Haycroft (who also play in Sydonia, Afterwhite and Chico Flash respectively), bassist Jules (also in Dirty F), and drummer Sean (Sydonia), has had the good clean living people of Melbourne drenched in nightmares and the hellacious basking with broad grins. They are a band that once assaulted and thrilled by lustful hunger is inevitable, as with us after their inescapable Punching Dicks EP. It was a release which told us all about the mischief and intent of the band whilst Husband revealed beneath all the humour and sexual antics, I Am Duckeye takes their music seriously and with a plentiful of skill and imagination. The Duckeye riff mobile has been taking on steam to match its weight and with the release of Commando Too, it can only be a matter of when and not if the tea bagging reprobates infect and bring down the world.

The crowd-funded album opens with the towering ‘offspring’ of first album’s track The Riff, well certainly a closely bred cousin. Son of a a3551119337_2Riff reveals its intent lyrically and musically within its first breath, scraping guitars teasing ears as the vocals provide the source of the narrative in the bands as always one of a kind way. It is not long before rhythms are caving in on the senses whilst guitars turn up with searing flames and ferocity. The music growls like a woman giving birth, grizzling sonic endeavour adding to the heavyweight voracity driving on the track’s twisted rampage. It is a tremendous start given extra spice by the brief My Sharona like licks and swiftly matched by the just as ravenous endeavour of Grip It. Though distinctly different the song starts with the same intensity and scarring riffery of its predecessor but as it establishes itself soon unearths a hell of a demonic riff and throat which is plain rabid. Suddenly a juggernaut of rapacious urgency and spiteful dynamics, the confrontation tears down senses and ignites the imagination like a mix of Slayer meets Age of Menace meets Melvins, and is just brilliant.

Hi Viz comes next and though it has its moments just does not click overall. Steam punk expulsions and floating discord kissed harmonies drift into view first courted by a single guitar. It is an intriguing if not captivating start but one soon working once embraced by a torrent of scathing riffs and sonic antagonism. Sadly that is the best part of the song and only when it intermittently returns does, for personal pleasure, the song work. Nevertheless it makes a decent variation before the addictive punk- skat fest of Duckeye Boogie picks up ears and passions for a rhythmically hypnotic and sonically seductive romp. As always the band’s choice of words and lyrical adventure is irresistible but as with the last album it is the music which grabs the biggest plaudits, though combined everything is a destiny suiting fit.

The just as tremendous Windmills comes along next, again the band playing with their punk side (something their mother never warned them about). There is a sense of Dirt Box Disco to the feisty sinew driven punk ‘n’ roll incitement, where rhythms and especially riffs steal the honours once again though the infestation of hooks have their say also before the album takes another twist and venture into disco with Tuesday, I Go the Blues Way…only kidding. The song is a sweaty rather than sultry moan of the blues done Aussie style and as always with the band comes in an unpredictable soak of delicious taunting. Imagine Lemmy singing the blues after lessons from Sir Les Patterson and you get the drift to another great moment.

Things only get better and better as the album progresses, the noise rock mess of I Need Rehab just excellent and hilarious. Vocally distraught and musically deranged until its heavy rock needs escape, the track is just irresistible as is the following post/steam punk come electro orgy of What is Wrong with Me?, a brief self-reflection which is more pride than insecurities. Matching the pair in setting leakages in motion is Stool Bender, a fierce heavy stoner bred rocker of a mating with the ears which flirts, gnaws, and suffocates the senses, though not always in that order. Stalked by the bass and slapped around by the drums, passions are already aflame but sent feverish by the cruel causticity of the riffing and the ever engaging vocals. The track is another undeniable slab of evidence to the growing craft and intent of the songwriting of the band and their accomplished sounds, so much so that you just wonder if one day we will see a ‘serious’ rock/metal album coming from the guys.

This latest lofty plateau of the album continues with the stomping animosity of the blistering Meth is Death and the Black Tusk like avalanche Agonhymn, both adding rich fun, diversity, and might to the release before the angst drawn Headbutt. If persistence and sonic nagging is a sin than this band is going right where they want to with tracks like this their infernal anthem. It is a bestial and ruinous experience, a damnation of contagion.

The album finishes with firstly the exhausting blaze of Ayy Ayy, a savage and uncompromising fury which makes Mastodon look timid but a tempest which is just as gleeful mellowing in unexpected places with wistful harmonies and looks. From there the release closes on the sweltering climate and stoner sonic winery of Panchow, a final leviathan of proof in case you had any doubts left that this band can write exceptional metal/rock songs of varying spices. It is a smouldering stoner/psychedelic flame of acidic enterprise and evocative resonance which leaves a lingering fire for the imagination and passions to immerse in.

After Husband we were left wondering if I Am Duckeye could go much further in their invention and craft let alone devilment; well Commando Too is the evidence that not only can they but it is still blissfully early days…

Comando Too is available now @ http://iamduckeye.bandcamp.com/

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9.5/10

RingMaster 11/06/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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I Am Duckeye – Double Riff Action

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The base morality of the world is always open to a new lesson and our favourite Australian reprobates I Am Duckeye has given it another welcome swipe to the balls with another infuriatingly addictive riff fisting through their new single. After the release of their exceptional album Husband last year; where riffs, rhythms and testicular examinations were wantonly encouraged, it was easy to wonder how the band could improve on its irrepressible delights. The Double Riff Action single provides an instant answer, its double A-sided suasion featuring the first temptation to the band’s upcoming full-length Commando Too, an anthemic bait of riotous proportions. Consisting of nine tracks running around fifty minutes and also featuring live cuts, remixes, and interview, the release is a chunky slab of Duckeye goodness bursting with honest depravity and juicy hilarity.

Formed in 2008 and consisting of brothers Sam (Sydonia, Afterwhite) and Classic Matt Haycroft (Chico Flash), bassist Jules (Dirty F, Afterwhite), and drummer Sean (Sydonia), I Am Duckeye has begun to solicit passions far beyond their already submissive state, especially hometown Melbourne. Their sounds are being voraciously grabbed in the US, France, UK and further afield with almost lecherous attention. It is early days but an appetite is ripe for their merging of comedy and the heaviest riff infused rock available. They provide an encounter which equally feeds of the ripeness of punk and metal, and helps create a rising force to give parents the shivers and grannies tingles.

Double Riff Action as mentioned comprises of an array of tracks led by the two A-sided singles. First up is Son Of A Riff, the lead single double-riff-action-coverfrom the upcoming album. From its first breath guitars are scraping at ears and senses with a scramble of riffs as the vocals introduce the premise of the narrative. With rumbling rhythms carrying more weight than a sumo wrestling team and the bass growling like a bear with crabs, the track erupts into a juggernaut of voracious endeavour and carnivorous intent. Lyrically as expected the band does not leave the funny bone unsatisfied either, the opening presentation….

This is a song, a song about cooking riffs
A cooking song!
Not a cooking song, a song about rolling spliffs
Smoking a bong!
No not smoking a bong Matthew, but writing yourself a hit
Hitting is wrong!
Yes hitting is wrong, unless your song is utter shit
Now!

…telling all.

The track carves up air and senses like a herd of kamikaze first time weightwatchers, though it also throws in a few respites and a My Sharona like hook which we will forgive them for. The song offers more than enough to spark a girly anticipation for Commando Too whilst the following track reminds just how immense the last album was.

The Riff the delivers an even greater cantankerous attitude and predation with its opening riffs, they snarling with bestial intent to provide exactly what it says on its label whilst unearthing a carnal enticement  for which mass mutilation seems a fair price. With sonic repetition and heavy duty oppressiveness an intimidating pleasure, the song is a glorious predator; almost a normal song at times, ok washing my mouth out with soap right now guys.

The rest of the single is made up of firstly acoustic live performances of Tuesday I Go the Blues Way, The Riff, and the should be world anthem Punching Dicks, all thoroughly enjoyable with pipes, violins and more in tow, but it is the verbal antics of the band before and during songs which steals the show more often than not.

The full live track of The Riff recorded at The Cherry Bar, Melbourne last year is a hungry gem whilst the remixes End Of The Riff and Punching McVomit, a squalling version of Punching Dicks hit the right spot before a hilarious interview with the band closes up shop.

Double Riff Action is another great intrusion by the band, its two lead songs sheer I Am Duckeye alchemy and the band as contagious and unstoppable as ever. The hunger for the new album is destined to be impatient and demanding after this…in fact hurry up with it you taunting teabaggers. 😉

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9/10

RingMaster 27/03/2014

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I Am Duckeye – Husband

I Am Duckeye pic

If you are one to have been welcomingly violated and recruited by the basement level persuasion of Australians I Am Duckeye and their Punching Dicks EP, whose title song once embraced has the habit of repeating on its victims at the most inopportune moments, then the thought of their debut album will have juices leaking and erections of hunger ripe for feeding. Husband is a thunderous dose of punk and metal coaxed aural below the waist salaciousness which leaves expectations of hearing something very good in the release potent underestimation. It is an outstanding album which offers slabs of prime rock ‘n’ roll for the lyrical and mischievous deviancy to rampage within.

Formed in 2008 I am Duckeye fuse comedy and riotous fun with a contagious and impressively crafted mesh of punk, rock, and metal. Imagine a back street union between Kevin Bloody Wilson, The Dickies, and Melvins, whilst Alberto Y Los Trios Paranoias and The Wildhearts add their ounce of liquid expulsions to the recipe. Consisting of founders, guitarists/vocalists and twin brothers Sam and Matt ‘Mattness’ Haycroft, who also play in Sydonia, Afterwhite and Chico Flash respectively, bassist Jules (also in Dirty F), and drummer Sean (Sydonia), the Melbourne band has already laid down a legacy of three EPs, videos, and a wealth of YouTube Duckisodes which will have mothers and grandmothers deep in their coffin’s resting place. Husband is undoubtedly their finest piece of irreverence yet and one which musically is a thrilling and imaginative monster. Containing fifteen tracks wrapped in the excellent artwork of Julian Medor (Dirty F) and unique photography by Randy Blythe (Lamb Of God), the album is a comedy rock juggernaut which is so much more than just a slab of naughtiness.

The album launches upon ear and senses with S’whale, the opening call of the sperm named creature meeting heavy rhythms and4pg or Multi pg Booklet V2.ai hungry riffs whilst the adjoining bass offers a throat full of snarling temptation. Into its productive and intimidating stride the vocals begin expelling the ‘educational’ narrative whilst the sounds carve out a formidable and infectious course of metal infectiousness with loud whispers of the likes of Trucker Diablo.

    Tea Baggin’ continues the metallic predatory sounds, its carnivorous riffs and bass seduction ridden by dual anthemic vocal enticement coated in gang persuasion. With lyrics which you can rightly assume are not about the merits of starting the day with a choice of Ceylon, China, or Lapsang Souchong sourced beverage sparking grins and more within the high octane growl of a song, the album already has inspired an impressed and lustful passion for its body further cemented with the likes of the punk ‘n’ roll blaze of It’s Time and the twisting noise rock punk engrained Whateva (Dude). It has to be said that even if the rest of the album had sucked like a Granny with no sense of direction we would have been enthusing vociferously about the release because of the opening quartet of tracks. Thankfully it just continues to rape sensibilities and unleash sounds which corrupt and wonderfully gnaw at the ear with craft and fierce antagonism not forgetting varied invention.

The wine appreciation of Corkin’, only joking, with its intensive niggling grind of riffs and climatic call, and the manic schizoid fuelled rummage of the senses Ung again leave passions alight, the latter with an evolving almost Primus like creative bedlam, whilst Brown Eyed Guy is a classic rock fired furnace of sexual temptation which again only drives the album deeper into the passions.

Without reeling out every track and leaving things for you to discover, quite simply Husband carries on diversifying its bait with devious enterprise, the likes of the exceptional and musically twisted Chode To Jesus, the exhausting predatory punk/rock bruiser Prolapse, and the leviathan The Riff, a track laden with riffs of course, all which would leave Mastodon dribbling in to their beards, engineering greater greed for its bad mannered ingenuity. Right there amongst them is also the anthem of all anthems of band and the world, Punching Dicks. The song is prime punk rock, lyrical repetition and simple construction breeding the purest infection which is like an epidemic, once consumed as mentioned it rears its insatiable head at any moment it chooses in thoughts, its presence breeding a Tourette’s like need to expel its call whether on a train, at a family reunion, funeral, or a Justin Beiber concert, though that last one is acceptable and pure instruction.

With the magnetic and disorientating inventive stumbling of Shadow Pogs and the insanity caressing closing title track, Husband is simply brilliant. Actually we have almost mentioned all the songs despite the earlier intent so note both Slag Bank and Rabbit Kick and you have the full complement of the aberrational glories. I Am Duckeye certainly lead to bad behaviour as they stake a claim as one of our own obsessions masked under favourite bands, just be brave and let them lure you into their clutches too.

http://iamduckeye.com/

http://www.youtube.com/iamduckeye

10/10

RingMaster 07/06/2013

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