Pavillon Rouge – Dynasteia Klub

Continuing the conflict in their self-acclaimed “War on the dancefloor”, French metallers Pavillon Rouge are poised to unleash their latest assault in the shape of third album Dynasteia Klub. It brings an escalation in their sonic violence, drama, and virulent trespasses as well as thickly bound fascination as the band’s fusion of electro, industrial, and blackened extreme metal breaches new thresholds and heights in creative dissension. It is a one of a kind hostile pleasure invading body and psyche like a contentious puppeteer.

Formed by guitarist/programmer Mervyn and drummer YVH back in 2008, Pavillon Rouge swiftly made a potent impact with their merger of black metal and hardcore techno bound in atmospheric suggestion but especially caught attention and acclaim with debut album Solmeth Pervitine three years later. Its success and strengths were subsequently eclipsed by its successor Legio Axis Ka in 2015, an inescapable assault and incitement capping a time seeing the Grenoble hailing outfit play with the likes of Psygnosis, Himinbjorg, Svart Crown, and The CNK. Both releases were fuelled by a sound which showed real individuality and now finds even stronger character and adventure within Dynasteia Klub. It has the body dancing, the imagination conjuring, and the senses cowering to its bold invasive tempest; guitarist/vocalist Mu Cephei, bassist E.Shulgin, drummer XVH, and Mervyn, a line-up completed live by guitarist ADB, voraciously trespassing with industrial uniqueness.

Album opener L’Harmonie et la Force instantly spreads an atmospheric breath around ears, intrigue and shadows blending within its intimation as melodies begin to vein the lure. All the time a rhythmic pulse is brewing, looming closer with portentous hues and eventually driving the heart of the sonic incursion. Vocals scowl and holler as beats throb, melodic enterprise as toxic yet magnetic as the black raw intensity of the track. Within seconds the body was bouncing, ears devouring, and enjoyment brewing, the track increasingly offering the kind of predacious enterprise which marked out the last album but with greater craft and maturity not forgetting fresh character.

The following Ô Legions, Ô Triomphes initially gives respite for the breathlessness drawn by its predecessor, synths colluding in the song’s melodic weaving though all the time you sense an underlying voracity and urgency which soon takes the reins of another quickly and fiercely addictive challenge. Even then it still retains its control as vocals and heavy shadows accentuate its theatre of threat and manipulation though a mercurial edge lines it all ensuring a lack of predictability.

The album’s title track immerses the senses next, its weave of electronic, industrial, and grievous metal an infestation of irritable infectiousness around vocal and rhythmic discord and temptation respectively. There is a cosmopolitan hue to the guitar’s melodic web, a theatre echoing the lyrical aspects such as discipline, joy, and forgiveness bred in the release’s Ancient Greek Philosophy inspired themes. Again the band refuse to release the listener from its invasive physical tenacity; ebbs and flows in its gait only adding to the inescapable infectiousness before Le Rayonnement Du Temple Nouveau brings a relative calm with its initial invitation. Soon though, an intrusive tapestry of sound and emotion envelops ears, its grasp dark and suggestive as it explores the senses and imagination.

From its first breath, the outstanding In Aenigmate grips with insatiable hunger, senses whipping rhythms pushing its boisterous trespass as guitars and bass flirt with the same rapacious intent while Bodhisattva offers a kinder intensity though it is just as potent in its creative maze and emotional ferocity led by vocal friction. An inventive fusion of the familiar and fresh, the song did not quite inflame the passions as many before it but with the body uniting in its energy and appetite in its drama, the song left pleasure full before the more atmospherically and physically barbarous Notre Foi Brûle Encore took limbs and lungs on another solicitous ride. As with all tracks, unexpected twists and turns add to the drama of its insatiable intent without ever bringing a deviation from the creative, emotional, and corporeal voracity.

The album concludes with firstly another of its pinnacles in Dans L’ailleurs Absolu; a song which, if not in sound, rhythmically and intensively has something of an early Killing Joke feel to it behind a collage of samples and riveting textures. Its unbridled magnetism draws the listener into the closing ethereal embrace of Ad Augusta. Unsurprisingly it has a tempestuous heart which breeds ravenous rock ‘n’ roll, a storm of enterprise continuing to be draped in the melodic poetry of synths.

It is a tremendous, energy sapping end to an album which relentlessly devours the listener as much as it persistently pleasures them. Like many we were hooked on Pavillon Rouge’s warfare thanks to Legio Axis Ka, now the even more creatively powerful and striking Dynasteia Klub brings lust into play.

Dynasteia Klub is released March 30th through Season of Mist.

http://dynasteiaklub.com/    https://www.facebook.com/LuxDiscipline/

Pete RingMaster 27/02/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Who Killed Nancy Johnson? – Flat Earth Theory

Having recently checked out their latest single, Dark Horse, and been definitely taken by it, it was a really welcomed treat to be sent over by the band itself the release the song came from. Its creators are UK outfit Who Killed Nancy Johnson?, a​ ​​​Reading-based quartet creating an eventful fusion of punk and rock with post punk imagination. It is a tenacious sound fuelling a new EP in the shape of Flat Earth Theory, four tracks of raw and devilish rock ‘n’ roll which just got under our skin.

Formed in 2015, Who Killed Nancy Johnson? has grown into one increasingly praised and devoured live presence across the south of England. Their debut EP, Cops and Robbers, released early last year only added to their rising reputation, one sure to be energised again by Flat Earth Theory. Musically the band embraces inspirations from the likes of The Stooges, The Ruts, Wire, Magazine, Black Flag, Buzzcocks, The Rezillos, Fugazi, Ash, Killing Joke, Lit, Rival Schools, The Drills, and 3 Colours Red; an array of flavours which if not openly echoed in the band’s individual enterprise certainly adds to its substance.

Flat Earth Theory is an eventful encounter, an affair coincidently echoed in its making with former bassist Paul Anthony leaving the band just before the EP’s mixing stage and preventing the basslines already laid down being used. A mystery bassist saved the day though, Who Killed Nancy Johnson? leaving the studio with four slices of ear grabbing rock ‘n’ roll.

The EP opens with Strip, a song which opens the band’s live show and to rousing success one imagines such its potent impact on Flat Earth Theory. From a dulled clang of guitar, spirit sparking beats launch their bait, Mark Wren whipping up song and appetite alike as Pete Moulton’s guitar continues to linger casting raw strokes. Quickly though the song surges through ears, its rapacious energy and disruptive intent manna to the imagination and capped by the distinctive tones of vocalist Stefan Ball. Old school punk meets post punk devilry, kind of like The Adicts in league with a Fugazi fuelled Gang Of Four, the track is irresistible and for us a must single. It is easy to see why their shows get off to a flyer with the song, its two minutes instinctive punk ‘n’ roll incitement.

The following Alien has a broader rock landscape, alternative and punk merging for a tenacious stroll which teases and lures the listener to one irresistible call of a chorus demanding eager participation. As in the first song, the band casts wicked hooks and anthemic persuasions which manipulate by the second, a great throbbing bassline accentuating their dexterity as the track matches its predecessor in hitting the spot dead centre.

Mouth and Trousers is next up, a more controlled song which almost prowls ears initially even as a rush of riffs crowd them. It calms down further as vocals join the shuffle, rhythms keeping their restraint in place too. There is a whiff of pub rock to the song, a Dr Feelgood breath to its punk ‘n’ roll which brings another potent shade to the EP’s sound and though the track did not ignite the passions as richly as its companions, it had the body bouncing and vocal chords indulging especially through another potent chorus.

The EP is completed by that latest single, Dark Horse. The song is a muscular affair of alternative rock which straight away springs a lure of firm beats and juicy hooks, building on their prowess with appetising grooves and a brooding bassline aligned to almost predacious beats. Recalling bands such as The Motors and Mind Museum, the track dances in the imagination whilst arousing the spirit.

With new recruit Julien Bruinaud completing their line-up on bass, Who Killed Nancy Johnson? are ready to build on their previous success with a real nudge on national attention, the thoroughly enjoyable Flat Earth Theory irrepressibly leading the persuasion so watch this space.

Flat Earth Theory is out now @ https://wknancyj.bandcamp.com/releases

 

https://www.wknancyj.com/     https://www.facebook.com/WhoKilledNancyJohnson/     https://twitter.com/WKNancyJ

Pete RingMaster 20/02/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

As A New Revolt – Speechless

Unleashing the turbulence and discontent fuelling the world today, As A New Revolt provides a potent voice for the masses and another truly fresh breath for a year with many momentous propositions within its roar. Speechless is a stunning introduction to the duo of Manu Barrero (vocals, machines) and Julien Lhuillier (drums), a four track EP reflecting the oppression around today and the increasing defiance to it but also a title pretty much summing up certainly our lost for words response to its impressive presence.

As A New Revolt create a sound spawned from the feral fusion of rapcore, punk, industrial, hip hop and much more. What emerges is a unique and ravenously rapacious affair driven by the dexterous tenacity of Lhuillier’s rhythms and infested with the sonic discord and vocal dissonance of Barrero. It is a greedily welcomed trespass of noise which swiftly gets under the skin and proceeds to manipulate body and spirit with its almost carnal infestation.

Speechless opens up with its title track, samples and corrosive noise colluding as tension springs an imposing swagger of noise and Barrero’s slightly psychotic tones. An underlying volatility only adds to the threat and lure, the track lumbering along with predacious intent as inspiring rhythms land with calculated intent. Essences akin to bands such as Rage Against The Machine, Pitchshifter, G.R.I.M., and Nine Inch Nails tease within the cauldron, all hues in the stirring and individual web of the French pair.

The following Riot Porn is even more urgent to invade the senses, its gait boisterous but happy to ebb and flow as Barrero fingers song and thoughts with his vocal stabs. As within its predecessor, electronic and melodic tendrils spiral across the encounter, their magnetic attraction and imagination as toxic as the barbarous winds sonically blowing around them. Lhuillier splinters it all with his own gripping rhythmic drama, every beat a shuddering yet anthemic coaxing inciting song and listener alike and managing to be even more manipulative and colossal in next up Now!, a track which steals the show for personal tastes.

With its eastern sonic lures and compelling beats, the track instantly seduces attention, its portentous air gripping the imagination as a tapestry of sound and enterprise aligns in a mutually riveting web. Though not in sound as such there is something of early Killing Joke to the song and band’s general sound, the same kind of rhythmic addictiveness and nagging ingenuity eating away at defences to inescapable success.

Perfect brings things to a close, the song ‘mellower’ in attack but tenebrous in tone and atmosphere as it challenges and incites second by second, note by note, noise by noise. Unsurprisingly after taking in the previous trio of tracks, there is a gloriously capricious character to the assault, a tempestuousness which builds and boils though it is content to menace through simmering provocation too as vocals and rhythms probe and inflame.

It is a superb end to a truly thrilling release which among many mouth-watering and momentous encounters across 2017 just might be the best of the lot.

Speechless is available now through Atypeek Diffusion / Sand Music across most online stores.

https://www.facebook.com/asanewrevolt     https://twitter.com/asanewrevolt

Pete RingMaster 19/12/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Concrete Lung – Fumes

There is no denying we have a major soft spot here for British industrial-doomer Concrete Lung though that pleasurable weakness might be as much from the concussion from listening to thementally devouring, physically punishing sounds spawn as any lustful inclinations. There is something about its dissonance soaked invention and vitriol fuelled imagination which gets under the skin and inflames our own emotive quarrels; a connection which has never been stronger than with the project’s new album Fumes. Like its title might suggest, it is a suffocating severely invasive affair, debilitating and cancerous, and oh so irresistible.

The successor to 2014 leviathan Tolerance & Dependency, the nerve shredding Fumes sees  Ed Oxime at his most sonically corrosive and emotively discordant yet but equally at his most destructively virulent to date. In their own ways, each of the seven tracks within the album stalk and hunt down the listener, devouring their light and feeding on their weaknesses but in turn sparking a cathartic release as potent as that you imagine the pair found giving birth to Fumes.

As its predecessors, Fumes does not want to be liked nor does it care the emotional waste its ruinous exploits cause but as opener The Harbinger proves, if it’s kind of raw attrition and toxic sufferance is your masochistic poison the rewards are exhilarating. It rumbles into view, like a distant portentous storm with swift sonic winds to the fore. Its cavernous air soon becomes a senses smothering cloud of mordant noise, industrial death knells clanging as the track nags and niggles its way into the psyche. Equally the vocals lay a caustic glaze on the infernal incursion, the pressure and animosity intense yet infectiously virulent.

Of course there is no respite as Spinning In The Grave prowls in straight after and it too gives no inch as it consumes the senses in sound as vocals and words unleash their antipathy. Equally though, it has its own death dealing swing, heavy rapacious grooves winding rather than swaying around ears but with a contagiousness which cannot help but infest song, vocals, and listener alike. It grinds the defences down, though admittedly a willing submission just waiting to grab the salacious manipulations on offer; they then asphyxiated by the tsunami of sonic jaundice brought by When The Blind Man Sees You. Its lumbering pestilence is equally addictive, preying on thoughts and emotions whilst seducing with its senses scarring funereal swing and though for over seven minutes it crawls over the listener, it just leaves too soon.

Dissension I is just a carnal schism uniting noise and fear in a sonic smog of dissent, softening up already wasted senses further for A Thousand Years to venomously scrutinize and erode layer by layer with its industrial acid before the wounds are further decomposed by the post punk entangled, doom spawned album title track. There is an early Killing Joke hue to the tenebrific skulk of the track’s climate and gait, its compelling echo adding to the sublimely lethal lure of a highly addictive consumption.

Ending on the starkly raw dissolution of, well everything with Dissension II, the perpetual scourge of Fumes is filthily primal, severely uncomfortable, and permanently scarring but one of the most exhilarating violations heard pretty much since Concrete Lung’s last intrusion. The band has become more creatively dangerous and sonically insightful so beware, be brave, and go enjoy.

Fumes is out now through Armalyte Industries; available @ https://concretelung.bandcamp.com/album/fumes

http://www.concretelung.com/      https://www.facebook.com/concrete.lung     https://twitter.com/concrete_lung

Pete RingMaster 01/12/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

1919 – Bloodline

This is a moment no one likes to contemplate let alone undertake, reviewing something from an artist and exceptional musician who has sadly just been untimely taken from music and the world. It also though gives fingers and thoughts a chance to pay homage especially when the subject of the piece is such a striking and rousing slice of creativity.

Bloodline is the new album from gothic/post punks 1919, a band formed at the tail of 1980 which proceeded to break the charts with a trio of singles, record one of the genre’s inspirational albums, and make appearances on the John Peel sessions twice before disbanding. Founding guitarist Mark Tighe

Mark Tighe RIP

began bringing the band back to life in 2014, its line-up sealed the following year with original drummer Mick Reed and bassist Karl Donner joining Tighe and vocalist Rio Goldhammer; the quartet subsequently releasing the ‘Madness Continues Sessions’ live album and in turn the self-released Death Note EP.

This past night of January 27th, Mark passed away; a deep loss for family, band, and fans but equally for music generally. His playing was distinctive, like a single individual colour in a vast palette of hues, able to create haunting melodies and moments as evocative and captivating as the incisive grooves and hooks from him which so freely and uniquely gripped body and imagination. The evidence is no more powerful and true than on Bloodline. He was also a wholly loved man to whom music was his life’s fuel and a true gentleman for all those who knew and met him.

Bloodline is a thrilling way to remember and enjoy Mark’s craft and potent presence; an album which grips physically and imaginatively from its first breath, increasingly winding appetite and lust around its creative fingers track by track. The foursome quite simply cements themselves as still one of the essential post punk incitements with it, almost as if they had never been away as a presence yet pushing themselves into new fresh realms of creative drama and aural adventure.

The album’s title track is first up, chugging riffs swiftly turning into wiry tendrils as percussion teases. Once the brooding bassline enters, things become eagerly catchy with the song blossoming into a PiL meets Leitmotiv like lure with Rio’s tones showing a certain Lydon-esque tinge to them. Feet and hips cannot avoid being involved as sultry melodies weave their temptation and a repetitious Killing Joke scented nagging growls in its belly.

Drama seeps from the electronic coaxing bringing next up This Vanity into view, its raw industrially kissed smoulder continuing to hug the senses as the bass unveils a gorgeous lure. Alongside, Mark’s guitar spins a spiral of melodic suggestion as Mick’s rhythms instinctively roll, a Gene Loves Jezebel like breeze soon floating over the provocative landscape to seep into every emotive crevice as vocals plaintively croon. Quickly absorbing the senses, the track makes way for the outstanding, rhythmically tenacious canter of Inquest. There is no escaping thinking of Jaz Coleman and co as Karl and Mick unite their flirtatiously anthemic designs but as throughout Bloodline, 1919 soon breed their own distinct character of sound and imagination. Magnetic harmonies and intoxicating melodies proceed to vine the ridiculously virulent encounter drawing the listener further into its creative theatre where just as riveting treats lay like its successor Retrograde. Like a puppeteer, it has the body bouncing while its spicy maze of melody is a sunspot of temptation contagiously matched by the snarling bass and hungrily leaping beats; Rio the ringmaster to its rousingly provocative and exhilarating waltz.

Even darker depths are drilled by the bass next in Legacy, its gnarly breath echoed in the caliginous air of the song though it too has a rampant catchiness which tempers and suits its shadowy presence. Imagine Bauhaus in league with Play Dead and the song can be visualised but still only a glimpse of its invasively compelling adventure, success matched by that of the wholly different presence of Zeitgeist. Again the first of the just mentioned pair of references is a prime clue to its tenebrific air and almost vampiric temptation, Rio carrying a Pete Murphy air to some of his persistently highly enjoyable, ever moving delivery. Mark’s imagination spins another labyrinth of melody and haunted sound too, evolving textures as radiant as they are emotively darksome to seduce and ensnare.

Through the galvanic punk rock of Disassociation and the intrigue soaked flirtation of Waiting For God ears are thrilled and the album’s variety stretched with the latter revolving its charms in ears and imagination like a temptress whilst wearing Theatre of Hate/ The Danse Society sourced inspiration as another alluring spice to its own spellbinding and tenacious revelry. Both tracks whip up body and spirit with sublime yet forceful ease, being quickly and as boldly matched in results by the slightly calmer and heavier fascination of Trespass. Maybe the most pop lined song on the album it just as openly shares raw shadows whilst boisterously serenading the listener, and as those before, it only sparks emotional and physical participation.

Bloodline closes with Life Is.., its tribal incitement of rhythms alone enough to incite allegiance, bewitchingly assisted by the fuzzy glow of melodies and variety coated vocals. Something akin to a fusion of Calling All Astronauts and Inca Babies but not, the wonderfully niggling song saunters and swings with increasing infection; an aural epidemic from which there is no escape as it brings one very fine release to a tremendous conclusion.

You cannot evade sadness listening to Bloodline but neither the joy sparked by its simply stunning presence.

Bloodline is out now through Westworld Recordings.

Video Dir. Carl Arnfield / ChalkmanVideo.com

https://www.facebook.com/1919official/

Pete RingMaster 06/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Bait – Self Titled

art_RingMasterReview

If there is a sound which lives up to its creator’s name more than that of UK post punk project Bait, we have yet to have the pleasure. As in irresistible evidence in a self-titled debut album, it is a snare for ears and imagination; a lure body and instincts alike cannot ignore and as primal and creatively visceral as it is intricately woven.

There is very little we can tell you about Bait, next to nothing to be honest except that it is the solo project of a musician/visual artist which made a seriously impressive introduction to attention within the Alternative Occupations EP released by the Southend based and the outstanding Asylum’s label Cool Thing Records which now lets the band’s first full-length off the leash. Sound wise, Bait conjure a proposition which cannot escape inspiring eager references to Killing Joke in their early days and also of bands like Red Beat, the Malicious Damage label mates of Jaz Coleman and co at the time. Just as quickly though, the band’s own unique character and imagination is infesting album and psyche in what is simply one of the most exciting things heard here in a long time.

Must Meditate opens up the album, its initial coaxing of increasingly excited electronic pulses and vocal endeavour united under musty sonic atmospherics. It is an intriguing introduction boiling up with every second into a tempestuous challenge of metal, industrial, and post punk espionage. Attitude fuels the potent mix, vocal prowess adding to the agitated nature of the song whilst synths and rhythms swiftly bring Killing Joke’s debut EP, Turn to Red to mind.

It is an outstanding start quickly backed up and shadowed by new single Push The Elephant. It is a predacious proposition, stalking the listener even with its boisterous gait while drawing their physical and vocal involvement with an infection spreading alchemy of sound and invention. Wiry hook lined melodies and a brooding bassline only add to the virulence hungrily at play, a united wall of temptation stirring a lustful appetite and participation in no time.

Hate One Another, Love Your Selfie brings a dark funk infused proposal next, its minimalistic yet broadly contagious enterprise woven with the nagging potency of Pop Will Eat Itself. Like a seductress, the track weaves its body calmly around tears, deviously underlying wantonness adding to its lure before Waspy consumes the listener with its punk spawn dance. Beats swat the senses with belligerent keenness whilst guitars caustically bubble on their surface with the melodic tempering offered by keys only seeming to add to the cantankerous air of the track.

The track which provided Bait’s offering on the aforementioned EP is next, I’m Still Here a glorious prowl of hypnotic rhythmic trespass and vocal captivation within a swarming tide of riffs and bass predation. Like a sinister blood lusting yet mischievously devilish mix of Shock-Headed Peters and Brian Brain, the song is pure addiction sure to repeat in many ears and nightmares at its own whim.

Humour is as potent an asset of the album and sound as its invention, Greatest Of The Teeth and the inspirational attributes of Janet Street Porter breeding another attitude driven confrontation to get greedy over. Again thoughts find seventies flavouring to refer to, Rema Rema and to a lesser extent Swell Maps sparked in thought by the compelling incitement but as usual all hues in a tapestry of sound and imagination distinct to and acting as irresistible Bait.

The album concludes with the pair of MZ 4416 and As Far As the Rope Goes. The first is a hungry muscular rock ‘n’ roll assault loaded with more piercing hooks than an abattoir and just as meaty whilst its successor haunts ears and thoughts with angular grooves and deceptively toxic melodies amongst respectful rhythms as vocals snarl with defiance. Both provide a ridiculously enjoyable and striking album with the close it deserves, each adding to the net of lingering temptation quickly drawing back lustful attention.

Bait is a thrilling proposal, band and release as suggested something which gets the juices flowing and you get the feeling they have only scratched the creative surface. Happy Days!!

The Bait album is released March 17th through Cool Thing Records @ https://bait.tmstor.es/cart/product.php?id=31492 with the single Push The Elephant out now.

https://twitter.com/hate_bait

Pete RingMaster 28/02/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Spaztic Robot – Skip Rope Rhymes

album_art_RingMasterReview

On an empty sunny day in 1990, when I was nine years old, I saw two dead dogs. Each at opposite ends of the same street. One was big and brown, the other small and grey. Both greeted me with the exact same pitiful manner. Their sunburnt tongues bathing on the gravel gave the illusion of salmon rising from black tar rivers. As the odour began to rise with the dusty heat, I felt like I’d snorted fizzy pop. I chucked up. Through teary eyes I scanned the motionless street in which I stood. Nothing. Nothing but ugly new houses. Ugly new houses with identical square gardens laid out in front of them.

I wasn’t to know it at the time, but Spaztic Robot was born at that very moment. With no evidence offering itself to the mystery of the dead dogs, my nine year old self began to piece together his own chain of events…a different one lending itself to each house on the street. I was convinced that behind the bricks and mortar of one of these seemingly inconspicuous houses lay a dirty little secret.

Skip Rope Rhymes was created in the same vein. It’s a gathering of characters and stories. Characters and stories that could all easily exist, in one street, behind the closed doors of ugly new houses with identical square gardens laid out in front of them.”

This biography placed introduction to Spaztic Robot pretty such sums up the air and dark intensity which floods a myriad of sounds and imagination making up Skip Rope Rhymes, the band’s debut album. In a broad array of characters, songs offer shadowed adventures all equipped with intimate secrecy, like behind closed doors insights as dramatic and often cinematic as they are seriously captivating.

Spaztic Robot is the solo project of Robbie Sparks, vocalist/guitarist/songwriter of Stourbridge punksters Rebel City Radio. With the band taking a break from gigging and writing over the past year or so, Sparks has used the time to dive into the writing and creating of this his debut album. Recently released, Skip Rope Rhymes has taken little time in drawing eager praise. Its potent diversity means some tracks more forcibly connected with personal tastes than others but from start to finish it is one compelling exploration easy to hear why it has lured strong attention.

The album opens up with Robot Rape, metallic sounds immediately surrounding the senses as whispers in the dark outskirts of the piece share their paranoia. Samples and infectious rhythms soon join the enticement, varied vocal eruptions and a pulsating throb in tow as Sparks begin infesting the imagination in word, tone, and sound. It is an enthralling start which leads into the magnificent theatre of Walk The Long Way Home. Again bold ideas collude with a whiff of insanity as they lead the listener into a sinister noir lit drama of intent and emotion. Nagging and virulent in its catchiness, the track is like a bedlam bound Brian Brain (aka Martin Atkins of PIL, Nine Inch Nails, and Killing Joke fame), a contagious infestation of ears and psyche from repetitious invention and nagging imagination. It is off kilter, bordering deranged, and inescapably irresistible as waves of intensity and psychosis engulf the listener.

The Ants! follows sharing everyday observation in alignment with broader dangers. It sweeps over the senses with again heavily pulsing rhythms and electronic shadows suggestively courting thoughts as much as the intimacy of the vocal and guitar melody. Its low key but involving presence makes way for the pop toned exploits of Confetti Crowns, a song which was one of those not quite igniting ears and imagination as much as those encounters around it. Musically and in songwriting, the song does little wrong yet feels like it is there to provide an accessible doorway and infectious invitation into the real and challenging heart of the album where for us the major excitements lie. Nevertheless, the song does please before the Aphex Twin meets The Cure like Ugly Flower and the scuzzy neurosis of Fingered At The Disco steal their share of attention. The first is a shadow thick serenade of sorts whilst its successor again has a tinge of Brian Brain alongside essences hinting at the likes of Fad Gadget, Pere Ubu, and Wire. It is a glorious and disturbing slice of rhythmic dementia and sonic aberration matched in creativity and emotion by Spark’s schizophrenic vocal delivery.

The melancholy soaked embrace Birth (Goodbye Roggar) offers a collage of flavours and samples next, reminding a touch of Cardiff producer Conformist as it flows like melodic mist through ears with whirls of creative and emotional disturbance interrupting its tempestuous calm while This Is God! induces smiles and glances over the shoulder as the introspective story of death bound life comes with the nag of throbbing rhythms, repetition fuelled melodic temptation, and the stable reflection of its provocateur. Another pinnacle of the release, the track bewitches before Sparks infests the classic (Don’t Fear) The Reaper with his own haunting and acoustic imagination to fine effect.

Skip Rope Rhymes concludes with firstly the creative delirium of At Daggers Drawn, a song which absorbs ears in its society bred dementia and finally the invasive yet solemnly beauteous darkness Extinction Song. Both tracks ignite ears and imagination while challenging each, a quality which infests and shapes the whole of Skip Rope Rhymes in varying ways.

Only listening to Skip Rope Rhymes does it true justice though words like ours, as with Confetti Crowns, hopefully become an enticement to want to leap into the dark and thrilling realms of Spaztic Robot; the rewards are swiftly evident for those that do.

Skip Rope Rhymes is out now across most online stores.

http://www.spazticrobot.com/   https://www.facebook.com/spazticrobot   https://twitter.com/robbiesparks

Pete RingMaster 08/09/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright