Though a name familiar to a great many, attention on the UK side of The Pond did not particularly have Bullets And Octane as a concentrated spot on its radar despite some ear grabbing, appetising inciting releases since the band emerged in 2003. That was until the LA based outfit played a venue ripping tour over here last year with our own fine middle finger raising rockers Hung Like Jack supporting. It has sparked fresh interest and in turn real anticipation for the US rockers’ new album Waking Up Dead which we seriously expect to be embracing rigorous attention upon release. It is a beast of an album, rock ‘n’ roll in its most rapacious and rousing form and without doubt Bullets And Octane in their finest moment.
From the release of their debut EP, One Night Stand Rock N Roll Band in 2003, the St. Louis originating quartet has been on a hungry ride towards acclaim and attention. Their Gilby Clark of Guns And Roses produced first album, The Revelry started the growing appetite for their emergence, each of their subsequent seven albums escalating the temptation, including breakthrough album In The Mouth Of The Young, alongside a live presence which has seen the sharing of stages at shows and festivals with the likes of Avenged Sevenfold, Korn, Stone Sour, Flyleaf, Deftones, Unwritten Law, Gunfire 76, Social Distortion, Eagles Of Death Metal and many more over the years. Now we would suggest they are facing their biggest year and time yet with the release of the Brent Clawson (Wednesday 13, Hell or Highwater, The Knives) produced, recorded, mixed and mastered Waking Up Dead, a slab of devilry declaring that hard rock spun rock ‘n’ roll has never been healthier or more fun.
As soon as Bad Mother Fucker launches its attitude loaded stomp off of a warning siren, it has to said, ears and appetite were swiftly gripped; a hold tightening as the track almost stalks ears with riffs and grooves whilst stirring up the spirit with its contagious roar. Vocalist Gene Louis hollers at its heart with energy and contempt, the band’s united calls supporting his incitement as the swinging beats of Jonny Udell punch and Zachary Kibbee’s bass magnetically grumbles.
A raucously irresistible start to the album aflame with the wiry tendrils of Felipe Rodrigo’s guitar, the track sets the anthemic template for things to come and is quickly embraced by the album’s following title track. Guitar and mass incitement instantly draws ears into the almost as immediate blaze of the song, its pulsating stroll and fiery sonic flames surging straight to the instincts to rock out. There is a devious craft and imagination to the song though, predacious twists and tenacious clamours uniting in its spirit rousing exploits.
The calmer but no less lusty When We Were Young has the body bouncing again, it’s gripping hard rock nurtured canter almost poppy but all raw bustle and bite while Burning at Both Wicks jabs and snaps at the senses from its first touch, takes the listener on a bold hard rock infested ride thereon in. As the whole of the album, the songs blend the familiar with the boldly fresh in their individual escapades, each nagging to get under the skin riff by hook and hitting their target in swift time. It really was impossible not to offer up one’s own vocal and physical participation across the whole of Waking Up Dead as proven yet again by the simply captivating Fires. As its predecessor, there is a touch of Fall Out Boy meets Grumpynators to the track with a whiff of Turbonegro, a spicing which slipped through our ears like nectar.
All the same, every song within the album is stamped Bullets And Octane through to the core, the likes of the melodically aflame Fuck You Song and Murder Me Baby with its predatory prowl and salacious swing diverse proof. Neither track quite hit the personal spot as those around them actually but the fact they had us rocking and pressing replay with perpetually fresh lust shows the might of the rest of the album.
The final trio of tracks keep the stomping and thick enjoyment flying, Rolling Stone casting a ‘mellow’, in comparison to other songs, incitement which only needed a clutch of seconds to bypass inhibitions before Hostage seduced the body into a subservient sway. Even with its relative composure, the song is an insatiable rocker increasing its boisterousness and the listener’s involvement by the minute.
Heart Attack completes the release, the track maybe the best of the lot though it is hard to choose. Hooks and grooves ensnare as rhythms jab, vocals stoking up devilment and alone further involvement; the four prong rock ‘n’ roll attack as manipulative as it is simply balls swinging revelry. A great album deserves a thunderous end and Waking Up Dead certainly gets that though its whole body is a galvanic storm of rock ‘n’ roll; a tempest of pleasure we can only suggest, wherever you are, you should unleash your rocker instincts upon.
Waking Up Dead is released May 25th through Bad MoFo Records/Cargo Records.
https://www.bulletsmusic.com/ https://www.facebook.com/bulletsandoctane
Pete RingMaster 23/05/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
Recorded with producer Aljoscha Sieg (Nasty, Eskimo Callboy, Vitja), Prism hits the ground running with opener Motoko Kusanagi. As the guitar joins an initial 8-bit fingering, a tempest gathers behind, swiftly unleashing its voracious force as rhythms fly and riffs bite. Vocalist Pipo Thalmann is quickly there in the midst growling as a delicious hook and similarly tasty grooves entwine the aggression before the already intensive beats of drummer Matteo Leuthold raise their rabidity and pummel the senses. Already a fusion of metal is at fevered play, expectations are taken to the cleaners by the subsequent twists and turns though the band has still yet to dip into their boldest enterprise hindsight revels. The track is pure bait with the guitars of Ziggy Lebon and Raphael Zumstein as predatory as they are creative conjurors.
Recorded with producer Gavin Monaghan, Apocrypha moves in on ears with an almost predacious atmosphere and similarly swinging beats, its threat dissipating slightly as Kyle Jordan’s expressive tones step into the web of suggestion cast by the guitars of Dan Houlbrooke and Sam Wyatt. The gnarly snarling bass of Lewis Hutchings though keeps the intimidation flowing; a delicious texture prowling the sonic temptation continuing to entangle the imagination of song and listener as Gaz Waddell’s beats bite.
Produced by Justin Hill (ex-Sikth) and wrapped in the artwork of Andy Pilkington of Very Metal Art, Pariah instantly goes for the jugular with opener Red Earth. Riffs surge through ears with a rapacious nagging whilst rhythms purge their animosity straight onto the senses. With every passing second the intensity rises but with a virulence and infectiousness which has the body bouncing to the ferociousness. A Korn-esque essence emerges as clean vocals invite nu-metal nuances, an industrial dexterity reminding of Static-X joining in as the track fluidly twists and turns through its inventive drama further embracing melodic and atmospheric suggestiveness. It is sheer magnetism, the track a mighty persuasion and alone the declaration of the coming of age of a new force to take notice of.
Nudisease is just as appealing and intrusive as its predecessors though with a more tolerant nature, riffs and grooves to the fore from its first breath. The intensity of the first two is pulled back in the third though its fire is as pyre like but turned into a hook carting swagger which has the body bouncing. Slips into calmer passages are fluid and magnetic, the track revealing a bolder adventure than the previous two if less of their greed inducing savagery while successor Through Your Eyes also embraces mellower climes in its more mercurial atmosphere and proposition. The song though has a volcanic temperament and heart which fuels its melodic and aggressive sides, creating an unpredictable and rabid but ultimately restrained trespass which maybe teases more than fulfils but still leaves pleasure stuck in its previous high.
The following Souvenirs had ears hooked from its first Korn like breath, a sonic spiral and breathless vocal bait the seed to an antagonistic stalking of the senses swiftly accelerating into a predatory tempest again mixing a great blend of varied vocal assaults and guitar spun adventure fuelled by hostility. There is a touch of now sadly expired Irish band iBurn about the track but it soon boils up its own creative and invasive character as the swinging beats of Nicolas Ammollo incite and punish alongside the equally carnivorous groan of Thibault Chemineau’s bass.