Engine Summer – Back-Street Boys

Suckers for idiosyncratic hooks, irregular rhythms, and drone back grooves which nag their way into the psyche, it was inevitable that the new EP from Chicago hailing trio, Engine Summer, would have us dangling from its aberrant antics and warped imagination like a dysfunctional puppet and lusting after every second time and time again. Back-Street Boys is manna to the anomalous freak in us all; a collection of tracks seeded in the deviancy, irreverence, and contagion of the finest post punk, psych rock, and indie eccentricity known to man but a gathering breeding the kind of uniqueness which keeps us lustfully lost in the grip of music.

Consisting of Jeremy, Benny, and Ry, Engine Summer formed in late 2016 and quickly made a potent mark on the Chicago live before venturing further afield with two tours of the East Coast. Sharing stages with the likes of for Ra Ra Riot, Bodega, Acquaintances, and Baked along the way and a pair of EPs as well as their debut album has only cemented their reputation for creating apologetically catchy but maverick songs which linger long after their arrival. Back-Street Boys is the successor to their acclaimed Indiana EP, one “piggybacking off” their 2019 Dion Lunadon of A Place to Bury Strangers mastered predecessor to breach a whole new plateau of Engine Summer pleasure.

Their new offering is bookended by the band’s previously released singles, Carol’s Dead and Night School, an entrance and departure which is worth the effort of digging into Back-Street Boys alone. The first of the two more taunts than invites attention with its initial resonating throb of bass and lure dangling guitar but with the same impossible to ignore intrigue at its core. As tenacious beats increasingly swung their manipulative bait and the band’s twitchy vocals united in a just as lively and devilish static dance on the ears, the track enslaved as it stomped around with irresistible dynamics and attitude. Teasing with essences reminding of bands such as Gang Of Four, Artery, and The Fall across its more forceful individuality, the song is glorious and one of the best tracks of the past decade.

Night School similarly proved why its great success as a single, its stroll less boisterous but just as persuasive as nagging chords and persistent rhythms aligned to orchestrate instinctive movement and further hunger for their atypical exploits, Each are feasts for any with a post punk and krautrock nurtured appetite and fair to say that in between, the two tracks the enticement proved just as addictive and galvanic.

Suds follows the EP’s first track, quickly laying out its own web of spiky hooks around motion chivvying rhythms. Like a hybrid birth in a contorted fusion of The Fire Engines, Swell Maps, and We Are The Physics, it like its predecessor had us wrapped around its sonic finger before Under the Sea leapt in with an indie pop dance within a psych punk cage of compulsion to equal have us drooling.

Groovin’ on 63rd marries the renegade of eighties post punk with a similarly aged new wave devilment before embroiling it in the band’s freak bred imagination, a garage punk breath only adding to its funky disposition while Likes saunters along with a meandering Melvins-esque smile to effortlessly worm under the same skin its predecessor had already breached.

Completing the line-up is Spice Boys, a psych pop serenade as sublimely infectiously in its harmonic charm as it is in its darkly contrasting rhythmic canter. Adding yet another shade of imagination and flavouring to the release, the track seduced as it coerced; its intoxication epitomizing the fascination and distinctive enterprise which makes Engine Summer one seriously hypnotic band and the Back-Street Boys EP their finest moment yet.

Back-Street Boys is available now @ https://enginesummer.bandcamp.com/album/back-street-boys

https://www.enginesummer.com/   https://www.facebook.com/enginesummer/

Pete RingMaster 27/01/2020

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

LongFallBoots – For The Journey

The clue was there in the EP released soon after their debut album of 2015, a more than strong hint now thickly fuelling the new album from UK outfit LongFallBoots. Quite simply as it has evolved, their sound is becoming dirtier and more primal yet equally it is becoming more compellingly devious and eagerly imaginative, a mix which makes For The Journey one easy to recommend invasion of the senses. It is a release which will not be for everyone but hold an appetite for voracious grooves, dense scuzz soaked riffs, and a heaviness which devours the senses whilst a band spins a web of invigorating enterprise and it is a must investigation.

The Warwickshire band was formed by guitarist Alex Calvert-Caithness (KOSS, Cincinnati Bow Tie) and drummer Ben Holdstock (Paralus, Cincinnati Bow Tie) the night their other members of the band they were in  failed to turn up for rehearsal one night. Two and a half hours later and LongFallBoots emerged with the It Was Duke EP written. A series of further EPs followed, all written in a single night and recorded over a brief weekend. It was debut album Wait For The Echo of 2015 which awoke a great many more to their voracious multi-flavoured sound, the You’ll Know It When It Happens EP a year later cementing their reputation for ear grabbing enterprise and senses devouring sound whilst igniting that fresh feral but inventive breath which makes For The Journey so boldly stand out.

With stoner, space, and heavy rock essences as ripe within their noise borne groove woven sound, it is enjoyable not to easily tag the results but imagine a fusion of Melvins, The Great Sabatini, Mastodon, KEN mode, and Converge and you get a suggestive whiff of For The Journey. Diving into album opener Start offers the character if not the diversity of the album, the song coaxing ears with a melodic invitation before invading ears with a horde of guitar and bass riffs upon the biting beats of Holdstock. His throat scarring roars only add to the impact with the track truly gripping ears through virulent grooves and a combined vocal prowess across the band.

Bullet Cake follows, it too needing mere seconds to entice attention as stoner nurtured lures beckon ears as an increasingly heavier breath soaks every subsequent note and roar. All the while melodic and harmonic enticement work their temptation, the bass and vocal potency of Amy Smith a contrast of dark and light around the sonic weaving of Calvert-Caithness and fellow guitarist Jonathan Martin. The track is a magnet pretty much like all within the already gripping release, next up No Rest confirming the point. Once more a gentle captivating beginning leads to a primal surge of sound and subsequent senses ravishing endeavour, a great sludge rock consumption revolving its persuasion with intricate melodic teasing.

That ability to intrigue and seduce from the very first second of a song is a potent trait in the band’s writing and imagination, the outstanding Good (In Theory) stepping forward next to epitomise that quality, the punk soaked scourge of sound which follows its opening persuasion as captivating in its voracity and discontent while Part of the Plan for one minute and a half relishes the temptation of its Melvins meets Pixies spiced irritability before in turn Devolver shakes things up again with its fusion of sludge thick enmity and gentle melodic reflection.

That diversity within For The Journey continues to flourish as the grunge meets melodic rock of Take It Back demands attention, the volatility in its heart and breath as compelling as its calmer infectiousness while both Nihilust and POWAH welcomingly trespass ears with their respective melodic/garage rock and infernally barbarous proposals. The thrilling latter nags as it drones, seduces as it entices, ears never knowing whether to succumb or escape as the song twists through its kaleidoscope of imagination.

As Megabear teases and taunts with the vocals of Smith pure temptation and To A Man wraps its web of wiry deceit and tenacious enterprise around again fearing but addictive ears, the album just breaches another level of tempting, one cemented by the dense and delicious rock ’n’ roll of The Old Tongue and the drama soaked journey of Sailing Stones.

Concluded by the epic adventure of Palindrome, a track which ensures its length is easily embraced through surprises, enterprise and imagination, For The Journey left us exhausted and hungry for more. LongFallBoots is band which in a way came to be by accident or after the glory of their new album maybe it was simply music fate.

For The Journey is available now @ https://longfallboots.bandcamp.com/album/for-the-journey-2

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

Pete RingMaster 26/01/2020

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

Night Goat – Milk

Ever fancied being violated and aroused at the same time then the debut album from Night Goat offers a glorious opportunity. Milk is a ferocious ten track trespass of noise and intent delivered with a feral energy and dexterity which gets straight under the skin and has spirit and instincts dancing to its infernal dance.

Ohio hailing, Night Goat has earned a potent reputation and fan base across their home state with shows alongside the likes of Whores, Low Dose, False Gods, and Backwoods Payback giving further reason to steer attention upon their senses devouring, imagination peeling noise rock. With inspirations from the likes of Melvins, Sonic Youth, Neurosis, The Jesus Lizard, Unsane, Whores and many more sparking their own unashamed uniqueness, the quartet grip ears and appetite with so many aspects though it is the sanity rasping vocals of Julia Bentley which first demanded subservience. As untamed and corrupt as they are skilfully manipulative in touch and word, her tones are a twisted seduction more than matched by the backing deviancy in voice and the sonic irreverence of husband guitarist Chris and the inexorable rhythmic invasion of bassist Dalin Jones and drummer Donnie Casey. It is a cacophonous deed in sound, enterprise, and scuzzy discontent which had us, from pretty much the first breath of Milk, lustfully dangling from every hook, gleefully bruised from every rhythmic bitch slap, and lapping up its toxic nourishment.

As album opener Smearcase on Shorb quickly and eagerly showed, the Night Goat sound is a thickly flavoured noise rock bred proposition; grunge and doom essences as hungry as the punk and post punk toxins which as boldly enrich the band’s unique scuzz enveloped violation. The track gathers itself sonically initially before riffs devilishly spring forth closely followed by equally rapacious rhythms. Julia’s presence erupts at the same time, her vocals as fearsome as they are captivating; a fusion which describes the band’s presence as a whole throughout Milk. The song continues to batter and bite, Dalin and Donny an inescapable incitement as they steer the invasive pleasure.

Dirty Candy follows, luring ears with a lone calm chord into the waiting turbulence of sound and voice. Every second is as infectious as it is unbroken, a breach of mental security veined with appetite inflaming grooves and fuelled by rapacious rhythmic agility while the demonic Malachai immediately after provides its own individual scourge as it stalks the listener; a prowling threat which hollers with venomous celebration across a predacious gait and intent.

To be honest if the album had gone straight downhill from this point on we would still be urging your attention its way such its mighty beginning but no, Milk just grows and goes from strength to strength unleashing another new striking moment with Chubby Leech. The grumbling but inviting tease of Dalin’s bass insisted on ears first, its controlled inherent swing irresistible as it is joined by subdued yet still concussively threatening beats and the dual vocal ruin of Julia and Chris. The dour swing of the bass infests the whole song as it strolls across the psyche, the track erupting in scalding furies with each more intense and rousing than the last.

Jerusalem’s Lot harasses as it incites, nagging thoughts as it stirs up body and spirit, the track a savage slice of noise punk hitting the spot as hungrily as those before it with Gnarltooth Grim initially contrasting its voracity with a composed entrance equipped with Dalin’s ever persuasive grim bass tempting and Donnie’s persistently fertile rhythms wrapped in the citric toxicant of Chris’ strings. The song’s ensuing stroll is harassment and temptation combined, a two faced incitement echoed in the twin vocal molesting shared within the psyche menacing clamour which had us drooling in quick time as too did the unscrupulous rock ‘n’ roll of My Axe (Your Ribcage) which eagerly leapt on our weakened state right away after. A seductive bully never allowing a breath to be taken until it decided to spin its desire in a momentary spell of matching fever and treachery, the song sets another pinnacle in the album’s increasing collection.

The pair of Head Lice and Bonemeal keeps that trend going with thick individuality; the first emerging from an otherworldly state to seduce and haunt ear and emotions alike. Unstable and increasingly unhinged by each passing breath, the track rose to thrust a hand on favourite track honours, its every disturbed second a feast of and cause of paranoia. Even so its successor matches its glory and more with its cauldron of punk bred persecution, the infestation of sound and provocation evolving into a web of sonic incivility and magnetic craft.

The album concludes with The Greys, a slab of sonic evil that winds around and accosts the senses in a mix of uncompromising disquiet and brutality, one becoming darker and more sinister by each occultist sigh it subsequently unveils. It is a fascinating and riveting end to the release and a last unleashing of ferocity which alone commanded a swift return to the pernicious but invigorating alchemy, or should that be sonic mercury, within Milk an encounter which declared  Night Goat as one of the most exciting new encounters of recent years.

Milk is out now and available @ https://nightgoat13.bandcamp.com/album/milk

https://www.facebook.com/nightgoat13

Pete RingMaster

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

Raketkanon – RKTKN#3

Four years or so back with a single track Belgium outfit Raketkanon had us hooked. Florent was one of those lust fuelled moments we all have from time to time; an inescapable connection which their subsequent second album reinforced with a longer to work but just as persuasive temptation. Now the Flemish band has returned with its successor and an even more ridiculously compelling and creatively maniacal proposition.

In many ways RKTKN#3 is the obvious continuation of the Ghent hailing quartet’s unique sound and inimitable endeavour but swiftly proves itself a whole new escapade of raw imagination and manipulative noise. The years between releases has seen a bold new maturity rise in songwriting and craft as well as creative babble, every moment of their new trespass angling to and effortlessly succeeding in getting under the skin while again vocally frontman Pieter-Paul Devos fingers the imagination and raucously roars in his own perpetually intelligible language, one which constantly teases recognition and understanding with every squall and seduction escaping his fevered throat for another layer of texture and intimation to devour and play with. RKTKN#3 rears up from a dark place, its breath at times as dystopian as it is invigorating and each spread of its suggestive soundscapes a beguiling intrusion on the assumed safety and composure of mind and senses.

The album springs into life with Ricky sauntering on the wiry lures of Lode Vlaeminck’s synth. Inherently infectious rhythms are soon cast by drummer Pieter De Wilde, his swings becoming more rapacious as the raw senses squirrelling throes of Jef Verbeeck’s guitar burst forth. Devos’ restless tones quickly add to the increasingly virulent incitement; intrigue and mayhem coating every colluding texture even as warm calms emerge to subsequently share their own growing paranoia.

It is a riveting start to the album swiftly matched by the even more asylum like Fons. Vocal gabble leads sonic stalking, the guitar offering initial glimpses of the track’s predacious heart before both ignite with the fiery blaze of the synth’s unpredictable melodic causticity. As everywhere, ever ready unpredictability soaks every twist and turn; steering the imagination and an increasingly greedier appetite for the song’s crazed composure and seductive ferocity.

Mélody matches the instinctive catchiness of its predecessor with its own melodic coaxing; vocal seduction and gentle caresses of guitar teasing forth the ever fertile and varied enterprise of Vlaeminck’s synth. There is a mordant lining to its tempting though which openly simmers but never truly ignites as the track continued to enthral before Hannibal breaks its borders. Atmospheric inkling seeds the threatening pulse of a rhythmic and electronic march, a further sinister repose the base for an even greater ravening file of sonic trespass. The track is superb, fiercely manipulative and soon had this body instinctively stomping to the feral quality to the Raketkanon sound.

Even the melancholic yet vibrant serenade of Robin wears this untamed edge on its sleeve, a suggestion of wild instincts almost taunting from within its hypnotic post punk siren calling while Lou immediately after scents its own alluring disquiet with individual melodic alchemy, every gathering thread and layer of sound portentous in its radiance. It is a predictive tone eventually given corrosive voice as the track embroils the senses in its ravenous dissonance. A fusion of progressive and noise rock with any carnivorous flavour you can imagine, the song lures and seduces with a slower proving compared to its fellow protagonists but no less successfully persuasive prowess.

The senses stabbing eruption of next up Harry instantly had ears and senses on board, De Wilde sheer rabid coercion before synth and guitar entangle their own adventurous cajolery which is more than matched by that of Devos’ ever fecund antics. Creative haywire bred on organised deviancy, it is simultaneously dance-floor rabid and imagination provocative, the latter trait tauntingly exploited by the following Ernest with its wonderfully nagging qualities within another captivating sonic kaleidoscope.

The album is closed up by Mido, an anomalously harmonious serenade as disturbingly haunting as it is infectively engaging which simply seduced from start to finish. As all tracks, it is a lure of individual uniqueness which echoes the idiosyncratic character of the Raketkanon sound

At a push the Belgian Rocketcannon is kind of akin to an entanglement of Melvins, Devo, Powersolo and Coilguns yet still pretty distant from what that hints at but as RKTKN#3 proves it is something rather special which is all you need to know.

RKTKN#3 is out now via Alcopop! Records @ http://ilovealcopop.awesomedistro.com/products/636359-raketkanon-rktkn3-12-cd and also available on cassette @ https://bethshalomrecords.bandcamp.com/album/rktkn-3

http://www.raketkanon.com   https://www.facebook.com/Raketkanon/

 Pete RingMaster 30/04/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Threatmantics – Shadow On Your Heart

As we have suggested before, originality can be found in numerously various places within music but uniqueness is more of a holy grail as each decade passes. One band which radiates the latter is Welsh outfit Threatmantics; well certainly their third album, Shadow On Your Heart deserves that declaration and as frustratingly it is our own introduction to the Cardiff quartet we will eagerly generally tag them with it too.

Like mischievous troubadours, Threatmantics weave tales and musical adventures with a fusion of art and folk rock; though that alone only hints at the essences which make up their deviously tantalising sound. It is a proposition which embraces the hues of bands such as The Cardiacs, XTC, This Heat, Mr Bungle and Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci in various ways and places throughout Shadow On Your Heart but essences only spicing the band’s hard to pin down music and imagination.

Recorded with French producer Anne-Sophie Ouvrier, Shadow On Your Heart opens up the theatre within with it’s title track; initially tempting with snarly riffs before breaking into a smiling melodic saunter. Those few seconds alone had ears fully intrigued and attentive, the viola of Heddwyn Davies a summery lead alongside the earthier moves of Gareth Middleton’s bass and the crystal touch of Andrew Rhys Lewis’ guitar. Davies’ vocals are just as magnetic with their bard-esque character, a swing to their lilt matching that of the outstanding start to the album.

First Things is next up and just as much a tease of musical lures from its first breath; viola and rhythms colluding in instinctive temptation before vocals bring their own invitation to the immediately infectious brew. With a controlled but rousing burst of chorus and unpredictability in every move and twist in its drama, the song is aural devilment led by the equally catchy swinging beats of Huw Alun Davies. Echoes of Zanti Misfitz and The Cardiacs shimmer within the riveting encounter before Now You Are Gone reveals its own individual magnificence. Middleton’s bass is a delicious grumble, the guitar of Lewis sonic nectar while the vocals of Davies just recruit participation in the virulent saunter.

Who Is Afraid Of Patrick Wolf? is folk encrusted rock ‘n’ roll so easy to be enslaved by; a Horslips like scenting adding to its indie natured entangling of ears and appetite while Cold Warts darkly serenades with a Gorky’s Zygotic Mynci flavoured breath. Both tracks were as irresistible as those before, the second of the two adding Cardiacs meets post punk ingenuity to its kaleidoscope of multi-decade sourced antics.

The band’s new single follows, Dangos Dy Ddannedd a darkly lit seducing with volatility in its belly and melodic bedlam in its instincts. Increasingly intensifying in fever and pandemonium, it makes way for the McLusky natured mayhem of Krystal Pystol. A rousing ruckus of punk infused noise it in turn breaks from the speakers to allow the calmer breath and charm of Under The Sun to caress the senses. A rugged stomp emerges from its slightly disturbed tranquillity to manipulate and escalate an already in place satisfaction with the song’s exploits.

The album closes with the impish folk ‘n roll of Mother Folker From Hell, a song alone showing the array of flavours employed in the Threatmantics imagination and lastly the sludge thick chunter and feral crawl of Little Johnny. Imagine the mutant offspring of 12 Stone Toddler and Melvins and you get a sense of the sublime end to one glorious album.

Like us for us there may be many to whom Threatmantics is an undiscovered thrill so we suggest making Shadow On Your Heart the moment the rapture begins.

Shadow On Your Heart is out now through Ffatbyrg Records @ https://threatmantics.bandcamp.com/releases digitally and on 12” vinyl, with a limited edition, numbered run of hand printed covers by acclaimed Welsh artist John Abell.

https://www.facebook.com/Threatmantics/   https://twitter.com/threatmantics

Pete RingMaster 05/03/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dewaere – Slot Logic

Pic by titouan massé

With a sound something akin to a mutated fusion of Big Black, Fatima Mansions, and Melvins but openly distinct in its own roar and skin, Dewaere is a French band unleashing a rousing noise punk incitement very hard for us not to get excited over. Their music is a contagiously imposing trespass rich in imagination and enterprise and found in full devilment within recently released debut album Slot Logic. It is a cauldron of noise and raw temptation which harried, ravaged and seduced the senses from start to finish.

Hailing from Saint-Brieuc, Dewaere create an inescapably manipulative senses searing holler bred from the combined creative antics of vocalist Maxwell Farrington, guitarist Julien Henry, bassist Marc Aumont, and drummer Hugues Le Corre. As immediately revealed by album opener Get Down, the band’s music is nurtured in noise rock and punk flavours and inspirations but equally has an appetite for post punk and an additional array of sonic trespasses present and past. It all makes for a riveting insurgence of sound and adventure revelling the opportunity to infest ears. The first track initially teases with a guitar jangle which is swiftly joined by the commandingly and increasingly magnetic tones of Farrington. Almost as quickly the thumping beats of Le Corre descend as Aumont’s bass enticingly grumbles; it all coming together for a ferocious encounter but one with fluid moments of relative calm and composure. As an introduction to the band, the track is raw and majestic, and as a taste of things to come across Slot Logic quite delicious.

The following Budapest is similarly immediately compelling. The gnarly bass alone made an already keen appetite greedier as too the senses scything swings of Le Corre. The guitar insurgency of Henry is equally as invasive as it is hungrily seductive; corruptive hooks and grooves aligning with rhythmic predation to corrode and inflame ears and senses. The catchiness of the song is as powerful as its character of invention and matched within next up Happy Hour, another proposition which forces itself upon the listener before dancing with their rock ‘n’ roll instincts. A predatory affair led by the ever alluring vocals of Farrington, his presence as dynamic and devilish is in many ways akin to the likes of Cathal Coughlan (Fatima Mansions/Microdisney) and Guy McKnight (The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster), while the track itself is its own snarling contagion in the album’s continuing revelation.

Through the likes of Garden, a primal irrepressible serenade of a treat, and The Vase with its almost carnal incitement around rapier swung beats, Slot Logic only further blossoms in sound and imagination, both tracks feral but sublimely crafted predators before the band next up delivers a cover of The Korgis’ song Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime. Whilst embracing the original’s pop breath, Dewaere unleash their own corrosive power pop like bent alongside their never diminishing sonic causticity; unleashing an adrenaline fuelled gear never envisaged in the track originally. It is a spicing further developed within the outstanding St-Tropez In Summer which follows. There is at times a certain Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster meets Engerica flavouring to the band’s distinctly individual sound but a twist in the wonderful bedlam here which again also hints at a Fatima Mansions influence or coincidence.

The thumping stomp of Aye Aye within a sonic cyclone keeps release and pleasure flying before October casts a web of scorched and scorching sonic discontent around a darkly intimating vocal croon. The track hurts and seduces in equally measure, leaving ears sore and the imagination alive before Wot U Lyk completes the release with its pop hungry garage punk ‘n’ roll; the body swiftly bouncing to its own fevered energy and catchiness.

It is a fine close to an album which just impresses more and more by the listen much as Dewaere themselves with every passing creative exploit and invasion.

Slot Logic is out now via Phantom Records and BiGout Records; available @ https://phantomrecords.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/dewaereband   https://dewaereband.bandcamp.com

Pete RingMaster 04/01/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Great Sabatini – Goodbye Audio

Pic by DAVE LEVITT

Four years on from their psyche ravaging third album, Dog Years, Canadian noise sludgers The Great Sabatini return with another maelstrom of noise bred dissonance which, to continue a trend set from their first releases, is their most irresistible trespass to date. Goodbye Audio is around thirty five minutes of sonic abrasion as unpredictable creatively as it is expectantly striking; an invasion of raw and toxic noise intent on caustic seduction.

The Montreal quartet of Steve, Sean , Rob, and Joey Sabatini have in many ways continued exploring the less destructive but deviously manipulative essences of its predecessor with Goodbye Audio but equally the new encounter again openly embraces the ravenously raw ferocity and bedlamic seeds of their sound exposed from day one. It makes for a release which tempts, seduces, and flirts with the senses and imagination as at the same time it marauds, pillages, and corrodes them.

The album opens up with recent single Still Life With Maggots, instantly descending on ears with a sonic and rhythmic harassment before taking a momentary breath and repeating the assault with the causticity of raw throated vocals enrolled. Melodic taunts and imposing tenacity also add to the short but evolving landscape of the song, that unpredictability swiftly fingering the imagination and igniting an admittedly already in place appetite for The Great Sabatini adventure set through previous escapades.

As next track, Dog Years quickly confirms this is a new psyche twisting caper with the band though but an exploration unafraid to hint at possible inspirations as the likes of Melvins, Unsane, and Sofy Major come to mind at certain moments across the whole of Goodbye Audio. The second song is an immediate bestial infringement, its carnal instincts fuelling sound and voice alongside intent as it crawls over the senses. Sludge metal and noise punk provide smog of irritability and raw tension but again if with less openness there is an underlying incalculable adventure which teases before exposing its majesty in the outstanding Strip Mall or, The Pursuit Of Crappiness Parts 1-4. The track is superb, from its initial hip manipulating flirtation breaking open a fissure of thick prowling malevolence veined with toxic grooving, that in turn twisting into corruptive punk ‘n’ roll rebellion before finding a quickly corrupted paradise.

You’re Gonna Die (Unsatisfied) stalks years and thoughts next, the guitar again inviting and taunting with its riffs as rhythms stroll and fly through the skulking throaty bass and swinging sticks. It is a maelstrom of threat and ferocity with the most frenetic prowl while Tax Season In Dreamland provides a feral punk tango exposing scars and lust with equal creative savagery. Its moments of emotionally hazed tranquillity are just as imposing stirring up emotive reflections as potent as the physical reactions its uproar provokes.

Through the shadow draped increasingly contaminated celestial breath of Brute Cortege and the intimidatingly mercurial fourteen minute emotional wilderness of Hand Of Unmaking, the album is brought to a mighty close; both tracks a provocation of body, spirit and thought with the latter a complete trial and adventure of its very own to hungrily immerse in.

We are not afraid to say that The Great Sabatini has been one of our favourite bands for a long time but even that usual readymade submission to their adventures was taken aback by the thrills and spills of Goodbye Audio. If noise annoys run for cover as the Canadians have it down to a fine raw art.

Goodbye Audio is out now on vinyl from No List Records, Ancient Temple Records and No Why Records with a cassette version featuring exclusive bonus track Drain The Swamp available from Pink Lemonade. Head over to https://thegreatsabatini.bandcamp.com/album/goodbye-audio for digital release and more…

 http://thegreatsabatini.com   https://facebook.com/thegreatsabatini   https://twitter.com/greatsabatini

Pete RingMaster 01/12/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright