Gogo Loco – The GoGo Loco Twist EP

First the bad news, The Mobbs are no more. The UK band released some of the real treats we have had the pleasure to cover on the site and will be sorely missed. As with all things though there is a silver lining, in this case a trashy garage rock ‘n’ roll one as from the ashes of one great band rises another in the shape of Gogo Loco. Learning of one outfit’s demise through an email from drummer Cheadle and the introduction of another in his new project alongside fellow Mobb, vocalist/guitarist Joe B. Humbled, quick sadness was replaced by eager intrigue across a handful of lines; interest soon emerging as fresh lustful attention once the swinging throes of The GoGo Loco Twist EP infested ears.

Now reinventing their names as Cheadle GoGo and Joe Loco, the Northampton hailing duo have similarly evolved their sound. Certainly within the four songs making up their debut release there is a healthy Mobbs garage punk scent to things but one immersed in a new r&b and blues infused trash encrusted garage rock ‘n’ roll devilry. Something akin to a fusion of The Stargazers, Ronnie Cook & The Gaylads, and The Trashmen with that inimitable Mobbs touch, Gogo Loco provide something as distinct and as unique as you would wish.

It all begins with the EP’s title track. The GoGo Loco Twist needs mere seconds to have the body writhing and feet greedily shifting, its initial tendril of guitar winding around ears and burrowing under the skin before the swinging rhythms of Cheadle and the guest piano antics of Jon Martin, who also produced the EP, get involved. Like King Salami and The Cumberland 3 engulfed in the spirit of Chubby Checker after being infested with garage punk mischief, the song romps and stomps from start to finish inspiring the same in the listener. A virus to any rock ‘n’ roll dance floor, it pleasures and exhausts with glee.

There is no time to take a breath as the following Rattle Your Mind leaps on ears and body next, its crusty blues lining and fevered rock ‘n’ roll inescapable incitement driven by the energy and passion of its creators. As all tracks within the release, it is a short, sharp, and magnetic trespass manipulating body and spirit with ease; next up Go Loco proving the pointy as it insists the listener lives up to its title. Clunky yet fluid riffs welcome in infectious rhythms and in turn just as persuasive vocals, a mix again needing less than a handful of seconds to have the body bouncing.  Actually the song never quite bursts into the kind of frenzy its title suggests though its boisterousness increases by the chord but with a control which manages to forcibly increase the virulence in song and victim alike.

The closing Evil Woman is salacious rock ‘n roll with pouting hooks and rhythmic writhing, like a meeting between MFC Chicken and Sonny Burgess as imagined by Gogo Loco and far too easy and tasty to consume to be good for you. Like all tracks within The GoGo Loco Twist, there is a sense of being devilishly naughty and just a little dirty as you thrown yourself into its wonderful DIY temptation of sound and intent, but at the same time the feeling of not caring fuelling the fun.

Long live The Mobbs is a cry we will always offer up but alongside we roar Viva Gogo Loco as the potential of another new lust for us, and we expect a great many others, rises up.

The GoGo Loco Twist EP is out now and available as a free download @ https://gogoloco.bandcamp.com/album/the-gogo-loco-twist

http://www.gogoloco.uk/   https://www.facebook.com/gogolocouk/

Pete RingMaster 24/04/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

King Salami and the Cumberland 3 – Goin’ Back To Wurstville

If there is one band in this fast paced world which gives the body an even more intensive and thorough workout it is undoubtedly King Salami and the Cumberland 3. This is a band where an Automated External Defibrillator should always be on hand at every show they play, waiting and ready to revive the inevitable wasted bodies.  Now that need has been transferred to the band’s records. When playing all three of the band’s albums back to back, apart from a danger to health, it is a hard choice to say which is best, all in their openly individual ways an equal treat, but without doubt Goin’ Back To Wurstville is the most demanding and exciting for heart and limbs yet.

The new album from the Sultan of Sausage and his fellow creative rascals is a blur of incitement, a cavalcade of irresistible temptation for feet and hips. Each of its thirteen songs teases and infests the psyche, sharing groove woven rhythm & blues punk ‘n’ roll to lose all shades of sanity to. As ever, it is a busy time for the quartet; gigs coming up at a rate of knots across the globe before and even more so after their highlight performance on the BBC show The UK’s Best Part-Time Band last year. With the outfit in the middle of a UK tour right now and featuring in Roger Corman’s movie, Death Race 2050, you can be sure that Goin’ Back To Wurstville is only going to accelerate the demand on the boys and their riotous sound.

Featuring Spencer Evoy from fellow body contorters MFC Chicken and his salacious sax, Goin’ Back To Wurstville quickly gets down to business with Pineapple Mama, the song feeding off the album’s lively Intro with an initial bass groan and flames of fiery sax, they leading to an insistent romp of riffs and rhythms led by King Salami’s inevitable energy and vocal revelry. It is party time, the song swinging from the rafters with body enslaving grooves dangling their insatiable bait to further ensnare ears and limbs. Soul, r&b, rock ‘n’ roll and more excitable flavours all get involved in the multi-flavoured proposal, King Salami and co straight away feeding greedy hopes with a fresh new adventure.

The pugilistic rascality of Nosebleed Boogie is next, guitars and sax colluding in a devilish enticement of melodic theatre as King Salami uses Ali like vocal footwork to evade the rhythmic punches, his magnetic prowess like a blend of Bo Diddley and Little Walter before offering even feistier fun in the boisterous romp of Busy Body. An infection of spicy grooves and virulent riffs, the song ensures the listener is on the end of major manipulation echoing its title before the glorious adventure of King Ghidorah rises up from its oriental bed with sixties cinematic adventure fuelling its melodies and rhythms. With King Salami a dramatic narrator, T. Bone Sanchez’s grooves are a three headed tempting of flirtatious hookery, melodic seduction, and tenacious persuasion, theatre skirted by the addictive rhythmic rumble of bassist Kamikaze UT Vincent and drummer Eric Baconstrip.

There is no escaping the frisky intent of the following King Size Love, its rockabilly nurtured stroll manhandled by addiction shaping rhythms and coloured with more of the salacious enterprise which continually and artfully springs from the guitar of Sanchez across the album. Feet and hips are swiftly lost to the song’s shuffle, lungs already gasping for breath by this point within Goin’ Back To Wurstville but managing to find plenty more air for the blues strung jungle of She Was A Mau Mau and after that, the garage punk lined surf rock lit antics of No Stoppin’. The first of the two is a sweltering near on muggy affair for the heart whilst its successor is a blaze of instrumental rock ‘n’ roll which has the body at its most frenetically subservient in the hands of the album.

The treats just keep coming too; Tiger In My Tank keeps the listener moving like a puppet on tricky strings of rhythmic pestering and melodic misbehaviour, all urged on by the saucy blasts of sax and King Salami’s inexhaustible energy and spirited character.

Stutterin’ Sue leaps around with garage rock rapacity and raw captivation next while Camel Hop after that sees roving basslines and agitated beats stir up another voracious contagion of sound and spirit rousing enterprise, sultry Arabian scented  grooves winding around ears and appetite as rock ‘n’ roll rumbles in the belly of song and listener. Both tracks are an epidemic of temptation, unrelenting creative persistence more than matched by the Johnny Kidd and The Pirates hued Shiver which follows.

Concluded by the double diablerie of firstly the album’s dirt encrusted rock ‘n’ roll road trip going under its title track moniker and lastly the carnival of Latin summer fun that is Caramba!, the sensational Goin’ Back To Wurstville is bliss for ears and soul. With each of the King Salami and the Cumberland 3 releases we seem to offer nothing but lustful praise so with their third full-length we were determined to find something which might be suggested the band could improve upon. Quite simply we failed, though you know the band will still find something fresh and bolder next time and with regards to best album question, listening it as these fingers tap, yep Goin’ Back To Wurstville wins the debate.

Goin’ Back To Wurstville is out now on Dirty Waters Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/King-Salami-and-the-Cumberland-Three/c/2793708/offset=9&sort=normal

https://www.facebook.com/KingSalamiandtheCumberland3/

Pete RingMaster 22/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

MFC Chicken – Goin’ Chicken Crazy

There is no escaping the itch in feet and anticipation in the hips at the news of a new offering from MFC Chicken. Past encounters with the swinging sounds of the London bred band have ensured such instinctive reactions and it is fair to say they are set for a rigorously enjoyable workout with the band’s new album. Goin’ Chicken Crazy is the fourth from a proposition formed on top of a dirty chicken shop on Holloway Road by Canadian export and tenor saxophonist/vocalist Spencer Evoy. Press releases suggest it is also the band’s greatest album to date and as a breathless body dives into the feverish mix of rhythm ‘n’ blues, surf, garage, and rock ‘n’ roll colluding for the band’s sound it is not easy to argue.

With a new expanded DELUXE line-up which made its acclaimed debut at the 2016 Hipsville Festival and sees Chuchi Malapersona (Oh! Gunquit) on baritone sax, Dan Criscuolo (The Fuzillis) on baritone guitar, and Tim Harrison (The Caezars) on piano alongside the core line-up of Evoy,  lead guitarist/vocalist Alberto Zioli, bassist Zig Criscuolo, and drummer Ravi-Low Beer, MFC Chicken leave no speck of dust on the dance-floor settled with Goin’ Chicken Crazy.

Also featuring veteran Chickens, The Reverend Parsley on guest keys and Fernando Terror on double lead vocals on Baby Let Me Bang Your Box, the album leaps upon ears with relish through opener Chicken In A Hurry. The kind of introduction which gets you hot and boisterous, the track is prime fillet MFC Chicken, a swinging carnival of fun washed by saucy flames of sax. Criscuolo’s bass adds a grumble which just caps it all off perfectly, setting up the album and the mischievous shenanigans of next up New Socks. A slice of fifties seeded rock ‘n’ roll, like Jerry Lee and Chubby in cahoots, the virulently infectious song is a flirtation of proudly acquired male hosiery again lit up by the fiery lure of Evoy’s sax.

Take It Or Lose It is a tenacious rumble upon the senses next with more twists than an exponent of the pole while Hooch Party is an intoxicating shuffle with beats alone making an irresistible incitement. The track is manna for the body, an invitation to swerve those hips and expend eager breath just as any party should be. Both tracks inflame the passions, a lustful response only concentrated further by the warm and fuzzy embrace of Big Cluckin’ Mistake where the sax again bewitches as keys and rhythms tempt in another fifties scented excitement.

For all their irresistible goodness though, Women Who Jog steals the show with its metronomic athletic beats crossed by scything flames of brass. The track is glorious, Evoy declaring his lustful wants as keys add their courting with melodic elegance. The initial jog of the song breaks into feistier canters throughout, never dropping its hypnotic prowess and mischievous zeal.

The smouldering balladry of I Ain’t Crying (That’s Just Pomade In My Eyes) allows a moment to calm down and lose oneself in its bluesy lament before energies are back in top gear for Baby Let Me Bang Your Box. Jazzy and melodically frisky, the song is bred in the same heart as a Fats Domino or Big Joe Turner offering and just as magnetic with its lively character and intent.

The boozy sax sighs of Blackout Drunk helps create another ear enslaving escapade within Goin’ Chicken Crazy while the simple but ridiculously addictive textures of Roast Potato Time has body and imagination licking their proverbial lips at its flavoursome feed. Both tracks simply keep album and listener eagerly entangled, a union more than strengthened by the horny blaze of the album’s title track and the buoyant antics of Beach Party, a song which is maybe too close a relation to the Danny & The Juniors classic than it should be but quite irresistible.

Completed by the incessant beat driven festivities of Losing My Mind, a song further lit up by the woozy devilry of keys, and the closing feverish frolic of Working Girlfriend which reminds of The Stargazers if for no obvious reason, Goin’ Chicken Crazy is pure inescapable incitement for body and soul.

Each of their previous encounters have sparked a lusty appetite with us but to confirm that thought at the beginning, Goin’ Chicken Crazy is the finest juiciest meal of MFC Chicken yet.

Goin’ Chicken Crazy is released November 4^th via Dirty Water Records and available @ https://mfcchicken.bandcamp.com/album/goin-chicken-crazy and through http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/~/category/id=2990295&offset=0&sort=normal

https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken/

Pete RingMaster 04/11/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

MFC Chicken – M.F.C. Chicken Time!

Pics: Lorenzo Pascual /Dena Flows

Determined to once again twist hips and bodies into shapes and directions never meant to be, MFC Chicken once more get virulently riotous with third album M.F.C. Chicken Time! It is another bundle of their inimitable fifties bred stomp of rock ‘n’ roll and rhythm ’n’ blues, and more of the delicious revelry which marked the band’s previous pair of acclaimed albums. Theirs is a sound which has discovered its perfect recipe but conjures new tasty delights from the same irresistible ingredients. It is aural fast-food pleasure to get greedy over but as the new encounter proves, using familiar spices does not have to lead to predictability or the absence of ingenuity.

MFC Chicken began six years ago with Spencer Evoy, a Canadian musician relocating to London, finding like-minded spirits a top a dirty Holloway Road chicken shack, and giving birth to a garage rock ’n’ roll band quickly earning themselves a potent reputation live and through 2012 debut album Music for Chicken. Released as subsequent propositions through the mighty Dirty Water Records, its success was eclipsed two years later by Solid Gravy, the band’s second album reinforcing and escalating their sound and following, backed as ever by a live hunger seeing the band seemingly everywhere. Earlier this year a richly flavoursome appetiser in the shape of the (Get Outta The) DJ Booth and Lake Bears! singles whetted the appetite for more of the MFC Chicken spiced poultry themed devilry; a wanting more than wholesomely fed by M.F.C. Chicken Time!

Study Hall gets things rocking first, the rhythms of Ravi setting tempo and intent as the vocals of Spencer Evoy join the swinging gait of Zig Criscuolo’s bass and the mischievous guitar of Alberto Zioli. Soon Evoy’s sax is afoot with the festivity, leaping over the sonic strands and infectious rhythms. As if it was needed, the opener confirms that the MFC Chicken sound, and subsequently album, is something to rigorously dance to; exhaustion and pleasure the prime results.

The following Gross People spins a sixties hued adventure with the great tang of keys flirting from within the hazily infectious air of the song. Across the album keys are provided by either Angus McPake or Reverend Parsley, a flavoursome coating to the lively rhythms and great vocal bunching which supports Evoy. As the opener, the song is an easy involvement, an eager persuasion matched by those of 14 Girls and All Afternoon. The vintage air which wraps the album as potently as modern tenacity brings a Little Richard meets Screamin’ Jay Hawkins enticement for the first of the pair whilst its successor leaps around with a naughty twinkle in its melodic eye reminding in many ways of The Stargazers, the eighties version. It also simply grips feet and eagerness, leading them like a puppy into a bounding energy before making way for the sultry instrumental flame of Bad News From the Clinic. With the fiery voice of the sax teasing ears amidst the thick catchiness cast by guitar and rhythms, it is another inevitable boisterous bop, one with an enjoyable hint of The Munsters theme to it.

There is a sense of Hank Mizell to the heftier rock ‘n’ roll of Uncle Willy, a great vociferous harmonica its spiciest tempting whereas Tennessee Girl springs an inescapable trap of rowdy rhythms with that ever delicious sax the juicy instigator in the fusion of rockabilly and garage punk. As always though, it is the full craft and creative devilment across the band which makes MFC Chicken songs burst from the speakers, two prime examples there leading to another in the ballsy saunter of Sit Down, Mess Around and in turn the rhythmic shuffle of 29 Bus, keys and guitars respectively leading resourceful romps from the enslaving rhythmic bait of Ravi and Criscuolo.

The second of these two is a particular favourite within nothing but across M.F.C. Chicken Time! but as the other tracks, including the colourful sixties melodic flirtation of I Can’t Feel My Leg, it get eclipsed by the bewitchingly brilliant Kahuna Hoodoo Hoochie Coo Flu Blues. From its opening sinister noir clad second, the song prowls and swings with a dark jazz and rock ‘n’ roll devilry. Like a mix of again Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, this time with a whiff of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers and Lonesome Sundown in tow, the track creeps through ears and into the psyche offering the most inventive and compelling encounter on a release stocked with nothing less than thick captivation.

Rumble Strip is a grin of imagination and mischief next, its rock ‘n’ roll sheer feel good majesty matched by the flirty swing of Colonel Sanders’ Bastard Son, another irrepressible slice of rich tasting R&B/garage rock ‘n’ roll enterprise. Both has the body moving through 360 degrees of festivity before allowing Where Is The Meat? to bring the excellent encounter to a rousing conclusion. Ensuring the ever present smile sparked by the start of the album, of release and listener, is as broad as ever at its close, the song simply sums up the glory and fun of MFC Chicken and M.F.C. Chicken Time! in its two thrilling minutes of creative mayhem.

There are no major changes in sound from predecessor Solid Gravy, but there is definitely new freshness to the imagination of adventure and flavours woven into M.F.C. Chicken Time! The result is another hour of unbridled and one of a kind fun and rock ‘n’ roll pleasure from MFC Chicken; that a real treat in anyone’s book.

M.F.C. Chicken Time! is out from November 9^th via Dirty Water Records digitally and on 12” vinyl @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/MFC-Chicken/c/2990295/offset=0&sort=normal

http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/mfcchicken   https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken

Pete RingMaster 09/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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MFC Chicken – (Get Outta The) DJ Booth and Lake Bears!

 

(Pics: Lorenzo Pascual & Dena Flows)

After two ridiculously infectious and excitable slabs of rock ‘n’ roll devilry posing as albums, London based MFC Chicken in their own words “figured it was time that we gave the DJs out there something to spin when out in the wilds. A full length album is great for playing at house parties but in a sleazy cellar bar with some frantic dance floor action the DJ’s gonna want a proper vinyl 45.” So that is what the band came up with, not one but two slices of MFC Chicken revelry to ignite the dance-floor, a pair of incitements which simply throw feet and emotions into a blissful frenzy.

It is fair to say we unknowingly had a sweet spot lying in wait for a band like MFC Chicken, an inner instinct stroked and seduced by the band’s two frantic slabs of R&B fuelled rock ‘n’ roll going by the names of Music For Chicken in 2012 and Sold Gravy two years later. With hooks and beats inescapable bait, vocals virulent incitement, and flames of sax an intoxicating bedfellow to all around them, both releases created an insatiable stomp of surf and garage rock within a web of Rhythm and Blues embraced vintage rock ‘n’ roll. There is no stopping the MFC Chicken sound once it takes hold, or a live presence which has seen them the darlings of festivals, venues, and differing countries alike. And it continues in potent style with the new singles, the quartet of Spencer Evoy (tenor sax, vocals), Alberto Zioli (guitar, vocals), Ravi (drums), and Zig (bass) on fine and irrepressible form once again.

(Get Outta The) DJ Booth opens with its title track and a vintage guitar tang which kisses ears before beats and vocals add their potent spices to the fifties bred rocker. Like a mix of Ray Charles and Bill Haley, the song managing to have the fiery essence of the former in firm collusion with the cleaner sounds of the latter, it blazes away with rampant keys and melodic tenacity as rhythms continue to stomp through ears and into the passions. It is a simple, busy, and irresistible encounter matched perfectly by accompanying song Colonel Sanders’ Bastard Son.

The second song has the kind of nostalgic swing which was never out of place in either a Chick Berry stroll or a Connie Francis pop persuasion. It soon takes on a rawer, almost dirty nature though, leaning much more towards the bluesy garage enterprise of The Sonics thereon in. This is tempered by the sonic imagination of the guitar and the ever inflammatory call of the sax, each individually offering a warmer but no less mischievous enticing to envelope the lyrical revelry. As its predecessor, the track is gorgeous, and the single alone enough to make MFC Chicken the focus of current attention.

Of course there are two offerings and Lake Bears! is just as compelling and thrilling an encounter. Its first track is Lakebears Theme and in some ways has an even more anarchic and voraciously devilish manner to its presence and sound than on the other release. Imagine Little Richard even more over excited than normal whilst Screamin’ Jay Hawkins and Jerry Lee Lewis bring their own distinct slightly salacious invention, then you are close to the two minutes of rock ‘n’ roll rampage going on.

Second track is called Theme From Lakebears, a devil fuelled instrumental with voodoo beats and demonic sonic lures around tribalistic vocal urges. A lively shimmer of surf rock adds even more sinister qualities to the outstanding tempting of ears and imagination, providing if taken as one, a blissful end to four increasingly magnetic new MFC Chicken products.

Roll on another album is all we have left to say.

(Get Outta The) DJ Booth (Dirty Water Records) and Lake Bears! (FOLC/Dirty Water Records) are both available now on 7” vinyl and download via http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/MFC-Chicken/c/2990295/offset=0&sort=addedTimeDesc

https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken   http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/mfcchicken

RingMaster 02/05/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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MFC Chicken – Solid Gravy

If their debut album Music for Chicken had feet and emotions exhausted from its unrelenting revelry and thrilling sounds then have paramedics on speed dial as its successor Solid Gravy is a much more voraciously devilish and creatively incendiary stomp. Created by UK band MFC Chicken, their new album just rampages through ears and passions like an insatiable cyclone of mischief and feverishly flavoured rock ‘n’ roll.

The seeds of the band began with Canadian Spencer Evoy who moved to London on what he called a pilgrimage to the recording studio of Joe Meek. The vocalist/saxophonist found himself on Holloway Road and seduced by the aroma of a fried chicken shop began busking to raise funds to feed his grumbling stomach. His sounds caught the attention of bassist Bret Bolton living above said shop who called out to the musician below. Their meeting and mutual interests led to the formation of MFC Chicken days later, its name coming from the now closed down establishment at the heart of their meeting. Enlisting guitarist/vocalist Alberto Zioli, keyboardist/vocalist Reverend Parsley, and drummer Ravi Low-Beer, the quintet and their blend of rock ‘n’ roll, rhythm ‘n’ blues, surf, and garage rock found an eager and voracious appetite around the city and further afield. Music for Chicken helped push that spotlight into a world-wide attention with the band constantly touring and feeding the globe their vivacious sounds. Now with bassist Fernando Terror recruited MFC Chicken has struck again not only in their unrelenting touring but with another exhilarating new album.

The Dirty Water Records released Solid Gravy sets off as it means to go on with Chicken ‘Bout You, teasing percussive coaxing playing around a devilish riff to instantly seduce attention and appetite. A spoken suggestiveness equally plays with ears and thoughts to help widen an already breaking smile, the band swiftly enticing the ladies with a winking narrative and the fiery flame of sax from Evoy matched by the delicious sonic lure of guitar. It is ‘merely’ the lead in to the album but already firing up the passions which the riveting Pocahontas enslaves further. The track roars as you would expect from the off, roguish chants setting the scene as a tribal stomp of forceful rhythms alongside acidic guitar enterprise crowd and dance around a spinal lure provided by the pulsating bass. The track does not arguably surprise with its rampant sound and resourcefulness but certainly sets a powerful wave of greed and satisfaction in motion.

(Get Outta The) DJ Booth blazes in ears next, its initial flame of guitar offering a Johnny Kidd and the Pirates like bait which the song relaxes into and strolls purposefully within from there on in. The song strides with a fifties gait under a pungent web of sonic invention and punchy keys which catches the breath, a Little Richard and Jay Hawkins texture and spicing adding to the pleasure. Its potent presence is instantly matched by the outstanding Voodoo Chicken, its sixties garage rock rascality aflame with the ever scorching sax invention of Evoy, irresistible hooks, and a quite infectious air to its overall endeavour.

From one pinnacle on the album to another, one of the very best tracks on Solid Gravy comes in the thrilling shape of I’m Her Pet. Grinning with an open swagger and flirty attitude, the track bounces along with keen restraint whilst rhythms jab tauntingly and gruff vocals aligned to a spicy guitar roam and show their wares with skilled temptation. As with many of the songs there is a familiarity to it though as with most, it is undefined for the main as evidenced in the following flurry of Hot Friend. With melodic impishness thrusting its hips around like a girl gracing the dance floor of The Cavern Club back in the sixties, the instrumental flings its recognisable yet unique bait at the passions with little thought of subtlety or restraint.

Both the perky (Show Me The) Gravy, Baby with its animated sax and guitar sculpted culinary plea, and the virulently contagious Don’t Wanna Talk About Chicken with its juicy ribs of choice hooks and bass seducing, keep the album sizzling in thoughts and emotions, the second of the two especially tasty with its intermittent raucous flight of caustic rock ‘n’ roll around an irritatingly addictive chorus. Their inescapable tempting is soon backed up by the refreshing romp of Well Now, its Eddie Cochran/ Johnny Burnette touch another healthy variation to the voice of the album. It is as catchy as new velcro and a party for body and passions, one more song in the batch of fourteen impossible to avoid joining in with.

The surf fuelled premise of M.F. Sea Chicken washes spiritedly over senses next, its shimmering air and smouldering beauty within a fiery net of sonic persuasion and heavily suited rhythms pure toxic beauty merging the warmth of Jan & Dean with the warped causticity of The Ghastly Ones, and the twisted pop of The B52s. Its lingering instrumental prowess is soon lost though in the swing of Chicken Shack and the blues rapacity of Horseshit. The first is another incitement of rhythmic hips and flowing melodic frivolity led by a mischievous intent whilst the second of the two explores ears with a raw mix of Ray Charles and Fats Domino and a strong whisper of King Salami and the Cumberland 3.

The album comes to a close with firstly with the sultry rockabilly majesty of White Leather Boots and lastly the ridiculously captivating creative and lyrical devilment of Dirty Little Bitch, both tracks exceptional teases of fire bred sax invention and uncompromising hooks aligned to similarly unrelenting rhythmic enticement. Both also show the depth and expanse of the invention and sound of the band to leave lips licked and passions full.

As impressive as their debut was MFC Chicken have turned their charm, diablerie, and colourful sound into a much stronger and irresistible proposition with Solid Gravy, and still they leave you feeling hungry afterwards and not only for them.

Solid Gravy is available now via Dirty Water Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/store-2/#!/~/product/category=2749876&id=36716523

https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken

9/10

RingMaster 30/07/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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MFC Chicken: Music For Chicken

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://www.facebook.com/MFCChicken

RingMaster 10/07/2012

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