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

Humans The Size Of Microphones – Human Crop Circles

cover_RingMasterReview

Human Crop Circles is an album which just highlights how difficult it is to be noticed in the music scene. Released by SuperFire Records in conjunction with De Graanrepubliek, the album comes from Humans The Size Of Microphones, a British hardcore/noise rock band around in the first years of this new century. Their reputation and presence did not carry too far outside of the South coast area of the UK it is fair to say and maybe without any expectations of success at some point called it a day, a disbandment we are assuming as no search came up with anything active from the band or, to be honest, about them at all. As Human Crop Circles quickly reveals, this is a crying shame as its songs simply provide one furiously thrilling and rousing incitement of ears and imagination.

At one point slated to do a split with Electric Wizard, it is hard to imagine that HTSOM did not make some major impressions on someone somewhere. An early self-released five-track demo did appear in 2002, though it too probably got lost in the mists of criminal neglect. Recorded by the band’s drummer John T Baptist in his own studio, where the likes of Electric Wizard, No, Facel Vega, Hunting Lodge, and Field Boss have also recorded, Human Crop Circles has thankfully been uncaged to right some wrongs and introduce a new wealth of ears to the rather wonderful and mercurial tempest of sound that is Humans The Size Of Microphones.

The album bursts into life with Pissing Like A Racehorse where climactic guitars and tenacious rhythms crowd ears for an incendiary start which is soon an even more enjoyably volatile affair as vocals cries and a bedlamic character expose themselves in the mix. The early urgency settles a touch without defusing the now psychotic maelstrom and air of the song, but rises again as seriously addictive bass and guitar enterprise casts a web of sonic psychosis which in turn breeds greater ferocity in the noise punk tempest. It is glorious stuff, like a mix of Melvins, Neurosis, Halfling’s Leaf, and Dope Body; the kind of comparisons which occur often across the release.

The brilliant start is as potently backed up by No One Gets Out Of Here Alive, another magnetic slice of noise imagination and punk attitude as raw and seductive as it is magnetically and antagonistically inflamed. From the first pair of sonically intricate yet bullishly demanding songs alone it is hard to know how the band escaped attention but equally just an example of so many other stories of now lost to the world special bands.

The post-hardcore textured Middle England (Eats it’s Young) steps up next, its initial emotive wash the prelude to a tantalising weave of mystique soaked grooves and bolshie yet anthemic group vocal tempting amidst muscularly tenacious rhythms and mesmeric sonic devilment. It is more than a match for the already established pinnacles of the album and almost equalled by the following flirtatious seducing shared by The Smell of Wet Leaves. Sludgy and predatory but also alive with veins of sultry melodic grooving, the track shares an early dark and catchy lure which subsequently gets turned on its head by caustic energy and creative ferocity before re-establishing itself in another smouldering passage within the eventful encounter. Without quite having the final spark to turn personal tastes lusty, the track still leaves pleasure full in its presence before being over shadowed by the outstanding Fucking Tsunami.

The fifth track just grips and thrills ears from its first bestial bassline and swiping rumble of beats; bass and drums becoming puppeteer of body and passions whilst leading both into the concussive and hellacious exploits of the song’s full body and heart. The sonic and emotive turbulence is exhausting and breath-taking, as too the twisted melodic resourcefulness which lines every twist in the track’s dervish like shuffle. As in all songs, drama comes with every moment and unpredictable turn too; here devilishly enhancing the punk meets post punk meets noise rock triumph of the song. The bass and rhythmic unity of James Hasbeen and Baptist respectively ensures the track has instincts involved, the almost corrosive sonic endeavour of guitarist Pete Sake (all names as fun as the sounds fair to say) just reinforcing the persuasion.

The final quintet of tracks come from that aforementioned demo, each a harsher and more abrasive proposal but all carrying the inventive and multi-flavoured traits that give character to all tracks. Not Exactly Rocket Science is a rousing affair of aurally poisonous punk rock whilst Limitless Stupidity is an insatiable deluge of barbarous rhythms aligned to hostility flamed riffs and vocals further blessed with spicy hooks. The pair ensures ears and appetite continue to be well fed though maybe not as dramatically as the outstanding sonic invasion of I See The World Through Rose Coloured Testicles, an uncompromising and bewitching instrumental that just gets the tongue licking lips.

The pair of Dying For An Audience and Not In Our Name bring the album to a close; the first a fibrous net of riffs and acidic grooves which wraps ears before closing ranks for another bruising and inhospitable storm of hardcore whilst its successor with matching sonic antipathy, spews a tangle of punk hooks and spiky grooves around a battlefield of rhythms. With vocals just as agreeably rancorous, the duo provides a fine end to a great and welcome surprise introduction to a band we had no idea existed.

Maybe they will again as Human Crop Circles invades more and more ears but even if that optimistic hope is not realised, punk and noise rock enthusiasts need to have Humans The Size Of Microphones somewhere in their historical landscapes.

Human Crop Circles is out now via SuperFi / De Graanrepubliek and available @ http://superfirecords.bandcamp.com/album/human-crop-circles-lp or https://graanrepubliekrecords.bandcamp.com/album/human-crop-circles

Pete RingMaster 08/04/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/

Victorian Whore Dogs – Afternoonified

VWD_RingMasterReview

From the voracious trespass of Afternoonified there is no hiding place for the body and emotions, no safe haven within a sludge/doom metal bred consumption of the senses from a band ready to devour far broader attention than already incited by previous releases. Afternoonified is the eagerly awaited debut album from UK quartet Victorian Whore Dogs and the next punishingly irritable and rousing exposure to the band’s self-named “Sexy Hobo Trampcore.”

The Guildford hailing and 2010 formed Victorian Whore Dogs have already whipped up potent attention and keenly offered praise through their first pair of EPs, starting with the three track rabid assault of Fetch in 2013. Fair to say, Hobo Chic two years later stirred up even greater awareness and support for the band whilst pushing their stripped back and hungrily abrasive sludge metal cored sound on again which Afternoonified now continues. The album’s eleven corrosive roars are as unashamedly raw and boldly cantankerous as ever but equally show a new creative imagination and greater resourceful design to their ravenous and invasive ferocity. It is a wake-up call to those still blind to their sonic antagonism and gripping humour lined devilry, and sure to enhance a formidable reputation already earned by the band’s live presence which has already seen them crush venues alongside the likes of Conan, Ortega, We are Knuckle Dragger, Lord Misery, and Burden of the Noose as well as the New Blood Stage at Bloodstock in 2015.

Afternoonified opens with Mutton Shunter where an initial sonic lancing quickly invites inescapably anthemic beats and caustic stabs of guitar. Their union becomes more abrasive and compelling as psyche infesting grooves from Adam Crawley seduce as they wander through ears. The-hardcore/noise seeded side of the band’s animosity soon emerges too as vocalist Danny Page uncages his throated shredding roars matched in forceful kind by the vocal squalls of bassist Andy Nuttall. The track is superb, quickly in control of attention and an eager appetite whilst being purposefully guided by the rhythms of drummer Stephen More.

Front_Cover_RingMasterReviewIts creative animus is followed and matched by that cast by Captain Kirk Was My Favourite Stormtrooper. Straight away a web of spicy grooves and rapacious riffs unite beneath a mercurial atmosphere ablaze with the jaundiced vocal ire of Page. Like a psychotic mix of Neurosis and William English, band and track create a thick and swinging incursion of the senses finally making way for the even more antipathy toned challenge of I Have Become. The next track immediately shows an even darker and heavier gait which only becomes more intense and atmospherically tar thick as it insistently lumbers through ears on the way to spreading its cancerous hues to Murder Boner which breeds a whole new inhospitable sonic malignancy from them. Again the merciless aspects are offset by infectiously demanding rhythms and fearsome yet engagingly waspish grooves and piercing hooks; a combination resulting in a highly alluring landscape around more vocal enmity.

Both tracks commandingly stir up again the hungry focus and emotional involvement already in motion though the pair soon finds themselves eclipsed by the calmer invasive flirtation of Barrington Monroe. It’s droning elegance and fiery ambience smothers the senses whilst simultaneously invigorating them with a dark almost nagging touch and charm crawled over by the fiercely rasping vocal delivery of Page. The track beguiles as it scars, a quality found again in the far more predacious and equally enthralling (I Can’t Believe It’s) Nutbutter which stalks ears from its start before breaking into a repetitive and addictive groove veined grind/sludge metal woven grudge.

An infectious persistence of grooves and predatory rhythms shape the similarly captivating Agœcia next, the track another which seems to instinctively incite the primal wants of any slab of galvanic aural barbarism. It is admittedly, a quality gracing the whole of Afternoonified which will keenly entice those with an emotionally and sonically dissonant tooth, and repeats its success in the likes of the melodically and emotively rancorous Snatch Files and in turn the rhythmically enslaving Nååñshååg. The first of the two expels a coarsely bracing blaze whilst its successor creates a tapestry of rhythmic incitement before soaking its frame in doom fuelled sonic and vocal venom. It is another which infests the psyche and passions with little resistance whilst showing a strain of diversity which maybe not all songs as openly show but for the main hold.

The album comes to a close through the virulent feud of Southern Fried Homicide and the crawling aural malice of Sebastian Tenderhoof, another duo pushing the blend of textures and flavours to greater variety within their individual conflicts of sound and intent. Together they make for a heavily pleasing end to a thoroughly gripping and enjoyable invasion of body and spirit.

Though Afternoonified will impress those with an appetite for sludge, doom, and debilitating metal swiftly it is over numerous plays that it truly comes into its own and reveals its depth of invention and character. Victorian Whore Dogs is a band on the prowl with its finest vindictive growl about to be let off the leash.

Afternoonified is released April 1st via Hibernacula Records @ http://victorianwhoredogs.bandcamp.com/ and http://www.hibernacularecords.com/product/afternoonified-by-victorian-whore-dogs

https://www.facebook.com/VWDBAND

Dates for the Victorian Whore Dogs UK Tour:

01/04 – Reading, Facebar*

02/04 – Southampton, Firehouse *

03/04 – Portsmouth, Edge of the Wedge

07/04 – Worcester, The Pig & Drum *

08/04 – Leicester, The Firebug *

09/04 – Leeds, Bad Apples*

10/04 – Nottingham, The Running Horse *

14/04 – Bristol, Stag & Hounds +

15/04 – Cardiff, Fuel +

16/04 – London, The Black Heart +

17/04 – Brighton, The Prince Albert *

22/04 – Worthing, Bar 42

*With Morass of Molasses

+With Greenhorn and Tides of Sulfer

tour_RingMasterReview

Pete Ringmaster 31/03/201

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/

The Lumberjack Feedback – Blackened Visions

THE-LUMBERJACK-FEEDBACK_RingMaster Review

As debut albums go, Blackened Visions from French instrumental progressive doomsters The Lumberjack Feedback is a colossus, though maybe that is not so much a surprise given the impressive and intensive tempest of their earlier offerings. The new album though sees the band exploring even more darkly provocative depths and uncompromisingly invasive textures in their sound and sonic suggestiveness. Blackened Visions lives up to its name with physically invasive ease; providing an inventive playground for the imagination and emotions to eagerly conjure within whilst at the same time luring ears into dramatic landscapes.

The band’s first acclaimed EP Hand of Glory in 2013 set the template and intent of The Lumberjack Feedback exploration in composing and sound, it offering a highly ravenous and intrusive adventure which has only grown more compelling and creatively dynamic, not forgetting experimentally bold within Blackened Visions. Between these releases, the Lille quintet drew potent reactions with Ausstellung, a split release with We All Die (Laughing) and the live EP Noise in the Church, both in 2014. Fair to say though, that Blackened Visions sees the twin guitar craft and imagination of Simon Herbaut and Arnaud Silvert, the predacious bass trespass of Sebastien Tarridec, and the united and often duelling enterprise of drummers Nicolas Tarridec and Virgil Chaize, sculpting their most stimulating and immersive proposals yet.

Artwork_RingMaster ReviewThe band’s fusion of crushing doom metal with progressive and post rock explorations, all infused with tar like sludge and intensively fiery stoner-esque fascination, swiftly seduces and devours body and senses with the initial heavy throws of its opener No Cure (For The Fools). The track is a predator, laying down a sonic trail as menacing riffs lurk in the background before bringing it all to the intimidating fore led by the bestial instincts of bass and the united grouchy twang of the guitars. The track continues to crawl over and invade ears as it develops an equally gripping anthemic devilment to the combined but individual rapacity of the drums. There is a touch of Morkobot to the piece and equally in its raw character and volatile intensity, the scent of bands like Neurosis and Pelican, but whereas maybe in previous encounters they would be an overriding presence straight away Blackened Visions reveals a distinction solely from The Lumberjack Feedback.

The excellent start continues with the album’s title track. The melodic first touch and stormy air is an engaging but portentous melancholy fuelled invitation which only intensifies as guitars and bass entwine and creep around firm rhythmic pokes. There is a fearsome romance to the lure of the music too, even as things intrusively erupt and grooves become more sinewy as rhythms forcibly make their trespass. Darkness and invasive shadows always come equipped with a certain lure and so it is with the increasingly fiery and vitriolic landscape and indeed heart of Blackened Visions, song and album.

I, Mere Mortal steps forward next, another sonic coaxing the first contact from within which a rousing rhythmic incitement grabs the imagination and appetite. The anthemic potency of the drums is matched by a throaty bait of bass whilst a repetitive nagging from the guitars adds to the raw almost monolithic tempting enveloping the listener before spreading broader pestilential and ravenous sonic antipathy. The track is irresistible; a gloriously bruising call to arms led by, to simplify things, the thumping drama of rhythms and niggling persistence of guitar.

Karma to Burn like spicing lines Salvation next, melodic acidity which burns on the senses but sweetly entices ears and heart to its cancerous rock ‘n roll leading to intensely viscous doom and post rock spawned exploration. It is a flight into the beauty and hopeful calm found within acceptances of dark and merciless emotional and physical climates, and another song which leaves the body invigorated, thoughts stretched, and emotions exhausted.

A tapestry of drama and creative enmity follows with Dra Till Helvete, the track an addictive and mercurial beckoning turned sonic devourer leading body and imagination into the hellish depths of the underworld with rhythmic magnetism. As through all tracks, thoughts paint a picture and emotions flirt with more intimate realisation, every intrusive note and swinging beat a powerfully impacting and rabidly lingering incitement to be entangled in.

Mah Song (Horses Of God) completes the album, it a rumbling and lumbering beast merging expulsions of rock ‘n’ roll with psyche twisting post rock winds infused with danger lit melodic veins. It is a dramatic and compelling end to a demandingly impressive proposition. The Lumberjack Feedback has unlocked their most destructive and invigorating depths yet with Blackened Visions and it feels like it is just the beginning too; happy days!

Blackened Visions is out now via Kaotoxin Records digitally @ http://listen.kaotoxin.com/album/blackened-visions and as limited edition 500 copy DigiSLeeve CD with 100 copy collector edition 12″ LP on clear vinyl and 400 copy limited edition 12″ LP regular versions will be released during 2016’s second quarter at the Kaotoxin Shop.

https://www.facebook.com/thelumberjackfeedbackband    http://www.thelumberjackfeedback.com/    https://twitter.com/LumberjackFeedb

Pete RingMaster 18//01/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/

Attan – From Nothing

ATTAN_bw_RingMaster Review

In their own words, “there’s nothing but ice and darkness” to the far northern border of Norway where noise breeders Attan was bred, but equally going by the band’s debut EP there is also plenty of frustration, rage, and creative turbulence nurtured by the landscape. From Nothing is a five track onslaught of blackened hardcore with a voracious metal bred antagonism to it. To that doom seeded breaths are conjured and inflamed emotions vented; the result a release which potently hits and impresses initially but just gets fiercer and more compelling in its persuasion from thereon in.

Oslo based, the quintet draw on inspirations and flavours found in the likes of Converge, Emperor, Neurosis, Will Haven, and VOD; influences as their Shelsmusic released EP shows, open in the band’s sound but twisted into something if not yet explosively unique, certainly invigoratingly fresh and riveting.

ATTAN COVER_RingMaster Review   Recorded and mixed in a barn in Lunner, a village in the municipality in Oppland county, From Nothing quickly abrases ears and ignites attention with opener Nocebo (I Shall Harm). It is a stonking bruising of a track from its first second to last, straight away offloading beats and riffs that batter and rub the senses respectively. A bass and thick sonic confrontation joins in soon after as early rhythms become broader and rasping vocals erupt to enticing effect. Straight away you can easily imagine essences which have inspired the band but as the punk fury lays richer abuse and volatility on ears, the venomous contagion springs its own character in the Attan sound. Like Shevils meets Converge, catchy toxicity colludes with undiluted ire and hostility, the track continuing to grow and surprise against the maelstrom of vocals which mix piercing squalls with the new additive of dark grizzly tones.

It is a great start to the encounter matched in success by the even more irritable and punishing Lost Words Of The Mothkeepers. The again double sided assault of vocals is a swift tempting within the searing intrusion of sound, rhythms barbarous as a sonic tempest niggles and intrudes with its searing tone and invasive touch. The unbridled onslaught ‘calms’ as the song progresses, though not in spite as a doom blossomed oppression of noise smothers the senses. Still there is virulence to the proposal though; an element which easily captivates from within the perpetual turbulence.

Full Circle/Full Stop comes next, its initial approach a ‘mild mannered’ sonic trespass with emotive hues and prowling rhythms. The whole nature and gait of the track is a stalking of ears and emotions with repetitious lures and a hypnotic shuffle cast by the drums. Midway it too explodes into a provocation of punishing dynamics and tortured vocals but simultaneously brewing up another torrent of infectious bait to align with the physical raging.

Such the sheer force and rabidity on offer in all tracks, there is a surface familiarity at times which you sense some will not get beyond, but as Black Liquid Marrow reveals, below that skin Attan spin a web of intrigue and creative hostility which seems to unveil a new twist and depth with each listen. The fourth track is more openly unique than the first trio, so that extra attention is less needed but willingly given such the drama and tenacious enterprise within the doomy oppression of sound and emotion.

As all songs, it is an increasingly magnetic and persuasive protagonist, but as others shaded a touch by the closer Edward. Admittedly, the track took longer to spark the same height of reactions as its predecessors, but over time, providing new tempting and aspects each listen, it seduced with its sonic nagging and rhythmic dynamics. Alongside them the excellent mix of vocals continues to please as sour melodies wrap around the doom coated spine of the song, though it is the almost post metal invasion of the imagination and bordering on emotionally cancerous heart of the incitement which seals the deal between band and pleasure.

Attan are going to be too intensive and merciless for some it is easy to suspect, especially those unprepared to explore their sound and the EP’s layers, but for others, From Nothing will be an introduction to get a touch excited over; we can vouch for that.

The From Nothing EP is released November 30th digitally via Shelsmusic @ http://shelsmusic.bandcamp.com/album/from-nothing and on Limited Edition Vinyl (300) @ http://www.shelsmusic.com/label/store.php

https://www.facebook.com/Attanband

Pete RingMaster 30/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/