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

Dead Hippies – Resister

®Mathieu_EZAN

Though music constantly sparks the passions whether through new proposals or simply going back to past adventures of pure joy there are some moments which ignite and excite the spirit and imagination like few others. For us one is the new album from Dead Hippies, a collection of tracks which voraciously burrowed under the skin as they inflamed an instinctive hunger for sound.

Dead Hippies is the creative project of Arnaud Fournier, the lead guitarist in The Hint and La Phaze. 2013 saw debut album, Kill Me Sweety, unveiled to a strong critical welcome. Whereas, it had a mainly instrumental landscape emerging from a fusion of rock and electronic enterprise its successor is a thickly bolder affair as noise, post rock, electro and dance-floor sounds collude in a rousing emprise of aural incitement. As with the first release, there is much more to each album’s body than the descriptions given, Resister a tempest of flavour and textures bound in a thrilling contagion soaked trespass further aroused by the diverse tones of Dylan Bendall (Lab°, Schoolbusdriver).

Live, Dead Hippies is unleashed through a quintet of guitars and it is that sonic abundance which fuels the intensity and exploits of Resister. The album opens with Drip Drip Drip, a track which admittedly took longer than the rest to get us hooked once exposed to all yet from its first melodic poking the song proved an itch which had to be scratched and often. Its rhythmic shuffle soon aligned to that initial electronic lure, vocals close behind again picking their shots before it all ignites in sonic dissonance as feral as it is caustic. Bendall switches between hip hop and noise punk dexterity within the repeating cycles of constantly fresh imagination, Fournier’s sounds equally esurient in their challenge and temptation as they evolve through a kaleidoscope of climates.

Get off the Boat follows, the track teasing ears with its opening electronic coaxing around a thick rhythmic pulsing. Melodic wires soon entangle those early seeds, Bendall’s tones moving from composed confrontation to a fiery insurgency as the surrounding enterprise follows suit. Like a mix of Girls In Synthesis and As A New Revolt, the track moves in a jarred shuffle throughout, its eruptions further manipulation of the senses and passions.

Featuring American rapper Mr J. Medeiros (The Procussions, Alltta, The Knives), the album’s title track is next up. It steps from an industrial lined electronic welcome into a prowling slice of Senser-esque rap rock where every second brings stringent observation amidst a consuming galvanic stride of sound. Though unleashed with a certain hand of control it is a ravenous encounter, electronic and punk ‘n’ roll dexterity amassing on a dance-floor bred rapacity.

That Senser like breath continues into the addictively rousing Feel so Freaky, a track which had the body feverishly bouncing like a puppeteer as its mania infested every note and syllable through to each magnetic twist and turn. Its dervish styled antics proved pure virulence from the first breath, a post punk hue only adding to its devilish magnificence before Laugh in Sadness flowered with crystalline elegance in ears. Guitars and keys blossom their intimation hand in hand, tears shared in its imposing shadows as the instrumental spreads and broadens its haunting tension and invasive drama. Compelling from first lure to last, the track eventually drifts back into the darkness for The Little Ones to unveil its corrosive radiance. A PiL tinted toning equips voice and sound as the song strides boldly and menacingly through ears, unrelenting rhythms on invasive manoeuvres as again Dead Hippies burrow deep into the psyche.

Across the swarthy climate of Anna Logue the Alien and the Morricone hued landscape of Tearing Us Apart with a Poisoned Dart addiction to Register only escalated. Once more ravenous electro-dubstep beats pummel as they incite across both tracks, the first of the two entangling that core bait with a web of guitar and electronic intimation as unscrupulous as it is dynamically persuasive, the vocals of Bendall equally as stirring. Its successor takes its time to build to that same rhythmic infestation, but once triggered brings a voracity of sonic turbulence and emotion before expanding both aspects in greater drama and tension.

The album finishes off with firstly the sonically rich ever evolving exploits of Flanger, a dance-floor bred instrumental at times as fearsome as it is incendiary to feet and body grooves and lastly the dystopian realm of Dramatic Control, a piece of music again which invades and provokes as potently as it draws the imagination into aligning its own darkest to that of the track.

Together they provide a compelling end to an album which simply consumed ears and attention not forgetting the passions from the first second and continues to do so which increasing success. There have been numerous striking releases across the year to date but Fournier with Register simply leaves so many of those in the shade.

Register is out now via Atypeek Music / Bruillance.

https://www.facebook.com/deadhippiesdead

Pete RingMaster 11/10/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Union Jack – Violence

Two years and a handful of months on from igniting the senses and passions with their previous album, Supersonic, French punks Union Jack have unleashed a just as voracious and compelling assault in the shape of Violence. With ten tracks which sonically live up to its title, the band’s new full-length ravages as it snarls, bounces as it unleashes ravening contagion. After the release of its predecessor we suggested that the Paris hailing trio could infringe on the world beyond their homeland, the UK and parts of Europe; with its successor we expect it.

In many ways Violence is a somewhat harsher and fractious trespass than that offered by Supersonic but still ripe with the instinctive catchiness and contagious character which marked out that previous outing. From vocals to sound, textures to aggression, it is an openly feral affair but one swiftly proving addictively contagious to ears and an ever hungry punk appetite.

Since emerging in 1997, Union Jacks’ fusion of punk, ska, hardcore and raw rock ‘n’ roll has bred its own individuality, one which has grown and evolved as a host of other flavours has been embraced and Violence only stretches that adventure. With its untamed air and trespass, the album in some ways looks back on the band’s early releases but with its noise fuelled twists, lyrical world attacking irritability, and rapacious almost cacophonous breath it is a whole fresh incitement for Union Jack and punk itself.

The album opens up with So Cold, the beat bouncing invitation of drummer Antoine Sirven Gabiache leading the way before the guitar of Tom Marchal and bass of Rude Ben spin their equally ear summoning threads of sound around the song’s initial lure. Quickly it is a volatile stroll of sound and infection, mouth-watering discord uniting with punk belligerence in music and voice, the mesh of vocal voracity from all three band members as tenacious as it is mischievously dissonant. With an At The Drive In-esque sonic tension and unpredictability, the track makes for a striking start to Violence with devilish keys adding to the temptation.

Venom ensures it continues as its swinging gait and savagery is immediately infectious, guitar and bass driving a boisterously truculent and catchy attack with the latter laying down a wicked groove as again vocals collude in a magnetic squall. Three minutes of noisy punk manipulation leads to two minutes of noise twisting ferity as Dance In The Fire springs its own cauldron of vocal and sonic dispute around manipulative hooks and grooves which invade and incite body and instinctive pleasure. The track is pure rock ‘n’ roll at its most wild yet deviously sculpted.

Poison Me instantly infests ears with a dancing melody if one with a certain acerbic edge which is inflamed across the instantly following hooks and an enterprise exposed by craft and imagination. Nimble keys flirt and tease from within the web of contagion unleashed by guitar and bass, the song a rousing and refreshing slice of animated ingenuity proving a definite favourite though matched throughout the album as proven by the calmer but as hungrily catchy Legacy. Like Joe Jackson meets Stiff Little Fingers, the song is pure temptation, if far too short at barely a minute length, and only more irresistible through the addition of Philippe Cattafesta’s piano organ.

Through the primal raging of Vasectomy, the song a fury of contagiousness and Frustration with its fertile noise bred roar, Violence only tightened its grip on attention and appetite; the lively hooks and spirited antics of both an inevitable and inescapable persuasion and each challenging that favourite moment choice, while Sugar is a collision of old school punk and rabid hardcore which ears and body had no defence to.

The final pair of Thieves & Liars and Nocturne take the album out as impressively as it came in, the first a multi-flavoured lure of punk and rock. It’s less intensive and ferocious presence compared to predecessors unveils a landscape of melodic and sonic dexterity but with an inherent cynicism and severity of word and emotion which makes you take stock while the final track is another inferno of the bands highly flavoursome and inventive sound with hooks and melodies that take hold of the senses like the strings of a puppeteer.

There is a definite uncompromising breath to the Union Jack sound which aligns a challenge with the temptation sprung but one which punk and noise fans will only relish along with the devilish enterprise which effortlessly escapes the band.

Violence is out now; available @ https://unionjack.bandcamp.com/album/violence

https://www.facebook.com/badska/   http://unionjack.free.fr

Pete RingMaster 27/09/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dead Kaczynski – Mr. Scratch

Poised to uncage their debut EP his October, British noise punks Dead Kaczynski have laid down one irresistible teaser in the shape of first single Mr. Scratch. The track is a slice of cacophonous temptation which ripples with dissonance and shrugs with indifference to the sanity of your psyche but most of all has the body bouncing to its rapacious antics and contagion.

Kent-based, Dead Kaczynski (pronounced Ka-Zin-Ski) have a sound bred from post-hardcore and driven by noise punk ferocity. The trio is another proposition emerging from the Medway scene demanding attention and on the evidence of their latest single another which rewards with body and imagination rousing incitement.

Formed from the ashes of Kent punks Wiremother, the threesome of vocalist/guitarist Shareef Dahroug, bassist/vocalist Oliver Nissen, and drummer/vocalist Liam McCann has taken little time earning a rich reputation for their live shows, one surely about to be fully escalated by their first releases, Mr. Scratch and the Yakuza Attack Dog EP, released 4th October on Skingasm Records.

There is a touch of Punching Swans to Mr. Scratch but quickly the song lays out its own breath and character as swinging rhythms and the fervid vocals grip air and ears. All the while bass and guitar grumble, intermittently adding their grouchiness before wires of guitar entangle the instinctive disharmony of the song’s heart and voice and subsequently spark a fevered roar of voracious and infectious causticity.

Brief and rabidly hungry, the track is pure noise virulence, almost carnal in its breath and ravenous in its fierce energy. Roll on the Yakuza Attack Dog.

Mr. Scratch is available@ https://deadkaczynski.bandcamp.com/track/mr-scratch-4 with the Yakuza Attack Dog EP released October 4th.

https://www.facebook.com/deadkaczynski/   https://twitter.com/dead_kaczynski

Pete RingMaster 03/10/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Halshug – Drøm

Temptation can come in a broad and varied landscape of enticement; it can be a warm seduction or a nagging teasing among numerous other incitements. In the hands of Danish band Halshug it is a challengingly fearsome proposal and as their new album proves one irresistible proposition.

Hailing from Copenhagen, the trio of bassist/vocalist Jakob Johnsen, guitarist Mathias Schønberg, and drummer Mads Folmer Richter create a voracious trespass of hardcore and noise punk but as their third full-length Drøm quickly establishes it is a sound which has evolved across previous releases to embrace industrial, post punk, and numerous other darkly bred sounds. Its title translated as ‘Dream’, Drøm is bred on the theme that dreams are “a succession of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that occur involuntarily in the mind. And also sort of a vision or a wanting of something more than just what is.” With even richer depths and variations to that exploration, the album never leaves ears and imagination alone in thought. Whether nagging on the psyche, intruding on the senses, or manipulating body and imagination, a degree of emotive frustration almost lining it’s every moment, it harasses from start to finish and it has to be admitted, few moments shared here this year have been more rousingly thrilling.

From the moment album opener, Kæmper Imod, with its first breath begins clipping at ears, attention and appetite were stirred; Richter’s magnetic percussion almost teasing as it lured. Seemingly knowing when the listener should be hooked beats hold a momentary pause from which a punk scourge of sound and voice explodes. The band’s hardcore instincts fuel the eruption as the song continues to grip and captivate, its proposal just taking on a whole new character to its beginnings and escalating both by each raucous senses baiting second.

It is an outstanding introduction to Drøm yet quickly and continually eclipsed or certainly matched across the release with next up Dø Igen raising the ante in craft and temptation. Richter’s beats again make for an animated and compelling coaxing and more than equalled in enticement by the visceral growl of Johnsen’s bass. If the first song teased with a whiff of post punk amidst darker sonic deeds, the second track exploits their tenebrific coercion to ravish and inflame the senses. From within its voracious noise clad insurgency, essences of bands like Faith No More, Sex Gang Children, and The Three Johns tease which only adds to its inescapable seduction of ears.

Schønberg’s filth soaked guitar brings Fantasi to ears next; Johnsen’s similarly polluted vocal attack standing eyeball to ear on the tide of antagonistic punk riffs and rhythms. Devious twists and diversity only add to the excellent track’s evolving body and increasing prowess before Giv Alting Op swings in with matching animosity and discord. As with all tracks, there is a kind of psychosis which shapes its tone and invasion; one never allowing a moment for album or listener to relax within the infernal kaleidoscope of illusory or maybe real provocation.

Spejl hounds and disturbs next, riffs and rhythms chaffing on the senses as melodic toxins and scorched grooves seduce across a volatile gait which launches itself with nostrils flared and at times prowls with equally venomous intent. Once more there was no defence to the at times almost drone like quality of its urging as neither was there any barrier to prevent the industrial compulsion and intimation of the dystopia flooded 02.42. The track’s cold intense threat is as claustrophobic as it is galvanic; a web of intrigue and ravening malevolence greedily devoured, rapacious hunger just as forceful and rabid for its successor Tænk På Dig Selv. Again Richter had rhythmic claws in psyche and instincts from the off before all three musicians unleashed their enterprisingly tortured throes of sound and emotion. If that was not enough to embroil the passions, an X Ray Spex meets Essential Logic flavoured sax incursion only sparked lustier reactions.

Through the feral yet imaginatively crafted transgression of Ingen Kontrol and the virulent sonic appropriation of the senses by Et Andet Sted resistance was thread bare to the album’s continuing indeed increasing domination, not that defiance was actually contemplated or offered, a fact the closing majestic post punk incitement of Illusion seized with rhythmic and sonic devilment. The simply glorious instrumental is part nightmare part psyche haunting escape from reality and simply cathartic suggestion to, as we found, increasingly greedy ears and animated imagination.

It is an avidity flooded appetite which is just as ravenous for the album as a whole especially as every play revealed further aspects to its devious body. With a presence and sound which ultimately defies being truly pinned down Drøm has declared itself as one of the year’s essential moments.

Drøm is available now via Southern Lord @ https://halshugsl.bandcamp.com/releases

Upcoming Live dates:

7 Sep – Oslo, NO – Vaterland

12 Sep – Aalborg, DK – 1000Fryd

13 Sep – Aarhus, DK – Radar

14 Sep – KBH, DK Stengade

20 Sep – Gøteborg, SWE – Kulturhuset

27 Sep – Malmø, SWE – Plan B

28 Sep – Stockholm, SWE – Hus 7

http://halshug.blogspot.com   https://halshug.bandcamp.com   http://www.facebook.com/halshugcph

Pete RingMaster 24/07/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Freighter – The Den

If conventions are for flouting and creative borders for escaping then San Francisco trio Freighter are equipped to lead the exodus though on the evidence of the band’s new album, The Den, there are few others which can rival their voracious appetite for both. Across eight ferociously bold atypical tracks, band and release revel in embracing and disfiguring time signatures, previously defined flavours, and anything expectations can conjure to cast a diabolical web of uniqueness which very often escapes the confines of the listener’s imagination.

Formed years back by lifelong friends guitarist/vocalist Travis Andrews and bassist Jason Braatz and subsequently completed by drummer Matt Guggemos, Freighter weave a technical progressive metal confrontation which soon reveals it goes far beyond those confines. 2008 saw the release of their self-titled debut album but then seemingly came an extremely quiet period as members pursued other projects. Five years on and the original pair reunited and began plotting and weaving the band’s next chapter which is now indelibly marked by the release of The Den.

Themed by ”the endless struggle with sleep and the downstream effects of not getting enough of it,” The Den immediately entangles ears and imagination in its ferocious mania through Psychic Reading ’94; the track harassing the senses with guitar and drums as the bass springs its own dissonant welcome. Andrews’ vocals soon join the sonic pestering with matching relish, the song swiftly stamping its authority on attention whilst twisting its creative entrails. Guggemos’ rhythms continue to coerce as they molest, the bass courting the wild turbulence with its own feral rousing of ears and appetite. Within it all though, an untamed sense of order is established but one which still only echoes the brazen uproar erupting from within the band’s imaginative and inventive dissonance.

With barely a breath drawn, Future Duke burst upon the senses next, its barbarous trespass as infectious as it is fearsome as it descends on beleaguered senses. As with the first track, there is a noise punk ferocity and predation to the assault which instantly grabbed approval and only enhanced its grip as melodic and progressive hues blossomed within the, at times, carnal maelstrom of sound and innovation. Glorious and devastating, the outstanding track is only echoed in temptation and striking prowess by Presto Change-O, its challenge immediate, visceral and inescapably stirring as the guitar feverishly burrowed under skin already battered and bruised by contorted rhythms. From that sonic insurgence a delicious melodic teasing adds its own bait, a riveting concoction which only intensifies as the track bares its unmethodical but skilfully woven drama. Even clutch of seconds brings fresh enterprise and incitement, keys and vocal variety adding to the genius outpouring.

Three tracks in and the uniqueness of release and sound is etched on the psyche but imagine a cauldron boiling up the essences of bands such as Cryptopsy, KEN mode, Art Of Burning Water, Sofy Major, and System Of A Down and you have a whiff of the tempest within The Den as epitomised by Hot Car Death Dad next.  With its engine finally engaged, the track takes to the sonic highway with a wonderful groove, another essence conjured which niggles at the psyche like a demented puppeteer as heavier rhythmic tones court its persuasion. The ride as you can rightly assume is upon an undulating road of twists and turns, each an adventure in its own right and all adding up to a nightmarish road trip of enthralling misshapen adventure.

 Stick Around And Do It Right Until You Get It Perfect shares its brief esurient proposal straight after, springing forward unscrupulous and eventfully unpredictable antics woven together to create another major and seriously compelling moment within the album. Perpetually rabid but equally, at certain times, just calmly mesmeric, the song seduced as it devoured with again within The Den every second bringing an unpredictability and virulent tempting which just consumed the passions before King Pigeon stamped its authority on ears and appetite. Its continuously ruthless attack courtesy of Guggemos initially belies the jazz bred ingredients in waiting; their eventual animation soon beleaguered by the tide of infernal sound led by Braatz’s ever eagerly consumed and rousing gnarly basslines. To be honest as with all tracks we can only give a glimpse of the real invention of the imaginative incidents let alone the striking craft aligned to psychotic songwriting within songs but as proven once more the real fun is in the physical discovery anyway.

Talking of unbalanced and unstable, both apply to the ferocious might and wonder of the glorious Harbor Of Dieppe, a track which simply assaulted as it lustfully ignited a similarly tenacious imagination, and the album closing exploits of the salaciously flirtatious Cimitero. Both tracks fascinated as they burrowed under the skin, the latter a tantalising cacophonous waltz cast in beauty and discord with its predecessor the kind of incessant examining and dismembering of the senses so simple to drool over.

Fair to say we consumed and doted on every second of The Den with increasingly open lust listen by listen It may have taken an age for Freighter to return with a second album but its might will have all fans caring little and though it could be too early to suggest the main best album contenders for the year but there is no doubt this ravenous treat will majorly figure here and beyond.

The Den is out now @ https://freighter.bandcamp.com/album/the-den

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

 Pete RingMaster 23/07/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Deathcrush – Megazone

It has been a long five and a half years since we first posted and lusted over the Skool’s In EP from Norwegian trio Deathcrush and that it is only now that their debut album is with us. But it is a wait and anticipation that Megazone voraciously rewards with nine feral slices of the band’s inimitable and enthralling noise punk/ death pop tempestuousness.

Distinctly unique to the Oslo outfit since day one, the Deathcrush sound has only escalated its distinct character as it has evolved and blossomed to greater heights as embraced by Megazone. Each track within the album is a fusion of invitation and warning, all a magnetic lure into the dissonance and threat of a world in chaos. Yet their infectiousness means you want indeed need to be there surrounded by the virulence of their arousing trespasses.

The trio of vocalist/guitarist Linn Nystadnes, bassist/vocalist Pelle Bamle, and vocalist/drummer Vidar Evensen relish their music’s instinctive catchiness within album opener EGO. The song offers a hug of warmth and calm poppiness which is never quite repeated across the release again; an individual dance of temptation which just glows on the senses as vocals caress around the tenebrific stroll of bass. Even so there is a underlying darkness which gathers and festers as the track builds its tension, a sonic dissonance that corrupts the light if not the song’s resonance and contagiousness.

The great start is swiftly escalated by the caustic winds of PushPushPush. Guitars are a scathing insight as Evensen’s animated rhythms rally and assault the senses, all the while Nystadnes’ tones a belligerent match to the toxic flames of her stringed insurgency. Gripping attention, the track scars as it enamours though it is soon eclipsed in personal tastes by the bewitching Khmer Rich. Almost prowling the listener even with its excited stroll, the song simply entangled the imagination in its corrosively incandescent web whilst the body bounced to its nagging punk catchiness.

As the song outdid its predecessor, so Dumb left it in the shade a touch with its communicable dance and discord. Again drone and incessant nagging makes up the irresistible character and insistence of a Deathcrush song, its repetitive but adventurous persistence a voraciously crawling incitement proving so easy to devour before Filthy Street casts its own magnetic sonic austerity; it too something which stalks as it seduces while throbbing resonance springs from Bamle’s bass infestation. Unsurprisingly the song’s sound and breath echoes the landscape of its title, getting into every pore and corner of the psyche like aural pestilence and igniting both for richer pleasure.

Bedsit is next up, its malignant pop an evocation and infestation of soulless exposure with a great underlying Pixies-esque bewitchment while Trust Me follows with its particular punk noise prowl, one as with all tracks which can be taken into intimate or broader interpretations and reflections as the music only gathers in a momentum of temptation.

It proved hard to choose a main favourite amongst all the tracks within Megazone but the final pair of Daemon with its infernal melodic flames and mordant breath and State of the Union makes persistent claims. To be honest the last track steals it at the death; its rhythmic contagion alone pure manna to these ears and unerring hypnotic bait which vocal dexterity and the spellbinding drone around it respectively ride and cling to for certain rapture.

For many reasons we did expect to enjoy Megazone but it still left us far more impressed and breathless than we could have imagined. We really should not have been surprised after all this is Deathcrush and they are no strangers to harrying noise, imagination, and boundaries.

Megazone is out now via Apollon Records.

http://www.deathcrush.no/   https://www.facebook.com/deathcrushbaby  https://twitter.com/deathcrushbaby

 Pete RingMaster 21/06/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright