Bear – Propaganda

Having discovered Bear through their senses ravening second album back in 2013, every new moment with the Belgian outfit has been a momentous moment in our musical year and there is nothing different in 2020 with the unleashing of Propaganda, their most striking trespass of the senses yet.

There has always been an open uniqueness about the Antwerp quartet’s sound but again it has evolved into a whole new beast of fascination within their fourth full length. Described as a fusion of progressive metal and hardcore, the reality is that it is a far richer and diversely woven proposition. Within Propaganda groove and tech metal embroils in death and noise rock, a mixture only further twisted as rapacious imagination cast its weaves. The feral likes of Noumenon and successor /// have blossomed in that creative environment but Propaganda though has simply found a whole new discharge of temptation.

With its heart and breath a roar against the spins which manipulates all our lives, Bear’s new onslaught immediately descended on ears with opener Dissolve Dissipate. Rhythms immediately assault as acerbic grooves entwine the listener, a hungry contagiousness swarming the senses as the track violently devours. The thick growl of vocalist Maarten Albrechts erupts straight into the barrage, spilling further malice and tempting in a fusion only increasing in enslavement; even more so as a contrast of clean vocals rises within the sonic persistence and growing enterprise.  As the track again twists and escalates its lure, all the time soon adding greater lust to our appreciation, it is a superb start to the album and a scene setter of the invention within its body and ravenous dexterity in its realisation.

The rhythms of drummer Serch Carriere and bassist Dries Verhaert perpetually make for a magnetic invitation even as more restraint wraps their baiting of ears as the release’s title track follows. Nevertheless it instantly held attention tight as further aspects add the inescapable beckoning into a waiting deluge of sound and venom. Even that though is aligned to melodic and compelling enterprise, the track a mercurial incitement as savage as it is seductive on body and thoughts. Winding, Guitarist James Falck again weaves vines of sound and threads of grooves around the song’s transfixing length, tendrils which threaten as they lure; the track itself epitomising that feat within its predacious presence.

Obey barely allows a breath to be taken before uncaging its own predatory instincts and sounds, ferocity again interlaced with progressive and grooved imagination which not so much tempers the assail as encourages it and an already well grown addictiveness to the encounter. It is a trait we found with previous releases, a quickly formed and unshakeable hunger for their wares which is soon fertile within Propaganda and only intensified with the following pair of Apollo’s Heist and Red Throne. The first teases ears first, nagging on attention before rewarding such focus with a menacing crawl which was soon burrowing deep; the sinister temptation only accentuated by the harmonics of varied vocals and synth caresses within the ursine confrontation. It provided full enthralment from start to finish which its successor quickly devoured with its far more volatile and grievous exploits. As those before and to come, the track is as unpredictable as it is compelling, leaping with bruising dynamics yet never hinting on its subsequent moments of greedy aggression or dramatic restraints; it all delivered with devious craft and manipulative imagination.

Through the similarly ominous and disturbing intimation of the increasingly carnal Mite and the viscous animosity of Gutter Love the album only gripped tighter, the latter a virulent slab of primeval rock ‘n’ roll while the following Stigmata left its deep sonic mark with rhythmic lashings and dark raptorial fingering of the psyche and fair to say that each track is bound in capricious adventure and skilfully erratic enterprise inventively and imaginatively bred.

The calm dark beauty of The Ram brings a moment to find stability for the senses and suggestion for thoughts though the listener is soon consumed in the cataclysmic invasion of Flares which erupts with Bear’s trademark brutality and imagination gripping resourcefulness as again expectations are never allowed to seed and appetite to lose its greed for the band’s ingenuity.

Engine and Kuma bring the album to a close, the first an infection of sound and intimidation which is as masterfully radiant at times as it is persistently intrusive and truculent throughout and the second an infestation of quarrel and hostility around a groove woven web of harmonic and melodic splendour; both providing a rousing end to the album with the last another particular peak in its lofty landscape.

Propaganda only becomes more potent and magnificent by the listen and imposingly stimulating as its lyrical side stands tall in the instantaneous glory of its sounds. Not for the first time Bear has crafted one of the year’s major and richly enjoyable moments; the continuing welcome ringing in our senses proof.

Propaganda is out now via Pelagic Records.

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

RingMaster Review 16/06/2020

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Combos – Steelo

Norwegian punk has not been slow in coming forward and grabbing our eager attention over recent years and the release of Steelo introduces another band we have made room in our hungry appetite for. It is the debut album of Trondheim-based punk/noise rock quintet Combos, a band which springs a voracious roar as animated and lively as it is defiantly antagonistic.

Emerging at the tail end of 2018, Combos was founded by guitarist/song writer Thomas Antonsen, vocalist Axel Møller Olsen, and drummer Andreas Kjøl Berg. Forging a rapaciously catchy sound from a fusion of punk and noise rock, the trio soon hooked praise and attention at home. Now with bassist Jørgen Wassvik and guitarist Terje Bjørndahl in their ranks, the quintet is setting their sights on bigger borders to arouse; a mission the Loyal Blood Records released Steelo openly shows the creative armoury to achieve.

Combos’ sound has something of a Shelter meets Swound! accosted by Bokassa to it. It is immediately infectious, just as swiftly aggressive and invasive, and an incitement of manipulation we could find few defences to. EP opener Boom Shakalaka tells you all you need to know about the holler and addictive nature of their creative stomping. Instantly rhythms are forcibly jabbing at the senses as riffs nag on punk instincts, their united incitement enough to have limbs punching even before the highly virulent encouragement of vocals and swinging rhythms. As shown across previous tracks, the band cast choruses which feed on one’s inner yell, easy to leap upon and share moments one’s own riotous body and roaring tones with. All the same, if not as bold as elsewhere upon the EP, twists and turns bring imagination and stirring enterprise, every second of the song listener orchestration.

Kjøl Berg’s dexterous beats are a potent essence within Steelo and an immediately compelling introduction to next up Meme Supreme. His rhythms demand attention, continuing to direct proceedings as guitars and vocals jump on his creative animation. Eventually the track bursts into a noisy clamour retaining a catchiness increasingly escalated by the drummer’s gripping rhythmic athletics which only continues within Mad Beef and its niggling irritability amidst physical tenacity. The delicious growl of Wassvik’s bass had us quickly hooked as too the sonic web cast by the guitars before it all descends into a smog like trespass, this only bringing greater focus on factors behind it when clearing.

Nerdz is a spiral of grooves and rhythmic fingering from its first breath, a song sharing a broader flavouring of sound as post punk and hardcore essences collude with its noise bred instincts while Make Money Take Money is a pandemonium of styles and temptation which is chained by melodic restraint until bursting upon ears in another commotion of a chorus. That post punk hue again enjoyably tainted the raucous spirit of the trespass and again both tracks left us greedy for more which All About The Wex heartily fed. A slice of feral rock ‘n’ roll, it teases with its initial distant baiting before leaping upon ears with noise bound audacity and physical dexterity; it all coated in a garage bed rascality.

The EP is completed by Bro In Pain and its title track; the first also laying down its addiction through ravenous beats before reaping its subservient rewards through vocal and melodic shenanigans. There is a touch of Shevils to the song in certain moments but as throughout the release belongs distinctly to Combos as too the second of the pair, the magnificent Steelo again entangling noise and post punk lures to viral contagion and inescapable manipulation.

The word was that Combos is one of the most promising up-and coming Norwegian bands; well they are here face to face with the world with Steelo, both refusing to be ignored and more than living up to that suggestion.

Steelo is out now through Loyal Blood Records.

https://www.facebook.com/combosofficial

Pete RingMaster 19/05/2020

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Head On – Robert Christgau/Greil Marcus

Head On

A band we found ourselves hooked on back in 2018 through their debut album Ubik, Greek outfit Head On has so far evaded the major spotlights which we suggested were on their near horizon courtesy of their striking full-length but are back to tease them once again with their new two-track single.

The Athens hailing band again breed their tracks from a post punk heart enveloping both with just as potent post rock atmospherics but swiftly both Robert Christgau and Greil Marcus reveal the band’s sound has embraced a far richer and thicker expanse of flavouring compared to that within their impressive album. Equally there is a bolder maturity to the web of styles and imagination making up its senses entangling prowess, one increasing that suggestion that Head On deserve greater attention.

Both tracks making up the single are inspired by American music journalists and each a tribute with a touch of individualism and rebellion which could be said to equally spice the writers work. A-side is Robert Christgau, a song immediately winding attention enticing guitar wiring around ears. Rhythms gather with increasing intensity too though they never quite find a concussive touch as the track slips into its infectious post punk nurtured stroll. Tofer’s vocals join the canter, his resolute tones firm but with the same underlying off-kilter dynamic as carried by Breathiac’s guitar and Levojohn’s bass. With the equally purposeful beats of Kostas driving and adding commanding manipulation to song and listener alike within the melodic web cast by Breathiac, the track is pure captivation; essences of bands such as early Cure, Unsane, and KEN Mode coming to mind in varying degrees.

Greil Marcus provides the B-side and similarly had us on board from its initial nagging breath as guitar and bass nudges teased and lured before uniting in a more voracious canter with those same virulent hooks at work. There is something akin to a fusion of fellow Greeks SPInnERS and Russian punks Biting Elbows to the song but swiftly Head On stamp down their uniqueness as the cold taunting of the track and its virulent character thick in enterprise got under the skin. Senses scorching eruptions in sound and especially Tofer’s vocals only add to the tension and captivation of the track, its ferocity and disturbed breath adding to the thrilling drama.

Both tracks had us hungry for more and eagerly anticipating the next unpredictable Head On roar which hopefully will have a much larger landscape of ears waiting its unveiling if the band’s new single gets its deserved reward.

Robert Christgau/Greil Marcus is available now @ https://headongreece.bandcamp.com/releases

https://www.facebook.com/Head0n/

Pete RingMaster 05/02/2020

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

Mr. Strange – Contact

Even with the familiar uniqueness that comes with the Mr. Strange sound each album from the Isle Of Wight band has sought to explore new flavours and a fresh creative character and successfully so to date. That eclectic adventure and imagination was shown in its glory in the band’s 2019 best of album, WTF. Now the UK outfit has their sixth full-length poised to provoke the imagination, evoke the body, and interrupt complacent thoughts; an intent which Contact succeeds in with almost effortless ease.

The brainchild of vocalist/songwriter/keyboardist Mr. (Saul) Strange, the band has not only released some of the most striking and contagious releases over the past decade or two but become one insatiably devoured live proposition.  Completed by bassist/guitarist Ant Strange, and drummer Damian Strange, it is this live side which is at the heart of Contact, Mr. Strange wanting to bring its spirit to the album as, in their own words, they wanted to “make a record that actually sounded like a band, rather than a producer with a laptop.” Listening to the album it is clear across its multi-flavoured adventure that the intent found success though organically or instinctively the trademark electronic prowess and theatrical production touch of their fertile imagination still found an eager place. The combination works a treat as from maybe the expected industrial/electro rock which fuelled their previous acclaimed releases the band has launched its uniqueness across a fresh and rich tapestry of new eclectic styles.

The album opens with Alien and the introduction to the arrival of a visitor to this complicated planet but as across the album it is a premise which can be just as firmly translated to any misfit, freak, emotional extra-terrestrial feeling out of place in this world. It is a secretive emergence, a calm glide into view which breaks into a rhythmic stroll before an inimitable Mr. Strange like carousel lit saunter takes over. The narrative of the vocals is soon as magnetic as the sounds lighting its observation, the unsurprising catchiness of the band’s swinging electro meets psych rock incitement infesting ears and body alike.

It is an irresistible start to the release which the album’s following title track taps into just as eagerly. A cinematic sample triggers a sizzling groove across a manipulative surge of rhythms, the song proceeding to grow its web of tempting laced with funk, surf, and glam rock spiced threads, the track a quickly and increasingly contagious affair with keys dancing on the electric wiring and around rousing vocals to escalate the addiction.

Jungle intimating rhythms open up Animals next, tribal and primal instincts escorting our infestation of the natural world as a fusion of King Trigger, Thompson Twins, and Talking Heads essences unite to glorious, enthralling effect though the song is soon eclipsed by the feral rock ‘n’ roll of Piggy. Punk, electro, noise rock all collide in its attitude exhorting roar, the track as predatory as it is seductive within a galvanic roar of sound and voice.

The enthralling Play the Game is next up, another track which almost stalks ears and attention. Its twisted psyche and fuzzy breath is lit up by Mr. Strange’s vocal prowess and a surrounding harmonic elegance, dark and light colluding in the embrace of shadow wrapped self-reflection while Rumours steps in with an Oingo Boingo crossed with Marilyn Manson swing which breeds an only richer and broader tapestry of flavours and enterprise. Both tracks were under the skin in no time, their unpredictability as potent as their eclectic weave of sounds though again two great tracks found themselves outdone by a third as Paralysed stomped in with bold tenacious beats and rapacious riffs while a ragtime nurtured piano teases. It proved intoxication as thick as the call at the heart of its lyrical declaration, the album continuing to hit pinnacle after pinnacle.

The Pursuit of Something Better emerges next as sinister as it is irresistible; guitar and synth joining together in pure temptation as vocals add their similarly potent coaxing. With a breath akin to something like Wall Of Voodoo meeting Gary Numan in the shadow of Skinny Puppy, it is haunting arousal which also applies to its successor Southbound for different reasons. A slice of classic meets desert rock with a Queens of the Stone Age instinct, the track is a heavily stepping, creative limb swinging incitement again impossible not to boisterously participate in.

Both To The Center and Finale make for captivating proposals, the first a melancholy scented dark psychedelia lit croon which becomes more robust and fiery by the minute; its subsequent gripping declaration imposing and dramatic while its successor offers a tantalising and sublimely alluring ballad as crystalline as it is again melancholy coloured, and unapologetically infectious.

Contact concludes with Hello! (Epilogue), a grinning piece of creative kindling with a great ICP meets 12 Stone Toddler mischievousness to it that as, its predecessors, had the body swaying and appetite licking greedy lips.

As most of their albums, Mr. Strange had us hooked from the off with Contact only seeing us more hungrily dancing to its tune thereon in but it is a whole new beast from the band and even with those references to give you a clue is as unique as anything you are going to find out there, as contagious, and quite likely as irresistible.

Contact is released February 14th with pre-ordering available now @ https://mrstrange.bandcamp.com/album/contact

http://www.mrstrangemedia.com    https://www.facebook.com/Official.Mr.Strange

 https://twitter.com/MrStrangeTweets   https://www.youtube.com/user/MrStrangeMedia

Pete RingMaster 06/02/2020

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

Night Goat – Milk

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

https://www.facebook.com/nightgoat13

Pete RingMaster

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

Plastic – Drink Sensibly

Last year saw UK outfit Plastic earning strong attention and praise with debut album Here, There Is No Gravity. It was a release though which did not gather the momentum expected to break the band upon major recognition. Taking its predecessor’s attributes to a whole new level the band now has the Drink Sensibly EP to tempt recognition, an aim such its bold adventure it is hard seeing having similar difficulties.

Midlands based, Plastic brew an ear grabbing roar from a fusion of punk, grunge and metal. It has already proven a tempting mix especially courtesy of the band’s first album but has become a far more imaginative and contagious persuasion within Drink Sensibly. There is a richer blend of sound and enterprise in the writing and sound of the three tracks making up the EP which for us puts the definitely easy to devour Here, There Is No Gravity firmly in the shade.

Approaching the subjects of mental decline and self-loathing, the EP opens up with Munchies and immediately commands indeed demands attention as strikes of guitar spring the punchy but melodic tones of Matthew Awbery. Just as quickly the song breaks into a swinging canter, its rhythms knees high as it strides through ears with a swagger soaked in punk fuelled virulence. A noise punk clamour accompanies its emotive defiance, every rhythmic swipe and sonic jab pure virulence as irritability brews, springs, and adds to the rousing tempest.

It is an outstanding start, probably for us the EP’s finest moment but one seriously challenged by its companions starting with Lovesick. The second track wears its grunge breeding more openly but again a new indie pop catchiness soaks the magnet jangle and rousing clamour Plastic create. With a Nirvana meets Green Day spicing to its contagion, the song had the body bouncing as eagerly and high as its own melodic jounce; joyfulness lining every essence surrounding melancholy spun emotive reflection.

Spit completes the pleasure; the final song a noise rock twisted slab of grunge punk throwing its rhythmic limbs around like a spinning dervish as riffs and hooks harass and tease. Feral yet deviously conjured in ear tempting texture and turn, the track is pure punk ‘n’ roll flirtation which had ears groaning at its and the EP’s too soon a passing as fingers raced to press play all over again.

If the first Plastic album sparked your appetite, Drink Sensibly will simply inflame a fresh hunger while surely enticing a whole horde of newcomers to one increasingly exciting and thrilling band.

Drink Sensibly is available now.

https://www.facebook.com/plasticbanduk/

Pete RingMaster 29/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Bastard Disco – China Shipping

Maybe more recognised for its metal diversity and prowess, over the years we have found that the Polish independent music scene breeds some rather fine propositions within other musical flavours. The latest to come to our attention is the noise rock fuelled alternative rock of Bastard Disco and particularly their new album, China Shipping. Across nine ear grabbing tracks, the Warsaw quartet’s sophomore full-length is a magnetic affair as raw and hungry as it is melodically seductive; one of those encounters you cannot help taking real notice of.

Formed in 2015, Bastard Disco finds inspiration in the likes of Fugazi, Quicksand, Smashing Pumpkins, Sonic Youth, and The Pixies for their own individual sound. 2017 saw the well-received release of debut album Warsaw Wasted Youth via Poland’s oldest independent label, Antena Krzyku. The band has united with the label once again for China Shipping, a release swiftly engaging ears with opener Sophia. The coaxing grooves of guitarist Kamil Fejfer lay down a potent lure, the accompanying grumble of Paweł Cholewa’s bass and the swinging beats of Marek Kamiński soon eagerly accentuating the early temptation. As vocalist Yuri Kasianenko’s melodic tones join the captivation, the track almost haunts the imagination, its hooks and quickly established enterprise proving very easy to devour.

Future Crimes follows, opening with the great dirty growl of Cholewa’s bass before contrasting its grumble with the melodic jangle of guitar. As with its predecessor, familiar essences collude with bold fresh endeavour to create an individual character and presence; its melodic and harmonic boisterousness adding to that distinctiveness. There is a sonic mugginess to song and sound too which similarly just lured ears in and though maybe missing the striking hooks of the opener, the track effortlessly held court before Time Traveller offered up its own humid noise cultured breath. Something akin to Dinosaur Jr meets Big Black the song proved increasingly compelling and contagious as it nagged an already eagerly involved appetite.

Next up is Clear!, a slice of scuzzy indie rock with punk voracity to its infectious holler. Its highly potent persuasion soon matched by that crafted by the outstanding Shining Confidence. The track was pure fascination, its melodic seduction and sultry climate a mesmeric setting for the track’s devilish groove spun chorus. It is another with familiar elements but never proved anything but unique to Bastard Disco while Ministry of Self-Defence emulated that originality straight after with its own sonically dissonant bounce and confrontation. Ferocious yet melodically seductive, feral but craftily conjured, the track provides another particularly compelling highlight before Game of Patriots stole the show. Its first breaths bring the hypnotic coaxing of Kamiński’s beats, every subsequent one exposing his manipulative dexterity as the equally nefariously antics of bass and guitar just enforce the track’s virulence. Kasianenko is just as magnetic alongside their tenacious enterprise, providing further impassioned flaming to the song’s fiery eruptions.

The closing pair of Sink or Swim and B-side Son ensure China Shipping leaves as potently as it arrives, the first enjoying the union of a grumble dark rhythmic incitement and scuzz lined melodic intimation around the perpetually tempting vocals of Kasianenko. The final track is all spirited bounce and creative contagion beneath vocal and emotive energy; a rousing memorable finale to an equally stirring release rather easy to highly recommend.

China Shipping is out now via Antena Krzyku; available digitally @ https://bastarddisco.bandcamp.com/album/china-shipping and on CD/LP through http://www.antenakrzyku.pl/en/shop/bastard-disco-china-shipping-lpdownload-preorder-release-date-030519-kopia/

https://www.facebook.com/bastarddisco/

 Pete RingMaster 21/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Raketkanon – RKTKN#3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Pete RingMaster 30/04/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Society Of Losers: Mr Ted – Muscle Milk/ Bisch Nadar – Leaders

Having our own musical journey seeded and bred in the small but tenacious independent record labels which leapt from the punk scene decades back there is an instinctive intrigue and appetite for the energy and passion which fuels such endeavours. They are adventures which are all about the music, it and their creators the reason for every move and release. This is no more epitomised than by Society Of Losers, a Liverpool hailing label formed in 2016. We were drawn to their presence and releases through the outstanding Salt The Snail before subsequently discovering the glories of . Now we have a couple of new tracks from two more of their bands with each confirming Society Of Losers a go to outlet for compelling escapades.

First up is the new track from the label’s latest recruits, Mr Ted. Liverpool bred, the band stepped forth around 8 to 9 years back but only released their first single last year, the ear stalking Shame. As its successor, the track was a feral contagion of grunge, punk, and noise rock emerging as something firmly individual to the band. Muscle Milk is a devious web sharing the same flavoursome threads entangled in many more but even more dramatically eventful and thrilling.

Consisting of Peter Williamson, Mark Hughes, Mark Charles Manning, and Phillie Collier, a quartet who list past and present the likes of Iron Witch, Pet Virus, and another of our favourites in Enamel Animal within their CVs, Mr Ted immediately tease ears with a guitar wire; a coaxing line to a tide of sonic trespass which swiftly rises up. Just as urgently, the track’s thick groove and swing invades ears and body, leading an eager sway as rhythms prowl within the nagging insistence of the guitars. With vocals equally as infectious in their untamed antics the song revels in its unpredictable imagination aligned to a moments of more composed grunge nurtured roars.

Never taking a moment to truly settle, the track twists and turns with a creative psychosis which just inflames its natural fever and bold enterprise. Muscle Milk is our introduction to the band and yep we are hooked and already impatiently anticipating the band’s upcoming debut album.

Leaders is the new single from another Liverpool outfit in Bisch Nadar who similarly cast a sound spawn from a blend of styles, in this case merging the essences of math and alternative rock with progressive and pop infused flavours. Their new track shows it makes for a potent proposition taking little time to have ears and enjoyment keenly engaged.

The thick grooves of A Rathbone’s guitar lay enticingly within the rhythmic lures of bassist G Yelding and drummer Andrew Finney, each aspect as inviting as they are imposing. The warm vocal tones of Rathbone similarly are allied to the throat rasping scowls of Yelding; that aligning of contrasts the heart and power of a song with bite to its welcoming character and organic volatility in its belly.

A song which tempts from the off but definitely grows by the listen, Leaders insists on closer attention upon Bisch Nadar and indeed as Mr Ted’s addictive bait, to one rather fertile field of freshness and pleasure at Society Of Losers.

Both tracks are available now @ https://societyoflosers.bandcamp.com/

https://www.societyoflosersrecords.com/

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

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

Pete RingMaster 29/03/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Sofy Major – Total Dump

Sofy Major is a leviathan of sound and trespass which persistently erupts from a noise fuelled creative lair with releases which for us have pretty much left contemporaries in their tempest and turbulence. Three previous albums have as good as decimated the prowess and adventure of other ear rewarding encounters around at the time and with Total Dump, the French trio has done it again Their new full-length is in many ways their most accessible and flirtatious offering yet but equally their most voracious and imposing not forgetting irresistible slab of noise and hardcore infested, metal lined rock ‘n’ roll.

The successor to the outstanding Waste of 2015, which itself eclipsed the thrilling Idolize unleashed two years earlier, the Dave Curran (UNSANE, Big Business) produced Total Dump is a contagion of abusive yet flirtatious noise and bruising but virulently captivating force and imagination. It is predatory irritable rock ‘n’ roll from start to finish with an eager taste in contagious and invasive enterprise. Opening up with its title track, the album immediately reveals its bestial side, the track prowling the senses with the carnivorous claws of Mathieu Moulin’s bass locked onto the senses as his more welcoming vocals align with the raw flames and tendrils of Thomas Dantil’s guitar. It is a preying of ears and imagination which never diminishes in threat and temptation however it evolves, a trespass driven by the menacing swings of drummer Mathieu Desternes that equally escalate in infernal virulence and captivation as individual and united enterprise breeds fresh twists and sonic commination.

The compelling start is only accentuated, indeed built upon by next up Giant Car Crash; a collision with the senses which had us bouncing as much as cowering before its flirtatious and barbarous intent. Voraciously feral and inhumanly infectious, the track devoured body and passions with unquenchable hunger leading to lustful responses before Cream It uncages its rapacious crawl to trespass the senses and melodic irreverence to seduce an already greedy appetite. The kind of proposition which offers a warm welcome whilst ruining the foundations to your sanity, the glorious track is a manipulative mix of viral noise with an appetite for clamorous untamed pop.

As the ravenously viral rock punk ‘n roll throes of Strike and the post punk embracing devilry of The Jerk infested and seduced ears with unruly dexterity, Total Dump just stretched its landscape of esurient intent and fevered invention. Both tracks are as mercilessly catchy as they are unapologetically invasive, that greater accessibility to the band’s sound in full bloom just as much its acclaimed creative villainy is merciless, and traits just as thrilling within next up Shinny Happy Asshole, a venomously swinging, deviously contagious but inescapably corruptive slice of unscrupulous enterprise.

Through the slow hunt of the senses that is Franck Butthole; a cancer of sound which just ignites the imagination, and the unbroken antics of Tumor O Rama it is impossible to say attention and pleasure wavered, the total opposite in truth up against their combined sonic punk infection fuelled scourges while Kerosine Mike n turn just trapped and enslaved with ursine-esque power and intimidation whilst brewing up its own melodically toxic strain of bewitching rock ‘n’ roll.

Completed by the senses ravishing, violently bouncing exploits of Panamarama, it one the album’s most magnificent moments, and the sonically consumptive, caustically alluring tempest of The Longest Yard, there was and is no diminishing of the ardour we bred and hold for Total Dump. Without any doubt despite the glories of the past, it provides the greatest, most thrilling time with Sofy Major yet but also is set to send a shiver through the world of noise in any form as those within wonder how they can compete with its voracious triumph.

Total Dump is out now via Deadlight Records on CD and Antena/Corpse Flower on Vinyl.

http://www.sofymajor.com   https://www.facebook.com/sofymajor

Pete RingMaster 30/01/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright