The readymade entertainment to grace any Wickerman like pagan ritual or meeting of The Monster Club, The Spider Hole unveil a new carnival of dark deeds and imagination prowling adventures under the guise of To the Monsters. The band casts the listener into the heart of gothic tales and creature stalked escapades across the album’s eleven frightmares, each as compelling and arousing as another and all leaving these ears lustfully desperate for plenty more such devilish trespasses.
Hailing out of Phoenix, Arizona, The Spider Hole create a unique and fascinating sound which beguiled as it surprised with its inherent unpredictability within a voracious rock ‘n’ roll heart across To The Monsters. Inspirations to the band are said to include the likes of Tom Waits, Oingo Boingo, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Primus, The Pixies, Frank Zappa, and The Doors; some of which can be openly sensed within the lure of songs. To that we would suggest there are essences that remind of bands such as Helldorado, The Men That Will Not Be Blamed For Nothing, and even more so at times Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers but all spices in a proposition fiercely individual to The Spider Hole.
A mere breath was all it took for our ears and imagination to be coaxed into life as opener Werewolf Biker Bastard cast swarthy sighs of guitar, Kilen continuing to entice with strands of melodic intimation as the growl of vocalist Ethan Scott began its dark narrative. Keys add to the prelude of the adventure before things erupt into a tenacious stroll with its own eager swagger. Sweltering psych springs colour the climate of intimation as bold rhythms continue to prowl amidst the infectious landscape of suggestion and animation.
The outstanding start to the album is in many ways just an appetiser to things to come, each song setting out its own individual web of craft, magnetism, and dark endeavour as epitomised by next up Still Draw Breath, a slab of primal yet deviously designed rock ‘n’ roll with a blues lining to its rise through dank cold earth. The bass of XerXes Quinn is again a predatory lure easy to succumb to as equally the biting incitement of drummer Bobby Blades; the body secured in their trap as guitar and vocals take care of the imagination with their individual tales. With a Misfits-esque draw to its holler, the track just steals self-control like a puppeteer, bones jerking to his incitement as vocal chords eagerly joined with Scott in the track’s voracious carousing.
Hungover at the Eel God Festival is a far calmer yet almost predacious proposition and it too left body and throat subservient to the thick web of temptation it casts with unscrupulous craft. There is menace in its heart and air to equal the seduction in its sound and stomp, band and album continuing to lead us on a salacious dance before Rock, Your Body sprung its own skilful scheming across a pop fuelled, virulently contagious rock ‘n’ roll saunter. An element of enterprise and contagiousness reminding a touch of Black Space Raiders on their last couple of albums only adds to the increasingly raucous and thrilling emprise of sound and manipulation.
The glorious fevered ballad of Chomp-Chomp is next to ignite the senses and passions, its calling swiftly becoming a boisterous blend of fifties inspired rock ‘n’ roll and Rocky Horror theatre and simply inescapably addictive while The Goat Witch of Cornman Road commands the same rich attention with matching prowess through its crepuscular serenade woven upon a skeleton of big rhythms coated in vocal passion and bound in the sonic and melodic intimation escaping guitar and keys. Both songs simply bewitched though they are still slightly eclipsed by the mighty cavort of The Leviathan Stomp. Bestial yet agile in its dynamics and twists, the track as to be honest all, simply had us gripped in its temptation soaked hands.
The cinematic fears of Devil By a Nail initiate a lively shuffle of funk and psych rock eagerness next, the song casting its own Machiavellian enterprise to enslave ears and involvement before The People Who Come Out of the Ceiling creeps into the psyche where it seduces with a tantalising and mesmeric croon with volatility in dark heart. At certain moments Scott’s ever riveting presence and tones are joined by the delicious lure of female vocals though we cannot give a name to their siren whilst in sound the song simply stalks and prowls with rapacious desire; it all together uniting for our favourite moment within the album.
Night of the Nighty-Night Slasher completes the plethora of ghastly tales, its blood strewn romp a tempestuous roar of Ripper like goodness bringing To The Monsters to a mighty and ravenously rousing close.
There are times when we are truly bowled over and lustfully devour the exploitation of our inherent weakness for rabidly inventive but organically hearted rock ‘n’ roll however it is designed and To The Monsters stamps down one of those; an instinctive love of creepy tales and horror fuelled rascality only added extra icing on the pleasure The Spider Hole has undoubtedly unleashed.
To the Monsters is out now across most stores.
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Pete RingMaster 11/07/2019
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
The album opens with Pop yoy pay, a slither of an introduction certainly awakening ears with its fun drama of bad entertainment being disposed of for the funk revelry of Sushi Rain and first song proper, Bunga Bunga. The second track is instantly inciting feet to shuffle and hips to sway, riffs and hooks as inviting as the flames of sax and the theatre of vocals already whipping up the imagination. Straight away as the infectious encounter tempts further involvement, essences of bands like Extreme and Red Hot Chili Peppers, and maybe a touch of Mr Bungle, are a spicy pleasure but only essences in a recipe already emerging as distinct to the band. It is a great true start to the album, a devilry to get all funked up with.
The EP opens with its title track, the Walmington-on-Sea septet bringing Lady Gargar into view on a lone scrub of guitar and soon after, the distinctive vocal devilment of Andreas Vanderbraindrain and The Minx. Like Dirk Wears White Sox Adam and The Ants colluding with Oingo Boingo era Danny Elfman, the track slips through ears with thick flirtatious hooks and a broadly smiling swagger. Within this festivity, the keys of Rogerio Marauder bloom with melodic warmth as the beats of Titti Bartelski jab and lead an inescapable incitement on feet and hips. Everything about the song is magnetic, the guitars of Dave Worm and J Rod spewing catchy riffs and grooves as freely as the bass of The Beautiful Wolf wanders through it all in its own individual way.
far from the band’s music, here helping flavour the rampant vocal and inventive swagger flirting with an Oingo Boingo like vivacity and enterprise. Female vocals, as in the first song, provide a magnetic companion to the ever striking and gripping delivery of Rorschach whilst spices of Queen and Five Star Prison Cell bring further strains of sonic colour to the ever evolving terrain of the brilliant encounter.
swagger of riffs and spicy keys, all within a punchy web of rhythms. The core temptation is soon completed by the appealing tones of McGuigan and accentuated by the tangy grooves and potent hooks which frequent the contagious encounter. Not quite space rock but with a definite spatial breath to its fluid melodies and inescapable catchiness, the song is a vibrant and captivating start to the EP.
which is familiar yet new simultaneously and from opening track Invincible, manna for the ears. An opening bait of rhythms from drummer Luke McDonnell sets ears and attention alert before chunky riffs from Nick Burns and a pulsating bassline laid by Nathan Naidoo go to work on the imagination. Just as quickly stabbing reggae spiced enticement openly seeded in the likes of The Police, flirts as Burns’ vocals impressively unveils the song’s narrative. Sinews and rugged rhythms add to the captivating mix, expelling moments of rigorous intent within the warm stroll of the song. There is also a drama to the track, and ultimately the EP, which arguably has not wrapped the band’s previous encounters, an imposing almost theatrical essence which helps the songs leap out with their inescapable lures.