Pi$$er – Wretched Life

Music will never cease providing unexpected and major treats, moments of if not genius, true ear and appetite inflaming arousals to feed individual desire. Another for us is the debut 7” EP from Pi$$er, a ‘supergroup’ if you wish which devour and chew up the senses whilst inflaming the imagination across four slices of, which for simplicity we will call, hardcore punk.

The Wretched Life EP is a punk bred encounter but woven from a host of essences for rousing diversity. Its creator is the brainchild of vocalist James Domestic (The Domestics / Dis-Tank / Bring The Drones) who has drawn on the matching talent of drummer Charlie Claesson (Anti-Cimex / Wolfhour / The Partisans / Bring The Drones), bassist/organist Rhodes (The Domestics / Hobopope & The Goldfish Cathedral), guitarists Bri Talbot (Doom) and Matt Woods (Dissidents/ex-Revenge Of The Psychotronic Man), and saxophonist Eddie O’Toole (The Shitty Limits / The Filaments / Beat The Red Light / Personnel) to thrust Pi$$er upon a quickly, we suspect, welcoming world.

Wretched Life opens with The Lie is as Good as the Medicine, Rhodes’ keys an immediate dark sinister lure into the waiting arms of contagious punk ferocity. Rhythms show no respect as they infest song and listener alike, guitars equally ravening in their insurgence before the psychotically edged tones of Domestic spring intimidating temptation. As if that ravening mix was not irresistible enough, passions were completely bound with the emerging addition of O’Toole’s idiosyncratic sax enticement, though a thrilling element with a definite X Ray Spex meets Essential Logic psychosis to it. All together it is a devouring incursion which beguiled with its web of enterprise and ravaged with its tidal trespass of animated devilry.

The track Pi$$ER follows with a just as active fervent menace, rhythms thumping on submission immediately as Domestic’s vocals vent with his individual prowess before another scourge of contagious animosity erupts. Hooks and riffs collude in their deviously respective piercing and hostile catchiness, that infernal and glorious raving sax of O’Toole icing on the delicious toxicity escaping a swiftly established favourite release.

I Won’t Repent is next up and needs mere breaths to eagerly intimidate and wholly seduce. Its galloping stroll infests as it manipulates, its swinging groove and predatory instincts proving swiftly irresistible and the perfect incitement for vocals as riffs ravage thoughts and senses. It is two visceral minutes plus of insatiable attitude, virulent harassment, and merciless temptation; i.e. brilliance.

The EP’s title track concludes the pleasure, Wretched Life a harmful and invigorating scourge of punk corrosiveness, dissonance, and crazed contagion. Every element in its rabid character makes for a furious tempting, each moment in that appealing rabid incursion eclectically ravenous and unitedly unquenchable.

The only thing about Wretched Life which worries is that there might be the chance it is a one off affair. We truly hope not because there is already uncontrollable greed in our hunger for Pi$$er and their unique magnificent sound.

Wretched Life is out now through Kibou Records and TNS Records in the UK and Sick World Records in New Zealand; available @ https://www.tnsrecords.co.uk/shop/tns-releases/pre-order/pier-wretched-life-7/ and https://kibourecords.bandcamp.com/album/pi-er-wretched-life-7-e-p with Ltd edition black vinyl version of 300.

Pete RingMaster 02/08/2019

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

Microcosms – Forget Us

Undoubtedly the Chicago music scene is and has perpetually been the source of some of music’s most striking and individual artists. Microcosms is the latest proposition from within its creative bunker to grip our attention, our introduction coming through their new single, Forget Us. It is one of those tracks which lay predacious eggs under the skin and in the brain from its first breath, growing and festering as an addictive we for one have no wish to dispense with.

Microcosms is the creation of guitarist/vocalist Andrew Tschiltsch, an initial solo project which after a few years saw the addiction of bassist Bryan Emer and drummer Jered Pipenbrink. Musically its alternative rock nurtured sound welcomes the inspirations of artists such as Arctic Monkeys, Bully, Cage the Elephant, Courtney Barnett, Portugal. The Man, and Wolf Alice and emerges as “music to question your beliefs to”. Debut release, the Know My Body EP, enticed well-receiving attention in 2017, its impact soon eclipsed by that of the Fairytale EP a year later. They are successes we expect to be once more surpassed by, given the chance, that surrounding Forget Us.

The song just romps from the speakers, funnelling through ears with one delicious and inescapable hook. The flirtatious antics of the guitar continues to wind salaciously around ears and imagination with the subsequent vociferous rhythmic shuffle within ear gripping noise smog only adding to the tracks infestation of the senses.

Continuing to tease and taunt through each cycle, the song is a mix of threat and seduction seeing the band unleash its more punk bred instincts in comparison to previous encounters. Even so post punk, new wave, and noise pop imagination is just as vocal and rousing within the track with its eventual departure the only moment disappointment escapes.

We cannot say we have heard everything from the Microcosms imagination and enterprise but of what we have and undoubtedly enjoyed, the irresistible proving Forget Us simply eclipses the lot.

Forget Us is available now @ https://microcosms.bandcamp.com/

https://www.wearemicrocosms.com/   https://www.facebook.com/WeAreMicrocosms/   https://twitter.com/WeAreMicrocosms

Pete RingMaster 04/06/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Noseholes – Ant And End

 

 

Such the dark majesty and ravening twisted exploits of debut album Danger Dance last year, we found it hard to imagine that Noseholes could eclipse its striking character and triumph. Well with its successor the German outfit has done just that whilst taking their sound into new intrigue loaded, virally compelling devilment. Ant And End has not wiped the floor with its illustrious predecessor but built on all its dark and aberrant brilliance to forge a whole new and sensational Noseholes escapade so easy to greedily devour.

Within a sound bred from the voracious instincts of post punk, no wave, and anomalous disco, the Hamburg hailing quartet of Henk Haiti, Steve Somalia, ZooSea Cide, and TH have ventured into darker corners and brighter trespasses with Ant And End. Still the body was a puppet to the band’s fiercely manipulative antics as they sprung a creative harassment to drool for, but the imagination was taken into the crevices of a more dystopian exploration bringing new esurient peril to their compulsive dance.

The album opens with Snowsuit Ranger and instantly roams the body with devious grooves and atypical enterprise. Rhythms tease and taunt, directing song and listener with their infernal bounce as eagerly tantalising vocals and deviant electronics are embraced by a quirky web of guitar. Like a distant relative of a merger between Au Pairs and Blood Red Shoes, the track is glorious, setting the voracious tone of the album and submissive mood of its victim alike.

The following IQ Model is just as rich a tempting, its gait a calmer virulent but clothed in mysterious atmospheric smog of intimation. The similarly reserved stroll of the radiantly dour bass fuels the blossoming industrial espionage of the song, vocals the magnetic narration to its seduction before the album’s title track got under the skin and had feet, hips, and instincts abound again. Whether an inspiration or coincidence, again eighties bred post punk/new wave spices up a slice of inescapable insistence, the likes of Delta 5, ESG, and Pylon hinted at.

The pure captivation of Vacuum Flies followed, its initial teasing shadows and suggestive drama alone hooking unbridled attention, the Essential Logic-esque flame of sax ear manna across the equally compelling rhythmic saunter which riveting vocals intimately drape over. With a Bauhaus hue adding to the pleasure, the song just mesmerised before letting Glimmering Mamba infest body and spirit with its hungry contagion. Not for the first or last time, there is a Gang Of Four lining to the irresistible rhythmic pestering, a nagging matched by the often simple but skilfully woven hooks and swarm of electronic baiting, but as always for all the hints given song and sound are unapologetically uniquely Noseholes.

Casino E Vino provides its own infective canter next, breeding a pandemic of temptation which lingers far beyond its final greed soaked lure while Radio Universe links its wires to body and imagination, the body in turn dangling and dancing like a willingly submissive puppet.

The album closes out with the pair of Jackson 4 and Baked Beans. The first springs its indie pop involved post punk exploits with boisterous intent, once more hooks and chords as lively and hungry as the inimitable rhythmic shuffle infesting is persuasion. Its successor though heavier, darker, and far more sinister manages to be even more viral like in its strands of temptation and collective jeopardy. Increasingly catchier and irresistible by the second, the track is a glorious end to a simply stunning album from Noseholes.

 Ant And End provides one of those moments when music proves why it is the most addictive and vital thing in a chaos searching world; indeed the second such revelation with Noseholes.

Ant And End is out through ChuChu Records on May 17th; available @ https://noseholes.bandcamp.com/releases

https://www.facebook.com/pg/NoseholesBand/

  Pete RingMaster 17/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Ummagma – Caravan

This June sees the release of the first album in seven years from Ummagma and to herald its arrival whilst offering a rather delicious teaser the indie pop duo has just released the two track single Caravan. As ever the pair’s sound is as eclectic as it is evocative and as is the trend with atmospheric senses involving mastery the new single evokes and inspires the imagination to individual adventures alongside its own.

Emerging in 2003, Ummagma is the creative union of Canadian Shauna McLarnon and Ukraine hailing Alexander Kretov. Ontario based, the pair’s sound is an imaginative fusion of everything from dream pop and shoegaze to post-punk, indie, space rock and much more, it all immersed in a tapestry of ambient and electronic enterprise. The duo has regularly been compared to bands such as Cocteau Twins, Curve, and Daughter but as Caravan alone insists, references which only hint at rather than reveal the richness of the band’s music and imagination.

It is fair to say that our personal appetite to Ummagma’s music is constant but has flourished in varying strengths across their releases and ahead of that new album in Compass, has reached lustful greed courtesy of Caravan. The song instantly had ears gripped as drums set out their ridiculously hypnotic and rousing stroll. Atmospheric suggestion is just as swiftly at play with the imagination, its soundscape of warm wide plains blossoming with suggestive vegetation. McLarnon’s warm magnetic tones are also soon caressing ears as the song sweeps into a synth pop-esque canter, Kretov’s subsequent vocals just as tempting within the pair’s web of musical insistence.

The song is pure adventure, an intimate travelogue of intrigue, intimation, and craft which had the body bouncing and ears enthralled from start to finish.

Ty i Ya accompanies Caravan offering up its own individual temptation; one funk lined and eighties synth pop bred. There is something of Dalek I Love You to the song which only added to its quick appeal and it too brings an atmospheric cascade of enterprise and suggestion which mesmerised throughout even if with varying degrees of strength across its evocative landscape.  Ummagma is a band which is unafraid to push their boundaries and the imagination of others in unexpected ways, Ty i Ya proof it so often works a treat.

It is probably fair to say that any album, indeed release, from Ummagma is eagerly anticipated in numerous corners, Caravan ensures Compass will definitely be truly keenly awaited.

Caravan is out now through Leonard Skully Records; available @ https://ummagma.bandcamp.com/album/caravan with Compass released on June 21th also via Leonard Skully Records digitally, on black vinyl and on CD with artwork by Alexander Kretov.

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

Pete RingMaster 17/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Girls In Synthesis – Pre/Post: A Collection 2016-2018

The release of Pre/Post: A Collection 2016-2018 draws another shameful admission from us; Girls In Synthesis had escaped our ears and attention until now. But we have now greedily gobbled up the band’s sound and confrontation thanks and a big thanks to the summing up of the band’s output to date courtesy of Louder Than War Records.

The limited edition album brings the UK band’s first four releases together in one place with each track re-mastered; their download only two track debut single joining a trio of long sold out and highly collectable 7″ EPs. The London trio cast a ferocious challenge with their sound, one bred in the instincts and heart of punk and post punk but swiftly revealing its own individual dissonance of noise and attitude to bring true uniqueness the mix. Lyrically and vocally the band pulls no punches; words crawling through ears and imagination as rapaciously as the anarcho bred sounds enveloping their discontent.

The two tracks of that first release opens up the album; The Mound rising up on a sonic strand before senses whipping beats infiltrate the invasive assault. Mere seconds pass before the skin tingled as the track burrowed beneath, instincts swiftly taken with its punk rancour and carnivorous sound. Carnal in its breath, the track quickly showed with its companion why it thrust the band upon so many radars. The magnetically raw Disappear is similarly primal and compelling; it’s bass driven grooved voracity insatiable and vocal catchiness virulent.

The self-titled opener of the Suburban Hell EP follows; its sonic fingering the prelude to a corrosive noise punk incursion which leaves no stone unturned as the infectiousness of the previous track is even more accentuated by the sonic ravening escaping guitars and throat. There is a hint of bands like Rema-Rema to the song too, one which is a touch more vocal within the bestial temptation of Phases. Its crunchy textures and senses wilting static soon proved irresistible, the song simply devouring willing to be overthrown defences in quick time before both Fucked and Solid Effect uncaged their individually harsh yet captivating cacophonies. The first of the two taunts and pesters in voice and noise, again an inherent catchiness fuelling its enmity while its successor emerges from its astringent wake with a contagion soaked fuzz coated trespass to just as powerfully tempt and stir.

We Might Not Make Tomorrow leads in the four tracks originally making up the band’s similarly named second EP. A heavier post punk discord accosts the quickly persuasive encounter; strains of early Killing Joke and a corrupted indeed bestial Fire Engines-esque disharmony adding to its virulent mordant clamour. Fair to say already a quickly formed favourites list was becoming increasingly lengthy as we explored more, this track to the fore but quickly worried by the invasive rhythmic jerking of Sentient. Immersion in the guitar’s sonic rancour only increased its magnificence; every note and syllable the perfect manipulative mix of threat and temptation before the deliciously trenchant Splinters and Rust deviously danced on submissive ears and appetite and the infectively scathing Tainted gurned over and twisted the senses into its tenacious plaything.

The final songs on the album come from the Fan The Flames EP of last year, its title song quickly uncaging a sonic abrasion as a great Adverts like rhythmic rumble infiltrates amidst yet again a Killing Joke hued rapacity. It too has a riveting nagging to its galvanic wires and rhythmic persistence, one only accelerated by the incitement and tenacity of the vocals; a simply enslaving mix further escalated in the Gang Of Four tinted post punk rowdiness of You’re Doing Fine. Every rhythmic swing bit, bass snarl gloriously lingered, and guitar stroke inflamed the passions with vocals and a great PiL scenting fattening the track’s might.

The great variety to tracks and sound is emphasized once more by Howling, the band aligning spoken word with atmospheric sonic toxicity, the track a haunting invasion which leaves hungrily persuasive toxins in the senses long after its departure.

Internal Politics completes the album, its post punk animation of bass and drums alone mercilessly compulsive and its increasing fertile mania just mouth-watering. Bands like Wire, 1919, and Big Black come to mind across the supreme final three minutes of the release but as always Girls In Synthesis only stand unique and irrepressible.

Thanks to Pre/Post: A Collection 2016-2018, Girls In Synthesis no longer lay undiscovered by us and will be persistently hunted from hereon in; come join the stalking with us.

Pre/Post: A Collection 2016-2018 is out now via Louder Than War Records @ https://girlsinsynthesis.bandcamp.com/album/pre-post-a-collection-2016-2018  and https://louderthanwar.com/shop/vinyl/girls-in-synthesis/

https://www.facebook.com/girlsinsynthesis   http://girlsinsynthesisband.tumblr.com/

Pete RingMaster 30/04/2019

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