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
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.
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 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.
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.
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.
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.