The Gaa Gaas – Self Titled

There is no sense of understatement when we say that the debut album from UK outfit The Gaa Gaas has been one long awaited and highly anticipated release, to the band as much as fans, but now finally here there is no sense of an anti-climax in its arrival and triumphant presence.

We admit we have been hooked on The Gaa Gaas sound since discovering the Jersey hailing, often Brighton/ London based outfit over a decade ago, the band itself emerging from the imagination of vocalist/guitarist Gavin Tate and co in 2003 after meeting at a garage punk club night called ‘Bomp’ in St Helier, Jersey. Subsequent singles, EP’s and live shows across the UK and Europe have only brought greater acclaim by the year and richer reputation by the creative escapade but as all artists know it is a perpetual struggle to realise the next step or ignite greater attention. The Gaa Gaas have met all obstacles and hold ups with resistance as the years have sneaked by but the determination to release their album and breach major spotlights has now found its moment with the latter of the two surely to deservedly follow.

The Gaa Gaas sound is as individual in its character and enterprise as it is unique in its voice. It is bred on the nutrients of post punk, punk, psych rock, noise and much more but as suggested emerges as its own senses menacing, imagination seducing sonic virus. From within a drone enlivened nagging, hooks bite with creative rabidity as rhythms tease with serial killer like intent. That alone proves an irresistible trespass but add the infernal melodic toxins which the band just as easily conjure, it all makes for one rapacious addiction which is no more enjoyable and compelling than within their self-titled debut album.

The album opens with Close Your Eyes, a lone strum of guitar providing a lingering scent of sonic jeopardy from within which a rhythmically swinging clamour bursts. Instantaneously it is a contagious affair, the bass of Jamey Exton leading the rhythmic infection further driven by drummer Stewart Brown’s bold strikes. The sonic smog escaping Tate’s guitar smothers as it seduces, his vocals dancing with almost contempt on the wires within that enveloping incitement. Resistance to the track’s bounce is non-existent as the track manipulates limb and spirit alike, a glorious start to the release firmly declared.

In its own Bauhaus hued architectural landscape, Statues proves just as gripping, bass and beats setting a virulent lure as guitar and vocals express their twisted psych breath upon industrial and post punk honed intimation. Tate’s keys are just as invasive and animated as the ravening sounds escaping his guitar, the track as magnificent as its predecessor and indeed the following V.O.L.T.A.I.R.E. A track we devoured years back, it is still as powerful and irrepressible now, from its first citric sighs through the rhythmic stroll which invades every instinct to move, and the tart melodies which wrap its pure contagion, the song devours ears and appetite like a swing loaded creative plague.

The Type Of Mood is just as insistent in its groove and infection, the keys of Peter Hass a tangy sweetness in the more caustic but no less tempting commotion expressed by Tate’s guitar. Again there is a vocal eighties post punk air to the track, a cold nostalgic din given greater depth and adventure by The Gaa Gaas’ senses trespassing imagination while the ever rousing Hypnoti(z)ed provides a less intrusive but equally as overwhelming and manipulative not forgetting delicious incitement. The bass of Ali Cooper is at its core temptingly harassing as beats bite and Tate’s vocals holler, everything off kilter and bewitching like an especially devious cobra before it strikes.

C.U.T.S. is built of the same devilment, every aspect niggling at the senses and each strand of its web crawling under the skin before unleashing its predacious rabidity and sonic fermentation. Drowned in its tide and blissful in its maelstrom, the track just had us lost in our own physical and emotional eruption before The One Eyed Stranger took ears and imagination on a stroll through dark avenues of enterprise and addiction. The sax of Luke Georgiou lights the way with delicious drama, its enterprise echoed in the tones of Tate and the persistently swinging rhythms of Cooper and drummer Matt Maguire. Once more Bauhaus come to mind in many ways across the track and though there is no real comparison to The Gaa Gaas’ sound, Pete Murphy and co are the closest to give some inkling of its identity.

In the 2018 version of Entertainment which graces this release, punk rock is the fuel to its discontent and creative agitation, the track biting back at a landscape as prevalent now as any previous time as the beats of Maguire take lethal pot shot. It is a song which in its early writing hints at the eventual wonderfully nagging quality of the band’s sound which is fully employed by next up Perception within its scuzzy senses haunting, habit forming rapture.

The album concludes with Indian Giver, a beguiling psych rock nurtured instrumental as potent on the imagination as it is the ears. There is a Cure like scenting to the track, especially in its rhythmic saunter, and dour breath which manages to be as radiant in beauty as it is dark in suggestion. It is a fascinating and enslaving end to a release which even with our already in place eager expectations of pleasure left us basking in richer joy, invasively impressed, and expecting the band to finally find deserved recognition in far broader and intense spotlights.

The Gaa Gaas album is out now on Movement-2 Records; available @ https://thegaagaas.bandcamp.com/album/self-titled-album

http://www.thegaagaas.co.uk/   https://www.facebook.com/TheGaaGaas   https://twitter.com/The_Gaa_Gaas

Pete RingMaster 05/12/2019

Copyright RingMasterReview: MyFreeCopyright

Wizard Rifle – Self Titled

Like a sonic devil they tempt your pigeonholing and defining of their sound and with the same Mephistophelian glee side step every attempt with their infernal webs of sound. They are Oregon rockers Wizard Rifle and their latest album epitomises their devilish conjuring of creative deception. Their self-titled offering also provides one of the most rousing and thrilling encounters of the year. Their sound is punk, sludge rock, psych and thrash punk, noise rock, metal and much more besides in one cacophonous temptation; quite simply it is feral rock ‘n’ roll and across forty four minutes pure contagion.

Emerging in Portland in 2009, Wizard Rifle are no newcomers to high praise as their electric live presence, which has seen them share stages with the likes of The Melvins, High On Fire, YOB, Lightning Bolt, Bongzilla, Buzzov*en, Black Cobra, and Church of Misery, over time has been accompanied by two well-received full-lengths in Speak Loud Say of 2012 and Here in the Deadlight two years later. Now the duo of guitarist/vocalist Max Dameron and drummer/vocalist Sam Ford are ready to take on the world with a release which embraces the building blocks of its predecessors and shapes a proposition which defies convention, relishes devouring expectations, and sets out its own unique agenda in virulent noise.

Rocket to Hell ignites the babel of sound devouring the senses from with the album though there is no confusion in its creation and enterprise. The opener teases from its first breath with the plucking of guitar strings, the gentle lure the persuasive deceit before the ferocious babble of sound momentarily waiting to erupt. And break out it does with ravenous intent; the pair’s united vocals as harmonious as they are untamed as around them sonic squalls casts melodic and sonic temptation as raw as it is virulent. The track continues to infectiously nag as it rapaciously ravages, that tempest of flavours previously mentioned blended into a predacious trespass strapped with the keenest of hooks and salacious grooves.

As discord and melody craftily entangle it is a glorious incitement and matched by that within the following Cevaman Waltz. Rhythms prowl as a chugging guitar goes eye to eye with instincts, a devious grin lining rapid grooves and an epidemic of infection while equally compelling vocals ride its hungry currents. Again it is a mix which nags and harries but with less voracity than its predecessor though that is replaced by a pressure of urgency which only accelerates by the minute until erupting in a cyclone of wild and fertile commotion with those original grooves still steering the greed for the band’s invention.

A Celtic spicing infects the compelling landscape of next up Beneath the Spider, its emprise a tapestry of rabid intent and collected melodic dexterity spun with craft and imagination. There is a great manipulation to the Wizard Rifle sound, its hooks and grooves an infestation of the body as melodic irreverence grip the imagination and no more inescapable and powerful than within the eight minutes making up this slice of potent incitement.

The next twelve minutes plus comes in the shape of Funeral of the Sun, the closing cyclonic tempest of the previous track reaped of its incessant sonic persecution by the opening bait of its successor. Dangling acidic guitar lures it entices and then devours in swirls and expulsions of creative ruthlessness and barbarity but an assault which is pure untamed catchiness. Similarly vocals harmoniously invite and venomously bite before the progressive heart of the track emerges to just as potently seduce. The tide of noise cannot be abated for long and it returns but with a much more melodic breath. Pure fascination exudes the track, which never suffers in its length, as pleasure floods ears before it.

V concludes the release, psychedelic seducing radiating from within its intrepid venture of sound and ambition. Seductive and fierce, subtle and bold, the track provides an unpredictable multi-textured furnace of flavour and captivation.

Wizard Rifle’s album is a glorious contradiction; it is animatingly wild yet cleverly composed, boldly untethered but chained to distinct imagination and craft. It is also another of the year’s major pleasures which should see the band burst beyond previous boundaries of attention.

The Wizard Rifle album is out now via Svart Records; available @ https://wizardrifle.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/wizardrifle/

Pete RingMaster 06/09/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Pearl Handled Revolver – Fantasy Reigns

Though a band already with a wealth of compelling sounds and acclaim garnering releases behind them at the time, we were introduced to British dark rockers Pearl Handled Revolver three years back through their third studio album, If The Devil Cast His Net. It was an encounter which captivated ears and imagination in varying degrees across each track with all leaving a mark which inspired the real anticipation of its successor. Now the band has uncaged Fantasy Reigns, a fascination of sound and enterprise which firmly puts its predecessor in the shade.

The Bedford hailing quartet has brewed their enthralling blend of psychedelic rock, blues rock ‘n’ roll, and rhythmic animation with increasing invention and vision across every release. It is a potent reputation only further enlivened by a rousing live presence which has seen them share stages with the likes of The Black Crowes, The Blockheads, My Baby, Hawkwind, Focus, Uriah Heep, 10CC, Don Airey & Friends, and Stray over the years. With Fantasy Reigns though it feels like they have breached yet another fresh plateau of adventure and temptation, its eight tracks flourishing with richer flavours and creative dynamics to eagerly incite body and imagination alike.

Immediately Fantasy Reigns provided us with our favourite moment, In Your Blood a riveting, delicious incitement of a track which instantly had us wrapped in its lures as the sonic wires of guitarist Andy Paris encircle an opening sample. Within an instant the spirited rhythms of drummer Chris Thatcher infest appetite and limbs, their lure immersed in the equally enticing temptation of Simon Rinaldo’s keys. It is a tantalising persuasion only lifted again by the duskier tones of vocalist Lee Vernon and the eventful delivery it comes in. Drama soaks every note and syllable, creeping shadows courting the adventure of sound and storytelling with magnetic, almost predacious prowess.

The track is glorious, an instant pinnacle continuously worried with similarly potent enterprise across the release as proven by the following Machine Gun. Again real tenacity drives rhythms and melodic intimation, those darker hues as prevalent in the heated landscape of a song fuelled by emotive volatility. As dirt encrusts its inherent rock ‘n roll, guitars and organ cast a fiery tapestry of invention and again creative drama within before Belly of the Whale unfurls its epic tenebrific tale. Immersive to the point of claustrophobic within its thick atmospheric embrace, the song still leads limbs like a puppeteer on a funereal gaited dance as another major moment infests album and listener alike.

Its increasingly rousing dynamics and tempting lead to the calm coaxing of its successor, Something Going On Up There, where swarthy sonic sighs frequent the elegant embrace of keys. The emerging crepuscular serenade had little trouble seducing attention as again psych and blues hues lock together with fascination; the beguiling bass lures of Rinaldo bewitching before Siren lives up to its name drawing ears and appetite upon the rapacious rocks of its theatre and intensive darkness.

Petrol Skin equally captivated within its persuasive almost invasive sultry twilight while The Switch had us bouncing with its caliginous psych rock web cast in intoxicating guitar threads, each coated in the melodic humidity and suggestiveness of keys. With rhythms as magnetic and vulturine as vocals, the track was one more which simply and wholly seduced ears and passions and with greater force by the listen.

Fantasy Reigns concludes with Raise Your Hand, its voracious rock ‘n’ roll as virulent as it is tantalising but set with an instinctive indeed anthemic catchiness which had the body bouncing with lustful participation. In no time a fine end to the album is cast and a need to go again from the very start driving instincts.

Pearl Handled Revolver is no wallflower in impressing and exciting ears but with Fantasy Reigns they have boiled up a whole fresh cauldron of undiluted temptation for all psych/blues appetites to greedily feast upon.

Fantasy Reigns is out now across most stores.

https://pearlhandledrevolver.co.uk/   https://www.facebook.com/pearlhandledrevolver/   https://twitter.com/PearlHandledRev

Pete RingMaster 11/07/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dark Stares – The Lightning Echo

Darkly haunting and persistently mesmeric, The Lightning Echo is the new album from UK rockers Dark Stares. The successor to their acclaimed debut, Darker Days Are Here to Stay, the new release provides twelve tracks which lure the listener and imagination into the realm between warm and portentous dreams; each a siren of intimation and reflection which enjoyably proved rather hard to escape.

St Albans hailing, Dark Stares has been a persistent captivation from their early tracks and EPs such as Octopon and Soul Contract through to that creatively potent first full-length of last year. Looking back to Darker Days Are Here to Stay, there is no doubt that The Lightning Echo is the natural progression to its predecessor but equally it has evolved its own fascination and unique character of sound; a nagging seduction which wraps the senses like a crepuscular animal.

The album immediately strides through ears with You Know Me, the track’s high kneed beats stamping authority on attention as the fuzz bred grooves of Harry Collins wind around them and the equally magnetic tones of vocalist Miles Kristian Howell. From the single song alone it is easy to hear why Queens Of The Stone Age is often used as a comparison though there is no escaping the singular identity of the Dark Stares sound either.

The highly rousing start is prolonged by the similarly anthemic Dance, a tenacious command on the body bound in the dark climes of surf/desert rock. Again the imposing yet contagious lure of Brett Harland Howell’s bass and Taylor Howell’s spirited beats manipulate song and listener, the Middle Eastern lures cast by Collin’s guitar quite irresistible in one of the album’s major peaks.

Next up Spell You’ve Cast is a similarly beguiling temptress if a slightly sinistrous one, its body a writhing tease of grooves and enticing vocals across almost predatory rhythms while the following Crusader brings a dustier desert rock landscaped croon with volatility in its rich fertile earth. Each made for a riveting proposition if the first with fiercer temptation as too Mr Midnight with its rapacious crawl and tantalising menace. As those around it, the magnificent encounter spins a web of flavour and suggestion sparking imagination and appetite for its tenebrific charm and bait.

There is something of a Doors meets Muse shimmer to The Shadows and Faceless Man, the first with its mercurial climate and compelling sonic grumble breeding sheer dark captivation and through the second wrapping an emotive melodic shroud around ears before breaking out into its pensive musing. Sandwiched between them is Today, a song edging more firmly to the sixties psychedelia of Morison and co. and though it does not quite match up to those alongside one that only grips attention and enjoyment.

After them, In My Pocket initially shimmers before catching flame, repeating its persuasive melodic cycle with greater intensity as Zedi Forder-esque hues bring earnest breath to the increasingly compelling encounter while in turn intrigue soaked and with disquieting glamour Misty Lanes makes its potent play for best track honours.

The album concludes with the radiantly rapacious saunter of Dead and Gone and lastly the hearty rock ‘n’ roll of Rebel Angel. Both tracks hit the spot with the first another simply adding to the numerous reasons as to why The Lightning Echo should not be ignored.

Easily The Lightning Echo is the finest moment with Dark Stares to date, one which for us only gets more thrilling and addictive by the listen.

The Lightning Echo is out across most stores May 31st.

https://www.darkstares.com/   https://www.facebook.com/DarkStares/   https://twitter.com/dark_stares

Pete RingMaster 30/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Weird Omen – Surrealistic Feast

Simultaneously offering a haunting bordering on nightmarish temptation alongside a warm seductive tonic for the senses, the rock ‘n’ roll of French trio Weird Omen has always been a magnetic lure but within new album Surrealistic Feast reveals itself a sonically perceptual anomaly as it casts the listener adrift on a purgatory sea of addictive wonder. Try pinning the band’s sound down and you will flounder on the rocks of defeat but there is no missing its instinctive fascination and rousing prowess as proven within their new adventure of captivating strangeness.

Surrealistic Feast is the third full-length from the threesome of baritone saxophonist Fred Rollercoaster (King Khan and the Shrines, Bee Dee Kay and the Roller Coaster…), guitarist/vocalist Sister Ray (Ray and the Dead Drums…), and drummer/vocalist Remi Pablo (Escobar, Anomalys…) basking in a sound which has perpetually grown and boldly explored new realms by the record. It is a proposition as raw as it is radiant, a fusion of garage rock and punk with psych and neo psych tendencies amidst dark punk ‘n’ roll inclinations but a sound which still emerges outside of that broad decades embracing suggestion. Now within Surrealistic Feast it flourishes like never before, every song an individual collusion of flavours emerging pure and unique Weird Omen.

A Place I Want To Know starts things off, immediately the growly tone of Rollercoaster’s sax infesting ears and appetite from within cavernous surroundings. Swiftly the nagging beats of Pablo eagerly pester as too the predacious jangle of guitar from which a delicious melodic siren rises. The beauty of the track is sublime, its welcome harassment irresistible and fiery nature thrillingly rapacious; the outstanding opener a mix of raw aural tocsin magnificence and similarly alluring vocal persuasion.

The following Wild Honey makes just as much of a teasing and tempting start, beats a trigger to sonic hunger and the quickly blasting flames of addiction brewing sax. Whether returning to the Weird Omen sound or making Surrealistic Feast an introduction, the husky lure of its voice is unavoidable and persistent manna to these ears but just as powerfully matched as bait by the scything rhythms of Pablo and Ray’s melodically acidic and lustrous infestations as epitomised in the second track. Its rumble is open but controlled, underpinning the virulence swirling above and channelled into a vocal incitement impossible to leave alone.

Celestial heights are ventured once more through Please Kill Me, its prowling flight a sizzling wind of psych fuzz and sinister rock ‘n’ roll. At times it merges gothic psychobilly reminding of The Orson Family and the scorched punk of The Scaners to its compelling body, all the while niggling away at the imagination before Earworm uncages its own feral swing. Echoing the grungy wildness of Escobar in its breath, the track is a cyclone of salacious garage rock as punked up as it is melodically caustic and more than living up to its moniker.

The album’s title track is next, Surrealistic Feast a devious serenade cored by a rhythmic predation which controls the underbelly of mania eager to share its psychosis. The dual vocal incitement of Ray and Pablo circumvents skin effortlessly as beats hold limbs subservient, greed and imagination instantly enthralled and ever lustful through the rasping quirts of sax. The track is pure devilment, demonic sound at its most improper.

The sixties garage rock lined Collection Of Regrets brings its own individual temptations quickly after, its mellow hunting pop catchiness aligned to earthy untamed boisterousness while successor, The Goat, swings in with an old school rock ‘n’ roll and blues nurtured swagger; a hungry strut interrupted by punk brewed ferity from time to time with every corruption leaving greater creative savagery. Both tracks had us bouncing in various states of pleasure as too did the dirt encrusted pop ‘n’ roll of Trouble In My Head, a track resembling something akin to The 13th Floor Elevators immersed in the organic infectiousness of Thee Exciters and the untamed aberrance of The Mummies.

The composed yet twisted stomp of Out Of My Brain had attention locked within seconds of its hypnotic stroll, only gripping tighter as its aggression and mania escalated before leaving album closer, I Will Write You Poetry to pick up the pieces which it does with ease with its trash coated melodic croon.

Weird Omen can pretty much be trusted to constantly provide an unpredictable escape and adventure which arouses, disturbs, and leads the listener to realms of sonic curiosity and inimitable temptation; this time it comes in one glorious escapade going by the name of Surrealistic Feast.

Surrealistic Feast is out now via Dirty Water Records; available @ https://weirdomen.bandcamp.com/album/surrealistic-feast and https://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/Weird-Omen/c/32921273/offset=0&sort=normal

 https://www.facebook.com/weirdomentheband/

Pete RingMaster 28/03/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Warish – Self Titled EP

Like a crawling yet animated pestilence, comes a sound and aural ruin which infests the senses like a carnivorous scourge; a sonic trespass which within the debut release from US outfit Warish rises up as one highly fascinating and seriously enticing affair.

Formed by guitarist/vocalist Riley Hawk and drummer Bruce McDonnell, the 2018 emerging SoCal based band has seen a bit of a buzz brewing around it and it is easy to hear why across the five tracks making up the first Warish EP. It is a ravenously malignant and carnally caliginous invasion as visceral as it is fearsomely compelling; a raw gripping trespass bred from a fusion of raw horror punk, sludge infested grunge and feral noise punk.

The EP took a mere breath to assault and stir ears and appetite through opener Bones, its initial riff struck bait the first thick lure in a voracious tide of punk ‘n’ roll. The effect tampered vocals only add to the already persuasive hell spawned temptation immersing track and listener, the threat and nag of rhythms escalating the insurgent swing and sonic infestation of the song’s slavery. Akin to a feral mix of The Scaners and The Hangmen in league with The Horrors and Misfits both in their formative years, the track effortlessly enslaved as too its successor which rises up from the sonic bridge between the two.

Riding in on a manipulative tide of rhythms, Voices quickly took control with its untamed groove and concussive attack easily sparking another round of lust with its inhuman exploits before Fight brings its own magnetic personality to proceedings. There is a mutual bedevilment and nightmare to the first pair of tracks even in their individuality but their successor reveals a whole fresh aspect to the Warish sound and adventure with melodic and psych rock imagination. It still has the punk and metal nurtured hues but entangled in a broader flavouring of styles and twisted enterprise.

The final pair of Human Being and Shivers similarly adds their own particular differences; the first seemingly fed on the riffs of Black Sabbath and the second seeded in old school punk subsequently soaked in the hellacious corrosiveness of stoner rock, heavy metal, and surf punk. Neither quite exploited the passions as the first trio of tracks but both easily escalated the lure and enjoyment of the debut Warish EP; and joined all in inspiring a hunger for plenty more from the rather exciting, potential strapped band.

The Warish EP is out now on 7” vinyl and download through RidingEasy; available @ https://www.ridingeasyrecs.com/product/warish-7/ and https://warish.bandcamp.com/releases

 

https://www.facebook.com/Warishband/

Pete RingMaster 12/02/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Desert Clouds – Nothing Beyond The Cage

It is probably fair to say that we did not make an immediate connection with the new album from UK based rockers Desert Clouds yet there was a certain lure which took us back to its atmospheric embrace with intrigue and enthusiasm. It was an essence which grew richer as band and release, Nothing Beyond The Cage, blossomed by the listen into a fascinating and increasingly persuasive proposition.

Formed in 2008 in Naples, Italy, Desert Clouds relocated to London two years later. It was a time which saw instability in the band’s line-up though things were far more settled by the time 2017 EP, Time Distortions, was released; an encounter which drew strong attention the way of the band, praise carrying interest which was only built upon by subsequent singles in Speed of Light and Under Tons, both unveiled last year. It is easy to imagine that Nothing Beyond The Cage will only increase the reputation and stature of the quartet within the UK rock scene with its multi-flavoured and atmospherically provocative adventure.

Nurtured in a mix of grunge, stoner, doom, psych and alternative rock, the band’s sound is a seductive trespass as forceful and mercurial as it is plaintively intimate and brooding. Often it comes over within Nothing Beyond The Cage like a raw Doors meets a predacious Kyuss aligned to the emotive howls of early Coldplay amidst the soulful winds of Soundgarden but emerging if not boldly unique certainly clearly individual to Desert Clouds.

The album opens up with The Outcast Trail (See you Chris), a sullenly thoughtful ballad built on a web of melodic imagination and vocal emotion which roars like a funeral pyre in fiery crescendos. Unsurprisingly there are thick Soundgarden hues to the outstanding track, a tribute to Chris Cornell, with its sonic and emotive heat evocative and invasive, its enterprise seriously magnetic led by the inescapably compelling vocals.

The following Speed Of Light opens with a just as dark air, the bass of Julius Caesar a portentous throb within the wiry web and earthier riffs of guitarists/vocalists David Land and Val L. Wallace. With every passing note and vocal lure, the song’s intensity and drama increases, brewing up into a controlled yet feral blaze spiked by the predacious beats of Andrea Orabona. Though it lacked the spark of its outstanding predecessor for our appetite, the song enticed and lingered behind its wake before next up Take Off harassed the senses with its moody almost irritable melodic roar. Grooved tendrils vine the track with increasing captivation, their incandescent lures lava-esque within the song’s muggy climate.

The calmer but mercurial balladry of Under Tons tempts next, its tenacious croon as untamed as it is intimately restrained with every moment contrasted within another twist courtesy of craft and imagination before Overmore springs its desert/psych rock exploits on ears. A certain QOTSA lining adds to a swift appeal while its successor The Judgement carries a Coldplay/Muse like spicing which grew more flavoursome by the listen. All three tracks flourished over time whilst equally sharing the, at times understated but certainly not hidden, broad palette of sound the band creates with.

Final track is Whistling In The Rain, an almost bestial encounter in its prowling gait and ursine-esque growl but lava-like in its sonic climate and scorching winds. From vocals to guitar, rhythms to atmospheric conjuring, the song is another mighty highlight to Nothing Beyond The Cage, a release which we might have needed time to take to but have with real eagerness once we clicked.

Nothing Beyond The Cage is released January 18th.

https://www.desertclouds.net/   https://www.facebook.com/desertclouds/   https://twitter.com/TheDesertClouds

Pete RingMaster 17/01/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright