Come Out Fighting – Soundtrack To A Shipwreck

With creative lungs bellowing out ear grabbing hardcore fired punk rock, US outfit Come Out Fighting has just unleashed a new single which simply insists on, no demands attention. Soundtrack To A Shipwreck is a two track offering which equally makes a compelling raucous excuse to check out the band’s forthcoming new album, a release which if this teaser is a potent sign could very well thrust the Detroit quintet towards far broader recognition.

Containing ex-members of Tommy Gunn and current members of The Purps, Aggro Or Die and Saint Ridley, Come Out Fighting are not exactly new to keen praise and support across a trio of rousing albums and a powerful live presence. With a sound inspired by the likes of The Purps, Aggro Or Die and Saint Ridley, they have become a vital proposition within their local scene and further afield adventures. As suggested by their latest release, their music is not commandingly unique yet the two tracks making up Soundtrack To A Shipwreck, both taken from the impending Any Port In A Storm, are drenched in a fresh and voracious character which leaves a vast many other similarly cast encounters pale in comparison.

Soundtrack To A Shipwreck is a song which immediately gripped ears with an urgent but controlled trespass, classic rock hues lining its insistence before the band’s punk instincts drive the track’s rapacious incitement. Raw throated and melodically spun vocals unite in its irritable declaration, the scowling exasperation of vocalist Nick Rudowyj nicely contrasted by clean tones as the guitar of Brian Stewart spins its own broadly emoted sonic web. Underpinned by the bold senses harassing exploits of bassist Dan Bruce and drummer Casey Husted, the track easily got under the skin as it inspired mutual discontent on the world.

As striking and enjoyable as it is, the song was quickly eclipsed by its companion, Blackout. Taunting more pop punk essences into its own individual tempest, the song surged from the speakers with physical and emotional voracity. Hooks and grooves are quickly embroiled in its ravenous attack, their virulent catchiness eagerly lining the antagonistic leanings of the excellent encounter; a blend just as potent and infectious within the vocal incursion of the song. With an appetite firing bassline and eager punk rock ferocity to its infection, it was a quick submission sought and found by the track as equally a need to check out the soon to descend album.

As suggested there is plenty familiar in flavouring to the two songs but for the main just recognisable invitations into the individual escapades of Come Out Fighting; exploits we can only recommend.

https://comeoutfightingdetroit.com/    https://www.facebook.com/ComeOutFightingDetroit/

Pete RingMaster 17/05/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Duckeye – PUCE

Three years after uncaging their most roguish, fiendishly dishonourable album yet, and their most irresistible in Songs From The Gunt, Australian reprobates I Am Duckeye have just unleashed an equally diabolical successor in Puce. Looking back across their previous three albums, EPs and singles, it is no secret that the band’s unpredictable fusion of punk, virulent metal, voracious rock, and unapologetically questionable humour has grown thicker and heavier in enterprise and weight. Now though the Melbourne outfit has dived headlong into the charnel house of noise and sludge flooded animosity whilst still embracing that initial breeding of sound and emerged with one challenging, raveningly feral, and compelling beast of a release.

Whether to mark this twist of direction in sound, though it is still very recognisable I Am Duckeye, the band has slimmed the band name down to simply Duckeye though they still use their full name everywhere else it seems. Being lazy we will use the shortened version as on Puce, a release also seeing another reduction, in the bands line-up. Duckeye has slimmed to the irrepressible trio of vocalist/guitarist Sam Haycroft, bassist Jules Medor, and drummer/producer Sean Bailey, a threesome unplugging the floodgates of sonic voracity whilst humour wise too, they have bred a fresh trespass. Certainly Puce does not hold back with a tongue hungrily pushing the cheek but it aligns to a deliberately caustic and social scowl on the world and people fuelling the chaos today; maybe some will say it is mischief which has grown up a tad but yes it still brings a ready childish grin to the face with regularity.

It is probably fair to say that Puce does not have songs which virally leapt from the speakers into our particular devilment as many of the band’s previous infestations yet all make for a fiercely memorable moment and all have attributes which just got under the skin and into our lustful appetites. Across the album riffs mercilessly trespass, grooves wickedly entangle, and hooks ensnare with nefarious ease and throughout the band’s punk metal instincts erupted to inflame ours.

Puce first erupts with Docks, Haycroft’s lone guitar casting steely strokes at ears with his just as untamed tones quickly stepping forward to its side. Then as swiftly the track stretches its muscles and strides forth, rhythms almost gleefully and definitely venomously dancing on the senses that grooves keenly infest. As suggested earlier, the contagious sound is as individual Duckeye as fans would hope but it is a new monster with no qualms about parading seductive enterprise within its voracious incitement.

In contrast to the excited gait of its predecessor, the following Stab Flats crawls over the listener; doom and gloom soaking its prowl as noise and sludge coated aspects collect in its magnetic bowels. Eventually it escapes its chains to angrily cavort through ears, with it a new wave of ravenous flavours and styles carnivorously clawing at the listener. Reverting back to its predacious drag of its irresistible Birthday Party hued sonic body it makes way for the equally examining exploits of Headlights, the senses caught on its sonic glare whilst the body is bouncing to its barbarous manipulation. Again at times there is an echo of eighties post punk to its corrosive toxicity but once more it just spices up that Duckeye uniqueness channelling through song to the pleasure it sparked.

It is often enjoyment loaded with punishment as witnessed in Dead End, the track just short of two and a half minutes of bestial incitement churning up the senses and every esurient lust you have inside through punk and dense extreme metal fired savagery. Addiction to it was inevitable with our appetites here, the song bordering cannibalistic as it devours its own virulence with just as captivating barbarity.

The lengthy trespass of the following Tree Puncher is more familiar Duckeye, initially luring attention with their established creative mischief but it too its soon flexing its grievous dexterity, the song a kind of bridge between Puce and the band’s last outstanding full-length. By its departure though, the track is all predator and simply corroding the senses, indeed disintegrating them with sonic scorching though they are soon brought back to life by the animated dissonance of Defeated. It is a song with post metal winds which absorbed if not aroused initially but then it goes and throws wicked grooved interruptions of lusty ire to raise the temptation and pleasure by multiple degrees

Both Sense and Finger deviously got under the skin, the first with its delicious initial gothic Bauhaus-esque hues and more so with its metal forged punk ‘n’ roll carousing and the second through its classic metal wired, stoner sludge stroll; again virulence flowing through netting of infectious veins.

The final pair of tracks on the album proves themselves just as unscrupulously tempting; Dead Eyes with its cold stare and predacious prowl masterfully wily and persuasive, villainous rock ‘n’ roll at its notorious best, while Blue Hand leaps on another wealth of fresh flavours to ignite its enterprise woven web.

Together they provide a richly gripping conclusion to an album which assaults and invigorates second by second, thrilling with every passing trespass. Puce only gets better and more addictive by the listen too so maybe this is the moment the world catches a dose of the I Am Duckeye virus; it would be a better place for doing so.

Puce is available now @ https://iamduckeye.bandcamp.com/album/puce

https://iamduckeye.com/home   https://www.facebook.com/iamduckeyeofficial/   https://twitter.com/home

 Pete RingMaster 09/05/2019

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

Bait – DLP

Going into the review of the new single from UK outfit Bait it took us by surprise just how long ago we drooled over the band’s self-titled debut album. It feels like yesterday but was at the beginning of 2017 so the fact that it still features on our just for pleasure ‘turntables’ shows how pleasurable we found it. DLP is destined to join that compelling full-length, the track a wonderfully nagging and rousing slice of the band’s unpredictable and riveting sonic imagination.

Southend based Bait first tempted almost taunted us with a track upon the Alternative Occupations EP from Cool Thing Records which featured four of its striking bands. The intrigue and appetite the song bred was richly fed by the debut Bait album, addictively satisfied by the unique fusion of punk, post punk, and industrial espionage which thrilled within. So you can imagine the tingle when the band’s vocalist/songwriter Michael Webster got in touch with their latest track. Of course there are never guarantees, expectations and assumptions always there to be shot down but not this time. DLP was another addiction in the waiting and a big excuse for us to again push you all towards the creative exploits of Mike, Luke Branch, Jim Webster, and M R E.

Synths instantly mark their territory as DLP takes a mere breath to calmly entice, its second exhalation springing a rapacious but inviting stroll impossible to prevent hips and neck muscles responding too. There is an inherent darkness and threat to it all though, that delicious niggle which has marked previous tracks from the band and simply accentuates all the hues and manipulative agility of the song.

At times it calls on ears and imagination like a tenebrific blend of Malicious Damage era Killing Joke, Dalek I/Dalek I Love You, and Nine Inch Nails, but with bleakness as radiant as it is dissonant. Even with those clues to their characters, song and sound are fiercely unique to Bait and barely come close to any true comparisons.

DLP is another invigorating and galvanic outing with Bait, an experience which challenges and rewards, questions and supports with unapologetic eagerness. If you have not checked out this band shame on you, the perfect moment though is now.

DLP is out now via Cool Thing Records.

https://www.facebook.com/hatebait   https://twitter.com/hate_bait

Pete RingMaster 01/05/2019

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

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

The Scaners – II

It is hard to believe that it has been over a year since the debut album from French cosmic punks The Scaners was unleashed; feeling like it was just yesterday mainly we guess because since its release it has barely taken more than a deep breath away from our speaks here at The RR. It was one of the major infestations of 2018 and is about to be joined by this year’s matching virus in the shape of the bands succinctly titled second full-length, II.

As with the first release, we are on board the intergalactic vessel Scaner with the Lyon based band, careering from planet to star, from stratospheric mystery to extra-terrestrial house party amidst a soundtrack bred on sonic hooks and scuzz punk antics. In many ways it is more of the same of that which made the first album so irresistible but within a few breaths there is no escaping a fresh wind of flavour, imagination, and creative devilment at play within the mischievously virulent II.

Recorded as the first full-length with Lo Spider and mastered by Jim Diamond the new adventurer in space instantly had the body bouncing and vocal chords hollering as first track, Please Abduct Me opened up its thrusters and declared its plea. Its first breath brings an eager surge of guitar amidst the swirling breeze of keys, boisterous rhythms in close company as the track flies through ears. The vocals of organist Pav are just as magnetic, backed by the equally tempting tones of the rest of the band. A slice of incorrigible power pop fuelled garage punk the track is superb, straight away putting album and listener in the keen frame of mind to go galaxy stomping.

Catch Up With A UFO follows, launching on a delicious rhythmic incitement from drummer BX which quickly leads to an adrenaline soaked stomp shaped by the guitar of DD and temptingly coloured by the dark shadows of Tama’s bass and the ever persuasive vocals of Pav and co. Navigating its flight through swinging gravitational debris, delinquent twists and turns further equip the inescapable greed casting bait of the song before the album lands at Random City 2099. A fuzzy slab of garage rock nurtured synth punk, the song is a magnetic shimmer of theremin and organ nurtured seduction across jangling guitar and rapacious beats and far too easy to devour to be good for one.

There was no running for cover as Mars Attacks descended on ears next, its aggressive bubblegum animation as feral as it is predatory with a Ramones meets Phenomenauts teasing sweeping the conflict while within the gamma ray hued Space X-Ploration, escape is a controlled but inexorable release of hips and greed within the song’s lunar contamination.

Through the sonic trajectory of Galactic Race the body became even more of a puppet to the band’s devious strings, so much so that an instinctive bounce did not relax even as it drifted off into the distance though that was as much down to the synth pop ‘n’ roll virulence of the following X-Ray Glasses as the teasing wake of its predecessor.

Then as Spin Like A Record brought an already breathless body to the boil with its insatiably anthemic punk ‘n’ roll clamour and Don’t Run, We’re Your Friends had it leaping around like a whirling dervish on hi-octane radiation, lust exploded from every pore.  Fair to say The Scaners was already a band we had bred ardour for but by this point it was bordering on the illicit and only intensified by the ear stalking almost primal threat of No Panic, No Stress and the communicable untamed catchiness of the glorious Pesticide Kids, both infiltrated by pestering hooks and scuzz dusted melodic temptation.

Completed by the event horizon that is Run DD Run, its gravitational pull a trap few would wish to escape or not give up inhibitions for. A final pandemic of the band’s unique infective rock ‘n’ roll; it is a blistering and thrilling end to a quite sensational album.

Ok we were already on the biased side going into The Scaners sophomore album but still not prepared for its extragalactic invasion. If there is life out there and it resembles The Scaners we are in!!

II is released 29th March via Dirty Water Records with pre-ordering available now @ https://thescaners.bandcamp.com/album/the-scaners-ii

Upcoming live dates include…

Mar 29 Meteoro, Barcelona, Spain

Mar 30 Fun House, Madrid, Spain

Apr 20 Attica Club, Ponferrada, Spain

May 31 Le Nadir / Friche Culturelle De L’antre-peaux, Bourges, France

 https://www.facebook.com/thescaners/

 Pete RingMaster 15/03/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright