Fatty Cakes And The Puff Pastries – Self Titled

Jan11

Primed to have you eagerly bouncing with a massive grin on your face, the debut album from Fatty Cakes And The Puff Pastries is a romp of glorious mischief and mayhem. The self-titled introduction certainly has no reticence in challenging prejudices and the bigoted standards so many live by but does so with a rousingly unapologetic sense of devilish humour. In other moments it is quite simply delicious grrrl riot misbehaviour and throughout instinctive often disdainful fun which we quickly bred greedy lust for.

Consisting of Amber Fargano (lead vocals/ukulele), Vishinna Turner (bass/backing vocals), Audrey Johnson (drums), Victoria Crow (back vocals/glockenspiel) and Staci McDowell (back vocals/chord), FC&PP hail from Fresno, CA. It appears they have kicked off a bit of a stir with their inimitable sound back home and listening to their first full-length it is easy to see why and expect that to spread far further. As soon as opener Panic Attack launches the release, ears are fronted up with a proposal which dares you not to have fun or get heavily involved, a taunt impossible to take up. Senses harrying beats and dirt laded riffs are the first lure, Fargano’s vocal incitement the swift second before the band’s soon established melodic and harmonic revelry gets involved. Just as quickly, the band’s music sets out its inescapable individuality though there is plenty which reminds and hints at bands such as 4 Non Blondes and Lunachicks and even more so here and across the album British artists such as Girls At their Best, X-Ray Spex, The Modettes and in certain moments The Rezillos.

It is an outstanding start easily backed by next up Fat Grl Tears. It is a compelling blend of guitar scuzz and melodic enterprise fuelled by mischievous shenanigans. As proven time and time again across the album though, that devilment cannot hide the fact that the band writes and craft some striking pop punk songs unafraid to involve a host of varied flavours and merciless hooks.

Petty Petty Princess is quickly a case in point, its core lure a jangling hook around which vocals, individual and en masse, tease as rhythms tenaciously canter. The fact the song did not grip as greedily as those sandwiching it is down to their magnificence only especially that of the following Alien Babe. From the delicious throaty bait of bass to the fuzzy wash of guitar amidst vocal incitement, the track got under the skin. Again The Rezillos came to mind as too early Blondie but mouth-watering spices in a unique Fatty Cakes recipe of rousing commotion and pop disorder.

Across the likes of the equally irresistible BFF, a slice of pop seduction with a calm but truly manipulative swing, and the gang fronted punk rock sorcery of Witch, band and album only further their enthralment of ears and appetite while Antifa Cakes (Not My Puff Pastry) provides a melodic intoxication which has the body instinctively swaying before it all breaks into feral punk turbulence and attitude; ingredients as proud within the relatively calm but thickly defiant Grrrl Gang.

The vocal harmonics within the band, whether bold or understated, are just as magnetic as any other aspect and are the delicious fuel to Magic Grl, a superb song which firmly hints at those earlier mentioned UK references before Feminist Gold 2k uncaged its punk ‘n’ roll exploits on an increasingly greedy appetite. As with all songs, it adds another potent hue to the album’s varied but melodic punk palette, a web increasing again through the loudly irritable stomp of Minimum Rage.

The release is closed up by Internet Bitch, a track which stole favourite track honours at the last breath with its rhythmically rousing and vocally animated rascality. With more than a passing echo of the Au Pairs, the track was manna to our ears; its emotional dissonance echoed in sound and imagination whilst springing yet another deviously infectious indeed viral temptation. It is a sensational end to a similarly thrilling encounter from a band before which global attention and ardour is surely on the way.

The self-titled Fatty Cakes and the Puff Pastries album is out now through Emotional Response Records; available @ https://fattycakes.bandcamp.com/album/fatty-cakes-and-the-puff-pastries

https://www.facebook.com/FattyCakesPuffPastries/

Pete RingMaster 8/01/2019

State Of Ember – Broken Horizons

Jan10

With a sound woven from a combination of metal, punk and prog rock, UK outfit State of Ember have already courted proper attention with a debut EP but are now demanding it with the release of its successor, Broken Horizons. Offering six power fuelled, boldly tenacious tracks, the release is an ear grabbing, spirit rousing slab of anthemic rock ‘n’ roll and one fiercely enjoyable trespass.

Formed 2016, Worcestershire bred State Of Ember have been referenced to the likes of Alter Bridge, Shinedown, and INME but as Broken Horizons shows they have an individuality which is really beginning to mark them out from the crowd. True originality might still be awaiting their sound but it is hard to say there is nothing fresh or little which does not stand out about it either. From opener Time & Time, the EP sets out its rich stock of metal infused punk ‘n’ roll, flavouring just as welcoming to the spices of heavy and melodic rock. That first track swiftly springs wiry grooves which keenly wrapped ears, the guitar temptation laid out by Chris Tamburro an equal to his vocal prowess while the tenacious swings of drummer Chelsea McCammon alongside the infectious growl of Mike Landreth’s bass make for a matching lure.

It is a great, senses rousing start quickly matched by the eager exploits of its successor, Fear of Falling. Admittedly its opening wave of grooves and riffs is barely removed from those of the first song but it soon evolves its own character of imagination and attack which ebbs and flows in ferocity and invasive catchiness; growing all the more compelling by the turn.

Both next up Made Up My Mind and the following Reasons hit the spot, the first a fiery strong-willed roar with feral instincts and the second a cyclone of irritable punk metal inspired vigour and enterprise with a definite Therapy?-esque lining to it. Both are a cauldron of raucous adventure, the latter especially stirring before the blues rock scented Wrong Turn shares its infectious holler. Because of the thick triumph of the previous song it paled a touch in comparison but still easily coaxed ears and appetite to want more; a need final track, Beneath Our Dreams, feeds with zeal and resourcefulness as State Of Ember share another creative strand to writing and sound with its melodic rock laced metal insurgence on the senses.

Broken Horizons is as much about potential as current strengths and enterprise and as it is rich in all, it is not that hard to suspect a potent future for State Of Ember and a whole lot of pleasure for the rest of us.

Broken Horizons is released January 11^th.

http://www.stateofember.co.uk http://www.facebook.com/stateofember http://www.twitter.com/stateofember

Pete RingMaster 8/01/2019

Skulk, The Hulking – Afterbirth Of A Nation

Jan8

It is fair to say that 2018 has ended its tenure with some of its biggest highlights release wise among which Afterbirth Of A Nation has to be one of if not the most compelling and enjoyable. The second album from one man project, songwriter and satirist Skulk, The Hulking, the offering is an imagination rousing, ear gripping slab of unique enterprise which had us drooling in no time.

The successor to his 2015 debut album, In Sickness and in Health, the new encounter this time sees Skulk joined by creatively like-minded musicians in guitarist Ashley Levine, drummer Fernando Morales, and bassist Vern Woodhead. In turn this has brought a far broader palette to the bold and adventurous escapade seeded within its predecessor. The band has merged the electronic, hip hop, and punk of that first encounter with the feral and ferocious antics of metal in its varied guises within Afterbirth Of A Nation; the result something akin to a rabid fusion of Dog Fashion Disco, System Of A Down, Five Star Prison Cell, and Agent Orange but distinct in its character and forcibly magnetic incitement.

Afterbirth Of A Nation opens up with Hide Your Children. Straight away sauntering in, the bass begins luring ears with the dark jazzy mystique of the song blossoming alongside. Soon after the unique and captivating tones of Skulk unveil the drama and mischief of his words as the Bauhaus like lure of the encounter boils up into a metal inflamed blaze. Settling back down, new hues and enterprise rise up around the infectious rhythmic stroll and hip hop nurtured vocals; it all making for an irresistible introduction to the release.

It is a resourceful and striking beginning only accentuated by next up He Who Finishes First Is Finished First. Leading with teasing guitar bait, the song swaggers in with eager rhythms and a vocal prowess which just made us want to get involved. It is simultaneously composed yet manic, every second a devious seed and ingredient to an adventure which swiftly got under the skin echoing those earlier mentioned clues to the Skulk, The Hulking adventure.

The track is simply superb and quickly matched by the devilish swing of By Hook Or By Crooked Automatic Assault Rifle. Like a psychotic carousel it swirls in ears, from time to time slowing momentarily to add fresh adventure and revelry around another potent lyrical trespass before scooping up the listener in its carnival-esque hunger.

The darker, predacious presence of Grind (Money Crotch) intimidates as it seduces with its slow swing, bass and guitar portentous in their tempting before its lid is lifted and ferocious discontent spills out. It too is just a moment in the track’s mercurial landscape, a captivating web of sound and vocal enterprise exposed and expanded by the cycle before making way for the tenebrific grumble of Joe Candidate with again Skulk sheer magnetism at its heart. A sombre slow and simple crawl with bursts of carnal irritability, the song just seduced from start to finish, much as the album itself.

Through the mischievous punk inflamed swing of Cancer and the funk ‘n’ jazz saunter of Make It Sew, an already rising addiction to the album was simply escalated, creative devilment and vocal tenacity their inescapable fuel while This Commercialism Sure Means Business… brings an unhinged, indeed certifiable blaze of punk and blues funk tinged rock ‘n’ roll full of derision and tenacity which similarly had us leaping to feet while giving an eager roar.

And the goodness just simply continues; The Proper Way To Fail bringing back the meandering but purposeful amble the band so easily breed to entice and ensnare ears and appetite with. Unapologetically infectious especially within its delicious chorus, the track was manna to the imagination before Add Her All had the same also eating out of its creative rock ‘n’ roll hands and in turn We, The Terrorism enticed physical spasms and attitude soaked vocal involvement in its virulent nonconformist furor.

Afterbirth Of A Nation ends with the unstable temperament and exploits of May It Never End; a loco of sound and boldly resourceful enterprise which left only a hunger for more as it sealed quite simply one of last year’s major highlights and an encounter no one should let slip by.

Afterbirth Of A Nation is out now @ https://skulkthehulking.bandcamp.com/album/afterbirth-of-a-nation

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

Pete RingMaster 04/01/2019

Gumshoe – The Governor’s Brother

Jan8

Condemned by love, life, and the leaden disparities which hungrily frequent the secret backwaters of everyday existence, the heart of the tales shared by Gumshoe are rich fascinations which simply seduce ears and imagination. Proof comes with the new album from the Athens in Georgia hailing US outfit, The Governor’s Brother a collection of dark intimation someone like David Lynch would relish giving a visual face to.

With the imagination teasing lyrical prowess of vocalist/guitarist Andy Dixon, his magnetic narration and the creative evocation of sound cast by bassist Jef Whatley and drummer John Norris, The Governor’s Brother simply dragged ears and appetite into its rich crepuscular landscape. Musically, Gumshoe conjures with a blend of shadow embracing folk, country, and blues; their sound matching and echoing the tenebrific stories explored.

The Governor’s Brother opens up with Barking At Shadows and its unrushed amble is an instantly captivating proposal. It is a lure only accentuated as Dixon shares the intimate breath of the song and the band spring its dawdling swing. Pure seduction as it draws the listener into its ill-lit heart the track is a compelling introduction and potent sign of things to come as confirmed by the following Call Me Mr. Rubber Belly.

The second song immediately shows a firmer hand but equally saunters along with a heavy, bordering on lumbering gait. Wiry blues nurtured tendrils of guitar illuminate word and voice as rhythms impose their thickly enticing bait; hues of punk and country rock colouring the brooding virulence which infested ears and imagination before Amorosa steals its own fair share of the album’s limelight with its unworldly cryptid bred romance.

Next up, the irresistible I Am The Sun provides another instantaneous fixation as richly enticing flames of brass spring eagerly across another reserved yet eager stroll of sound and voice as firmly catchy as it is suggestive while Bye Bye Baby emulates its pleasure binding exploits with its own individually dancing jangle and vocal enterprise. Maybe taking a touch longer to warm up than its predecessor, the song soon has body and attention swinging to its pop ‘n’ folk rock exploits carrying a great warped Talking Heads meets Roy Orbison flavouring.

The album rounds its manipulation of storytelling and imagination with firstly C.L.A.U.S., a tenacious blues/surf tempting which sometimes is overrun with less collected lust as it serenades the focus of its inspiration, and finally the melancholy engulfed desolation bred croon of Never Enough. A track which haunts long past its departure, it is a riveting and delicious end to a release which is easily drawing us back time and time again.

An encounter which seems to further blossom as it reveals more of its portentous intrigue loaded depths listen by listen, The Governor’s Brother is a bewitching anthology of word and sound; its dark poetry tantalising and accompanying but just as potent music a masterful insinuation in an album which just commands keen attention.

The Governor’s Brother is available now across most online stores.

https://www.facebook.com/gumshoetunes/

Pete RingMaster 8/01/2019

Dewaere – Slot Logic

Jan5

Pic by titouan massé

With a sound something akin to a mutated fusion of Big Black, Fatima Mansions, and Melvins but openly distinct in its own roar and skin, Dewaere is a French band unleashing a rousing noise punk incitement very hard for us not to get excited over. Their music is a contagiously imposing trespass rich in imagination and enterprise and found in full devilment within recently released debut album Slot Logic. It is a cauldron of noise and raw temptation which harried, ravaged and seduced the senses from start to finish.

Hailing from Saint-Brieuc, Dewaere create an inescapably manipulative senses searing holler bred from the combined creative antics of vocalist Maxwell Farrington, guitarist Julien Henry, bassist Marc Aumont, and drummer Hugues Le Corre. As immediately revealed by album opener Get Down, the band’s music is nurtured in noise rock and punk flavours and inspirations but equally has an appetite for post punk and an additional array of sonic trespasses present and past. It all makes for a riveting insurgence of sound and adventure revelling the opportunity to infest ears. The first track initially teases with a guitar jangle which is swiftly joined by the commandingly and increasingly magnetic tones of Farrington. Almost as quickly the thumping beats of Le Corre descend as Aumont’s bass enticingly grumbles; it all coming together for a ferocious encounter but one with fluid moments of relative calm and composure. As an introduction to the band, the track is raw and majestic, and as a taste of things to come across Slot Logic quite delicious.

The following Budapest is similarly immediately compelling. The gnarly bass alone made an already keen appetite greedier as too the senses scything swings of Le Corre. The guitar insurgency of Henry is equally as invasive as it is hungrily seductive; corruptive hooks and grooves aligning with rhythmic predation to corrode and inflame ears and senses. The catchiness of the song is as powerful as its character of invention and matched within next up Happy Hour, another proposition which forces itself upon the listener before dancing with their rock ‘n’ roll instincts. A predatory affair led by the ever alluring vocals of Farrington, his presence as dynamic and devilish is in many ways akin to the likes of Cathal Coughlan (Fatima Mansions/Microdisney) and Guy McKnight (The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster), while the track itself is its own snarling contagion in the album’s continuing revelation.

Through the likes of Garden, a primal irrepressible serenade of a treat, and The Vase with its almost carnal incitement around rapier swung beats, Slot Logic only further blossoms in sound and imagination, both tracks feral but sublimely crafted predators before the band next up delivers a cover of The Korgis’ song Everybody’s Got To Learn Sometime. Whilst embracing the original’s pop breath, Dewaere unleash their own corrosive power pop like bent alongside their never diminishing sonic causticity; unleashing an adrenaline fuelled gear never envisaged in the track originally. It is a spicing further developed within the outstanding St-Tropez In Summer which follows. There is at times a certain Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster meets Engerica flavouring to the band’s distinctly individual sound but a twist in the wonderful bedlam here which again also hints at a Fatima Mansions influence or coincidence.

The thumping stomp of Aye Aye within a sonic cyclone keeps release and pleasure flying before October casts a web of scorched and scorching sonic discontent around a darkly intimating vocal croon. The track hurts and seduces in equally measure, leaving ears sore and the imagination alive before Wot U Lyk completes the release with its pop hungry garage punk ‘n’ roll; the body swiftly bouncing to its own fevered energy and catchiness.

It is a fine close to an album which just impresses more and more by the listen much as Dewaere themselves with every passing creative exploit and invasion.

Slot Logic is out now via Phantom Records and BiGout Records; available @ https://phantomrecords.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/dewaereband https://dewaereband.bandcamp.com

Pete RingMaster 04/01/2019

System Of Hate -There Is No Madness Here

Jan5

The world may be on a downward spiral to destruction guided by the corruption of humanity but it is also spawning some glorious reactions along the way and maybe none as thrilling as the second album from UK outfit System Of Hate. Part commentary, part serenade to apocalyptic horizons, There Is No Madness Here is a tenebrific tempting bred from the united breaths of punk rock and post punk, and simply one of 2018’s finest moments.

Released via Louder Than War Records a few weeks back and the successor to the band’s well-received 2016 debut, Unhallowed Ground, the ferociously compelling There Is No Madness Here is an honestly snarling, venomous contagion of sound and observation. As with their first full-length, the Barnsley hailing band has linked up with producer Matt Ellis for their latest meshuga of blackened intimation and dark punk enterprise. It roars with inescapable uniqueness yet keenly embraces the hues of bands such as Killing Joke, Angelic Upstarts, Leitmotiv, and Theatre Of Hate for a proposal as psychotically clamorous as it is skilfully woven.

There Is No Madness Here opens up with its title track, instantly enticing with a wiry guitar lure before slipping into a lively predacious prowl eagerly twisting and turning with every passing moment. Equally Dave Sutcliffe’s vocals stalk ears with lyrical suggestion as an anthemic breath fuels the whole sonic web in a proposition virtually impossible to resist participating in.

That irresistibility is an on-going tempting across the album as proven by the following pair of Black Fire and We Who Walk With God. The first is similarly portentous but with an infectious swing which lines its dark inference. The sonic lattice of Patrick Crawford’s guitar is wrapped in the similarly suggestive lure of keys cast by Martin Roberts, both aligned to the dark pulsation of esurient rhythms sprung by bassist Shaun O’Neill and drummer Carl Gulliford with vocals a raw angst lined narrative to the black infestation. The second presented an even darker and heavier trespass as it unsettled and ensnared the senses. Both tracks, as indeed all across the release, are loaded with appetite entangling hooks and acerbic melodies creating an array of temptations which needed little time to get under the skin.

In The Shadow Of The Cross teases and nags as it rises to its feet next, every tendril of guitar and caress of keys a blend of danger and enticement until the track breaks into a just as magnetic ravening canter. There is a great touch of Sex Gang Children meets 1919 to the track while there is something of an Adicts hue to the punk bred Your God Is Dead. Even so, System Of Hate’s sound is strictly individual and as virally rabid here as in the subsequent caliginous joys of Tears Of Blood, with its wolfish grooves and toxic air, and in turn within the abrasive and bracing sonic plague that is Resurrected.

The latter has the senses feeling flailed and energised; its defiance and animosity a rousing incitement matched in its own particular way driving by the raucously anthemic Rising and its fiery winds. If its predecessor was an announcement of intent, this track is the threat in full holler and again a song impossible not to get embroiled in.

The album concludes with firstly Ill Are The Cursed, a calmer melodically alluring but no less imposing and rousing proposal and finally the track System Of Hate. The closer harries and taunts ears with its sonic exploits whilst seducing with its acidic melodies and raw siren-esque vocal harmonies. It is a last incursion of sound and adventure which sums up the album’s heart and the band’s music and imagination perfectly as indeed the thrilling contagion of each aspect.

We have come to the album’s apocalypse later than others but join the call that There Is No Madness Here is and will be as relevant to the world and humanity’s decay as to post punk and punk ‘n’ roll for years to come.

There Is No Madness Here is out now via Louder Than War Records.

http://www.systemofhate.com/ https://www.facebook.com/systemofhate/ https://twitter.com/systemofhateuk

Pete RingMaster 04/01/2019

Billybio – Feed The Fire

Dec18

An integral part of numerous inspiring moments with Biohazard and Powerflo, Billy Graziadei continues to be one of punk’s driving forces as he uncages his debut solo album under the moniker Billybio. Feed The Fire is a powder keg of hardcore dexterity and discontent, fire and brimstone punk rock as contagious as it is a snarling intolerant of the ills coursing through the world. Bred from a rich fusion of flavours the album is a fury of anthemic rock ‘n’ roll with a roar which makes you want to take part whilst paying keen attention.

As Graziadei declares, Feed The Fire is “100% me. No influence from anyone else. This is who I am and what I’ve become. I’m a product of everyone I’ve met, talked with, shared my stories with…and a bit of their stories as well.” It growls and bites as it inflames and badgers thought and spirit whilst unleashing some essential slices of punk rock.

With friends such as guitarist Dan Palmer (Death by Stereo/Zebrahead), bassist Ra Diaz (Suicidal Tendencies), and drummer Simo Perini alongside Graziadei, the Tue Madsen produced release instantly got under the skin with opener Freedom’s Never Free. Marching into view, the track explodes on the senses, raw grooves and Graziadei’s vocal grievance fuelling the attack. It is an ear grabbing invitation which simply hits another level as the track twists into one virulent chant of defiance, an inescapable trespass to which submission and involvement is instant.

Latest single and the album’s title track follows, unleashing its own contagion from its first breath. With teeth bared through its first riff and vocal uproar, Feed The Fire quickly launches itself with creative tenacity; guitar and rhythms as explosive as the vocal incitement which again fuels insatiable catchiness.

No Apologies, No Regrets rises up with a more deliberately predacious intent, slowly rising to its full height before hurling its goodness and dissonance at ears while in turn Generation Z uncages infectious multi-flavoured rock ‘n’ roll with zeal. The first is a web of temptation and altercation, as inventive as it is furious with its outstanding successor a contagion of hard and punk rock which needed mere seconds to have body and vocal chords adding their mutual zealous discord.

Through the likes of Sick And Tired, an infectious dispute and enterprise bred persuasion, and the feuding Sodality which erupts from the dark smoulder of the momentary breath that is Remedy, the album only tightened its grip on ears and appetite pushing its claws deeper into the passions with the musically and emotionally acrimonious Rise And Slay, the track a delicious predatory harassment of metal, punk, and ravenous rock ‘n’ roll.

Offering up thirteen slabs of confrontation, there is truly no weakness or less than irresistible moment within Feed The Fire as emphasised in turn by the bracing punk call of STFU, the haunting and intimidating melodic siren that is Trepidation, and Untruth with its virulent resentment and imagination; all dramatic treats easily devoured.

The album is concluded by firstly the bruising anthemic blaze that is Enemy, another moment which has heart and vocal chords rigorously on board and lastly Disaffected World. The final track is arguably the most manipulative incitement of them all especially through the vocal and seriously tempting sonic tocsin which interrupts the song’s primal uproar.

Punk rock in its many forms has had a prize year in releases across 2018 with possibly, most likely, its finest moment now provided late by Billybio; an uprising sure to be the inspiration it deserves to be.

Feed The Fire is out now via AFM Records across most stores.