Dead Cross- Self Titled

Pic SAWA

As the world seemingly surges rather than drifts into bedlam it is maybe not surprising that a sound is rising to echo it’s chaotic and discord fuelled order. It resonates from the creative union within Dead Cross, a project said to have emerged “out of a series of impractical schemes, fallen-through plans, and last-minute musical experimentation.” Featuring the combined acclaimed talent and creative ingenuity of Dave Lombardo (ex-Slayer, Suicidal Tendencies, Misfits), Mike Patton (Faith No More, Tomahawk, Mr. Bungle, Fantômas….), Justin Pearson (The Locust, Retox), and Michael Crain (Retox, Festival of Dead Deer), Dead Cross has just released their self-titled debut album; a deviously manipulative and skilfully conjured tempest of noise and intent, simply manic manna for the senses and imagination.

There really is no need to provide background to the members of Dead Cross, each individually and within a mass of bands having set down incitements and inspirations so many have fed upon and blossomed their own ventures with. So it is straight to the first breath of the foursome’s first release we go and the initial sonic mist of Seizure and Desist. From its midst surging raw riffs and rampaging rhythms burst, their assault soon joined by the distinctive and ever rapaciously mercurial vocals of Patton. Just as recognisable are the dynamically imaginative and textile swings of Lombardo; his anthemically biting incitement entangled in the sonic rapacity of Crain and the grumbling bestial tones of Pearson’s bass. A senses crumbling assault of hardcore, he track is as multi-flavoured as it is uncompromisingly furious and a hint of the developing web of noise and varied rock ‘n’ roll infesting the punk heart of the release.

The following Idiopathic even further harries and bullies the senses, its rhythms fuelling a barbarous catchiness which spreads to the united vocal attack and raw tone and causticity of the outstanding track. Unpredictability is as rampant as animosity, mischievous craft and fun equally as bold within the senses ravishing, body inciting maelstrom. Every passing second brings a fresh breath of bold and devilish adventure, the track a dancing predator by the time it makes way for the waspish nagging and unrelenting beating of Obedience School. It is glorious stuff, barbarous and harmonically bewitching leaving a tapestry of punk, alternative metal, and gothic rock suggestion.

Shillelagh is simply punk rock yet hardcore unafraid to embrace the spices of other pungent flavours to its infectious animus; the result a venomous contagion which has the body bouncing and appetite drooling before the imagination is enslaved all over again by a riveting cover of the Bauhaus classic Bela Lugosi’s Dead. Infesting it with the kind of energy and boisterousness felt at the Batcave venue back in the day, Dead Cross ensure the shadows and haunting atmosphere of the original are still an invasive temptation; Crain casting veins of melodic acidity which alone beguiles the senses.

The caustic invasion of Divine Filth hits the spot dead centre right after too, Patton and co vocally swinging from imagination’s rafters as the music around them throws itself around like an imaginatively manic dervish, again every passing second bringing new twists and expectations destroying adventure. Grave Slave is equally as tenacious in tone and intent, the Suicidal Tendencies exploits of Lombardo seemingly inspiring the whole of Dead Cross as they funk out with raw intensity and rancorous resourcefulness whilst equally embracing a Melvins meets early Therapy? like friction. It is a highly addictive proposal within an album similarly growing drug like in its temptation.

The persistent creative harassment of The Future Has Been Cancelled matches the lure and entrapment of its predecessor with its own individual and increasingly ravenous quicksand of sound and invention, at one point sinking into a quagmire of heavy seduction before bursting out with its instinctive rabid virulence of energy and sound to head towards the waiting heavy set jaws of Gag Reflex. It too meanders and dashes through a landscape of evolving gaits and twisted manhandling of the listener; each turn increasing its magnetism and our subservience to its manipulation.

The industrially lined shadows of Church of the Motherfuckers brings the album to a mighty conclusion, the track lumbering along with a primal swagger as resonating beauty glistens in its atmosphere. On the ground irritability guides the tempestuous exploits of the track, its climate remaining relatively clam but around a volatile heart which beats with combustibility. Through it all Lombardo springs a rhythmic trap which enslaves body and spirit, his creative mastery the last word in persuasion as the album comes to a thrilling close.

The tag super-group is bound to accompany many references to Dead Cross but ignore them. The band is a real and potent new force in its own right, yes embracing the previous experiences and exploits of its creators but offering something very different and exciting to rival and outshine most hardcore/punk noise exploits around them.

The Dead Cross album is out now via Ipecac Recordings through most stores.

https://www.facebook.com/deadcrossofficial/

Pete RingMaster 08/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Domestics – Cherry Blossom Life

The Domestics - Cherry Blossom Life - MPF2 (Charlee Ramsey- PNMT)_RingMasterReview

Pic Charlee Ramsey

A predator of the senses and the injustices infesting the world today, the hardcore furious sound of The Domestics has grown into one of the most riveting and compelling assaults within the British punk scene since the Suffolk outfit launched itself at apathetic barricades in 2011. Across two albums surrounded by a host of EPs, split releases, and compilation appearances, the band’s fusion of US hardcore, classic UK punk and raw Japanese influences has grabbed attention by the scruff of the neck. It’s ‘victims’ have been confronted with uncompromising lyrical commentary as a primal catchiness infects body and imagination. That being said, everything before has now been overshadowed and taken to a new level by third album Cherry Blossom Life, a release as viciously virulent as it is rapaciously antagonistic.

With The Domestics slimmed down to a quartet since the release of 2014 album Routine & Ritual, the band has equally stripped down their sound to simultaneously bring out and increase its venomous irritability and instinctive contagiousness. Its twenty minutes unleashes 16 tracks to challenge and stir up body and thought; a brief rewarding moment in a day which is proving to be almost as essential as eating and Cherry Blossom Life takes no prisoners from the first breath of opener Dead in the Dirt. The gnarly bass of Rhodes instantly has the appetite licking lips; its dirty grumble wrapped in a lurking sonic twine which blossoms into its own unclean temptation as the band uncages a tide of ravenous riffs ridden by the vocal animus of James Domestic. The senses and emotions are instantly on edge and the body roused as the album gets down to business in fine style.

The following Snuffed Out zooms in like a jet plane, the bolds beats of Simon Battery instinctive incitement as Ted Mint’s guitar spins a savage web around the equally catchy and pugnacious assault of voice and bass. Addictively inhospitable, the track’s imposing triumph is swiftly matched by that of Don’t Tell Me What Love Is, itself also less than a minute of unapologetic scrapping equipped with primal hooks and memorable causticity. The gang vocal bruising of Homegrown Violence proceeds to emulate and eclipse that gripping pair though, its brute force a deceit to skilfully spun hooks and infectious sonic tendrils.

cover_RingMasterReviewInitially, No Deposit, No Return allows a breath with its prowling entrance, the bass portentously courting the imagination before sparking a swinging canter which in turn bursts into a hellacious dispute of sound and voice. Unpredictable at every turn and adventurous with every twist, discord and animosity a superb combative mix, the song is irresistible before making way for the bare boned poetry of Human Ikizukuri; its visceral touch absorbed by the following sonic and lyrical rancor of Punch in the Guts.

Through the anthemic vendetta of Authentic Arsehole and the unbridled senses harrying tempest of Frustration, album and pleasure make kindred spirits while Guilty as Charged twists and turns with some of the most infectious hooks and inspired antics heard anywhere this year. Maybe its boldness is not pushed far enough, its fifty odd seconds not allowing time for further adventure, but the track leaves an indelible mark on ears and imagination.

Self Abuse scowls and feuds with the listener next, a richly satisfying assault with the creative dexterity of Mint and the feuding prowess of Domestic guiding the inescapable persuasion with Death Trap pushing pleasure to yet another level with its bearish bad blood and predacious stroll. Like a mix of Dead Kennedys, Angelic Upstarts, and Converge, the song simple hits the spot, its tenacious jaws a quick clamp on the passions. Its best track claim is then straight away rivalled by Bullshit Parasite, a bullish, balls swinging anthem impossible not to get physically and emotionally enrolled in.

There is no let up on enjoyment either as the home straight of Cherry Blossom Life is hit; A Poison Too Far a breath-taking ferocious declaration of sound and word harassing the senses and Stalinist Purge a corrosive squall of emotion and sound blustering around another glorious crunchy bassline and the creative agitation of the guitar.

The album finally closes with Happy, a piece of lyrical prose caught in a shaken snow globe of organic sound, and the only following thought is to throw oneself into its clutches straight away again. From word to music, Cherry Blossom Life is UK hardcore and The Domestics at their best, indeed the band at their finest yet.

Cherry Blossom Life is out now through TNS Records and Kangaroo Records; available @ https://tnsrecords.bandcamp.com/album/cherry-blossom-life   https://www.tnsrecords.co.uk/?product=domestics-cherry-blossom-life  and http://www.kibourecords.bigcartel.com/

2017 EURO TOUR DATES:

27/08: T. Chances, London, UK (Fuk Reddin Fest)

28/08: Vrankrijk, Amsterdam (Netherlands)

29/08: Tbc

30/08: Underwerkt, Copenhagen (Denmark)

31/08: Blitz, Oslo (Norway)

01/08: Snövit, Stockholm (Sweden)

02/08: Venue Tbc, Gothenburg (Sweden)

04/08: Tbc

05/08: Köpi, Berlin (Germany)

06/08: Stö, Leipzig (Germany)

07/08: The Pit’s, Kortrijk (Belgium)

https://www.facebook.com/TheDomestics/

Pete RingMaster 08/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Goblin King – Blood, Drugs & Death n Roll EP

Set to send a bruising shockwave through British punk ‘n’ roll is Goblin King, a London hailing Death N’ Roll quartet primed to release their debut EP. Offering five ravenously dirty and intrusive slabs of heavy rabid trespassing, Blood, Drugs & Death n Roll is a primal cauldron of metal, rock, and punk; everything which makes for a great rock ‘n’ roll fury and battering.

Founded earlier this year, the foursome of King, Beast, Jester, and Sin have taken little time to make a thick impression with a sound said to draw on the inspirations of Entombed, Motorhead, Amen, GG Allin, Cancer Bats and more. It is a ferocious affair, on the evidence of their first EP, as ready to have you swinging from the light fixings as savage the senses you were born with; simply raw rock ‘n’ roll in glorious rampage.

The EP opens up with its title track, Blood, Drugs & Death n Roll an infestation of scavenging riffs and nasty rhythms careering through ears with an appetite for mayhem. Their animosity though springs a swiftly addictive groove and an infectious swagger matched in the gruff vocal style and energy of King. Hooks are as prevalent as filth sharing riffs, thrash and punk uniting in a contagious animus hell bent on having the listener stomping around with middle fingers raised. Those Amen and Motorhead influences are especially vocal but immersed in an insatiable tide of character and tenacity all of Goblin King making, a rich flavouring equally flooding the following, just as superb second track.

Titled Goblin King, it is the kind of anthem no defences work against; an incitement from its first breath which has body and spirit eagerly embroiled. Riffs and rhythms swiftly confront and infest, vocals soon adding their bullying tactics until it all erupts in a chorus only the deaf could escape being hooked on. It is a chorus taking a breath at its final throes giving greater clarity to one glorious bassline and tone which spines the whole tempestuous contagion. Some tracks are instinctively manna to ears and the passions, this lustfully one for us though hunger is left dissatisfied at its departure after barely three minutes.

The opening pair gives the rest of the tracks a hard task to match their united triumph but the likes of 667 and Eye Of The Storm make a potent rolled up fist of it. The first is a ‘milder’ proposal in relation to the scourges before it but still has an attitude and hefty swipe to its presence which has you warily launching your participation and an unpredictability which wrong-foots and sparks the imagination at certain moments. Its spicy assault reveals a far broader landscape to the Goblin King sound and writing than its predecessors, one equally as refreshing and it is intriguing for an adventure the second of the two also embraces in its multi-flavoured, metal infused punk rock charge if not quite to the same boldness. With the guitar a flamethrower of melodic craft and rhythms an incessant examination of the senses, the track is inescapable virulence.

Death Sti-XXX brings things to an antagonistic close, crawling all over the listener with irritability and creative spite; a discontent breeding another addictive groove, spikily grabbing hooks, and anthemic incitement. Admittedly, initially the song did not make the same strong impression as its companions but over time had body and appetite seduced just as tightly.

Blood, Drugs & Death n Roll is pretty much a physical interpretation of its title; an affair basking in its grubbiness and relishing its prowess of igniting the energy and spirit of those it preys upon. It may be greedy but we so want more of Goblin King and are already finding it hard to patiently wait.

Blood, Drugs & Death n Roll is released August 10th digitally and on CD @ https://goblinkingofficial.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/GoblinKingOfficial/   

Pete RingMaster 02/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

King Satan – King Fucking Satan

mde

In a world bent on self-destruction from the intimacy of relationships through to the broader intolerance of religion and the greed of those governing it up front and behind the scenes, never has there been a more suitable and insidiously compelling soundtrack to it all than the new album from King Satan. Recently released by the  Finnish outfit, King Fucking Satan is a ten track devouring of the senses and an insatiable trespass of the psyche as flirtatious and contagious as it is emotionally pestilential.

Originally a solo project for vocalist, multi-instrumentalist, and producer King Aleister Satan (aka fra. Zetekh, the frontman of Saturnian Mist) when it emerged in 2015, the band has subsequently expanded due to live show demands with Kate Boss (vocals, synths, piano), John Oscar Dee (guitars, bass), Martin Shemhamforash (synths, bass), and Magister Demaniac (beats, additional instruments, programming) completing the current line-up. Musically King Satan creates and fester a senses consuming, body inciting fusion of black and death metal with dark electro, EBM, aggrotech and more besides whilst lyrically and emotionally, nothing is left out from being invaded and violated; the album exploring themes “found within occult philosophy, psychological mind-fuck and even sociological satire hand in hand with renegade rock ’n’ roll spirit that surely bows to nothing and no one!”

Dance With the Devil pretty much sums up the experience of listening to the album as well as providing the title for its opener. As a dark atmosphere crowds around ears, a vocal trigger brings hungry beats and synth cast temptation upon the senses. Equally predacious and alluring, with increasing addictiveness and virulence as melodies and hooks play, King Aleister Satan’s vocal trespass bullies and harries, every syllable explored and sharing primal instruction. Like a mix of God Destruction, Skinny Puppy, and label mates Barathrum, the track infests and incites, its infectiousness and inviting hooks as loaded with viciousness as its boldly direct animosity.

It is a great manipulative start soon matched and overshadowed by As Above So Below, a song managing to be even more primordial and catchy as nagging rhythms pound and synths cast their toxic melodies and hooks; an infectious trait matched in the swing of the punk/black metal scarred vocals. Within moments bodies are bouncing and hips swinging, something we have seen in close attention, as thoughts are twisted and stretched by the corrosive vocal and lyrical intrusion. Addiction appears inevitable so be warned as indeed in regard to Enter Black Fire which though not quite having the body as firmly in its puppeteer grip keeps things feverishly pulsing as thoughts are taken on a tour of ascending oppressive power and its escape.

Psygnosis has everything lustfully involved and enslaved next too, its musical psychosis the fuel for more unstoppable infectiousness and lyrical humour honed drama. Physically exhaustive and imaginatively tenacious refusing to leave the listener alone with its creative bordering psychotic enterprise, the track is superb, a new major highlight though instantly eclipsed by Sex Magick. Stomping over the senses with every beat a haymaker and each synth nurtured sortie of ears a rebelliously sexual coaxing, the outstanding track grows into a relentless and licentious tide of industrial/ EBM contamination adding J-Pop like ingenuity with the vocals of Boss glorious and a devilry akin to something Mindless Self Indulgence might expel.

The predatory instincts of Satanized course ears next, its infectious electro canter a bold niggling of the senses around the raw air and tone of vocals and word before Of Internal, Eternal & Spiritual War, with its haunting Cimmerian crawl through an ominous atmosphere woven around darkly whispered vocals and harmonic siren cries, envelops the senses.

Recalcitrant causticity gets its head in the electro punk epidemic of Spiritual Anarchy straight after; defiance and vocal antagonism a potent contrast to the quenchless dance and devious endeavour of synths and guitars while Destroy the World is a calmer but cancerous embrace of the senses. Suggestive melodies vein an invasive smog of sound and intent which dowses the listener in emotional and sonic malignancy.

The album closes with a similarly toxic climate and reflection, though Kali Yuga Algorithm has a thicker sinuous texture to its layers and black industrial, rancor coated wake-up call. The track leaves a lingering imprint on the senses as pretty much all within King Fucking Satan, a release which enthrals on the verge of rapture and provokes to the point of brutality for seriously one of the most rousing and enjoyable stomps this year so far.

King Fucking Satan is out now via Saturnal Records and available @ https://saturnalrecs.bandcamp.com/album/king-fucking-satan

http://www.kingsatan.net/    https://www.facebook.com/kingsatan616/

Pete RingMaster 20/06/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

One Last Shot – Even Cowboys Have Sundays

Pretty much three years after impressing with their debut EP, French rockers One Last Shot have unleashed their first album to once again have ears and plaudits aroused by their dirt encrusted sound. Even Cowboys Have Sundays is a roar of thrash nurtured ferocity and sonic southern rock liquor but an incitement as punk as it is metal as it is unbridled rock ‘n’ roll.

With their musical instincts and passions raised on nineties thrash metal, the Paris quintet soon stirred local support after emerging with a sound soon drawing comparisons to the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd, Motörhead, and Guns N’ Roses. It was the First Gear EP in 2014 which sparked broader attention at home and further afield; its bold character and bruising sound as contagious as it was aggressive. Even Cowboys Have Sundays follows in the same vein; bringing a host of flavours, familiar yet forcibly fresh, in a strain of rock ‘n’ roll self-termed as dust metal. Equally though, the album reveals a richer vein of individualism in sound and imaginative songwriting as maturity and adventure collude in a clutch of tracks which feel like old friends in some ways but a voracious new adventure in many more aspects.

Opening with The Gambler, One Last Shot swiftly has appetite and imagination caught, its opening sultry lure of guitar an intoxication soon swallowed by a wall of wiry riffs and robust rhythms. Yet there is a control to the assault which seamlessly embraces more of a prowling than demanding gait as vocals add their own raw but captivating texture to the mix. An unpredictable nature to its overall attack is just as appetising though the song never releases its full aggressive venom, preferring to seduce with melodic and sonic enterprise with its own persuasive toxicity.

One Last Shot – Even Cowboys Have Sundays

A great start is quickly matched and pushed on by One Night Stand, a blaze of classic rock and punk ‘n’ roll with a touch of UK band The Senton Bombs to its irritable contagion. As with its predecessor, and indeed most tracks, involving the listener in body and voice is swift; the encounter another lustfully catchy proposal with a slew of rapacious hooks and swinging energy across its dirty holler before Embrace The Fire draws on old school rock ‘n’ roll for its particular rousing romp. Like a blend of Volbeat and Grumpynators, the song harasses and seduces the instincts to beat one’s rock ‘n’ roll chest; the senses entangled in the melodic rapacity of the guitars as bass and drums drive things with matching zeal. The track is superb, rock from the fifties through to modern day seemingly bullied into one compelling stomp.

The variety of sound and ideation within the album is already apparent by the fourth song and continued as Thou Shall Be Drunk creates a proposition part melodic metal and part grunge punk, all with a nineties toning while Join The Club offers a merger of punk metal and sinuous heavy rock. Both songs are twisted and moulded into seriously enticing temptations with the first especially anthemic and irresistible.

The excellent Hell Mariachi (A Mexican Interlude) takes the imagination into the heart of the desert heat, the two sides of The Bronx mixed with East Coast trash for another mouth-watering and seriously compelling exploit within Even Cowboys Have Sundays; that new maturity and bold imagination within One Last Shot united in an eager charge.

That thrash breeding within the band is in full voracity within Live Fast And Die Young and indeed It’s All About Speed straight after. The first of the two is a chug fest of nagging riffs bound in lustful grooves as vocals, single and mob handed, arouse the spirit even further with an anthemic roar as lustful and unapologetic as the sounds around them. With the guitars weaving a glorious web of melodic dexterity, the song simply rocks before its successor uncages its grubby rock ‘n’ roll to continue the manipulation of the listener’s body and spirit; the track a potent persuasion  even if missing some of the vital and unique sparks of earlier tracks.

Closing up with the fiery fusion of predatory metal and imposing heavy rock of We Don’t Call 911 and lastly the groove entangled bellow of I Feel Alright, the song a tenacious web of resourceful and eventful enterprise, Even Cowboys Have Sundays leaves the spirit alive and just a little over excited. The album is a charge of commanding adventure built with recognisable and original textures and bound in a fresh and striking imagination. Their First Gear EP, stirred up a form appetite for their sound, now the album has unlocked a lust which will surely infest many others and deservedly install One Last Shot as someone to heartily recommend to all.

Even Cowboys Have Sundays is out now via JFF Records and available @ https://onelastshotofficial.bandcamp.com/album/even-cowboys-have-sundays

http://olsband.com/    https://www.facebook.com/onelastshotofficial    https://twitter.com/OLSBANDOFFICIAL

Pete RingMaster 20/06/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Three Way Plane – Your Kingdom, My Life

Way back in 2013, Greek outfit Three Way Plane got in touch and introduced us to themselves and their new EP Fire. It was a potential loaded indie/post punk infused proposition which was bitingly eclectic and imaginatively rampant suggesting that the 2004 formed band was ready to tap into attention far beyond their local success. They have not quite found that breakthrough since in a period which was assumedly busy for them but appearing quiet on the outside. Things might just be about to change though as the Athens outfit release their second album Your Kingdom, My Life and another collusion of sonic diversity and creative adventure.

Two years after forming the band released their first EP, Bright Days the first clue to the growing invention in their punk nurtured sound though it was their well-received debut album, give us something new to shout, which really stoked attention and eager support four years later; its success subsequently eclipsed by Fire. 2015 saw the band release a collection of remixes from songs out of their previous two offerings and the striking 7″inch single A Waltz For Unity & Love / New Destination. In hindsight, the latter was a definite tease of the new growth in sound and songwriting of vocalist/guitarist Stratos, bassist Giannis, and drummer Geo, who has left the band since the album’s recording; hints now impressively realised in Your Kingdom, My Life.

In some ways, the Three Way Plane sound has actually slimmed down its rich array of textures and flavours into something less overwhelming but more concentrated on its qualities, a sign of maturity easy to embrace. As opener Inner Warfare shows though it is still a web of styles and imagination which leaves predictability looking elsewhere for a home. The track initially waves a sonic lure in front of the listener, the guitar almost taunting before a couple more breaths sees rhythms strolling through ears with a knowing swagger as riffs sculpt their dance.  That first slither of post punk bait returns to tempt as the song slows a touch to welcome the expression shaped vocals of Stratos. Simultaneously Giannis’ bass grumbles with a throaty growl, riffs again casting an eager scrubbing of the senses as Geo’s beats tenaciously swing at a body and imagination swiftly hooked by the song’s mix of indie rock and punk at times reminding of UK band Houdini.

It is a superb start soon matched by the more crazed and caustic exploits of No, I’m Not Sober. Again the bass is an irresistible lure, showing more mischief than attitude this time, a matching hue directing riffs and vocals as the track swings between revelry and hostility. There is a definite feel of The Cure and their Three Imaginary Boys entrance upon the world, an additional off-kilter and magnetic discordance in tone and touch which lights ears and personal instincts. With the guest manipulation of Kostis Maloutas on the Theremin extra pleasure, the track eventually makes way for the matching excellence of A Waltz For Unity & Love. Straight away guitars entice ears, courting attention with their weave of wiry hooks and flirtatious melodies. Darker hues come into play soon after as the track hits its vigorous stride as vocals share lyrical suggestion though it is the snare of flirtatious hooks and energy which rubber stamps an already done deal between song and pleasure.

Guitars and bass again make the first flirtation with ears as Get Off Your Hands steps forward, its more shadowy nature and physical trespasses infested with fiery melodies and infectious rhythms which respectively wind through and steer the enjoyable ship. There is that post punk essence again at play but more vocal within the following Xepiasakos Theme, an instrumental cruising in on a great Gang Of Four like dexterity in its rhythmic prowess which immediately has body and spirit dancing. The piece is a touch more reserved than its predecessors but a livelier persistence impossible to refuse or let physical reactions leave alone. Musically the song also reminds of eighties bands like Leitmotiv and French outfit Modèle Martial, an array of essences cast into a sonic Three Way Plane kaleidoscope which certainly has a great spicing of nostalgia.

With a similar eighties spicing to its seduction of catchiness and challenges, Checkmate is simply infection from start to finish; guitar hooks and brooding bass lures a devious incitement infesting limb and imagination with viral expertise while the following Silent embraces the senses in a more atmospheric wash of sound though it too does not skimp on addictive snares and seriously catchy twists. That raw ethereal climate solely takes over midway though, a sonic drifting across the imagination with an underlying tempestuousness which grows as shadows blossom. Once more The Cure come to minds at certain moments, the song more reflective of their second and third album period while again creating a proposal individual to the Greek outfit.

The more caustic and volatile essences of other songs has its head for Your Life ’08, the track an abrasive slice of hardcore shaped punk but with a rhythmic agitation and tenacity which ensures an infectious bullying of ears and lively thoughts is welcomed.

The album closes with Psychic Changes, a rich trespass of vocal dissent and sonic intrigue spun with a tide of gripping hooks and predacious rhythms into a melodic labyrinth growing darker and more ravenous with every layer spun. As the previous track, it is more of a challenge than earlier propositions, more of a slow burner but ultimately emerges as one of the most striking quests from the imagination and craft of Three Way Plane.

There are times when the body really feels like a puppet to Your Kingdom, My Life, unable to escape its infection carrying incitements, and never a moment when pleasure is not the fuel of the day. Whether the album will see Three Way Plane break into international attention time will tell, it has all the attributes, but it will certainly establish the band as one of most exciting adventures waiting their moment.

Your Kingdom, My Life is out now and available @ https://threewayplane.bandcamp.com/album/your-kingdom-my-life

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Pete RingMaster 31/05/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Insanity – Toss a Coin

If there is brawl you really want to be at the heart of, it is Toss a Coin the new album from Swiss hardcore outfit Insanity. It brings eleven insatiable confrontations to the ear; a clutch of spirit raising, defiance driven roars which refuse to take not today sir for an answer.

With a sound bred in the New York hardcore scene at its height, Insanity has sonically bullied and physically roared their way to a potent reputation and presence within the European punk scene over the past five years, one now sure to be re-ignited again by Toss a Coin. Since emerging, the Lucerne quintet has surged from their homeland across Europe into international waters, sharing stages with the likes of Hatebreed, Agnostic Front, Madball, Sick Of It All, Terror and many more along the way as well as headlining their own successful tours. Their debut album, No Limit, set down a certain marker in their ascent, its well-received presence matched by that in success by the Ready To Row EP. Released through Bastardized Recordings is a new powerful statement from the band, in sound and political/social quarrel as well as simply rousing punk ‘n’ roll.

With gang shouts, body manipulating grooves, and addiction forging hooks as prevalent as raw antagonism and instinctive antipathy to the world’s ills, Toss a Coin snarls and harasses from its initial second and opening breath of first up No Tolerance For Intolerance. The gnarly tone of Pery Zemp’s bass instantly has ears lured, riffs a great dirty backing before both collude with the rapier like swings of drummer Raphael Renggli and the first of involvement enticing band shouts. Vocalist Tobias Küng is soon to the fore directing middle finger reply to prejudice, the guitars of Yannick Balmer and Michael Portmann casting a mesh of grouchy riffs and animated grooves. There is no escaping the swift influence of its attitude and body, a submission subsequently given to song after song in varying but certain degrees thereon in.

The excellent start is matched by the caustic stomp of Find A Way, its intensive assault a furious charge compared to the swagger of the previous protagonist but veined with melodic tendrils and scythes and twisting spirals of noise. For all the rage, already an inbred infectiousness is as powerfully commandeering reactions, Insanity entangling both with imagination and zeal. It is a quality as rich within the album’s title track and indeed What I See after that. The first of the pair points and challenges with every syllable and note, band cries and neck muscle testing catchiness a particular trespassing incitement within nothing but while the second flows from its predecessor upon another deliciously grouchy bassline into a web of seriously grooved and rapacious punk rock with the instincts to rock ‘n’ roll.

Four tracks down and we would have forgiven any upcoming slip-ups such the potency of the quartet but no second is wasted in allowing ears and attitude a moment to relax, With My Friends an immediate air punching, hip guiding announcement of kinship stoking the fires. Again pleasure is ignited by Zemp’s bass, its metallic grievance manna for personal taste more than matched by the rest of the band within the inflammatory holler.

Down consumes ears in a cantankerous bawl next but one delivered with deliberate restraint carrying a perfect level of volatility; a blend lifting the body to its feet and vocal chords to their highest decibel throughout. Such success is an easy finding for All I Need too; its badgering riffs and probing rhythms herded into greater feistiness by Küng and listener by the ever persuasive and addictive gang clamours.

Through the mercurial but persistently wilful and stormy climate of One Day and the surly belligerence of $laves, there is no let-up in disdain and disobedience or imagination lit invention which may at times take a while to reveal it’s surprises within the tempests but hungrily makes each track distinct and riveting incitement; What’s Hardcore just as eager to prove the point with its punk ‘n’ roll revelry. Like a vipers nest, the song writhes with grooves, their snaky lures even flirting away when the song is running headlong with punk predation.

The final ignition of defiance and unbridled pleasure is provided by Die For, a body stomping charge riding thrash nurtured riffs like a surfer as melodies flare and rhythms prowl. Musically, the senses feel like they are being stalked by the track, vocally being willingly drawn with the spirit into mobilisation, both whilst rocking like a hound in heat to their combined militancy.

It is a glorious end to an outstanding encounter entwining the familiar with instinctive contumacy and enterprise resulting in one of, if not, the most enjoyable and manipulative treats heard so far this year.

Toss a Coin is out now through Bastardized Recordings @ https://bastardizedrecordings.bandcamp.com/album/toss-a-coin  or http://insanity.ch/store/

http://insanity.ch/    https://www.facebook.com/insanity.metal

Pete RingMaster 26/05/2017

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