King Salami and the Cumberland 3 – Goin’ Back To Wurstville

If there is one band in this fast paced world which gives the body an even more intensive and thorough workout it is undoubtedly King Salami and the Cumberland 3. This is a band where an Automated External Defibrillator should always be on hand at every show they play, waiting and ready to revive the inevitable wasted bodies.  Now that need has been transferred to the band’s records. When playing all three of the band’s albums back to back, apart from a danger to health, it is a hard choice to say which is best, all in their openly individual ways an equal treat, but without doubt Goin’ Back To Wurstville is the most demanding and exciting for heart and limbs yet.

The new album from the Sultan of Sausage and his fellow creative rascals is a blur of incitement, a cavalcade of irresistible temptation for feet and hips. Each of its thirteen songs teases and infests the psyche, sharing groove woven rhythm & blues punk ‘n’ roll to lose all shades of sanity to. As ever, it is a busy time for the quartet; gigs coming up at a rate of knots across the globe before and even more so after their highlight performance on the BBC show The UK’s Best Part-Time Band last year. With the outfit in the middle of a UK tour right now and featuring in Roger Corman’s movie, Death Race 2050, you can be sure that Goin’ Back To Wurstville is only going to accelerate the demand on the boys and their riotous sound.

Featuring Spencer Evoy from fellow body contorters MFC Chicken and his salacious sax, Goin’ Back To Wurstville quickly gets down to business with Pineapple Mama, the song feeding off the album’s lively Intro with an initial bass groan and flames of fiery sax, they leading to an insistent romp of riffs and rhythms led by King Salami’s inevitable energy and vocal revelry. It is party time, the song swinging from the rafters with body enslaving grooves dangling their insatiable bait to further ensnare ears and limbs. Soul, r&b, rock ‘n’ roll and more excitable flavours all get involved in the multi-flavoured proposal, King Salami and co straight away feeding greedy hopes with a fresh new adventure.

The pugilistic rascality of Nosebleed Boogie is next, guitars and sax colluding in a devilish enticement of melodic theatre as King Salami uses Ali like vocal footwork to evade the rhythmic punches, his magnetic prowess like a blend of Bo Diddley and Little Walter before offering even feistier fun in the boisterous romp of Busy Body. An infection of spicy grooves and virulent riffs, the song ensures the listener is on the end of major manipulation echoing its title before the glorious adventure of King Ghidorah rises up from its oriental bed with sixties cinematic adventure fuelling its melodies and rhythms. With King Salami a dramatic narrator, T. Bone Sanchez’s grooves are a three headed tempting of flirtatious hookery, melodic seduction, and tenacious persuasion, theatre skirted by the addictive rhythmic rumble of bassist Kamikaze UT Vincent and drummer Eric Baconstrip.

There is no escaping the frisky intent of the following King Size Love, its rockabilly nurtured stroll manhandled by addiction shaping rhythms and coloured with more of the salacious enterprise which continually and artfully springs from the guitar of Sanchez across the album. Feet and hips are swiftly lost to the song’s shuffle, lungs already gasping for breath by this point within Goin’ Back To Wurstville but managing to find plenty more air for the blues strung jungle of She Was A Mau Mau and after that, the garage punk lined surf rock lit antics of No Stoppin’. The first of the two is a sweltering near on muggy affair for the heart whilst its successor is a blaze of instrumental rock ‘n’ roll which has the body at its most frenetically subservient in the hands of the album.

The treats just keep coming too; Tiger In My Tank keeps the listener moving like a puppet on tricky strings of rhythmic pestering and melodic misbehaviour, all urged on by the saucy blasts of sax and King Salami’s inexhaustible energy and spirited character.

Stutterin’ Sue leaps around with garage rock rapacity and raw captivation next while Camel Hop after that sees roving basslines and agitated beats stir up another voracious contagion of sound and spirit rousing enterprise, sultry Arabian scented  grooves winding around ears and appetite as rock ‘n’ roll rumbles in the belly of song and listener. Both tracks are an epidemic of temptation, unrelenting creative persistence more than matched by the Johnny Kidd and The Pirates hued Shiver which follows.

Concluded by the double diablerie of firstly the album’s dirt encrusted rock ‘n’ roll road trip going under its title track moniker and lastly the carnival of Latin summer fun that is Caramba!, the sensational Goin’ Back To Wurstville is bliss for ears and soul. With each of the King Salami and the Cumberland 3 releases we seem to offer nothing but lustful praise so with their third full-length we were determined to find something which might be suggested the band could improve upon. Quite simply we failed, though you know the band will still find something fresh and bolder next time and with regards to best album question, listening it as these fingers tap, yep Goin’ Back To Wurstville wins the debate.

Goin’ Back To Wurstville is out now on Dirty Waters Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/King-Salami-and-the-Cumberland-Three/c/2793708/offset=9&sort=normal

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Pete RingMaster 22/03/2017

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Los Chicos – Rockpile of Shit

There are few rock ‘n’ roll parties as thrilling and irresistible as those provided by Spanish rockers Los Chicos, an experience they offer once again with new album Rockpile of Shit. Offering fourteen tracks which embrace everything from garage to pub rock, punk to funkily soulful shenanigans and plenty more, the release is a feast of boisterously rousing rock ‘n’ roll and a delicious echo of the Madrid quintets’ inimitable live show.

Formed in 2000, Los Chicos have released a quartet of increasing acclaim grabbing albums before Rockpile of Shit, the previous trio of Launching Rockets (2007), We Sound Amazing But We Look Like Shit (2009), and In the Age of Stupidity (2013) released, as the band’s new encounter this time in conjunction with Folc Records, on the always impressing Dirty Water Records. Live the band has ignited stages alongside the likes of Mudhoney, Southern Culture on the Skids, King Khan, The Sonics, Johnny Casino, Soundtrack of our Lives, Redd Kross, Cosmic Psychos, Spencer P Jones, The New Christs, The Young Fresh Fellows, The Meanies, Barrence Whitfield, Hi-Risers, Eddie And The Hot Rods, Roy Loney, and many others and toured across the globe, hitting Australian four times. Now they are ready to set a new stomp in motion across the world with Rockpile of Shit, a one hard to resist slab of fiercely flavoursome rock ‘n’ roll.

Feet and hips are soon as on board with band and album as ears when opener A Kingdom Of Coolness starts things off. Choppy beats and riffs soon tempt as grooves and vocals steer the course of the punk infused encounter. With its seeds seemingly in sixties garage rock and seventies punk, the track carries a great feel of old UK band The Cortinas to it as it emerges an undemanding yet seriously inescapable incitement to body and appetite as virulently infectious as it is commandingly rousing.

The same qualities fuel the following Rockanrolla, its own raw rock qualities making a potent temptation around the inviting tones of vocalist Rafa Suñén. Again the guitars of Gerardo Urchaga and Antonio Urchaga nag and jangle with remorseless enterprise and persuasion, bringing an Eddie And The Hot Rods hue to its boisterous catchiness before the even more virulent charms of I Don’t Wanna Learn Anymore steps forward. The swinging bassline of Guillermo Casanova makes for a powerful lure as the crisp beats of Ral García back up its invitation; they in turn matched in old school revelry by the guitars but with a modern spice which is inimitably Los Chicos.

The funky R&B of Older And Better has feet taking to the floor from its first rhythmic beckon, backed perfectly by the sizzling flames of sax which grace the outstanding encounter. With a hint of King Salami and the Cumberland Three to it, the song is mouth-watering devilry laying an early claim to best track on the album but soon rivalled by its Department S spiced title track. It too infests body and soul, bringing each alive and indeed eager vocal participation with its and the bands creative festivity.

Last Day Here offers a fiercer snarl while feasting on a fifties rockabilly inspiration. Equally though, it has a power pop vibrancy which lights up another impossible to escape chorus, voice and hips puppets to its manipulative magnetism. With discord flirting with the guitars and a Devo-esque quaintness emerging, the track epitomises the album; a seemingly simply flavoured proposition soon showing itself bursting with bold adventure and diversity.

The country/cow punk romp of Responsibility Ville hits the spot with ease next whilst More Beer is a melodic jangle sparking thoughts of countrymen The Pulsebeats as it too grips an already greedy appetite for release and sound. The wonderful relentless beats of García, as throughout the album, enslave ears and spirit alone, guitars and vocals playing with its conquest in an array of styles and devilish ways, Miami Beach soon employing its own surf hued punk ‘n’ roll web ensuring there is no respite for the listener’s  body and enjoyment.

Through The Ramones meets The Members like Mommy’s On MDMA and the country punk of Little Man, there is no lessening in bouncing songs and bodies while Night Ride adds its own individual twist on the country rock scent. All three leave a big smile on the face, though each is eclipsed by the scuzzier funk ‘n’ roll of I Know I Don’t Know and finally the hypnotic shuffle of closing track Toga Land. The pair ensures that physical and emotional involvement is at its most eager as the album comes to a mighty conclusion, an event leading only to a hard deny urge to press play and start all over again.

A great many already know of the rock ‘n’ roll majesty spun by Los Chicos, and with Rockpile Of Shit we can be safe in suggesting so will a great many more. This is one party everyone should gate crash.

Rockpile Of Shit is out now via Dirty Water Records/ Folc Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/~/category/id=2801529&offset=0&sort=addedTimeDesc and http://folcrecords.tictail.com/product/fdw003-los-chicos-rockpile-of-shit-preventa-disponible-en-mayo

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Pete RingMaster 30/06/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Hole In The Head – Primitive Love

HITH 2015 line-up

It is always a negative when someone says they need something like a hole in the head, but when it applies to the Finnish rockabilly band of the same name the want is completely different, especially if talking about the band’s debut album Primitive Love. It is a ten track stomp bred in a rockabilly heart but involving spicy rhythm ‘n’ blues and broader rock ‘n’ roll adventure to create something not exactly unique but predominantly individual to Hole In The Head.

The Kuopio hailing band began in 1997, founded by vocalist/guitarist Sasse Savolainen. Two 7” EPs, Tornado Ride (2000) and Trouble Cruiser (2003) were well-received successes for a band also experiencing a few line-up changes. The summer of 2012 saw the quartet of Sasse, Brother Andy Liukko (guitar, harmonica, sax), Turkka (upright bass), and Laasanen (drums) begin recording Primitive Love with Tomi Leino at Suprovox Studio, Ikkala. In the wake of the recording though Laasanen left the band with Turkka subsequently leaving too. The remaining pair decided to carry on performing as the Sasse & Andy Duo and work towards releasing the album. New impetus to Hole in the Head after its near demise came with the recruitment of Tony Lehto (upright bass) and Joonas Hiltunen (drums), the band hitting the live scene again with force further backed by the 2015 release of Primitive Love.

A strong start to the album is made by Out of Hands, the opener coaxing ears with scuzzy guitar and the winy charm of Andy’s harmonica incitement. With punchy rhythms and inviting vocals, the enjoyable encounter is an easy to climb on board canter with swinging hips and excitable energy that has feet bouncing and attention aroused. Increasingly more virulent as it stomps into its dynamic climax, the track passes an already keen appetite over to the following Bad Luck Driver. Straight away a sultry and siren-esque psychobilly tang wraps ears as the bass of Turkka gets the instincts going with its delicious dark stroll. With beats just as enticing, the track only blossoms further as blues lined tempting escapes through a flirtatious sax as the potent tones of Sasse strike up further pleasure and satisfaction, each adding to the excellent Frantic Flintstones meets Ray Campi with a touch of Roy Hawkins like song.

picture By Ville Angervuori

From one big treat to another as the dark noir mystique of The Night Walk takes over, its blues/surf blend of temptation a smouldering seduction of spicy air and sound. The resonating elegance of the guitar comes with a great sinister swell to its tone whilst the rhythms perfectly temper that intoxication with understated but pungent repetition. Already song by song, Primitive Love gets thicker and bolder in adventurous invention, a trend continuing with the swiftly magnetic Let Me Be Your Heartbeat. Imagine The Stray Cats in collusion with Tiger Army without the haunting and you have the anthemic prowess of a gripping track only broadening in varied sound with each passing minute.

Vintage Kind of Fever leaps in with tenacious rhythms and an energetic swagger next, its fifties nurtured and robustly delivered rockabilly weave littered with flaming sax, scything guitar, and a rhythmic rumble to lose the body too. Addiction is inevitable as also through the bluesabilly romp of Rude Boy Blues, a mix of rousing enterprise and fiery flavouring at times reminding of The Shakin’ Pyramids. Both tracks are superb incitements to lose inhibitions to and quickly backed by the jazzy canter of Lonely Wolf, the song a Parisian touched harmonica wielding vagabond of a song which simply leads hips into an eager sway.

Rhythmic jabs and swinging hooks are the order of the day within Knock Out Boogie, bass and guitar hooks hypnotic bait as masterful vocals and bodacious sax lead the listener on a rebellious yet controlled dance before having to make way for the sixties R&B hued blues devilry of Wolf Girl. Bounding around with the scent of The Living End and Johnny Burnette to its insatiable energy and feverish character, the song just entices and incites like a frisky temptress.

The album is closed by Bondage Love, a track living up to hopes inspired by its title with its exotic melodic landscape and addictively nagging rhythms. Like a rapture driven shindig on the banks of the River Nile, further accentuated by the Madness like smooch of the sax, the track is pure manna for ears and rock ‘n’ roll passions; a claim easy to attach to the whole of Primitive Love.

It may have taken time to see the light of day, but Primitive Love hits the sweet spot with persistent ease whilst suggesting to the world that Finland has a rockabilly/R&B band which deserves real attention.

Primitive Love is out now @ http://hith.net/wordpress/shop/

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Pete RingMaster 12/01/2016

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MFC Chicken – M.F.C. Chicken Time!

Pics: Lorenzo Pascual /Dena Flows

Determined to once again twist hips and bodies into shapes and directions never meant to be, MFC Chicken once more get virulently riotous with third album M.F.C. Chicken Time! It is another bundle of their inimitable fifties bred stomp of rock ‘n’ roll and rhythm ’n’ blues, and more of the delicious revelry which marked the band’s previous pair of acclaimed albums. Theirs is a sound which has discovered its perfect recipe but conjures new tasty delights from the same irresistible ingredients. It is aural fast-food pleasure to get greedy over but as the new encounter proves, using familiar spices does not have to lead to predictability or the absence of ingenuity.

MFC Chicken began six years ago with Spencer Evoy, a Canadian musician relocating to London, finding like-minded spirits a top a dirty Holloway Road chicken shack, and giving birth to a garage rock ’n’ roll band quickly earning themselves a potent reputation live and through 2012 debut album Music for Chicken. Released as subsequent propositions through the mighty Dirty Water Records, its success was eclipsed two years later by Solid Gravy, the band’s second album reinforcing and escalating their sound and following, backed as ever by a live hunger seeing the band seemingly everywhere. Earlier this year a richly flavoursome appetiser in the shape of the (Get Outta The) DJ Booth and Lake Bears! singles whetted the appetite for more of the MFC Chicken spiced poultry themed devilry; a wanting more than wholesomely fed by M.F.C. Chicken Time!

Study Hall gets things rocking first, the rhythms of Ravi setting tempo and intent as the vocals of Spencer Evoy join the swinging gait of Zig Criscuolo’s bass and the mischievous guitar of Alberto Zioli. Soon Evoy’s sax is afoot with the festivity, leaping over the sonic strands and infectious rhythms. As if it was needed, the opener confirms that the MFC Chicken sound, and subsequently album, is something to rigorously dance to; exhaustion and pleasure the prime results.

The following Gross People spins a sixties hued adventure with the great tang of keys flirting from within the hazily infectious air of the song. Across the album keys are provided by either Angus McPake or Reverend Parsley, a flavoursome coating to the lively rhythms and great vocal bunching which supports Evoy. As the opener, the song is an easy involvement, an eager persuasion matched by those of 14 Girls and All Afternoon. The vintage air which wraps the album as potently as modern tenacity brings a Little Richard meets Screamin’ Jay Hawkins enticement for the first of the pair whilst its successor leaps around with a naughty twinkle in its melodic eye reminding in many ways of The Stargazers, the eighties version. It also simply grips feet and eagerness, leading them like a puppy into a bounding energy before making way for the sultry instrumental flame of Bad News From the Clinic. With the fiery voice of the sax teasing ears amidst the thick catchiness cast by guitar and rhythms, it is another inevitable boisterous bop, one with an enjoyable hint of The Munsters theme to it.

There is a sense of Hank Mizell to the heftier rock ‘n’ roll of Uncle Willy, a great vociferous harmonica its spiciest tempting whereas Tennessee Girl springs an inescapable trap of rowdy rhythms with that ever delicious sax the juicy instigator in the fusion of rockabilly and garage punk. As always though, it is the full craft and creative devilment across the band which makes MFC Chicken songs burst from the speakers, two prime examples there leading to another in the ballsy saunter of Sit Down, Mess Around and in turn the rhythmic shuffle of 29 Bus, keys and guitars respectively leading resourceful romps from the enslaving rhythmic bait of Ravi and Criscuolo.

The second of these two is a particular favourite within nothing but across M.F.C. Chicken Time! but as the other tracks, including the colourful sixties melodic flirtation of I Can’t Feel My Leg, it get eclipsed by the bewitchingly brilliant Kahuna Hoodoo Hoochie Coo Flu Blues. From its opening sinister noir clad second, the song prowls and swings with a dark jazz and rock ‘n’ roll devilry. Like a mix of again Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, this time with a whiff of Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers and Lonesome Sundown in tow, the track creeps through ears and into the psyche offering the most inventive and compelling encounter on a release stocked with nothing less than thick captivation.

Rumble Strip is a grin of imagination and mischief next, its rock ‘n’ roll sheer feel good majesty matched by the flirty swing of Colonel Sanders’ Bastard Son, another irrepressible slice of rich tasting R&B/garage rock ‘n’ roll enterprise. Both has the body moving through 360 degrees of festivity before allowing Where Is The Meat? to bring the excellent encounter to a rousing conclusion. Ensuring the ever present smile sparked by the start of the album, of release and listener, is as broad as ever at its close, the song simply sums up the glory and fun of MFC Chicken and M.F.C. Chicken Time! in its two thrilling minutes of creative mayhem.

There are no major changes in sound from predecessor Solid Gravy, but there is definitely new freshness to the imagination of adventure and flavours woven into M.F.C. Chicken Time! The result is another hour of unbridled and one of a kind fun and rock ‘n’ roll pleasure from MFC Chicken; that a real treat in anyone’s book.

M.F.C. Chicken Time! is out from November 9^th via Dirty Water Records digitally and on 12” vinyl @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/MFC-Chicken/c/2990295/offset=0&sort=normal

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Pete RingMaster 09/11/2015

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Night Wolf Presents: The Co Lab Vol.1

The first in a proposed series of collaborations, Night Wolf Presents: The Co Lab Vol.1 is a magnetic and eclectic adventure for thoughts and imagination provided by a vibrant journey through electronic climes bred with potent essences of hip hop, dubstep, R&B, classical elegance and more.

The project and release is the brainchild of composer/producer/musician Ryan Wilcox aka Night Wolf with the intent of collaborating with a wealth of emerging producers/composers and artists. Hailing from Milton Keynes and Luton based since a child, Wilcox started out drumming in rock bands before concentrating on his own music. Alongside his solo work Wilcox formed Harmony’s Descent with Mike Ziegler aka Centrist from Dekalb Il, the pair’s songwriting and music themed by all aspects of life, from anguish and loss through to happiness and love. Earlier this year saw the release of the Watts The Time and Moonlight EPs, both featuring Centrist, and now the again Fly Productionz Ltd along with Cygnus Music released The Co Lab Vol.1,  brings another varied and captivating encounter from Night Wolf.

The release opens with Move It On featuring German singer songwriter Elsadie Smith and J.A. from Luton trio Soul Rhymaz. Pulsating beats and equally full electronic caresses make the first embrace guided by the dark tones of J.A.; it is a mere moment though as the seductive tones of Smith wash over the ears, her graceful delivery gaining greater potency as the r&b narrative weaves around the senses. It is an elegant and mesmeric temptation with the merging of vocal differences as accomplished and bewitching as the sounds around them. It is a very decent start to the EP if one which pales against some of the following triumphs.

The first of which comes through Work Rate which finds both J.A. and Leo Soul from Soul Rhymaz as well as Liv The Pilot joining the haunting yet tantalising emotive croon. Crystalline melodies dance over the ear from start to finish, a celestial ambience adding to their sparkle but equally there is a sinister breath to the lure, one not far removed from the threatening tempting provided by the soundtrack to Halloween. Plainer vocals make a great compliment whilst the mellower delivery only adds extra warmth to the scenic musical canvas. It is an excellent trigger for the imagination and passions with only one moment where it felt like the cycle of music had come to an end midway and stutters as it returns to the start to roll again to query.

Sucker Free is the pinnacle of the release, its tribal stomping over an energetic hip hop vocal devilry irresistible. Again it is J.A. providing the vocal incentive as the song flexes its electronic muscles and rhythmic tantalising whilst sexy funk naughtiness sways and dances within the hypnotic romp. It is a masterful slice of imaginative bait to catch and spark the passions into a lively and eager hunger.

The following Enemy List is a simmering slow burning success, the smouldering heat and melodic allure of the song taking time to convince but with numerous excursions of its gentle and emotive expanse covered in the impressive tones of Greek singer Gregory Style, emerges as another strong encounter, if still one failing to find the same rich appeal of its predecessor. The guitar strokes provide the biggest highlight of the appealing song but sandwiched between what came before and the following Downgraded it had a tall order to fill, though its attempt is admirable and an easy to return to presence. The closing song which sees Centrsit with Night Wolf is another peak on the EP, a delicious melancholic instrumental lighting the emotions and thoughts, its emotively incendiary washes of strings and classical depths finding a sirenesque enticement.

The song completes a thoroughly enjoyable and emotionally inciting release. It is an unexpected treat to be honest as its style and predominate flavourings are not the usual spices for this musical palate, but one with which you can only see Night Wolf recruiting a wealth of new followers whilst inspiring existing fans to drool greedily.

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8/10

RingMaster 04/12/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Hipbone Slim vs. Sir Bald

Playing like a schizophrenic battle of the bands within the insatiable creativity of one man ably aided by his equally skilled and hungry cohorts, Hipbone Slim vs. Sir Bald is simply one thrilling treat to let loose all those inhibitions to. The album is a forty track double CD release bursting with unadulterated goodness and mastery from the King of UK rock n roll, Sir Bald Diddley. A man with more musical alter-egos than hairs on his head, Sir Bald has created some of the most essential sounds in modern rock n roll, songs which could easily have graced and driven forward the times of their influences whilst standing as fresh and vibrant leaders of today.

The album brings together a union and faceoff between the distinctly different sides to his inspirational imagination. Disc one features twenty slices of delicious treats from Hipbone Slim & the Kneetremblers, all songs never before released in a CD format. Standing eye to eye on the other disc there are a mischievous and hungry selection of tracks from Louie & the Louies, Kneejerk Reactions, and The Legs, all with that magnetic common denominator, Sir Baldy. Released through Dirty Water Records, it is a package which just ignites the passions, a release which, if the varied riches of rock n roll send your saucy bits a tingling, will have you squealing like Meg Ryan on a washing machine. The album in many ways only scratches at the surface of the creativity of the man but easily shows why his skill and diversity across surf, rock n roll, garage, blues, R&B and rockabilly is so adored and devoured without a pause for manners.

Sir Bald has been called “Britain’s string king” because of his striking guitar style which has been influenced by the likes of Bo Diddley, Link Wray, Chuck Berry, Dick Dale and more. It is a style once heard never forgotten and one which lights up any genre he chooses to thrill with. As mentioned disc one features Hipbone Slim & the Kneetremblers, a band plays with its inspirations and passions on its sleeve and openly heard within tracks which range from instantly contagious to sensationally irresistible. Alongside Sir Bald the band has the massive talents of drummer Bruce ‘Bash’ Brand (the Milkshakes and Headcoats), and bassist Gastus Receedus (Big Wigs, Arousers, Playboys) bringing great songs to an even greater life. From the opener King Tut Strut the disc is an incessant feast of pleasure, every track in their different ways turning the tap to greed full on for more of their joys. The first song saunters along with a swagger which has the passions whimpering in delight, it is a sultry tease which attacks from many angles, from the Eastern promising guitars, and seductive sax caresses to the inciteful beats and uncomplicated vocals of Sir Bald, the song just makes love to the ear.

Across the tracks there is a great expanse of flavours offered such as in the following Crawl Back To Me which moves in Gene Vincent circles, Time To Kill with its Buddy Holly mesmeric and warm whisper, and the wonderful instrumental Bury The Hatchet which harks back to the likes of The Fireballs and The Ventures. Biggest highlights come from the wonderful rockabilly romp of Ooga Booga Rock, the Johnny Cash toned High On Hog, and the sweet wickedness that is Food Man Chew, a song which has to be the new soundtrack to TV show Man V. Food as well as any night of unbridled filthy passion between consenting adults. It is hard to pick best or favourite songs though this trio are always to the fore and are equally rivalled by the brilliant I Hear An Echo with its caped crusaderesque groove and  the anthemic rampage of Set You On Fire.

The first disc alone is one you would sell your soul to the devil for but there is so much more to shoot your personal mercury beyond boiling point. The second CD begins with tracks from Louie & the Louies, songs which are born from the seeds of surf and frat rock. With bassist Matt “Sleepy Louie” Radford and drummer Brian “Ramblin’” Louie Nevill alongside Sir Bald, the trio spark the flames with the sizzling instrumental Louieville and then stoke the fires with the predatory prowling of There Ain’t No End In Sight, its breath sinister and bordering manic. The track is a classic and makes an irresistible filling between Louieville and the equally tasty instrumental Marrakech. With an atmosphere as distant and wanton as the beckoning sounds, this piece just leaves one drooling. The fiery Backfire and the Stones garage blues swagger of Birdman send the senses and passions to overload and if you are listening to the whole release in one go by this point you are looking for an oasis of respite from the sonic majesty to date, though equally not wanting it to end…

… which it does not as The Kneejerk Reactions unleash their unique brand of rock n roll, their R&B brought with feistiness as deliberate as the antagonistic driving sounds. Songs like You Don’t Know Right From Wrong and Wastin’ My Time rile up attitude and passions with the sonic scorching from the guitar of Sir Bald and the hypnotic bass of Les Lerrard, not to forget the crisp jabs of drummer Ronnie Drand. The songs arguably do not flow quite as easily through the ear as elsewhere, their passage combative and fuelled by garage rock energy, but are equal when it comes to providing full pleasure. Top honours here goes to Where’s McComb?, a track which is as excitable as a dog in a lamp post factory and just as incessant.

The final onslaught of satisfaction comes from The Legs which sees the main man alongside Spaniards Jorge Explosion and Mr Pibli from garage-punk band Doctor Explosion. The songs are a thrilling mix of beat, garage, and blues infused with plenty of sixties and modern essences. The thumping stomp of instrumental Legless sets up a treat of impossible to resist pleasure, whilst the Meteors like stroll of Gotta Eat and the raw guitar smouldering of Ain’t The End of the World fan those flames even more for unbridled joy.

Hipbone Slim vs. Sir Bald is a release which brings the inimitable imagination, skills, and sounds of Sir Baldy and just some of his work into a deserved focus. He has caused a long review for a long album but what a pleasure the bands and songs give, if you want to hear ‘real’ rock n roll in some of its guises than this album is a must.

RingMaster 02/11/2012

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Waves Of Fury: Thirst

Sounding like the deliciously steamy hybrid from a union of Sam Cooke, Thee Vicars, Rocket From The Crypt, and Jesus and Mary Chain, Thirst the debut album from sonic teasing crew Waves Of Fury is quite magnificent. Consisting of ten garage punk filtered rock n roll/R&B classics, the release pulsates with an instinctive and inspiring brew of infectious sonic grazings wrapped in warm and refreshing imagination. It is excitable yet equally held by a restraint which allows every individual element and idea to shine within the acidic surface smouldering of sound. Quite simply Thirst is a triumph of noise and heart.

The Somerset based quintet of Carter Sharp (vocals, guitars), Jamie Bird (pianos, vocals), James McPhee (drums), Fil Ward (guitars, vocals), and Bim Williams (horns), has been making distinct waves both sides of the pond, the band undertaking  successful tour of Southern States in the US before venturing into the studio to record their album. With its magnetic charms and sounds Thirst is destined to spark an even fuller and wider recognition, it is hard to imagine a release this dynamically compulsive doing anything less.

The album opens with Death Of A Vampire, its initial shadowed music hall like echoes the introduction to a storm of fiery horns and fuzzy guitars paced by flattened chilled keys. As the distinct hollow lilted vocals stroll within the sounds the track flares up again and again with shimmering melodic expulsions and contagious enterprise. It is a merciless lure, a barbed splendour to envelop and seduce the senses and passions, something which can be applied to Thirst as a whole. There is a tomb like atmosphere to the song which only accentuates its immediate and masterful inventive presence.

From the incendiary beginning the following I Don’t Know What To Make Of Your Fucked Up Friends and Businessman’s Guide To Witchcraft offer their own caustic fires to overwhelm the heart. The first is a riled Motown gaited piece of magic which like an insidious puppeteer controls limbs and voice whilst unleashing its own cutting intent and opinions. The second is an amazing mix of shall we say Joy Division and The Four Tops, a constrained riot of sound and passion yet unbridled in its mesmeric strength and teasing. It is glorious, arguably best track on the album though that does wander as a choice with each listen of Thirst.

As tracks like the dark and schizo spiced Killer Inside Me with its scuzzed breath the perfect shadow to the melodic shards hooks and barbed horns, Pretender Soul, and The Everlasting Thirst state their claim on the affections the strong variety to the songs and writing of Sharp is unmissable. The second of this trio is a gentle emotive breeze within a flesh burning sonic heat whilst the latter is an acutely driven stomp across the ear with spotlights of horns sparking up a dazzling sheet of nagging sonics and consuming energy. The album is a perpetually twisting joy, each track bringing something new and unexpected but with a swagger to turn heads and ignite desires for much more.

After the brief Buddy Holly like pleasure of Nervous Exhaustion, the album closes on the mighty Viodrene, a song which just hypnotizes with its varied ideas and noise wrapped in a furnace of raw guitars and explosive horn crescendos. With an excellent break midway to allow a breath before the equally staggering conclusion, the track is all you need to know about Waves Of Fury and their quite brilliant sound. Lyrically the album is inspired by gothic writers like Poe and Saul Bellow but also by life and everyday manipulations, this song dealing with celebrity culture in an acerbic and mischievously skilled ingenuity.

Waves of Fury have created an album and songs which take all the wonderful discord and cryptic facets of melodic and sonic elegance and conjure them into their own unique and irresistible beauty. Thirst is outstanding and will easily makes a late and formidable impression on those best of year lists.

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RingMaster 29/10/2012

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