Los Bengala – Festivos Incluso

LosBengala_RingMaster Review

If it is released by Dirty Water Records it is going to be worth checking out. That is a theory we have bred over time which once again is proven to be spot on as Spanish duo Los Bengala turn the day into one of devilish festivity with debut album Incluso Festivos. Seeded in garage rock but embracing many more prime flavours of rock ‘n’ roll, the ten track encounter is a perpetual feast of sound and fun.

The list of inventive and thrilling duos is a growth industry in world rock, but there are some which just step out from the crowd to steal the show. Canada has The Black Frame Spectacle, the US has bred In The Whale, and now Europe has the mighty sounds and thrilling creative instincts of guitarist/vocalist Guillermo Sinnerman and drummer/vocalist Borja Tellez to drool over, and since being introduced to Incluso Festivos that is what we have been doing. Hailing from Zaragoza, Los Bengala is another tasty proposition emerging from the flourishing garage rock Latino scene. Last year saw the pair win a national battle of the bands competition in their home country and now have broader fields in their sight with Incluso Festivos which is co-released on their own imprint Wild Lion and Dirty Water Records, the latter spotting them playing a show last August in London with UK’s own garage punk geniuses The Mobbs.

The seeds of addiction are laid straight away through album opener La Caza, a minute and a half of rhythmic slavery. Tellez needs barely seconds to have ears and appetite gripped, his opening thuds soon a rolling jungle of rhythmic craft and incitement which just gets keener and more virulent with every rally. That alone would have left nothing less than lust behind but things only get better as the guitar of Sinnerman adds southern honed hooks and enterprise into the instrumental revelry. It is a scintillating anthemic start which is potently backed up by Sé A Dónde Voy. The band’s garage rock inspirations are ripe colouring in the jangle and eager energy spread by the song, its riffs and beats a persistent invitation for the Spanish sung lyrics to leave their expressive lures on.

cover_RingMaster Review   No Hay Amor Sin Dolor has the scent of The Clash to its opening bait of guitar next, a spice which continues as Tellez springs another fresh dose of rhythmic tempting into the brewing mix. The song has a definite punk breeding to its r&b invention and tenacious stroll whilst revealing another shade and arm to the Los Bengala sound and imagination. It is diversity which continues in Jodidamente Loco, a track which jabs and roars its way into the psyche with a mix of noise punk and dirty rock ‘n’ roll twisted into contagion of steely guitar, badgering beats, and volatile vocals. The track is irresistible, a song taking an already high plateau to the album up another notch before Máquina Infernal keeps release and listener on the same high with Latin lures and sixties toned catchiness.

65 Días next seduces with a psychobilly/surf croon, its sweltering air and haunting balladry mesmeric even as it subsequently lifts its tempo and emotional discord within the dramatic landscape. Like Reverend Horton Heat in league with UK band Milton Star, the song is bewitching, and increasingly so with every listen, much as the album itself.

Things get hectic and scuzzier again with the brilliant Aaah, a riot which reminds of earlier mentioned In The Whale but revealing its own groove infested, rhythmically incendiary, and unique stomp. Rock music does not get much better than this, just finds new ways to match such glory just as the band does with the swinging devilment of Ataco. Arguably the most pure garage rock track on the album though its successor might have something to say about that, it just grabs body and energies in its contagion led grip to take the listener on a controlled but exhaustion inducing stroll.

Perfect Body is the only English sung offering on Incluso Festivos, a mischievous celebration and virulent romp flinging grooves, hooks, and rousing beats around like creative confetti. The sixties, seventies, and the now are all rolled up into its infection loaded alchemy, body and emotions the swift slave to its glorious tempting.

The album is close by the similarly sensational Abran Paso, a song which again shows glimpses of The Clash as well as others like The Jam and less so Queens Of The Stone Age, but emerges as its own fascinating and torrentially captivating protagonist. It is a mighty end to a majestic encounter, and another reason to understand why the guys at Dirty Water got excited when first seeing Los Bengala. Thanks to them we now have one exciting and invigorating release courting, nay demanding broader attention and quite honestly the bottom-line is that you and the world needs this album in a fulfilled rock ‘n’ roll life.

Incluso Festivos is available now via Wild Lion/Dirty Water Records on vinyl, CD, and digitally.

RingMaster 25/08/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright


Atomic Suplex – Fourteen Inches of Fist

Atomicsupplex_RingMaster Review

Great rock ‘n’ roll always benefits from a good dose of creative dementia in its devilry and you get plenty of that and more in the bedlam that is Fourteen Inches of Fist. The new album from London quartet Atomic Suplex is nonstop ingenious lunacy, a dangerous riot for body and soul, and quite brilliant.

The UK quartet has been stirring up sonic trouble for a number of years now, earning increasing acclaim with every release and a reputation as one ferociously exciting and uncompromising band live. Stages across the UK and Europe, as well as Asia, have been shared with the likes of The Hives, Guitar Wolf, The Gories, The Adolescents, Nobunny, The Kids, Jet Boys, Armitage Shanks, Richard Herring, The Spits, The Fat White Family, The Buzzcocks, Theee Bat amongst many more whilst singles and EP’s over time, and certainly acclaimed 2010 debut album Bathroom Party on Crypt Records, have marked the band out as a must investigation for a growing horde of fans. Now it is Fourteen Inches of Fist raising a storm since its recent release, and declaring Atomic Suplex as not a must but the essential riot for all rock ‘n’ roll fans.

Sound and album is garage rock, punk rock, noise rock…any kind of dirty, insatiable rock ‘n’ roll you can think of and a torrent of fun from its first to last breath. One Man Party kicks things off with the announcement “When I say I’m a dick, you best believe I’m a dick! D- I- K.” It sets the aggressive belligerent tone which rousingly fuels the whole album, and a song which is soon erupting into a salaciously tenacious slab of punk ‘n’ roll driven by the rousing tones of Jim Suplex. A sonic web of noise is soon grasping ears through his and Emma Leaning’s guitars whilst a gloriously throaty bass sound is conjured by Dan Suplex amidst the wicked swipes of drummer JD Kickdrum. The track is pure attitude, like early Damned merging with The Sonics, and instant slavery.

The album’s title track comes next, it too a concussive explosion of sound but this time infusing honky-tonk piano, blues rock spicing, and garage rock ‘n roll devilry into its mix of raw sixties and seventies rock ‘n’ roll. Flames of brass only add to the theatre of the muggy scenery as too the gritty backing vocals of Emma behind Jim’s raw incitement. As its predecessor, the track has ears and appetite lustful, a success 14 Inches of Fist relentlessly achieves from first song to last.

Cover_RingMaster Review   Set It On Fire has limbs scything through air next with seventies punk antagonism meets psych rock contagion, its guitars and brass a resourceful scorching, whilst Wild Love invites naughty deeds with a Rocket From the Crypt meets Dick Venom and the Terrortones infestation of sound. Both tracks are ridiculously compelling persuasive yet find themselves outshine by the outstanding Firing Line. The song is manna for the ears and heart, its Mighty Mighty Bosstones like opening alone igniting the instincts to party before rhythms provide a jungle of unstoppable temptation frequented by wonderful squirts of sax. They develop into subsequent deranged toxicity further in, colluding with a just as rigorously arousing web of guitar and bass enterprise. As ever like a side show barker, Jim adds his vocal stirring to the mix for one slice of irreverent creative alchemy.

Fifties inspired and seventies coloured rock ’n’ roll gets the Atomic Suplex corruption next, the raw and caustic devilment of S. U. P. L. E. X. a tempest of sonic and vocal raucousness pierced by melodic bait and fiery hooks. It is less than a minute and a half of catchy mayhem before Two Girls flirts like a punk incarnation of The Shangri-las tutored by The Rezillos. As all songs though, air is raw, sound scuzzy, and the encounter as abrasive as it is virulent, and again thrilling.

   J.D. Attack pounds the senses like the bastard son of a Showaddywaddy and Reverend Horton Heat union, its thumping rhythms and heavyweight brawl of sound one party you know would welcome gate crashers with devilish relish whilst the corrosively scarring Ass Tecnica is noise punk knavery which, as in the previous song, twists anything from surf and r&b to garage rock into its ravenous bellow. The pair unsurprisingly leave exhaustion and exhilaration in their wake, as too the eighteen second punk assault of No Pain No Gain, a song more than backing up its title.

Like The Cramps meets The Mobbs, You’ve Got Some Nerve has the body throwing moves hips were surely not made for across its forty odd seconds, a wonderful physical test followed by some respite through the hex that is Pancho. Sultry sax caresses ears initially though in no time it is joined by a wall of sonic intrigue and adventure which has a whiff of Oh! Gunquit to it. Continuing to spill funky hooks, searing grooves, and a garage bred invention; the song is as psychotic as it is clear infection, and another pinnacle of a very lofty landscape to Fourteen Inches of Fist.

Chicken Rich is a ragtime hued haunt seeded in the past which descends into anarchy the further its nostalgia persists whilst closing track White Shoes is quite simply incendiary rock ‘n’ roll which manages to spin a tapestry suggesting everyone from Billy Haley to The Cramps, King Salami and The Cumberland 3 to Turbonegro, and Screaming Jay Hawkins to Johnny Thunders within its epidemic of unbridled energy and senses inflaming rock ‘n’ roll.

Fourteen Inches of Fist is one of the best real and organic rock ‘n’ roll album this year and of a few before, maybe the best, and Atomic Suplex the one band you were meant to lose your sanity with.

Fourteen Inches of Fist is available now via Dirty Water Records on 12” vinyl, CD, and digitally.

RingMaster 25/08/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright


Norm And The Nightmarez – Psychobilly Infection


     “From within the thighs of hell’s most wanton temptress, a tempest of psychobilly grooves and rockabilly hooks will converge upon mankind to turn its existence into one incessant stomp of devilish predation and virulent demonic revelry.”

Obviously that is not one of the more well-known pestilences deemed suitable to be included in religious teachings but if it was, it would go under the name of Norm & The Nightmarez and debut album Psychobilly Infection. Thirteen tracks of wickedly contagious and warped rock ‘n’ roll cultured with rockabilly seeded guitar and psychotic imagination, the release is a storming slab of rapacious psychobilly which sets a new provocative and sinisterly sculpted template for emerging genre bands.

Hailing from Birmingham, Norm And The Nightmarez is the creation of vocalist/guitarist Norm Elliot. From first band The Phantom Zone in the eighties, the musician has played in a few bands, last year most notably Mickey & The Mutants where he linked up with ex-Meteors/ex-Guana Batz bassist Mick White and Sharks drummer Paul ‘Hodge’ Leigh. The trio released the outstanding album Touch The Madness, a release it was hard to see anything bettering in UK psychobilly for a long-time to come but then we did not foresee Norm & The Nightmarez preying on the passions. Completed by drummer Frank Creamer (ex- Colbert Hamilton & the Hellrazors) and double bassist Mark Bending (ex-Sgt Bilko’s Krazy Combo) for the Western Star released album, the band embraces the decades of rockabilly infusing their ripest essences into the insatiable jaws of old school bred psychobilly irreverence and invention. It is a varied and riveting incitement which steals the will of everything from feet through to emotions, taking all on a skilful and hungry romp of mischievous enterprise.

Produced by Alan Wilson, the album is straight away gnawing on the senses with opener Stompin in My Grave, its initial earth encrusted riffs immediate potent bait to which the wrist flicking rhythms of Creamer and the dark hearted slaps of Bending add even juicier lures. Unfurling around a repetitive hook led by Elliot’s guitar, his potent vocals colour the imagination with their lyrical enticement. A flame of melodic scorching also adds a rich hue before the song takes a breather, allowing the listener’s body one too before it revs up its hypnotic suasion all over again.

The addictive start is swiftly matched by The Mischief Maker, a dark hearted slice of intimidation with robust basslines and sultry grooves which enslave attentions whilst beats slowly bruise the senses. Whether unleashing a keen gait normandthenightmarezpsychobillyinfectioncdor stalking ears, the track is an incendiary protagonist to give a blissful appetite further hungry urges which are rapidly fed by the acidic twang of The Lights Went Out. There is a scorched country-esque lilt to the invigorating prowl, the guitar of Elliot entwining ears with citric melodies and pungent hooks whilst vocally he snarls with a grizzled tone which sparks perfectly off of the heated climate of the song. The track has whispers of Tiger Army and The Quakes to its rich imposing breath but as with all songs no matter the hints it stands alone as something distinct to album and Norm And The Nightmarez.

The title track, though living up to its title, is rockabilly spawned even with its slight punkish nature. The bass and guitars sculpt a weave of riff and lures which play with body and soul like a sly puppeteer, twisting and turning imagination and passions inside out for a fevered submission. Its contagion lingers far beyond its stay though both Nightmare and Ton Up ensure in their company it is a distant memory at least. The first of the two right away triggers thoughts of The Reverend Horton Heat and Matchbox with flavourings of Johnny Burnette and Hasil Adkins also spicing the fiery encounter. Rhythmically and sonically the song entrances before the adrenaline rampage of its successor rumbles across the senses. Beats descend on ears with an unrelenting coaxing whilst the bass call of Bending brings delicious dark textures to the irresistible road trip. Elliot as ever commands the scenery with his vocals and guitar exploits whilst the trio unite for another ridiculously compelling and magnetic parade of roguish rockabilly incitement.

The flirtatious Sex Kitten teases senses with a salacious sexuality next, its smouldering grooves and sensual melodic curves as infectious as they are seductive. There is no denying a certain Stray Cats swagger to the song but also a danger to its stroll which could be compared to something with the edge of Guana Batz and addictiveness of Gene Vincent. It is an inescapable persuasion though one soon left in the shadow of the wonderful instrumental Devil Girl From Mars. There is something poetic to an intensively crafted piece of psychobilly music with its primal predation and sonic toxicity, and certainly it comes with no finer shape and beauty than here. Imagine a blend of The Tornadoes and The Frantic Flintstones and you get a whiff of its virulent might.

Both Pardon Me and The Past is a Place that I Just Can’t Go have energies and passions in a raw riot of pleasure, the first with its caustic sonic grazing and thumping rhythmic enticement whilst the following track stretches a menacing bait over ears again with jagged riffs, pulsating throaty slaps, and ear crowding beats. As impressive as its predecessor was, the second of the pair is another merciless encroaching on freedom with its rhythmic slavery, melodic venom, and vocal rapacity. It is impossible to choose a track which stands out over the rest on the album but this is always a forceful contender.

The fun filled Elvis Was a Zombie keeps things stomping along nicely and though it lacks the spark of other tracks for personal tastes it is impossible to dismiss because of that mischief and its rhythmic badgering. Its paler presence is soon swamped by the brilliant closing of the album. Massacre at Devils Plain with its Native American croon and howls over a gritty stride of sonic stabs and heavy footed rhythms, sets the imagination alight next whilst final song The Man with the X-Ray Eyes, leaves Psychobilly Infection on arguably its highest pinnacle. Bursting from a sample from the film of the same name, the track is a psychobilly irritant at its most potent and brilliant. It is a predator of a track, rhythms climbing all over the senses whilst guitar and vocals stir up the imagination with rich imposing hues. It is fair to say the song has elements of The Meteors all over it; The Hills Have Eyes springing to mind, but again Norm And The Nightmarez defuse any comparisons with their distinct invention and adventure.

From start to finish there is no escaping the might and sheer glory of Psychobilly Infection and the emergence of a brand new creative devil in our midst, though whether the UK, come to that the world is ready for Norm And The Nightmarez and their hellacious tempting only time will tell.

Psychobilly Infection is available now via Western Star Recordings @ http://www.western-star.co.uk/western-star-releases—cds_36/psychobilly-infection—norm-and-the-nightmarez_146.aspx



RingMaster 29/07/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Listen to the best independent music and artists on The RingMaster Review Radio Show and The Bone Orchard from


In The Whale – Nate & Eric

InTheWhale R! 2

This week sees the release of the Nate & Eric, a fireball of rock ‘n’ roll from US duo In The Whale. The album is actually the putting together of the band’s last two EPs and if they have escaped your attention this is an encounter you should urgently add to your collection of crucial sounds. As eclectic as they are ferociously contagious, the songs making up the release are encounters bred in everything from old school rock ‘n’ roll and punk through to blues, garage rock, and plenty more. It is uncompromising, honest, balls out rock ‘n’ roll, and quite simply irresistible.

Formed in 2011, the Denver band consists of Nate Valdez (vocals and guitar) and Eric Riley (drums and backing vocals), a pair which much like Canadians The Black Frame Spectacle, turn two sources of roaring instrumentation into a full-on rapacious beast of sound and energy. In 2012 In The Whale unleashed debut EP Cake, a well-received proposition which was followed by a just as impressive live presence, which has seen the band play with the likes of Murder by Death, Local H, Reverend Horton Heat, and Electric Six as well as The Airborne Toxic Event, Agent Orange, Bob Log III, The Pack A.D. and Slash. Second EP Eric hit ears in the latter stages of 2013 with its successor Nate being unveiled earlier this year. Now the last EPs come together to create one of the most inspiring and mouthwatering propositions of 2014.

Nate & Eric opens up with the Nate tracks, and specifically Robert Johnson. From its first breath a flame of energy and intensity hits image10-5the ears through intermittent strikes of raw riffs and punching beats beneath the equally imposing vocal call of Valdez. Bluesy air oozes from all aspects too before the track settles into a predatory dance of raucous riffs and anthemic rhythms to which the vocals burn and roar passionately. The track is like a mix of the previously mentioned Canadians, Reverend Horton Heat, and Eagles of Death Metal, and just as devilish as that mixture suggests. It is Devil music and unapologetically irreverent in its infectiousness and psyche twisting charm.

If the starter was mercilessly tempting than the following Wedding Bells should be labelled as dangerous, its initial southern psychobilly twang toxic bait to which the band erupts into a garage punk enslavement with impossibly addictive pop punk relish. For less than a minute and a half, the track stomps with nagging rhythms and agitated riffs, leading into a ridiculously commanding chorus; this all under the again gripping vocals of Valdez. It is a fiery mix that Valdez and Riley conjure; alchemy of sound sculpted with an adrenaline fuelled inventive voracity through simply one predacious guitar, an antagonism lit drum kit, and flaming vocals.

Both the hard rocking Lake of Fire with its again blues kissed rabidity and the feverish brawl of Grandpa Pete keep passions and ears greedy, the first a frenetic blaze of stoner-esque heavy rock with punk urges. Acidic melodies and darkly shadowed chords equally add their potency to the fire dance, hooks and grooves just as prevalent and mischievously compelling too. There is a little tint of Wall of Voodoo to the song, though admittedly for indefinable reasons whilst its successor is pure punk revelry with metallic appetite. Holding a touch of I Am Duckeye and Melvins in its barging garage punk tenacity and devilment, the track is pure aural addiction.

The Eric half of the album begins with On A Roll and immediately a scrub of blues guitar swiftly joined by muscular rhythms and honky-tonk piano covers the senses. As Valdez opens up the narrative everything settles into an ordered yet disruptive canvas of unpredictable rhythms and searing melodies beneath those dramatically expressive vocals. There is a rich feel of Queens Of The Stone Age to the riot but only as a potent spice in a loudly individual proposition. Its triumph is followed by the best track on the release, The Clash seeded Girlfriend. Beats set out a plain but gripping frame for both men to lay down their anthemic vocal call before the track explodes into a blistering punk temptation. The Vibrators meets Rocket From The Crypt with that Strummer and co blooding, the song is an incendiary trap to dive into head first for the greatest pleasure and lustful satisfaction.

The release closes with Sunbeam where again the pair step into a stoner landscape but this time with coarse rock ‘n’ roll and seventies garage rock scenery. It is a smouldering abrasing of sound and sonic tempting, keys again adding richer colour to the riveting and shifting terrain of the magnetic provocation. It is a glorious end to a sensational release, as mentioned one which if the EPs individually have evaded your sweaty hands, is a must have, do not dawdle purchase. In The Whale expels rock ‘n’ roll in its purest yet adventurous form, a furnace to get persistently and brilliantly burnt by; the proof is all there on Nate & Eric.

The self-released Nate & Eric is available now!



RingMaster 27/06/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats: Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat

Dead Bundy and ....

Providing a villainous canvas for the most essential of mischievous sounds Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat the latest album from Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats has everything you could desire in a psychobilly riot. A collection of songs which are as compelling as they are the instigators of varied rock n roll flames, the album just grabs the heart and thrusts it into a bruising rampage of insatiable riffs, hungry rhythms, and heart borne passion. This is a record from a band which lives and breathes their sound and uses their open influences to corrupt and ignite the wickedest shadows within its willing victims.

The Minneapolis quartet is another band which lets the music do the talking with info about the band as scarce as the desire to behave within the album itself. The band does consist of Matthew Sprinkles, Chris Wilson, Cody Hillyard, and Matt Kalsnes, and employs influences from the likes of Batmobile, The Quakes, Reverend Horton Heat, Mad Sin, and Screaming Jay Hawkins amongst many, as well as a band which springs to mind often across the release, the Frantic Flintstones, to their own mastery. Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat is the follow up to 2011 album Bad Moon Death Trip, and was released last year making us late to its glory but better late than never right? They tag their sound as brundlebilly but whatever they want to call it their roguish conjurations are just essential treasures for all fans of rock n roll.

The eager and thrilling breath of Hexes And Hymns opens up the album, the track a brief instrumental charge which begins with 300gentle caresses before turning on the for pulsating guitar strokes, thumping rhythms, and a delicious whisper of discord throughout its twisted twang. It is a fiery start soon equalled and surpassed by the shadows gifted Evil Deeds And Demon Seeds. With a groaning hungry bass slapping resonance and an irresistible groove the song stomps through the ear with only thoughts of dragging the feet and passions of the listener into action, not that they need much persuasion when confronted by infection carrying sounds like this.

From there the album sets free one of its biggest pinnacles in a continual parade of highlights. Junglebella swings astride the senses with an insatiable energy and compulsive swagger, the vocals and guitar luring irresistible whilst the contagious chorus demands receives compliance from the throat of the listener with immediate effect. It is a sensational song which brings elements of The Meteors, Link Wray, and The Legendary Shack Shakers into play. The musicianship is as impressive as the viral persuasion at work throughout song and album and already only three songs into the release one feels the band is destined for the strongest recognition in their chosen genre if not further afield.

The sinew stretching Bruja with its crushing rhythms and flames of scorching guitar continues the now beyond simmering rapture, the track a muscular bruising with more addiction than primitive sexual urges…oh that is just us then…whilst the likes of the raw rockabilly furnace of Movie Monster and the country lilted evil of Bad Woman with its Dave Edmunds/Polecats like gait brings diverse enterprise and tingles to the release. The last of this trio starts as an old school toned treat which again leads one by the ear to embarrassing rhythmic expulsions on the dancefloor but midway intrigues and excites by twisting into a punkabilly storm which is a mix of Demented Are Go and The Living End.

As the album continues the songs Supernatural Man, She’s A Hellcat, and Road To Ruin only lead to further squeals of joy before another major triumph arrives in the graveyard romance of Bone Daddy. It is a glorious track which romps with sinister intent and deathly mischief. The irreverent vocal squalls and ever potent emotion playing bass prowl fires up the deepest passions whilst the heated hooks of the guitar conjurations pulls the heart into action like a satanic musical magnet.

Closing with the fine acoustic ballad Devils In The Dark, the album is an enthrallment with the highest rewards of pleasure attached to every note and rhythm. Only enthused acclaim can be laid upon Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat and a band in Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats which makes the company of their nefarious creativity as essential as breathing.


RingMaster 17/01/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Doctor Caligari: Self Titled E.P

DR Caligari

Giving a voice to the heart of the graveyard and brewing a potent irresistibility to its darkest musical shadows UK psychobilly band Doctor Caligari is a band which leaves the heart inflamed and dark hearted tendencies wide awake. The trio from Cardiff produce mischievous slices of rock which in the shape of their self-titled EP just ignites the fullest passions. With a psychobilly core and a strong breath of rock n roll to its presence the release is a contagious riot of energy, sound, and pleasure.

Doctor Caligari began as the solo project of song writer and guitarist Johnny Horror, the band name taken from 1920 German silent horror film The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, though originally the project was to be called Doctor Caligari’s Secret. As he worked on an EP of songs in the closing darkness of 2011 his search for a vocalist linked him up with former Ghostfire member Mr. E. Together the pair decided to move the project from a studio based band to one also embracing the live arena. Next to be recruited was drummer Gwyn Jones whilst for the recording of the Neil Michael Waters produced EP, the band was joined by bassist Joe Grogan (Graveyard Johnny’s, Estevez) and session drummer Stephen MacLachlan (27th Letter Music).

The release begins with the Western scented Creepy Horror Town, a track with heated skies and a golden eager touch to its doctorcalcdcoverinfectious stroll. The vocals of Mr. E. have a clean yet intimidating tone as he unveils the dark tale whilst the guitar of Horror winds the passions round its every string and note inciting further primal instincts to those teased into play by the stirring bass and drum incitement. The track is a mix of Zombie Ghost Train and Reverend Horton Heat distilled into a refreshing wash of seduction which could grace the latest Tarantino film with ease.

The brilliant She Likes It Spooky steps forward next to unleash its wanton rhythms and compelling grooves. The track stomps through the ear with a viral infection of lingering melodic hooks and rampant rhythms whilst again the great vocals complete the deal for the heart. With his tones on the song one is reminded of Karl Blake in his Shocked Headed Peters guise, the track itself seemingly holding loud whispers of the song I, Bloodbrother Be. As the track romps across its compelling course, voice and limbs are recruited with a not to be denied hunger with a fullest pleasure in place by the time the last delicious note has placed its thrilling touch upon the ear.

The following magnetic storm London After Midnight is just as insatiable and impressive, its transfixing onslaught of thumping rhythms and incendiary sonic teasing an unrelenting joy. The song likes its predecessor riles up the senses with a magnificent embrace of raw edged energy and irresistible rockabilly shadowed playfulness. The guitar of Horror manipulates and taunts with a majestic wink of its eye whilst the bass of Grogan is a pulsating brooding delight adding darker depth against the perpetually excellent vocals. The two tracks side by side make the release an essential psychobilly purchase on their own but the band are if nothing else generous with their quality and thrilling encounters as shown by the next two songs.

The EP is completed by firstly the zombie cored assault The Dirty Dead which offers a senses slapping bass display to drool over whilst once more the guitar lights the skies of a song with sonic flames which burn and seduce. Lastly the outstanding (She’s Got) Corpses in Her Bed is a rampaging bruise of frantic energy and activity from all elements.  It has an unappeasable greed to grab the soul and ignite the feet and as it sets free its unrestrained uproar of sadistic glory with dictating gnawing bass sounds and barbed compelling drums, it simply leaves one exhausted whilst basking in psychobilly at its very best, a statement more than appropriate for the whole of this excellent release.

If you are lucky enough to grab the CD of the EP, but move fast as it is almost sold out, there is the additional triumph of The Curse Of The Monkey’s Paw to get excited over, but even without the song the download version of the EP is a must have for all fans of rock n roll.

Check out The Bone Orchard podcast on January 23rd @ www.audioburger.com for the psychobilly special featuring amongst others this impressive band.



RingMaster 15/01/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

the black frame spectacle: Grady Sessions II

Take two men, a guitar and drum kit, and a passion to turn big thumping beats and energetic rampaging sounds into something as essential as breathing, and you have the black frame spectacle. Fusing the feisty essences of rockabilly, punk, and psychobilly with expressive lyrical might and powerful inspiring vocals, the duo from Canada create music which could soundtrack a riot whilst persuading a thousand more eager hearts to join its passion. Their latest album Grady Sessions II is a breath taking storm of thrilling nostalgic sounds and modern heart spawn urgency and craft, a lo-fi adrenaline soaked surf through incendiary invention and captivating unpredictable imagination. It is outstanding, a record which lies somewhere between bruising the senses and sending them into orgasmic rapture, though in the end the result is the same as from both extremes.

The Ontario band consists of guitarist and vocalist Ian Sullivan and drummer Adam McNeill, two men who met as work colleagues in 2003 and came together as musicians in 2009. Their striking sounds soon found them with a constantly growing and strong fan base around the Dorchester and London area which with the release of their debut album Grady Sessions spread further afield. The new album takes all the impressive essences of the first album and explores them with greater depth for a distinctive and imaginative triumph. The release plays like a heady brew of bands like The Peacocks, Batmobile, and Living End distilled through the breath of Max Raptor and System Of A Down, it is a unique beast with at times familiar sounding sinews within devastatingly inventive and fresh creative muscle.

As soon as opener Patient Zero scurries through the ear with rasping riffs and disorientating rhythms, a tingle shoots through the heart. There is an immediate sense of something special raging alongside the driving vocals and shadowed gait of the teasing slightly abrasive maelstrom of ingenuity. The track stomps with electric tension and gnawing urgency aligned to unpredictable enterprise, a punk rock tempest spiced with a raw Gene Vincent swagger.

The following Bust Out The Boogie continues the mighty start, its rockabilly swing and challenging bite simply irresistible. The song makes it impossible for limbs and voice not to enter its affray, the energy and heart of the track a wild infection whilst the knowing romp of the vocals is an instigator anyone would follow whatever its intent.

As the album progresses the growing adoration towards the inciting sounds becomes an unbridled lust, tracks like Class Of Lonely Dreams and Use Your Claws, sensations to lose inhibitions to. The first is a caustic call to arms to match anything on the Roll On album from Living End, its instigation as contagious as the rough surfaced sounds, whilst the second with its waspish lilt to the guitars is a seductive tease to lose oneself within with ease. Their stunning might is followed up with the just as provocative and storming sounds within Up, Back, Or Off, an track to ignite the primal needs and greed with expertise.

Though at times the surface sound has an admittedly very agreeable but similar initial assault it does not take much effort to discover the inspired versatility and diversity to the ideas and sounds at play. Bored Of The Lie for example at first seems like a continuation of the previous track but soon lays an undulating passage which is continually mesmeric and constantly challenging. It is also quite brilliant as are all the songs and album as a whole.

Further highlights come with the likes of An Ode To Dogs Bollocks which starts as something Buddy Holly might have imagined and evolves through a snapping spicery of Calabrese and Reverend Horton Heat, the military surge of Marching Orders, and the emotive twisting glory of Oscar Mike. The last of the trio is immense, the vocals of Sullivan pushing the already striking range and depth of his ability to greater heights whilst the rhythms of McNeill frame the sensational track with a persuasive and invigorating magnificence.

Closing with the dazzling The Mob Awaits, a quite delicious track with a tin pot alley swagger and sweltering unrivalled passion, Grady Sessions II is simply brilliant. With ease it is one of the best albums to appear this year whilst taking the heart on the most genuine and inspirational journeys in a long time. If punk n roll is your favourite tease thanthe black frame spectacle will leave you drooling from every pore.



RingMaster 14/11/2012

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