King Salami & The Cumberland 3 – Kiss My Ring

There are few guarantees in life but having a raucously good time with King Salami & The Cumberland 3 is a given so it is no surprise that their new album had us bouncing around like a teenager in heat. Kiss My Ring offers thirteen slices of rhythm ‘n’ blues drenched garage rock to simplify its rich flavouring, a sound as ever inimitably unique and mischievous to the London based quartet infesting limbs and spirit with rock ‘n’ roll fever.

The successor to their acclaimed album Goin’ Back To Wurstville, though it is fair to say that to date every single and album has enticed keen support and praise, Kiss My Ring is a collection of originals and covers which have only one intent, to get the listener as animated and aroused as they are. In some ways there is little new to the album in the fact you know what you are going to get in flavour and character yet such their sound’s instinctive individuality and ever eager dexterity plus the release’s richer weaves of sound it is an encounter sharing refreshing endeavour and fresh rascality.

It takes mere seconds for the album to get into feet and appetite, its title track leaping from T. Bone Sanchez’s initial guitar chords with instant relish and energy. Eric Baconstrip’s beats eagerly drive the bursting incitement of sound, flames of sax joining his enticement as the bass of Kamikaze UT Vincent resonates with every pulled string. A full-blooded carousing of ears and spirit, King Salami centre of the band’s joint vocal hollering, the track had no difficulty pulling bodies to their feet and pushing inhibitions to the side.

Don’t Make Me Mad steps forward next, its dextrous shuffle again swiftly into limbs and feet with King Salami’s distinctly frisky tones leading the devilry. Hooks and rhythms provide encouragement throughout, each flirtatious in their enterprise with Vincent’s bass a throaty pleasure before similarly roaming The Pulpo Dance with a just as compelling swing. The song holds its energy in check compared to its predecessor but cannot hide its organic spirit and lively rock ‘n’ roll bred instincts.

A surf meets rockabilly breath escapes next up Who Do They Watch?, the immediately magnetic flavouring immersing in the song’s garage rock breeding. Everything about the track from esurient rhythm to heartily enthused voice got under the skin and had the body leaping like a puppeteer, a trait which is no newcomer when coming face to face with a King Salami & The Cumberland 3 offering it is fair to say as quickly proven by the cosmic exploits of Space Spy. With a touch of French outfit The Scaners to its predominately instrumental intrigue bound, hook wired saunter, the track too tunnelled into the nervous system to insist body and imagination do it’s biding.

Through the jangle equipped rocker, The Double Switch, and Oofty Goofty (Wild Man Of Borneo) with its anthemic call and agile rhythmic flexing, there was no escaping the band’s tenacious antics, they as ever escalated by the rhythmic and melodically hooked enterprise and vocal frolic which spring their escapades. Though we suggested at the beginning that in some ways the album was not a bundle of surprises it certainly holds an eclectic adventure of sound and flavouring which both tracks alone highlight as equally does the fifties rock ‘n’ roll hued instrumental Stormy straight after them.

Discumboober in turn turned up the bounce in album and listener, the spring in its step enough to get bums off the seat with sax and guitar philandering temptation further hooking ears and appetite while Bayou Fever turned up the heat another notch with its Cajun breath and nagging urgency. Open yet sneaky hooks and boisterous rhythms again unite in contagious enterprise and cunning for two delicious minutes plus of unapologetic high spirits.

Across the fervid garage rock shenanigans of Cut A Rug and the inflamed punk funk of (She Was An) Earthquake, a breathless body and delirious ardour was effortlessly induced with The Jellybutt Of Timbuktu only increasing both with its hip swinging, mischief casting musical manoeuvres. From start to finish Kiss My Ring is perpetual incitement on the passions but maybe no more hungrily than over this trio of unbridled goodness.

The album ends with Chaputa (part 2), a track which pretty much encapsulates everything about King Salami & The Cumberland 3 and a sound which is so rousing, refreshing, and irresistible. It brings to an end the best and most addictive outing with the band yet with plenty to suggest they are teasing even greater adventures and fun ahead.

Kiss My Ring is out now via Damaged Goods Records; also available @ https://folcrecords.bandcamp.com/album/folc115-king-salami-and-the-cumberland-three-kiss-my-ring-edici-n-espa-ola

https://www.facebook.com/KingSalamiandtheCumberland3/

Pete RingMaster 04/11/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Spunk Volcano and the Eruptions – Double Bastard

This month sees the release of the fourth album from UK rockers Spunk Volcano and the Eruptions and like with all its predecessors just the news of that had us drooling in anticipation of its sure to be boisterous antics. Like so many others, the rousing exploits of the band to date ensured such eagerness and we can confirm right here and now no one will be disappointed. We will not announce Double Bastard the band’s finest offering to date such the thrills and spills within the likes of Injection, Shit Generation, and Not Wired Up Right before it and that is ignoring their equally rousing EPs, but it is right up there and insistently increasing its right to be announced top dog by the listen.

Ever the prolific songwriter vocalist/guitarist Spunk Volcano, also like drummer Maff Fazzo of Dirt Box Disco revelry, has filled the belly of Double Bastard with twenty five slabs of the band’s inimitable multi-flavoured punk ‘n’ roll. Expectantly his songs swing hooks like a predatory angler whilst lustfully ensnaring ears and participation with lung rousing choruses and virulently anthemic hollers and as ever their hearts are inspired by the intimate, social or simply everyday items and other sources of fun. But predictability and echoes of past shenanigans never rear their heads across the double album only mischief, craft, and pleasure.

With so many tracks within its bulging walls let’s get the fillers out of the way first…..OK that’s done! Truly every moment with Double Bastard is an essential incitement of rock ‘n’ roll with Teenage Teenagers the first to exploit an admittedly already in waiting appetite. From its first breath the song is an infectiously eager clamour, vocals leading the manipulation as Fazzo’s beats and Joey Strange’s throaty bassline direct its catchy stroll. The guitars of Tom ‘G Force’ Batterbee and Stew Page weave their own melodic temptation into the familiar SV and the Eruptions mix but one wholly individual proposition.

Swiftly the deliciously rapacious lures of Marvellous Manifesto and the rhythmically animated and sonically devilish Fixtures and Fittings infested eager ears with their voracity in heart and tenacious catchiness. The instinctive rock ‘n roll of each track is just as bold and persuasive before Plasticine playfully prowls ears and imagination with the barely diminishing nostalgia and lure of its inspiration, a song as memorable as it is devilish in presence.

It feels mean to pick out certain songs over others as all simply pushed the album to further greatness but among the contagion loaded and diversely flavoured likes of Shit Excuse, Edging on the Side of Caution, TCP, and Spare Room, persistent peaks were set by the sinisterly sauntering, deviously compelling Super Dooper and the voracious trespass of Independent Fire. The metallic edging of the hardcore bred first is accentuated in the punk/thrash toned foray of the second yet both reveal so much more in their sound and flavouring than that suggests,.

Similarly Red Rings with its engulfing melancholy and the irritable uproar of Road Rage brought new heights to the release just as potently matched by the pandemic melodic rock temptation Old Wives Tales with Fazzo‘s skills alone inescapable bait, the track bringing CD 1 to a magnificent close.

In many ways CD 2 shares a more feral side to the band’s sound, their punk instincts gloriously festering in the raucous hearts of tracks just as infectious and variously flavoured as their album companions before them. Death or Glory and Sucking Up quickly instil that feeling, the first track just muscular in every riff and heavily landing beat, biting hooks and rowdy vocals adding to its punk ‘n’ roll rampancy before its successor bares its old school punk snarl and seventies pub rock disorder like a brawling mix of Eddie and The Hot Rods, The Damned, and Motorhead.

The nagging prowess of Here Come the Zombies proved pure manna to personal tastes, the track building on the just as irresistible punk brawl of Dirty Pictures before it, the latter the definitive epitome of the band’s sound from day one and its perpetual evolution ever since; like a whiff of every release is embraced in its own particular bedlam.

Inevitably some tracks burrowed under the skin further than others, the insatiable almost savage onslaught of Personality Black Hole as mercilessly addictive as Inbred with seventies punk irreverence flooding its hooks is carnally seductive and Scared of Needles is effortlessly manipulative on spirit, body, and vocal chords.

Even so the likes of the 99% with its varied weave of melodic rock, the antagonistically anthemic Sick of Saying the Same Things, and the pop punk tunnelling rock ‘n’ roll of Daft as Brushes ignited the passions with no trouble or resistance.

The album is brought to a close by firstly the hard rock/pop punk infested melodic bellow of Blinded and then You Think Your Rock n’ Roll But You’re Not, one final punk ‘n’ roll blitz on ears and inhibitions which both fell in seconds for its cacophonous contagiousness.

Double Bastard is prime yet wholly fresh Spunk Volcano and the Eruptions and just another stomp with the nefariously enterprising quintet we can only loudly recommend.

Double Bastard is released via Avenue Recordz on 21st June.

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Pete RingMaster 03/06/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Scabby Ghouls – Self Titled

Though horror punk is never slow in providing new excursions to venture six feet under with, of which many bring great memorable pleasure, there have not been quite so many in recent times to truly get the teeth into with sanguinary lustfulness. The Scabby Ghouls and their self-titled debut album is one such incitement, a collection of pulp horror driven devilry to bless any meeting of The Monster Club.

Hailing from Omaha, The Scabby Ghouls have dug up a sound as pop contagious as it is horror bloodied and punk driven; a mixture which if not on the major side of unique is fully immersed in the fresh and irresistible within their first full-length.

The album claws out from its mausoleum with opener Body Surfin’, immediately enveloping ears in dark mischief carrying drama as guitar lures mix with the voluptuous throb of the bass. The rolling beats of Nathan Christensen swiftly join and steer the incursion on ears and imagination as too the instantly alluring tones of vocalist/rhythm guitarist Denise Hazard. In no time the web of temptation becomes an appetite embroiling bedlam of creative mania entangled in the equally unhinged grooves and wires of guitarist Louie Hazard. Like a disembodied hand haunting Christopher Lee, the song stalks and fingers with increasing relish and like the big white lingering below its surface has no qualm about taking a more than welcome bite.

The great start is only escalated by the song named after the band. It too prowls the listener, checking them out before springing to its bold feet and instantly indulging in a rapacious saunter. With an essence which reminds of UK outfit Trioxin Cherry at times, the track is equipped with inescapable hooks and teasing riffs matched in temptation by vocals and the great throbbing bait escaping Alex Steffens’ bass. It all comes with a feral lining which is even more pronounced in next up Midwest Zombies, yet a raw wildness which only seems to enhance the instinctive virulence and catchiness of tracks let alone the individual prowess of the quartet.

Black Dahlia Bombshell is next up and soon eclipses its predecessor with its blood-lusting stalking and the subsequent rousing incitement of its viscera driven chorus. The track is pure horror punk wickedness resembling something inspired by the song books of early Misfits and Frankenstein Drag Queens from Planet 13 but quickly established as individual to The Scabby Ghouls before Dreaddy Krueger unleashes its own viral sonic blood-letting shaped by inescapable infernal hooks, rapacious riffs, and rhythms which twist the body like a puppet.

As potent and manipulative as both songs are, their ability to trespass and make the body do their bidding pales to the dexterity of the EP’s final and best tracks. Road Ragin’ is simply glorious, an insatiable surge of tarmac tearing, contagion loaded rock ‘n’ roll with a chorus which infests vocal chords within its first few words. The incitement musically is just as devious and enslaving while album closer, Knife Fight, is an old school punk nurtured holler taking in all-comers with voracious irritability to its infection loaded rumble.

Anticipation for the next endeavour from a band is nothing new or particularly rare but not often it comes with a side line of drool like that already escaping the wait for the next spook animated horror show from The Scabby Ghouls.

 The Scabby Ghouls album is out now via Out-O-Tune Records; available @ https://thescabbyghouls.bandcamp.com/album/the-scabby-ghouls

https://www.facebook.com/TheScabbyGhouls/

 Pete RingMaster 21/03/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Snakerattlers – All Heads Will Roll

They came, they infested, and they ignited a lustful appetite for their ravenous rattle rock sound around two years with a debut album which was all cunning lure and feral deviancy. Now UK duo Snakerattlers has unleashed its successor and a new tide of unbroken snarls and untamed sound greedily hungry to devour a new expanse of hosts.

Consisting of married couple Dan and Naomi Gott, Yorkshire hailing Snakerattlers breed a sound which whilst chewing on the raw essences of rockabilly, garage punk, death punk and prime rock ‘n’ roll has already shown its unique character through that first album, This Is Rattlerock. It is a proposal which may be in some ways sowed its seeds in the pair’s previous band, garage punk trio The Franceens, but bloomed and grew within the Snakerattlers first full-length and is an even bolder rapacious and irresistible holler within All Heads Will Roll.

All Heads Will Roll opens up with Aither’s Theme; Naomi’s beats a slow but suggestive crawl soon entangled in the sonic threads woven within Dan’s guitar. There is a whiff of menace to both but equally a hue intimating a waiting triumph which is soon in full blaze as the album’s title track bursts free from the final acidic melodic throes of its increasingly infectious predecessor. The second track initially teases with the voice and hooks of Dan, again they a controlled tempting courted by the heavy foot beats of his partner. Every passing chord and rhythmic jab brings greater contagion and enterprise, the pair’s ever rapacious vocal bait alone inescapable as garage punk and hell bred rock ‘n’ roll colludes around them.

That instinctive contagiousness flows as freely through next up Lose My Mind, a song embracing sixties garage rock flavouring as keenly as more punk and rock nurtured feverishness and aggression. There is a definite Cramps-esque lining to its catchy trespass and equally an instinctive wildness which is as eager in bands like The Creeping Ivies. Having seduced and devoured, the song makes way for the inescapable primitive manipulation of Do The Rattle Rock. Beats and chords incite as vocals implore; it all uniting in an invasion of willing ears and a body soon boldly rocking to the song’s voracious inclinations.

Old school rockabilly seeds the following dark seduction of She’s Strange, its dark lures and senses winding coaxing a devilish virus of sound and temptation while the skilfully voracious Rattle Rock Stomp simply unleashes restrained but barely contained bedlam in its rivetingly compelling swing. Dan’s vocals alone just infest the senses and pleasure fuelled appetite but add the ever resourceful and devious scything beats of Naomi and the almost corrosive clamour of guitar and it is manna for certainly these ears.

The album’s best track is swiftly backed in organic temptation by the melodic causticity that is I’ll Destroy Your Soul, the song a portentous romance for which an eager embrace or a quick fearful flee from is an equal option. It is another delicious sonic plague in a sound which has just further blossomed and evolved from that which created such a riveting debut for the band, a growth as potent within Standing On My Own and in turn Ooga Booga. The first of the two merges dark surf and angst lined melodic rock ‘n’ roll in its fiery infection, an infiltration becoming more magnetic and inventive as well as unpredictable by the second. Its successor is sheer sonic nagging against voodoo rhythms; a glorious incitement of sound and intent which had us mercilessly moving to its tune like participants in a devils puppet show.

The album concludes with firstly the equally sonically wily and rhythmically unscrupulous Snake Rattle Rock, Snake Rattle Roll, a track which had us bouncing without inhibition under the forceful direction of ever persuasive vocals. The track is pure demonic and masterful rock ‘n’ roll and another of the album’s major peaks in nothing but and matched in all aspects by the closing predacious prowl of Wild. It oozes menace though a threat wrapped in melodic acidity and under a controlled if feral hand which uncages more of its chaos chord by chord, corrosive blaze by blaze.

Together they bring a rousing end to an uproar of sonic anarchy and imaginative commotion going by the name of All Heads Will Roll. The first Snakerattlers album may have corrupted the passions of a great many but it pales against the howling magnificence, inexorable virulence and expected slavery of acclaim and new slaves now unleashed by Snakerattlers.

All Heads Will Roll is out now via Dirty Water Records, available @  https://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/Snakerattlers/c/33534229/offset=0&sort=normal and https://snakerattlers.bandcamp.com/album/all-heads-will-roll

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Pete RingMaster 01/08/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

dragSTER – Anti – Everything

UK punksters dragSTER pretty much hinted at themselves as being one of the country’s most irresistible snarls from day one; establishing and reinforcing that reputation and stature by each release and show. Three years after seriously stirring the punk scene with their album, Dead Punks, the Coventry quintet return with their fourth full-length, an encounter which roars that dragSTER is not only one of punk’s best antagonists but one of its essential and maybe crucial.

Anti – Everything is middle finger raised irritable, anthemically aggressive, and unapologetically rousing with the most deviously seductive web of lethal hooks and corruptive grooves within its roar. If perfection can exist, the album courts its embrace from start to finish, unleashing prize heart bred punk ‘n’ roll as invasively imaginative as it is ferociously instinctive. If its predecessor was a ‘punk classic’ in our words, Anti – Everything is rock ‘n’ roll alchemy; simply one inspiring blaze of organic punk devilry.

One Bad Cop opens things up, its initial raw breath swiftly infested with the album’s first delicious lure, a teasing hook which is emboldened as the track erupts around Fi Dragster’s ever tempting vocals. With threat to its air and stride, the track is under the skin in seconds; its tetchiness echoed in the enterprise of guitarists Diesel and Ben Kelly and equally rhythms which just incite physical confrontation.

It is an exhilarating start which still manages to be eclipsed by the outstanding Damned. Instantly its marching groove gripped already eager ears, its scuzzy bristling pure contagion loaded manna for the punk appetite. The flirtatious beats of Ryan Murphy gleefully add to the persuasion as too the dirty tempting of Tom AK’s bass which soon inspires the filthy glaze which blossoms as the song erupts without losing or defusing its crucial lures. Keys temper yet equally enhance the crotchety nature of the track; a character trait exploited by individual enterprise with it all boiling over in a mighty corruption of a chorus.

The following Burn It Clean uncages its own dispute of rousing rock ‘n’ roll to similarly irresistible effect, Fi a magnetic protagonist challenging and roaring within the track’s fractious stomp while the album’s title track in turn unleashes its own caustic holler to fire up body and attitude. Both tracks are pure manipulation, primal and designed, matching the glory of their predecessors and United Decay which erupts from its industrial bed with Kelly’s juicy groove and Diesel’s hungry riffs. With more restraint to its testy character but devious in its creative corruptions, the track is one imposingly tempting anthem though to be honest one such taunt among thirteen such compelling snares.

Through the short bruising hard rock meets garage punk holler of Spit It Out and the even briefer punk assault of Drone Pilots ears are lustfully infested, harassed and pleasured, subsequently inflamed yet again by Vultures Circle. It too reveals a fusion of varied rock ‘n’ roll flavours within its inflamed challenge, the song predacious but more a stalking of the senses than an incursion as it reveals yet another shade in the band’s broadest palette of sound yet.

It is a fresh tapestry added to as the likes of the ridiculously infectious Tokyo Joe, a slice of old school punk refreshed and re-invigorated, and Charmed To The Teeth with its similar if dirtier choleric incitement seduces body and vocal chords into vociferous participation. The latter of the pair also highlights the new adventure in the band’s songwriting and sound, twisting with unpredictable and teasing imagination.

The final trio of tracks ensure the album continues and ends on the same high nurtured so far, Dark Roulette cantankerous punk ‘n’ roll with its own line in viral hooks and melodic touchiness while Enemies just bullies and seduces eager participation with its prickly, short fuse rock ‘n roll with again a highly agreeable ’77 scent.

Broken By Design concludes the herd of viral riots, its irascible collusion of punk edginess and melodic seducing a final riveting and seriously arousing invitation to rise up; a track rich in bait and heart built with desire and instinct to stir things up. It is a striking, animated close to an album reeking craft and passion soaked in anthemic adventure.

There have been a few punk offerings which have truly inspired bands and fans alike over the past decades, Anti – Everything has just put forward its proposal to join their ranks.

Anti – Everything is out now through Louder Than War Records; available digitally, on CD and vinyl @ https://dragsteruk.bandcamp.com/album/anti-everything

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Pete RingMaster 11/12/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Taco Mouth – A Deafening Silence

If you ever get the feeling that the spirit and feisty devilment of the old CBGB hey days was a distant memory than rush over to the debut album from Nashville bred rockers Taco Mouth. Uncaging ten tracks which has the body bouncing and spirit roaring, A Deafening Silence is a punch of nostalgia and fresh enterprise which pretty much had us enslaved from the first listen of its first song.

The heart of the band is vocalist/guitarist Erica Sellers and drummer Angela Lese, a friendship and musical partnership which goes back to 2011 and the former’s new band at the time, CatFight. Lese’s relocation from Kentucky to Nashville brought that outfit to an end but a regular pleading for her former band mate to join her led to Sellers moving and with three other girls, the formation of The Dead Deads. After several national tours and two full-length albums, Sellers and Lese left the quintet in the October of 2017, quickly forming Taco Mouth with lead guitarist Shawn Hammer (engineer of Chevelle, Conor Oberst, Cursive) and bassist Flip Cooper (Damon Johnson, Brother Cane) completing its line-up.

Earlier this year, the band released the W.G.A.F. EP, a very well-received taster of the band’s punk fuelled, pop infested, ebullient rock ‘n’ roll now making one virulent holler from within A Deafening Silence. With defiance and attitude wrapped in hook ridden contagion, the Michael Wagener produced album immediately sets about getting under the skin with opener You Say. Flames of guitar instantly consume ears, a catchy rhythmic trespass in close pursuit before Sellers’ vocals join the swift coaxing. Within seconds an underlying hook teases but captivation is truly set with the song’s irresistibly rousing chorus. Like a hybrid of The Donnas, Spinnerette, and Sleater-Kinney but urgently enforcing its own individual character, the song as the band’s sound and enterprise sets the tone, manipulation, and adventure of things to come.

Romero follows, almost unwinding its lures as guitar and rhythms stir with predacious intent. The dual invitation of Selles and Lese’s vocals accentuate its temptation until breaking into a calm but determined stroll, bass and drums continuing to challenge as they entice. A sixties pop adds to the raw seduction, a radiant reflection on the track’s rawer observational edge before Burn This City Down springs its own flirtatiously imposing canter led by flesh whipping beats alongside a great bass grumble. Again defiance and catchy exploits collude in a slice of pop ‘n’ punk which had the body and vocal chords worked like a puppet.

Taking its predecessor’s strong mix of pop and punk, Let’s Get a Little Bit brings it to an even richer and keener boil, the song a tenaciously devious proposal orchestrating body and spirit with primal yet imaginative incitement soaked in infectious enticement while Queen of the Stags has a rapacious lining to its individually conniving contagiousness. Both outstanding tracks resound with the band’s skilful mix of flavours and creative cunning, and the pleasure an already greedy appetite was keenly devouring.

If both tracks are scheming, Simmers is pure unscrupulous seduction, the track a slowly evolving temptress with feline moves and inescapable devilment where every moment builds on the one before with darker intent and greater magnetism before the galvanic punk ‘n’ roll of Fighting for Today explodes in ears. An arousing call to arms and battle cry against a certain political leadership but applicable to all, the track just commanded lust and participation for its melodic howl.

The melodic serenade of You Can’t Stop Me is just as compelling, its intimate echo and smouldering uprising irresistible with next up Katie casting a pop hued incitement for ears and instinctive involvement through a rowdy yet inescapably catchy nature awash with crafty hooks and creative antics.

The album concludes with Waiting for the Sun, a song swinging with hip grabbing grooves while invitingly taunting with imagination firing hooks. It is a track epitomising the strengths and personality of the album and the band’s sound, the ever enticing shadows of the rhythms and the seriously magnetic vocals equally adding to its strength and overall to a release impressing more and more by the listen.

This year has seen quite a few striking punk nurtured treats unleashed; A Deafening Silence just might be the juiciest one of them all.

A Deafening Silence is out now and available @ https://tacomouth.bandcamp.com/album/a-deafening-silence

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Pete RingMaster 14/11/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Dahmers – Down In The Basement

For any sporting or physically demanding endeavour it is advisable to go into some sort of training. With music it is not a requirement that is until you come up against the new album from Swedish rock ‘n’ horror fiends, The Dahmers. The band has just released Down In The Basement, a beast of a record bursting with eighteen tracks of rock ‘n’ roll fever as ferociously energetic as it is virally infectious. From its first heartbeat to its last the bands third full-length is an insatiable incitement keeping the body rigorously and eagerly bouncing.  It is relentless, exhausting, and pure pleasure from start to finish.

Bromölla hailing, the Dahmers has been no strangers to keen attention having released a pair of ear enticing albums in Demons (2015) and In the Dead of Night (2017). Each has shown and evolved a sound which is bred on a patchwork of numerous flavours ranging from garage and classic punk to vintage rock ’n’ roll, sixties pop and garage rock. Each of those releases certainly pleased ears but have now been imply blown out of the crypt by the simply irresistible and irrepressible Down In The Basement.

With a mass of tracks the size Down In The Basement offers you would expect a few fillers here and there but they are conspicuous by their absence; from the opening surge of Blood On My Hands the album a full-on meal of prime cuts. The first track bursts into life on a tide of voice and guitar bred persuasion, straight away twisting and turning like a dervish whilst unleashing a wave of catchy mischief. The vocals of Christoffer Karlsson lead the way in manipulation but more than matched by his and fellow guitarist Josef Underdal’s devious hooks and the rhythmic salaciousness of bassist Tobias Augustsson and drummer Karl-Oskar Hansson. Something akin to The Hives meets Asylums the track simply stomped into ears and the passions setting the album off on a mighty course.

The following Murder Ride is just as reckless and tenacious in its own punk infused charge, sending insistent grooves and rapacious hooks through ears with a fifties rock ‘n’ roll meets seventies punk irreverence before Street Of the Dead brings its garage rock/indie pop boisterous to the already devilish party. More reserved than its predecessors but just as equipped with ripe catchiness, the song had the body fully employed in no time.

Across the classic hard rock tinted antics of Down On My Knees and the corrupted boogie woogie nurtured devilment of The Ripper new flavours and rascality sweeps across Down In The Basement, The Dahmers already revealing their most diverse web of sound which Hit ‘N’ Run exploits for its contagion loaded adrenaline fuelled punk ‘n’ roll romp. All three tracks infested body and spirit with ease, the latter mercilessly before Howling merged the rock ‘n’ roll decades with its nefarious holler for a matching success.

As suggested the album is a perpetual rush of treats which simply continue with the revengeful punk ‘n’ roll of I Spit On Your Grave and the fiendish infestation of Demon Night. Both had the body twisting like a possessed soul, their pop seeded rascality pure manipulation and inescapable corruption in the outstanding second of the pair.

Classic rock gets a nudge within next up Creepiest Creep, another track with hooks and grooves which worm under the skin like invaders into a six foot buried offering while Reoccurring Dreams is just a punk rock scourge of temptation draped with surf molestation. Both make a play for best track honours though already the list is a fair size and only about to grow as Without a Face declares its option through a sixties pop ‘n’ rock spiced saunter abound with rousing vocals and rhythms heated with fiery melodic flames.

The cinematic breath of Kiss of Dario has the imagination as busy as ever, Man Obsessed straight after sparking grinning lips as it flirts with Blondie for its prime hook as it teases an already lustful appetite for the album. Even so both are outshone by the voracious rock ‘n’ roll rascality of No One and a quite glorious cover of the Devo masterpiece, Social Fools. Both tracks show The Dahmers at their most irresistible, the first a prize roar of their untamed imagination and boldness, its successor of their inimitable punk ‘n’ roll enterprise which did not improve on an existing gem but certainly re-energised its might.

The final pair of November with its deceptively calm sixties hued, pop coated calm and dark instrumental The End brings the album to a magnetic close. The last track is another moment of cinematic intimation, an industrial creased piece which replaced a bouncing body with an imagination conjuring suggestiveness to keenly intrigue.

Down In The Basement is a momentous offering from a band due bigger and broader attention; it is not just us saying that but a collection of tracks which demand your soul.

Down In The Basement is out now via Lövely Records across most online stores.

Upcoming Live Dates:

02/11 – Skövde In Rock Fest   Skövde, SWE

03/11 – Halloween Meltdown   Eskilstuna, SWE

04/11 – Kulsturkvarteret   Kristianstad, SWE

15/11 – Cinema   Aalst, BEL*

16/11 – Dusseldorf   Ratinger Hof, GER*

17/11 – Eindhoven   Helldorado, NL*

* Supporting The Dwarves

https://www.facebook.com/Dahmers/

Pete RingMaster 26/10/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright