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

https://tacomouth.com/   https://www.facebook.com/tacomouthband   https://twitter.com/tacomouthband

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

Joecephus and The George Jonestown Massacre – Death Rattle Shake

It seems like Joey (Joecephus) Killingsworth has been dealing out potent sounds as long as The RingMaster Review has way back had music in the heart though that realisation comes with hindsight after actually being introduced to the vocalist/guitarist/songwriter through his band Joecephus and The George Jonestown Massacre; more specifically through 2010 anthem WWLD (What Would Lemmy Do), a track and chorus which still rings out in the office when faced with a dilemma. Now the band has a new slab of Joecephus led goodness out going by the name of Death Rattle Shake, a release all punk ‘n’ rollers and hard rocking, country licking, metal hugging lovers should take a moonshine soaked dance with.

Joecephus and The George Jonestown Massacre as a band rose up around 2005 though, after an EP under his own name, Killingsworth had already released a first album under the name. Performing their first show that year,  the Memphis outfit have gone on to share stages with the likes of David Allen Coe, HR of Bad Brains, Agent Orange, Jucifer, Green Jello, Unknown Hinson, Black Oak Arkansas, Jim Dickinson, Rev. Horton Heat and many more. A handful of attention and praise drawing albums have also graced and bruised the years with Hell or High Water (2010), and Arockalypse Now (2012) probably the most notable and acclaimed. Death Rattle Shake easily takes its place alongside the band’s biggest successes and as a collection of tracks we would confidently suggest is their most impressive and rousing moment yet.

With bassist Brian Costner and drummer Daryl Stephens alongside Killingsworth and featuring the organ of Gerald Stephens, Death Rattle Shake bursts into life with its title track and a slice of dirtily animated rock ‘n’ roll. With beats rapping firmly on the senses and the bass grumbling with devilish seduction, the track is soon a compelling stomp which the magnetic flirtation of keys and the grimy riffs of Killingsworth lustily align with as his vocals further incites the body romping antics the music commands.

It is an outstanding start, one of those irresistible moments we all crave for and the spark for the following diverse dance of the album starting with the blues rock saunter of Drivin Blind. Again the warm, psych lit keys of Stephens contrasts yet unites with the scuzzier tendrils of guitar rising from similarly raw sonic flames, Killingsworth like an outlaw in its midst. It is a description which and always has suited the band’s music perfectly, its character like a rock ‘n’ roll felon/bandit but  an outsider you want to run with.

The addiction sparking Terminally Hip is next swinging its angular hard rock bred hips with attitude and mischief while Karma’s A Bitch brings a cauldron of old school rock nurtured blues punk as irritable as it is boisterously animated. Both tracks incite swift involvement from body and vocal chords, firing up rock ‘n’ roll instincts as easily as Excaliber also proves itself able. Again blues and punk unite as more stoner come sludge metal hues lick away at song and ears, the track another treat even if far too short for unbridled satisfaction.

Through the psych rock seeded, R&B keyed punk ‘n’ roll of Flypaper and the cowpunk sniping of Gold Digging Whore, the album continues to broaden its flavour and magnetism, the first simply a delicious noise nurtured infestation and its successor a woozy intoxication of sour but richly appetising sonic liquor.

Though the country lined funk ‘n’ roll of Cosmic Retribution did not trigger the same greedy appetite as those before it, the track effortlessly had attention hooked as hips swayed again with that mesmeric organ of Stephens a major flirtation alongside swinging rhythms and the enterprise woven web of guitar.

From its title you will correctly guess the nature and sound of Tombstone Blues, a track which without breaking boundaries was full distraction before the album closes off with the enthralling epic stroll of Helping Hand. Though a track unsurprisingly flourishing from the open individual and united craft of its creators, it is the suggestive meander of Killingsworth’s guitar which wanders with a skilled touch and intimation across the increasingly cosmic landscape of sultry keys and boldly ambling rhythms which primarily stands out and grips the imagination.

It feels a long time since we had a Joecephus and The George Jonestown Massacre offering to chew on but well worth the wait as Death Rattle Shake is easily their best yet.

Death Rattle Shake is out now; available @ https://joecephus.bandcamp.com/album/death-rattle-shake

https://www.jk47.com/   https://www.facebook.com/Joecephus13/   https://twitter.com/joecephus13

Pete RingMaster 20/10/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

K-Man & The 45s – Self Titled

Pic DannyDonnovan @bucketlistmr

This month sees the new romping stomping album from Canadian outfit K-Man & The 45s uncaged, a release which had the body bouncing and spirit roaring like a teenage boy after his first sexual adventure. The band creates a contagious proposition from a fusion of ska and rockabilly spiced classic rock ‘n’ roll with plenty more involved, a recipe providing their finest feast of sound yet within their self-titled full-length.

Hailing from Montreal, K-Man & The 45s has been a constant and acclaimed presence on the Canadian music scene; their records luring keen praise and support and live presence just as rich plaudits and a matching reputation. The band has shared stages with the likes of The Slackers, Big D and The Kids Table, The Satellites, The Original Wailers , The Planet Smashers, The Brains and so many more as well as graced and ignite a host of festivals across their homeland over the years. It is easy to suggest that their new album is their greatest moment yet and even easier to eagerly push it towards the attention of ska, punk and rock ‘n’ roll fans alike with the band embracing the inspirations of bands such as The Specials, The Beat, The Ramones, and The Cramps among their influences though it is fair to say K-Man and co have successfully nurtured their own individual character of sound as in thick evidence across the new record now getting its deserved push via Stomp Records.

Opener They Gotta Know had us hooked with its first breath, a classic rock ‘n roll guitar lure entangling ears and appetite before the song leaps into its punk rock swing. The jangle of Kman’s guitar flirts as the beats of Brian Smith arouse against the melodic dance of an organ; a potent enticement only enhanced by the dancing flames of Josh Michaud’s trombone and the trumpet of Seb Fournier. Bouncing along to the track’s body and stroll is inevitable, we can testify to that, as the song gets the album off to a rousing start.

The following Poppy’s Back In Town is just as manipulative, its rowdier rock colluding with the animated canter of keys and guitar with, as in its predecessor and every song, Kman’s vocal mischief leading the fun. Lively melodies and lustful hooks line its boisterous stroll before I Don’t Mind wheels in with an instantly appealing breeze easily reminding of The Beat. The band soon adds its own distinct colour to the song, adding a vocal backing in which participation is simply unavoidable. Smith’s clipping beats just get under the skin too, the brass n turn into the passions as the track lustily manipulates body and spirit.

Rudy Don’t Smoke equally had the body dangling from its virulent strands of sound and enterprise; its ska and punk collusion a devilish puppeteer with a glint in the eye of its imagination before Piece Of The Action bursts in with drama and intrigue which would not be out of place in the theme to a sixties TV spy/private detective show. With a Department S-esque hue to its theatre, the song is more than a match for the lofty heights of its predecessors as too the cosmic adventure of Space Thriller. Bringing the atmospheric prowess of The Specials into a surf rock spiced ska saunter the track has the same level of drama and intimation as the last song, its story a sultry seduction of lust and danger descriptively shaped by brass led enterprise.

Through the punk ‘n’ roll/ska bred stomp of Road Rage Randy and the fifties rock ‘n’ roll seeded ska spin of This Moment, pleasure only escalates with the album, each adding a new shade of sound and mischief to its party before a great cover of The Kingpins’ Party in Ja joins the fun. Giving its reggae nurtured catchiness a Ruts like dub makeover the track pulsates on the senses as again the body is lost to an instinctive bounce.

Next up is Johnny Thumbs a track which maybe did not inflame the passions as others around it but still made for the most enjoyable playmate before the outstanding Far Away Eyes Come Home simply became a love affair with ears. From its revolving hooks and melodic enticement to vocal and rhythmic invitation, the song devoured inhibitions.

The album finishes with another gem in What’s Inside A Girl, a glorious garage punk and rockabilly spun tease with a healthy psychobilly and surf rock glaze led by yet another delicious bassline among so many across the album from Frankie amidst the perpetual rhythmic incitement of Smith. The song epitomises the craft, sound, and contagious exploits of K-Man & The 45s perfectly whilst at the same time sealing its best track moment though that is debated with each and every listen.

K-Man & The 45s is a band which deserves the biggest attention within the ska, punk, and simply great rock ‘n’ roll world; all the reasons are in their new album so no hanging around go have fun.

Recently the sad news that drummer Brian Smith has terminal pancreatic cancer was announced and a Go Fund Me page set up to support him and his family. To help out this great musician and friend to so many go to https://gofundme.com/support-brian-our-brother

The K-Man & The 45s album is out digitally and on vinyl now @ https://k-manthe45s.bandcamp.com/album/k-man-the-45s

 https://www.facebook.com/kman45/   https://twitter.com/kmanandthe45s

Pete RingMaster 14/08/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Sendwood – Fist Leaf

“Forget about it; let the two of us be a band!”

That was the beginning of French outfit Sendwood; a declaration roared when guitarist/vocalist Kriss Wood (ex-The Real Mc Coy) and drummer/vocalist Alex Mc Wood (Harmonic Generator) found themselves alone in rehearsal without any sign of their band mates. It is a spontaneity and defiance which equally fuels their music and a debut album which just makes you want to get involved.

From the first breath of Fist Leaf, there is a sense that anything could happen, that the pair themselves did not have a firm grip on where their imagination at the time of recording would take them or want to place one. The result a collection of songs which explode like a sonic scatter bomb on ears with the intent of fun, mischief, and rock ‘n’ roll. Last year saw the release of the duo’s first EP, Log Face, a potent introduction to their feral blend of blues, metal, punk, and rock which is off the leash within Fist Leaf.

The first of three tantalising instrumentals starts the album off, Riffocephalus Minus a lure of crisp magnetic beats and meaty riffs swiftly bursting into a fiery proposition, though just as quickly that in turn slips into a harmonica led flirtation before evolving once again. It is a sign of things to come, of the unpredictable devilish antics on offer.

Demon immediately bursts from its predecessor; rapacious riffs and grooves colluding with more of Mc Wood’s rousing swings to grab ears and appetite. It is rock ‘n’ roll to the core, a ferocious slab of infectious enticement easy to roar along to as also the following Needle. Gnarly riffs hit the spot straightaway, beats and vocals taunting as they bait lustier attention, the song uncaging a wild incitement of garage punk ‘n’ roll again needing just a mass of seconds to get under the skin as untamed stoner lit grooves entwine.

Then the virulent catchiness of Leash consumed ears, its grungy stroll and contagious swing an insatiable persuasion with, as in all tracks, imagination rousing detours of varying potency along the way, next up Gotham proving the point. The second of the two is an asylum of wiry grooves and nagging riffs driven by rhythmic manipulation and a vocal unity which share lyrics which may not be the most inventive in the city but has you hollering along with matching energy.

Riffocephalus Medius is a scuzzy slice of sound and temptation, a brief but potent piece of enticement setting up the snarling presence of Penny, a song as seductive as it is unbroken. As so many within Fist Leaf it just pulled ears into eager attention and pleasure in tandem with an increasingly greedier appetite for the album and its hungry sounds. Gun is no different, the track a compelling trespass of concussive yet well-balanced rock ‘n’ roll simultaneously chewing upon and caressing the senses.

The album concludes with firstly the viral exploits of Ber, a track which as the album is maybe not looking to breed uniqueness but is as fresh and as hungry to arouse as anything around. It is followed by final instrumental, Riffocephalus Rex; a piece of captivation which is deceptively calm but with a carnival in its heart which subsequently erupts into a dirty clamour before easing into its cycle all over again.

Both make for a superb end to a thoroughly enjoyable encounter. Rock ‘n’ roll should be fun yet imposing, flirtatious but aggressive and Fist Leaf, indeed Sendwood pretty much tick all the boxes.

Fist Leaf is out now across most online stores.

https://www.facebook.com/sendwoodwtf/

Pete RingMaster 22/05/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Lucy And The Rats – Self Titled

There are some things which are simply bred for temptation, propositions instinctively natured to lure like sirens. Among their numbers is the debut album from Lucy And The Rats. Deceptively unassuming but one virulent contagion, the release is an irresistible slice of pop punk with a snarl in its heart and the most disarming melodies and harmonies on its breath like a winning blend of The Shirelles, Honey Bane, and Spinnerette.

Lucy And The Rats is the new band from now UK based singer/guitarist Lucy Spazzy, formerly one third of Australian punksters The Spazzys. Once settled in London in 2015, she set about assembling a new band being “bored of playing at home by herself”, subsequently linking up with guitarist Joe To Lose (Los Perros, Johnny Throttle), bassist Mike Cannibal (Animal Cannibal), and drummer Manu (Thee Tumbitas). A pair of ear grabbing singles followed as the band made a stir on the live scene in the Capitol, in turn nationally and all over the world sharing stages with the likes of Buzzcocks and Paul Collins along the way. Produced by Johnny Casino and Jim Diamond (White Stripes, Dirtbombs), their first album is an inescapable tap on the shoulder of the broadest attention and recognition, a sweet sounding proposition so so easy to run off with.

Opening up with Pills, the album instantly had ears attentive and the body rocking. Soon the song strolls along with a summery glaze over eager catchiness as hooks collude with flirtatious riffs and rhythms. There is a whiff of The Shirts to the track as its heart embraces the instincts of pop and rock ‘n’ roll around the magnetic presence and tone of Spazzy.

The following Make You Mine wears a similar hue of sound but quickly reveals its own personality and The Waitresses meets The Crystals like temptation. Again feet were keenly shuffling and hips swinging as melodies seduced hand in hand with golden harmonies but all the while a punk edge stirs accentuated by the wiry enterprise of the guitars, they repeating that taunting prowess in next up Lose My Mind. Imposingly infectious, the song suggested involvement within seconds, manipulating it a few breaths later much to the lusty pleasure returned.

The likes of the surf kissed seduction that is So Simple, a mellow kiss on ears with the melodic smooch of The Dollyrots and rapacious touch of Valentiine, and the pop bouncing Melody just devour attention while the viral shadows of the bass grumbling Night simply danced with the imagination as the song took hold of the waist. It is truly hard to pick a favourite song within the album, all three among the options but the third makes an especially compelling statement.

Through Fall our passions pretty much echo their ardour as it swings with flirtatious grace and mischief, next up Hold On Me emphasising similar manipulation with rolling rhythms and deceptively controlled yet rousing energy with Spazzy tempting like a pop punk conjuring Pauline Murray. All three just leave a greed for much more, the latter laying on the temptation with some great hooks out of the Only Ones songbook, before Girl saunters along without a care in the world sharing the kind of creative snare addiction was invented for.

The album closes with Can’t Surf; a fifties inspired pop ’n’ roll romp which may have lost the heart for hitting the waves but had us riding its enterprising currents with zeal. The track is a thrilling end to one glorious encounter. Lately we have found pop punk to be a touch vacant on real uniqueness and though Lucy And The Rats have a sound which is much more flavoursome than that tagging, their album is the  fresh and inspiring breath within both pop and punk, indeed rock ’n’ roll we have been yearning for.

The Lucy And The Rats debut album is out May 25th digitally with Dirty Water Records and on vinyl through Surfin’ Ki Records, Monster Zero Records, and Stardumb Records.

https://lucyandtherats.bandcamp.com/  https://www.facebook.com/Lucy-and-the-Rats-817424101645809/

Pete RingMaster 23/05/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Bullets And Octane – Waking Up Dead

Though a name familiar to a great many, attention on the UK side of The Pond did not particularly have Bullets And Octane as a concentrated spot on its radar despite some ear grabbing, appetising inciting releases since the band emerged in 2003. That was until the LA based outfit played a venue ripping tour over here last year with our own fine middle finger raising rockers Hung Like Jack supporting. It has sparked fresh interest and in turn real anticipation for the US rockers’ new album Waking Up Dead which we seriously expect to be embracing rigorous attention upon release. It is a beast of an album, rock ‘n’ roll in its most rapacious and rousing form and without doubt Bullets And Octane in their finest moment.

From the release of their debut EP, One Night Stand Rock N Roll Band in 2003, the St. Louis originating quartet has been on a hungry ride towards acclaim and attention. Their Gilby Clark of Guns And Roses produced first album, The Revelry started the growing appetite for their emergence, each of their subsequent seven albums escalating the temptation, including breakthrough album In The Mouth Of The Young, alongside a live presence which has seen the sharing of stages at shows and festivals with the likes of Avenged Sevenfold, Korn, Stone Sour, Flyleaf, Deftones, Unwritten Law, Gunfire 76, Social Distortion, Eagles Of Death Metal and many more over the years. Now we would suggest they are facing their biggest year and time yet with the release of the Brent Clawson (Wednesday 13, Hell or Highwater, The Knives) produced, recorded, mixed and mastered Waking Up Dead, a slab of devilry declaring that hard rock spun rock ‘n’ roll has never been healthier or more fun.

As soon as Bad Mother Fucker launches its attitude loaded stomp off of a warning siren, it has to said, ears and appetite were swiftly gripped; a hold tightening as the track almost stalks ears with riffs and grooves whilst stirring up the spirit with its contagious roar. Vocalist Gene Louis hollers at its heart with energy and contempt, the band’s united calls supporting his incitement as the swinging beats of Jonny Udell punch and Zachary Kibbee’s bass magnetically grumbles.

A raucously irresistible start to the album aflame with the wiry tendrils of Felipe Rodrigo’s guitar, the track sets the anthemic template for things to come and is quickly embraced by the album’s following title track. Guitar and mass incitement instantly draws ears into the almost as immediate blaze of the song, its pulsating stroll and fiery sonic flames surging straight to the instincts to rock out. There is a devious craft and imagination to the song though, predacious twists and tenacious clamours uniting in its spirit rousing exploits.

The calmer but no less lusty When We Were Young has the body bouncing again, it’s gripping hard rock nurtured canter almost poppy but all raw bustle and bite while Burning at Both Wicks jabs and snaps at the senses from its first touch, takes the listener on a bold hard rock infested ride thereon in. As the whole of the album, the songs blend the familiar with the boldly fresh in their individual escapades, each nagging to get under the skin riff by hook and hitting their target in swift time. It really was impossible not to offer up one’s own vocal and physical participation across the whole of Waking Up Dead as proven yet again by the simply captivating Fires. As its predecessor, there is a touch of Fall Out Boy meets Grumpynators to the track with a whiff of Turbonegro, a spicing which slipped through our ears like nectar.

All the same, every song within the album is stamped Bullets And Octane through to the core, the likes of the melodically aflame Fuck You Song and Murder Me Baby with its predatory prowl and salacious swing diverse proof. Neither track quite hit the personal spot as those around them actually but the fact they had us rocking and pressing replay with perpetually fresh lust shows the might of the rest of the album.

The final trio of tracks keep the stomping and thick enjoyment flying, Rolling Stone casting a ‘mellow’, in comparison to other songs, incitement which only needed a clutch of seconds to bypass inhibitions before Hostage seduced the body into a subservient sway. Even with its relative composure, the song is an insatiable rocker increasing its boisterousness and the listener’s involvement by the minute.

Heart Attack completes the release, the track maybe the best of the lot though it is hard to choose. Hooks and grooves ensnare as rhythms jab, vocals stoking up devilment and alone further involvement; the four prong rock ‘n’ roll attack as manipulative as it is simply balls swinging revelry. A great album deserves a thunderous end and Waking Up Dead certainly gets that though its whole body is a galvanic storm of rock ‘n’ roll; a tempest of pleasure we can only suggest, wherever you are, you should unleash your rocker instincts upon.

Waking Up Dead is released May 25th through Bad MoFo Records/Cargo Records.

https://www.bulletsmusic.com/   https://www.facebook.com/bulletsandoctane

Pete RingMaster 23/05/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright