There is a new punkster in town with a fresh mischievously belligerent roar and it goes by the name of Kid Klumsy. Actually the band has been around for a few years just more in the background of recognition. Now though it is ready to grab a chunk of the limelight with debut EP Spit Your Dummy Out featuring six deviously tempting punk ‘n’ roll stomps which greedily have the body bouncing and attitude roaring.
From Coalville, Leics, Kid Klumsy as mentioned has been a stirring presence for a while with a couple of demos to their name. Spit Your Dummy Out is their first official release, coming through STP Records who can always be guaranteed to find the best punk rock around, as proven here with this storming introduction to a fresh incitement sure to draw a flood of new Kid Klumsy fans to those already in the know. The band is fronted by Weab, the frontman of inimitable punk rockers Dirt Box Disco, and upon the EP completed by guitarists Greg and Reidy, bassist Ali and Matt Wharton on drums. Almost automatically comparisons to Weab’s day job are sparked but swiftly Kid Klumsy reveals themselves a whole new proposition if one just as virulently infectious. The songs upon Spit Your Dummy Out also show an enjoyably varied character and just as potent whether snarling at the world, romping with rock ‘n’ roll devilment, or simply teasing with fun fuelled relish.
The EP opens with Grow up, an instantly boisterously energetic proposal with sinew strung tenacity. Of all the tracks it is the one which reminds most of Dirt Box Disco yet straight away bares its own steely breath and touch as hooks and rhythms almost battle for attention around Weab’s ever persuasive tones. Swiftly drawing eager involvement from body and voice, the track strings the listener up like a puppet, getting them dancing and roaring with zeal, our personal exhaustion proof.
The following 24 Hours has a predacious edge to its initial prowl and subsequent stroll. There is also a whiff of old school punk a la the likes of Suburban Subs and Slaughter And The Dogs to the rousing trespass which adds to its individuality rather than any familiarity before Bully Bullied The Bully creates a deliciously grumbling rumble in ears with its fiercely infectious confrontation. Embracing Sham 69 hues and twisting them with Kid Klumsy imagination into something as unique as it is ravenously catchy, the track is a glorious chant loaded temptation; just one of six similarly glorious incitations.
Sugar Junkies bounds in next with its anthemic charge and inescapable vocal manipulation. It too snares body and vocal chords in its contagion; a proposition to which belting out one’s own additives is unavoidable and very essential.
The growling tone and dynamic animosity of Pigs Ass is just as exhilarating; it’s no nonsense prowl and spiteful rhythms alone ensuring captivation but add vocal rapacity and a web of sonic enterprise and you have punk rock irresistibility.
The release concludes with the swinging escapade of Mr Bluey Man, a Rancid meets The Vox Dolomites treat which not for the first time on the EP has feet animated, hips weaving, and the throat crooning. It is a thickly magnetic end to a rabidly addictive encounter. Spit Your Dummy Out found the sweet spot of our passion for punk rock within seconds and continued to tease and fire it up from thereon in. 2018 will surely be the year Kid Klumsy becomes a household punk rock name and it is easy to imagine that rock ‘n’ roll will never be the same again.
Spit Your Dummy Out will be released May 27th through STP Records with pre-ordering available now @ http://www.stprecords.co.uk/
https://www.facebook.com/officialkidklumsy https://kidklumsy.bandcamp.com/
Pete RingMaster 18/04/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
A whiff of old school lines next up Caveman.com, the excellent feral stomp something akin to The Vibrators meets Turbonegro but distinctly DBD while Stop Shouting similarly taps into seventies punk for its core hook and riffery, draping it in the band’s inimitable anthemic rock ‘n’ roll instincts. Only the deaf could evade its physical and persuasive holler though even Fazzo’s incisive rhythms could probably stir their senses. Both tracks get body and spirit bouncing though maybe not as hungrily as 11th May or the following Mummy’s Boy. The first jabs and harries with beats and riffs, vocals commanding participation as the body throws itself around to the sounds while its successor flies through ears with seventies punk ferocity and DIY aggression to stir even greater involvement.
The following Shutdown offers its own collusion of punk and metal lined rock ‘n’ roll next; prowling riffs and biting rhythms a predacious incitement matched in success and intrusive magnetism by a litter of hooks and vocal unity. Standing at the fore SV is the trigger, his tones a belligerent yet welcoming cause to get on board with whilst the bass simply seduces the appetite with its devious groove. The track rocks the joint with ease, bodies and speakers rocking just as tenaciously through the more corrosive presence of Gatecrash and in turn by the seriously irresistible of Fuck This For A Game Of Soldiers. The first of the two lacks some of the sparks of its predecessor, such the former’s inventive bent, but still has full command of again throat and physical participation with its dirty punk ‘n’ roll while the second simply snarls and invades the senses with its primal hearted, melodically catchy antics. Initially a predator in sound and invention, it evolves into another SV anthem which chews up the listener whilst stirring them into an outpouring of unbridled energy. Not Wired Up Right features a special guest in Ginger Wildheart on guitar and backing vocals on three tracks and it would be no surprise if this superb dirt-fest of a romp was not one of them such its unsterilized gutter nurtured rock ’n’ roll.
The excellent Little White Lie romances the senses with its multi-vocal union and warm textures next, all fuelled by the wilful and headstrong energy and sound expected of the band while its successor, Working For Wankers, has vocal chords at full volume in unity with its sentiment and defiance. Blending explosive and calm pastures, choppy riffs and melodic teasing leading to ferocious expulsions, the song has ears and appetite hooked within seconds, success equally found by the snarling Fat Kid with its carnal metallic riffs and toxic grooves.
There is no moment to calm down either as the belligerent punk rock of Stop Looking At Your Phone roars in ears, its antagonistic charge and dispute irresistible. It is a wall of sound and protestation, a torrent of violent riffs and equally uncompromising rhythms driven by the vocal antipathy of Spunk and the band. At barely a breath over a minute in length, the song is like being given the juiciest steak and only allowed one bite before it is whipped away, but what a mouthful it is.
Drunken Nights whips up attention with its harmonic vocal calls and niggling hook next whilst Alright follows with a great Stiff Little Fingers like character to its full throttle stomp. Both provide choruses which instantly spark eager participation; again a constant success which is just as inescapable in the likes of Isn’t Where It Ends, a seventies scented oi! bred track which might lack the final spark of previous tracks but still whips up nothing less than thick enjoyment.
The outstanding start is quickly matched by Run for Your Life. From its first breath bluesy guitar caresses hit the spot, their coaxing soon taken up a notch by the throbbing lure of Carly Quinn’s bass which in turn sparks a fresh wave of agitation in guitar and rhythms. The song’s prime hook has the imagination ensnared just as swiftly, its devilment carrying a great Rocket From The Crypt air to it. Soon though, Blackey is standing centre stage with her great contentious expression and sandy throated tones, as around her melodies infuse an increasing scent of the blues into their and the song’s feistily infectious rock ‘n’ roll endeavour.