If packaging decided best of year choices UK quartet Headsticks will have top honour sealed with new album Kept In The Dark. The surround to its music is simply glorious, easily the best art and presentation seen in many a year by these hungry eyes and embracing music just as mouth-watering it all makes for one irresistibly thrilling offering.
Checking out their previous album, Feather and Flame, three years back we suggested that Headsticks had confirmed themselves “as one of Britain’s most irresistible and essential punk ‘n’ roll adventures.” Well, while assuring you that nothing has changed, the band has revealed that previous success was just the beginning of bigger things; bold triumphs now presented by its successor. Parading their folk ‘n’ punk instinctive sound in all its glory, the new release is Headsticks at their boldest and most boisterous but equally with its richer kaleidoscope of styles and flavours it has equally nurtured its most defined character and individual adventure yet for the biggest pleasure.
Emerging late 2012, Stoke on Trent hailing Headsticks had built and earned a potent reputation through a rousing live presence and acclaimed debut album Muster in 2014; success only accelerated by the following Feather and Flame. That growth will only be escalated again by Kept In The Dark; the band’s finest moment to date as their socially and politically charged songs relish another striking spurt in diversity, imagination, and dramatic adventure.
The new release opens its bumper load of songs, with no filler in sight, with When. From its first breath, the punk ferocity and infectious incursion of the track gripped ears with vocalist Andrew Tranter masterfully steering the rousing trespass. Devious hooks and manipulative rhythms do their persuasive deeds with relish within a song which has echoes of bands such as The Vibrators and Angelic Upstarts to it.
The impressive start is immediately matched by I Love You and its ska natured saunter. As mentioned variety in the Headsticks sound is enjoyably no new thing but it is certainly at its most eager, bold, and fluidly unpredictable within Kept In The Dark. With a Ruts-esque lilt to its stroll, the song had little trouble in getting under the skin and luring participation from body and voice before Peace Or War erupts in a roar of punk ‘n’ roll carousing where the forceful but virulent swings of drummer Tom Carter collude hungrily with the brooding tones of Nick Bayes’ bass as the wiry melodic tendrils of guitar from Steven Dunn align with his rapacious riffs.
The following pair of Cynical and Mushrooms reinforce the album’s instant adventure and prowess; the first a seducing of acoustic punk with irritation fuelling its breath and its successor a mischievous ska pop swinging incitement easily leading hips and vocal chords into action. Both easily got under the skin but still are eclipsed by the superb Mr ‘I’m Alright Jack’. Bred on classic fifties rock ‘n roll, the track is a lure of swerving rhythmic hips and melody enriched rockabilly chords around riveting vocal incitement.
Through the rock driven reflection of My Own War, an easily relatable declaration, and It’s a Matter of Time with its equally melancholic intimacy and Americana twang, enjoyment only built while the hard rock flavouring of Smoke and Mirrors proceeded to add further diversity to Kept In The Dark.
Both aspects continued to blossom as classic metal and street poetry respectively shape the temptation and strength of What If They’re Right and Out of Fashion before Family Tree pounced on social and political unfairness and exploitation upon a reggae borne canter and All of the Trees captivated with its acoustic/punk rock dexterity.
The final trio of The Song For Songs Sake, When the Sun Turns Black, and Baboon Shepherd close the album out as masterfully as it began. The first is a contagion of folk rock irresistible to ear and body, the second a compelling apocalyptic rumble of voice and insinuation; each as magnetic as the other leaving the third to sign off the album with its eleven minute dub infused homage to the career and life of South African footballer Sam Shabangu and the aligning times and experiences of Tranter. It is a track which brings grin and reflection amidst nostalgia across a lengthy landscape which never outstays its welcome.
Headsticks continue to be one mightily engrossing and thrilling proposition which, as Kept In The Dark proves, just get better and better.
Kept In The Dark is out now via STP Records; available @ http://www.headsticks.co.uk/shop.html or http://www.stprecords.co.uk/page2.htm and other online stores.
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Pete RingMaster 05/03/2019
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
The following Lawyers For You stomps around like a fusion of The Adicts and Dirt Box Disco, laying down gentle teasing lures which rise up into irritable charges, moments which will undoubtedly echo every time you see those infernal TV ads. As with most tracks, the song’s title tells you all you need to know about the focus of attention, Disabled Parking another delicious example. Again hooks and grooves become a fresh addiction as rhythms get the body up to misdeeds, Al Sation a magnetic roar poking at the relevant targets. All that is needed is someone to invent a way to have this blaring out every time someone encroaches on spaces they are not eligible for.
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.
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.