The Mobbs – Garage Punk For Boys

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Ever wondered what would happen when you mixed ’77 bred punk rock with garage rock? UK rockers The Mobbs obviously did and with additional doses of sixties beat and R&B have crafted a sound which insatiably infests body and soul. In the mischievous shape of their third album Garage Punk For Boys, this adventure it is fair to say also provides one of the releases of the year. The accompanying promo sheet for the album suggests that “The Mobbs play a Wilko Johnson infused Billy Childish explosion”, an accurately pungent description of their sound but to that we would add the unreserved devilry of Radio Stars, the raw charm of Television Personalities, and the bracing fever of Thee Exciters in its armoury. The concoction is a riveting and exhilarating stomp with a hunger as shown by Garage Punk For Boys, which infects the listener from head to toe.

Formed in 2008, the trio from Northampton has persistently lit up stages, earning a rich reputation for energy strewn live performances, a stirring presence backed up and spread further by their greedily received full-length It’s… The Mobbs of 2011 and its acclaimed successor Stiff Upper Lip & Trousers To Match last year. With a couple of singles equally stirring the passions, the band has been a live spark in the European garage rock scene, though it is easy to expect Garage Punk For Boys being the trigger to a far more ferocious spotlight upon the inimitable uniqueness of The Mobbs.

The trio of vocalist/guitarist Joe B. Humbled, drummer Cheadle, and bassist The Bishop, who is making his recording debut with the band on the album, unleash an instantly grabbing eighteen second punk brawl through Gpfb to set GPFB-FRONT-COVERthings off, following it with the magnetic grooving of Get Your Hair Cut. Bass and guitar cast the first spicy lure on the second track, before snipping scissors unlock a feisty stomp littered with a wholly seductive bassline and similarly alluring hooks. Matching the devilment of the sounds, Humbled incites ears and imagination with his raw and unfussy delivery, a boisterous and infectious enticing to misbehave or conform depending how you want to take the exceptional track.

Its bewitching bounce is followed by the tangy presence of I Am the Anticlimax, clanging riffs an easy enslavement from the first breath. With The Bishop adding another delicious velvety tempting on the bass within the crisp rhythms of Cheadle, the track entwines beat and vintage punk rock, kind of like The Rockin’ Vickers meets Leyton Buzzards. Striding with attitude and sonic enterprise, the song is an instant anthem, as so much of the album, an almost concussive and certainly inescapable treat whipped up by scything guitar and punchy rhythmic enterprise, everything lorded over by the compelling tones of Humbled.

Do the Bishop! comes next and is just the wickedest instrumental baiting possible. The skills of The Bishop seduce and rumble throughout whilst Humbled’s guitar launches its own virulent seducing as Cheadle smashes anything in arms-length resourcefully. With a tang of blues sweetness to its epidemic waltz, the song sets up further hunger in the appetite for the album before making way for the melodic causticity and intriguing narrative of Demobbed. The track is primarily garage rock but at times you can almost swear there is an element of The Undertones in its slim but impossibly potent sonic endeavour.

The hungrily vivacious ride of the album is taken to another level with We Don’t Need a God, a brilliant furnace of searing grooves and greedy hooks ridden by the punk honesty of the vocals. It is pure addictiveness, every twist and tenacious slither of bait soaked in infectiousness and anthemic irreverence, leaving feet, body, and soul blissfully exhausted and thoughts rebellious. Imagine The Masonics flirting voraciously with The Adicts and you get not only the heart of the song but arguably of the whole release.

The title track is next, romping with ears and nostalgia through jabbing beats and jangly hooks, its title summing up song, sound, and the whole garage premise which fuelled punk and garage rock at their outsets. It also has thrilling melodic warmth to its gentle uprising, everything aligning for an irresistible rousing of pleasure, taken on again by the blink and you miss shortness of second instrumental Chicken Run. Its enticing strut is swiftly pushed aside by the exceptional sonic commentary of Where’s the Punk Rock!?, angst and fury as much a part of its gripping clang and garage punk fever as creative relish.

Photo 1   It is not exaggerating to say that every song on Garage Punk for Boys is devious rascality, all instinctively and simultaneously appealing to the styles it weaves its propositions from, One Erotic Thought another fine example with its sixties spawned beat infused garage rock tromp. As here, they all keep feet and limbs as busy as ears and imagination, and whilst thoughts may not be erotic as the song reveals of itself, they are nevertheless keen to indulge in knavish practices after each encounter.

Put It in Your Pipe clunks and swings in next, riffs bulky lures courted by compelling bass craft and vocal devilment, everything framed by precise and eagerly wicked beats. Stepping out with a punk seeded swagger, the track also wears the mischief breeding charm and adventure of King Salami and the Cumberland 3 and the aforementioned Billy Childish, drawing out more lust for the album from the passions.

The final stretch sees the blues rock induced R&B stamp of Just as Bad as You light up air and ears first before the exotic swing of Mk II immerses senses and imagination in a sultry dance of the seven salacious temptresses, well in my dreams anyway. Both songs leave appetite as greedy as ever whilst closing riot of Mad! is an aggressively spirited and ferociously contagious garage punk assault, and oh so scintillating.

It is impossible not to drool from start to finish over Garage Punk for Boys, a release which if anything from punk to garage rock, beat to flirty rock ‘n’ roll gets the juices flowing, is a must. The thing with The Mobbs is they not only create sensational stomps but do it with a presence and flavour like no other, this simply makes them one of the UKs seriously exciting and innovative bands.

Garage Punk for Boys is available digitally and on CD now via Cravat Records @ http://themobbsuk.bandcamp.com/album/garage-punk-for-boys

http://www.themobbs.co.uk/

RingMaster 21/11/2014

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Füneral Käb – Self Titled EP

Funeral Kab

A noise fuelled collision with the senses from which only a hunger for more can be the outcome, the self-titled EP from US punk rockers Füneral Käb is one of those treats which no matter the warnings your parents ingrained, you ignore and give your soul to. Unashamedly hostile and cantankerous, enthusiastically abrasing and ravenous, the release as the band’s presence, is a delicious effrontery on senses and common decency. If punk rock with the swagger and devilry of dirty rock ‘n’ roll is your recipe to filth encrusted bliss, then Füneral Käb and their raw and sonically dishevelled release is a must.

Füneral Käb was the inspiration of vocalist Derek Krisitan Nordlof (bassist with Confuzatron and Orange Platypus) who with bassist Mark Vance Arroyo (ex-The Moistboyz) started up the band around 2011. The pair swiftly brought in guitarist/vocalist David Rangel (bassist of Black Earth and guitarist/vocalist of Orange Platypus) next, before after a few drummers completing the line-up with Ben Scott (Vermicous Canids). Most of the band already had connections through their previous exploits at some time or other, a kinship which if we take their debut as evidence, seems to fire up the antagonistic mischief and fury of their sound with relish.

Straight away the EP is crawling over the psyche and stirring up the imagination with opener Church Maus. It coaxes attention with a rugged mix of guitar and bass predation bound in a further sonic lure as beats jab with simple venom. It is a slow crawl of an entrance which is almost leering at its target before exploding into a caustic and fiery rampage of punk riffs and heavy footed provocation guided by an excellent blend of raw vocals from Derek K backed by Rangel. Ridiculously contagious and intimidatingly testing with sharper hooks than found in abattoir, and with a similar blood lust, the track is punk rock at its feverish best, an inescapable toxicity for all genre fans.

The following Christian Sheep is steeped in even richer old school punk animosity and flavouring. It is a sneering blaze of pungent riffs and searing grooves riddled with inhospitable rhythmic provocation, and again another virulent persuasion. There is a definite English punk breeding to the Texan’s sound which is certainly evident on the second song but also loudly whispering in the dirty rock ’ n’ roll song of the next up . . . And Now You’re Shit. Flaming with bluesy enterprise and heavy rock tenacity but equally equipped with punk spawned bait, it is a romantic primal assault to get feet and vocal chords engaged, though just a taster of the bigger anthemic temptation to come with 1717 17th Street. Rolling in on a devilish rhythmic saunter and sonic tempting, the song is soon spewing its melodic acidity around like aural confetti before settling into another impossibly addictive stomp which is as much a rage vocally and sonically as it an epidemic persuasion. Addressing issue of drugs with its title taken from the address of the high school where 15 kids overdosed on a bad batch of heroin, the track is a funked up, hard rock punk shuffle and quite irresistible.

The release closes with the grouchy, dirt smothered HEY Hollywood, a track with a healthy essence of Frankenstein Drag Queens From Planet 13 to its unpolished and infectiously unsavoury beauty. It is a brute of a final track revealing another twist to the varied punk and heavy rock sound the band toys with and twists into their own severe and thrilling trespass on the senses.

Füneral Käb has a sound which embraces the punk ages; it has the unbridled spite of a Sex Pistols or The Adicts, the confrontational hunger of a Suicidal Tendencies or Exploited, and the warped devilry of a Melvins or Dope Body. If any of those tick your boxes or punk at its abrasive best in general, then why are you still here… go explore this great band.

The Füneral Käb EP is available digitally and on 10” vinyl now. Get in touch with teh band to order @ https://www.facebook.com/pages/F%C3%BCneral-K%C3%A4b/221157981243934?sk

RingMaster 11/11/2014

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That Massive Bereavement – Sugar for the Masses

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The last time we heard from That Massive Bereavement it was with their raw and dirty Eat The Rich EP, a release which grated upon and pleasured ears in equal fashion. It was caustic and uncompromising but suggested a healthy future for the UK band which has been more than reinforced by its successor, the outstanding Sugar for the Masses. The new seven track release finds the band strapping on a maturity and creative mischief which was merely hinted at on the previous encounter. It is a brawling proposition which again fuses grunge, punk rock, garage rock and plenty of other filthy essences, but the band and release has become a whole new proposition now. The EP not only realises their early promise but has nurtured it into a thoroughly captivating and incendiary riot of thankfully still unpolished but feverishly riveting rock ‘n’ roll.

Hailing from the Medway, That Massive Bereavement draw on inspirations which include the likes of The Fall, Therapy?, The Replacements, Wire, The Pixies, Sonic Youth, Pavement, Swell Maps, and Joy Division. Plenty of those are often open spices in songs but only as colouring to their striking abrasive sound and enterprise. Eat The Rich was a release which you could see rubbing as many people up the wrong way as it recruited ardour clad fans such its uncompromising and in comparison to Sugar for the Masses, naïve presence. Sugar for the Masses though is an incitement you can only see recruiting eager attention and hunger for the band, the quartet of vocalist/guitarist Aidan Hehir, lead guitarist James Feist, bassist Peter Bevan, and Colin Antilife Jervis on drums breeding all the qualities of their debut into a broader contagious and skilfully delivered bait.

The release sets off after the passions with Colin Farmer (Will Have His Revenge On Lancashire), a grisly bass riff bringing the opener instant attention. Its lure is soon added to by a feisty rhythmic provocation and a sonic wash of a1016014884_2acidic enticement. The track already has senses and appetite in its fiery hands, its emerging rapacious stroll antagonistic rock ‘n’ roll with a flush of The Stooges, Rocket from the Crypt, and even a touch of Lemmy. Hooks litter the thrilling confrontation as well as jagged riffs and lust searching grooves, it all combining for an insatiable tempest of attitude with persistent spills of sonic secretions and punk irreverence.

The outstanding start is followed by the brief endeavour of Jellied Eels. A track which reminds straight away of the seventies and bands like Swell Maps and Television Personalities, it strides with a big grin on its chords and rhythms whilst the lyrical tempting is loose in its seriousness but just as magnetic as the roar of an explosive intensity and aggression which also spears the excellent slice of revelry.

The imposingly impressive start to the EP is kept up with Bullet, its body a stalking prowl of caustic submission and seemingly defeatist passion. It is only a suggestive shade to a track which is unrelentingly defiant in sound and confrontational in its aggressive provocation. Guitars spill venom and rhythms swing unchecked punches to explode in the ears, but it is the raw reflection of the vocals and a sonic enterprise which sears the senses that loads the song with a vibrancy its premise defies. It is a compelling slab of incitement which is weighty in sound and presence and a total contrast to the punk devilment of Rupert Murdoch’s Death Wank. The track strides with adrenaline fuelled ferocious riffs and stabbing rhythms led by the individually brawling tones of Aiden, but interrupts that charge with staccato sculpted breaks in its gait and sonically swirling guitar imagination. It is two minutes of garage punk addictiveness to lay further enthused emotions upon.

Nine Toed Woman again has a broad smile and lustful appetite given in return for its hook laden punk temptation and lyrical ‘insight’. Thoughts of early Damned and The Adicts spring to mind but again it is a song with a presence which carries familiar traits without definition ensuring it is a fresh and ridiculously infectious slavery for ears and passions. There is no doubting that That Massive Bereavement has also honed their ability to sculpt hooks and lures which instinctively find a home in the listener and probably on Sugar For The Masses in no more potent way than right here, though the following title track might differ. One minute of sheer hostile punk rock with another hook which lends to addictive behaviour whilst merely two lines lyrically help cast an irresistible anthemic bait, the track is punk/roll in raw and gripping form.

The release closes with the post punk brilliance of Desolate, a track unmistakeably bred from a Joy Division influence but bound in a rich melodic ribboning which seduces the imagination. It is merely one aspect of the almost seven minute treat though as within its repetitive minimalistic coaxing it explodes with the rawest grunge infused explosions of sound. Coldly and hauntingly seductive in one breath and bordering on corrosive in another, the track is a fascinating and enthralling proposition which makes powerful suggestions about the direction the band is heading.

High hopes for Sugar for the Masses were left looking lightweight by the end of its incitement of ears, the release nothing but evidence showing That Massive Bereavement has grown from a promising band into a dramatically impressive protagonist with still plenty of potential to be realised you feel.

Sugar For The Masses is available now @ http://thatmassive-bereavement.bandcamp.com/album/sugar-for-the-masses

https://www.facebook.com/MassiveBereavement

9/10

RingMaster 23/07/2014

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Ambassadors of Shalom – Abdicate Self

Ambassadors of Shalom

     Thirteen tracks of mouthwatering old school punk with a crate load of hooks and barbed riffs to entice any appetite, Abdicate Self the new album from UK Christian punks Ambassadors of Shalom is a thrilling introduction to the band and its blaze of Evangelistic punk rock. Hailing from the North West of England, the trio of guitarist/vocalist Neil Roddy, bassist/vocalist Pete Field, and drummer Joe Wilson challenge and evoke thoughts with a hungry punk invention which just as easily ignites the imagination and emotions. The songs on the album are well seeded and versed in the ways of original punk rock, each providing a thoroughly satisfying anthemic bait, but also each comes with an individual adventure to bring an identity singular to the band.

    Ambassadors of Shalom was formed in the January of 2012 after an acoustic gig in Stoke community centre and from there took little time in grabbing the attention and passions of local fans. In August the same year, the band signed with Californian label Thumper Punk Records with Abdicate Self the new impressive offering. The album is one of those enjoyable encounters which seems familiar but just as potently finds a new intriguing presence. From the opening track Astray, the Tim Davies (Brohnis Music) recorded and produced release picks on the ears and imagination with a flurry of incisive and virulently effective hooks and riffs. The first song makes for an energetic antagonist from its first breath, guitars stirring up the air whilst the bass lays down a shadowed prowl which only recruits an immediate appetite. Crisp rhythms around the lead and backing calls of Roddy and Field respectively next engage before the song pulls all into an enthused riot of invention and contagion. It is a masterful and irresistible lure into the release, an invitation forcibly backed by the remaining vivacious body of the album.

     This Ain’t Home stokes up the hunger next with a starting anthemic bait of rhythms which the guitar subsequently crafts a 1908240_671390592925450_835805858_ncaustic sonic wash with bluesy flames onto. It is a sultry raw sound complemented by the charge of clean riffery and rhythmic enticement which splits the blaze of sonic heat. Though not as potent as its predecessor the song keeps the album rigidly in focus with ease before both Jesus Said and United We Stand offer their scuzz kissed storms of punk evocation. The first is a scowling yet warm mesh of stirring noise which crosses the senses like a mix of Angelic Upstarts and The Adicts whilst the second is an equally pleasing street punk brawl of anthemic vocals and coarse alluring riffs. Both songs have an intensity which draws attention and thoughts even if slightly lacking the richness of barbs and grooves found elsewhere upon Abdicate Self.

    Both the UK Subs/Crisis like Break ‘Em Out and the groove veined Opposite The Enemy keeps things boiling nicely, the pair forceful yet respectful slices of resourceful punk urgency and invention, before the release flicks up a gear starting with the ridiculously catchy We Don’t Need It. One of those songs you only need to hear the first line of the chorus once to be bitten and soon joining in with its declaration, it is a brief but meaty slab of punk beckoning setting up the emotions for the likes of the excellent Death By Love and equally impressive Blamethrower. The first of this pair scowls and stomps with a raw causticity to the vocals and a Sex Pistols like draw to its sound, and though arguably the song is the least unique on the album it is one of the most potent and eventful, not forgetting thrilling. Its successor loaded with the strongest imagination of the whole release is just as compelling, a Melvins like texture grazing the senses whilst hooks and seductive temptation teases like a mix of The Vibrators and Suburban Studs.

    A punk version of the hymn Nothing But The Blood follows and is an exceptional and unexpected treat before the album’s finest moments arrive, starting with the outstanding Julia. Hooks and a rhythmic dance of sinew soaked in ripe energy kicks things off before the song settles into an inciting and persistently shifting venture. Its groove and riotous hooks easily reminds of the Ruts whilst the surrounding less intensive but eager rock brew around accentuates the pull of those other incisive elements.

    The album is concluded by the exciting and rousing Victory before finally the combative and antagonist glory of the album’s best track, It Is Finished brings one impressively enjoyable encounter to a close. Abdicate Self is not only Christian punk at its best, but for anyone wary of that tag, it is punk rock at its best. Ambassadors of Shalom have unleashed a debut which sees the band closely tailing most other frontline punk provocateurs.

https://www.facebook.com/AmbassadorsOfShalom

8.5/10

RingMaster 12/02/2014

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Goldblade- The Terror Of Modern Life

photo by Wullie Marr

photo by Wullie Marr

This year has already treated us to some exceptional and passionate punk adventure through the outstanding new releases from UK Subs and Dirt Box Disco; the legends bringing not only their sound but equally the genre into a startling and exhilarating new peak and the ‘new kids on the block’ showing punk n roll can be a masterful contagion bringing riot and fun into an irresistible union. Now we have the thrilling new Goldblade album which stands somewhere in between the two, the release an exceptional thirteen track brawl which snarls and provokes thoughts and senses whilst unleashing prime punk rock irresistibility. The Manchester band has always challenged and stood tall before injustices and social destructions but The Terror Of Modern Life, their sixth album, just might be the quintet at their most potent and venomous yet, quite possibly their finest hour.

The Overground Records released album is a titan of hooks, riffs, and attitude, a combative riot of energy and passion which leaves aGoldblade-the-terror-of-modern-life-296x300 deep mark whilst showing others how to be a potent inciting weapon against complacency and apathy, musically and socially. It opens with the mighty This Is War!, and instantly casts a web of belligerent and carnivorous bass corrosion over the ear. Bassist Keith Curtis immediately owns the senses, the barracuda throaty tone of his bass glaring eye to eye with the listener whilst aggressively seducing and intimidating. As the guitars of Peter Gorgeous and Andy Taylor sculpt out their share of the air with sonic precision and infectious flaming, the compelling canvass is set for vocalist John Robb to prowl and make his, as ever, enjoyably imposing and striking declaration. Complete with grooves and hooks which reap seeds in the same well of virulence as those conjured up by the likes of Buzzcocks and Dead Kennedys, and enslaving rhythmic excellence from Rob Haynes, the track ignites a fierce fire and hunger for the album with ease and makes a shout as one of the best punk songs in a long time.

It also sets a high bar for the rest of the release to emulate yet seemingly it is a simple test as the following Psycho Takes A Holiday and the staggering The Shamen Are Coming show. The first of the pair is a scorch of rock n roll with anthemic enthusiasm and undiluted melodic enterprise, its uncomplicated punk fuelled dance upon the ear as mischievous as it is energetic for two minutes of easy to ride and devour enticement. The second song is another startling highlight, a track which whips the passions up into a frenzy of rabid excitement. As soon as the opening scrub of acidic riffs, soon accompanied by the ever primal bass growl, lay their acerbic touch upon the ear greedy anticipation is sparked and sated impressively by a breath-taking mix of post punk and pure punk alchemy. Like a mix of The Adicts and The Diagram Brothers, the track twists and taunts the ear with scintillating flesh flailing sonic and rhythmic invention. As impacting as it is the scarring is subsequently soothed by the adjoining expression of group vocal harmonies and discord swept melodic caresses. Earlier it was said the opener was the best punk song in a long time, the fusion of all mentioned within The Shamen Are Coming ensures it stands as its equal.

The dub infested Serious Business swaggers in next with a loud whisper of Ruts to its courting, though as with all references they are mere colours to the distinct Goldblade flavour, whilst both We’re All In It Together and Someone Stole My Brain get the job done with straight forward accomplished craft, the first an uncomplicated old school punk bruise and the latter with another predatory tempting with again that delicious carnally bred bass spine making pure persuasion within sinister grooved riffs. With a maniacal hunger to its chorus and a compelling lure to the continual aural bulldozing offered, it is another immense treat which makes its predecessor, sandwiched between two such great songs, seem a little underwhelming despite its open strengths and appeal.

Through the likes of the all impressive Sick / Tired, They Kiss Like Humans, Act Like Machines, and the raw abrasion Guilty the album slips a little but only because of the excellence of the mountainous pinnacles it unearths. These and every song on the release are undeniably stirring and deeply pleasing assaults on the senses and thoughts but a few when placed beside a track like the immense and epidemically hooked The World Is Fucked Up Nowadays just have to take second place on the glory podium. This last song has a breath which leaves distrust and sonic malevolence on the tongue, but spiced up by impossibly tasty grooves which again would have made Shelley and Diggle drool back in the day, it leaves the strongest rapture making play with the emotions.

Completed by another furnace of ardour inducing punk majesty in the brilliant Hey You! Elastic Face, the ever caustic tones of Robb grazing up emotions whilst the barbed discord laced hooks fire up every other aspect of the listener, and the oppressive and threatening title track, a song which is dark, heavy, and intrusive like the world spawning its intent and ripples with essences of The Pack within its merciless consumption, The Terror Of Modern Life is quite brilliant. Simply it is an album which takes band and genre onto an explosive new anarchic plateau whilst fusing vintage punk and new uncompromising creativity into one frighteningly scintillating fury.

www.goldblade.com

10/10

RingMaster 19/05/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Bambi Killers: The Invisible EP

Want to meet the best punk rock band in the UK? A big claim to be laid at the feet of a band for sure but using their debut EP The Invisible as evidence, that is what Welsh band The Bambi Killers is at this point in time. With the wicked wantonness of Karn8, the sexy attitude of The Objex, the mischief of Dirt Box Disco, and the snarl of The Duel and L7, the quartet from Swansea have it all to go down in punk history. Big swinging riffs, raw energy, and vocals to send tingles where tingles have no right to be, The Bambi Killers is a riot in every sense and pleasure.

The band consists of Cluffy on vocals and rhythm guitar, guitarist Pumba and bassist Muppet with both providing backing vocals, and Bom on drums. Together they are a vibrant and action packed unit which leave nothing in the locker in their songs and we are reliably informed neither in their riotous live shows. They have the heart and essence which made the likes of Vice Squad, X-Ray Spex, Ruts, and The Adicts so important back in the day but fire it up with rock n roll which is instinctive and driven by the energy of today. Combined it makes for, certainly in the case of The Invisible EP, sounds which ignite all the passions and feed all the insatiable needs of any rock heart.

The release opens with the song of the year, Don’t Be Invisible. A confrontational taunt to the apathy of gig attendees and the no risk lone easy life attitude of people as a whole, the song is simply glorious. The song immediately erupts in suggestive riffs and growling bass lines whilst Cluffy challenges with word and intent.  Persistent and combative without delving into violence the track is a prowling devil which leaves nothing in doubt and provokes a reaction in all. The voice of Cluffy is a sultry mix of Dominique Lenore Persi (Stolen Babies) and Agnete Kjølsrud (Animal Alpha, Djerv) and sits alongside Kirst of Karn8 as the sexiest voice in UK rock. The ironic thing about the track is that those it is poking a finger at will be caught up in and aiding its anthemic might, safely from their bedrooms no doubt.

The following Get Up Get Out Get Off slams into the ear with immediate energy and enthusiasm. A more directly driven track it is a storm of feisty riffs and jabbing rhythms speared by a catchy addictive chorus and scorched guitar strikes. Like many punk classics it is simple and to the point whilst igniting the deepest satisfaction. Less intricate and varied as its predecessor, the song shows that The Bambi Killers can deliver rock n roll in any form with accomplishment and passion.

The Weight Of The Morning swaggers up next with attitude to the fore and forceful sounds to back it up. Like Spinnerette meeting Bikini Kill, the song crawls all over the senses like a lustful teenager though with more restraint than they can ever find. With an almost hypnotic lure the track is a feast of thumping beats and ear stripping riffs but when it drifts into a slow seductive aside it triggers ferocious fires and it has to be said the soaring sounds of Cluffy at this point brings a sign not only to the lips.

Hmmm moving on….. the release is completed by the outstanding Lights Out to complete a four point slab of excellence. With the urgency and melodic flavouring of early Clash or Vibrators, the song is another sing-a-long treat of style and skilled energy, and like its partners in crime another which one cannot resist desecrating with their own voice.

The Invisible EP is stunning and its creators a band set to turn UK punk rock, if not further afield, on its head. Watch out world The Bambi Killers are coming to get you.

http://thebambikillers.com/

RingMaster 04/09/2012

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Anti-Macassar – Empty

From the unmentioned depths of darker Devon there is something begin to stir and setting greedy eyes on the rest of the UK. This predatory beast of attitude, beer, and aggravation comes in the undiscovered shape of punk rock band Anti-Macassar. Their apparent secrecy is now though becoming under threat as more and more find out about their album Empty, a festering pleasure of rock, punk, and blues brought with an urgency and original punk heart.

Empty is a joy, and though slightly inconsistent and at times seemingly unsure which fuel to load individual songs up with, it is persistently compulsive and consistently very satisfying. Consisting of Mike Hill (vocals, rhythm guitar), Benny Joy (lead guitar, backing vocals), Garry Dewis (bass), and Andy Higgins (drums, backing vocals), the quartet create music which has no need for or desire to charm and comes with an insatiable appetite to rile up all and sundry in emotion and heart. It is honest fun music, a blend of punk, rock, and garage punk, with an occasional splash of psychedelic blues flavouring to spice things up. It is also perfectly nostalgic revisiting seventies punk and rock with an instinctive surety.

The album bulges with thirteen tracks all hungry to rile up the senses and cause maximum mischief with varying levels of spite. Coarse and caustic, the slices of rock badger and assault with no barrier to their purpose and lyrical intentions and each is primed to grab the fullest reaction it can instigate from its recipient. As mentioned the album has a small inconsistency across its length but with more peaks than dips, and these lesser moments still a riotous pleasure for the ear, it is hard to be too critical on a release treating one to a beer soaked and aggression veined party as good as Empty.

The title track opens things up and feels an odd choice to strike the first blow with. The song is a hypnotic prowling crawl through the ear with sharp melodic guitars and a blues tinged tone coating every note. It is seemingly nothing more than enjoyable but before one knows it the track has craftily captivated the senses, its psychedelic wash as mesmeric as a scorched sunset. It is slightly overlong but never loses its grip on the ear and by its end shows the band is not prone to the obvious and predictable in any aspect of their music.

     Anti-Macassar throw up a storm of addictive riffs and greedy hooks next with the angry punk driven Kill Ya. Vengeance driven and expressing the thoughts and heart of more than a few, the track is an infectious stomp with hungry riffs soaked in a southern drawl. It plays like UK Subs meets The Meteors and is an immediate pull with its infectious chorus and unbridled vehemence.

Tracks like the taunting nasty Man Friday offering a mix of Crisis and Art Attacks with a blistering rock solo piercing its heart and Come With Me, a Leyton Buzzards/The Outcasts slab of wanton dirty anthemic joy keeps things continually combative and energised. Further along songs such as Falling Down and Black Is Back keep the attack and punk call loud and forceful too. The first a bare and distressed scuzzed feast of simplistic power recalling Spizz Oil and Dangerous Girls whilst the second swaggers with a grooved garage rock surety complete with sing-a-long chorus and sharp guitars.

These mentioned tracks alone make the album much more than a release to smile at and move on from but with the addition of its two best tracks it easily becomes a must check out. Ignorance Is Bliss saunters in with alcohol swigging riffs and near frenzied energy. Complete with an addictive riff for the chorus which would not look out of place on a Dead Kennedys track the song leads the ear on a boisterous and ravenous crawl whilst fiery melodic guitars and solo spark rapture within the senses.

This impressive track is soon swept aside by the mighty presence of 6ft Locust. The track is proving to be the fan favourite and it is not hard to see why, it is perfect punk rock. With a provocative vocal delivery over teasing riffs and scarred melodies the song is as infectious as they come. Throughout it punches and coaxes the senses in equal measure and once it throws in a Buzzcocks proud melodic hook as contagious as they come the song elevates to classic. With elements of The Adicts and Angelic Upstarts to its blood the song makes the album worth a punt all on its own but backed by an array of other feisty treats Anti-Macassar shows that Empty is no hollow pleasure.

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RingMaster 05/06/2012

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