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 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 outstanding Party Shark Shake is next up, the song as the band’s actual name triggered by a book, no surprise here, about sharks by Susan Casey. You can almost feel the warm liquor soaked sand between the toes as the track stomps through ears, the swell of its melodic tides dragging the imagination and hips into the dangerous currents and depths below the biting dynamics of the song. Across the riveting attack, it builds up to rousing crescendos though at no moment is it anything less than an over powering incitement to body, spirit, and imagination. Imaging The Ghastly Ones and The Trashmen in collusion with The Damned and The Revillos and you get a whiff of the album’s greatest moment.
As mentioned, the single sees bassist Conor Cotterill alongside remaining band original in vocalist/guitarist Ian George and drummer Jase Wilkinson for the first time. Whether it is the new line-up or simple evolution but Katalina Kicks have managed to find a new antagonistic growl in their sound, a raw but virulently infectious and belligerent ferocity within We Don’t Care which as suggested recalls the late seventies when music found its defiant originality and attitude if for only a brief moment.
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.
