Archie and the Bunkers – Self Titled

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Dubbed as ‘Hi-Fi Organ Punk’, the Archie and the Bunkers sound, to simplify things, is a compelling mix of garage punk and masterfully stripped back rock ‘n’ roll infused with a contagious revelry which has ears and imagination spinning. Created on drums, organ, and vocals alone, it is an enticing which has feet and emotions fully involved in scant minutes whilst in regard to its creators, to use the phrase Paul from Dirty Water Records, who are releasing the US duo’s self-titled debut album, used when introducing them to us, “There is no one like them.

Formed in 2013 with a name inspired by a character in the classic US television sitcom All in the Family and its spin-off Archie Bunker’s Place, Archie And The Bunkers is the creative union of brothers Emmett (drums/vocals) and Cullen (organ/vocals). Weaving in inspirations from the likes of Dead Boys, The Animals, The Stooges, The Screamers, The Damned, Jimmy Smith, and Richard ‘Groove’ Holmes into their strikingly unique romps of attitude loaded sound, the teenagers began recording in their basement with the subsequent self-produced EPs Comrade X. and Trade Winds being released in 2013 and ‘14 respectively. Sculpted from the inventive and often skilfully agitated rhythms of Emmett and Cullen’s whirling vintage organ sound, the bands songs are a diverse fusion of blues, acid jazz, and psych rock melded into a core old school punk and garage rock devilment. As the band’s debut album shows, it is a tapestry that is wonderfully raw and intrusive whilst being simultaneously a lingering and bewitching tempting. Its flavours are often recognisable, and influences open but with the instinctive unfussy yet intricate invention of the brothers, it is a proposition like no other.

Standard 3mm Spine Album_RingMaster Review   Recorded with legendary producer/engineer Jim Diamond at Ghetto Recorders in Detroit, the Archie and the Bunkers album opens with the dark seducing of Sally Lou. Opening with percussive coaxing and almost as quickly the heavy haunting of organ, the song subsequently slips into gear and a gentle but purposeful stroll. As Cullen’s fingers dance over the keys of his nostalgia oozing instrument with at times, as in many songs, a potent hue of The Stranglers’ Dave Greenfield to its melodic weave, vocals twist and turn in emotion and intensity as slower croons evolve into brawling squalls and vice versa. It is a thick persuasion to start things off but one soon outshone by the energetic stomp of Lady in RKO. The dark psych ‘n’ roll of the starter is replaced by a coarser post punk swagger with more than a tone of The Fall to it, especially in the rhythmic shuffle and vocal incitement offered. The keys again hone a Doors bred melodic adventure into something distinct to the imagination of Archie and the Bunkers, but fair to say if you have ever imagined what music an illegitimate offspring of Jim Morrison and Mark E. Smith might conjure, this song is your answer.

   I’m Not Really Sure What I’m Gonna Do takes over with a ska infused entrance, the organ twisting into the opposite direction every time ears expect the track to bounce along on that kind of saunter. The chosen path is just as vibrantly magnetic and infectious though, its punk/psych catchiness an irresistible recruitment of body and appetite with a healthy dose of creative and vocal ire to its character. It is a blend not so thick in the following Knifuli Knifula, though its flirtatious weave of melodic spicery has darker hues hinting and suggesting too as feet get wrapped up in its addictive dance. Moving into slower more sonically sultry scenery only adds to the inventive theatre working away on the imagination whilst vocally the duo keep the garage and punk heart of their music potently lit for an already very keen appetite for the album by this point.

Roaming organ enticing over voraciously rolling beats brings You’re the Victim into ears next, its infectious bait unrelenting as the song expands its breath of vocal confrontation and enthralling melodic colour. The track is sheer captivation, the craft of both brothers as eclectic as it is impressively resourceful allowing the song itself to nudge individual thoughts of The Animals, Into The Whale and once or twice The Ramones across its fiery seducing.

Each passing song seems to increase the strength and impressiveness of the album, Different Track vigorously prowling ears with its belligerent voice and creative psychosis, emerging like a mix of The Dropper’s Neck and Asylums sent back to the sixties/seventies and dragged back to now kicking and screaming. It, as those before it, just whips up swift intrigue and hunger for more, which is just what the outstanding Miss Taylor with its rhythmic tenacity courted by the flowing temptation of the organ provides in riveting style. There is just time to catch a breath as the exceptional warped waltz relinquishes its grip, a moment for a quick gasp before Austria brings its cosmopolitan intrigue and great repetitive enticement to tease and excite ears and imagination. Once more, a scent of The Stranglers lines and spices up the excellent encroachment of sound and suggestion to leave satisfaction full and that urge for more rampant.

I Wish I Could ensures the thrills keep coming; its jerky energy and mischievous nature inciting an infection loaded slice of power pop built on the mischief of The Dickies and the plain stirring roar of Dead Boys whilst Trade Winds stomps around with even more seventies punk fuel to its raucous brawl of dirty addictiveness. The two songs steal the show upon the album, certainly emerging as the biggest favourites amongst nothing but, though they are quickly rivalled by the post punk/new wave/psych rock amalgam that is The Last Stooge. Again a thick grin is drawn by its brief but bracing ingenuity of sound and craft, a smile which started on track one and only ever ebbs and flows in its broadness across the rest of the album.

Completed by the tantalising instrumental serenade of Joanie, it is almost impossible to escape the lure of Archie and the Bunkers, band and album, without at least one more thick listen of at least a song or two, or more, not that there are any complaints of course. Your favourite album of the year it just might be, something unique to others it certainly is.

Archie and the Bunkers is out now via Dirty Water Records @!/Archie-and-the-Bunkers/c/13761039/offset=0&sort=normal

Pete RingMaster 27/10/2015

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Bernaccia – Power To The Hills

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For their darkest exploration yet, Newcastle neo-psych rockers Bernaccia release new single Power To The Hills which again confirms them as one of the most fascinating and exciting incitements on the British rock scene. Bred from the band’s now renowned fusion of psychedelic mystery, tribal rhythms, and desert blues beauty, the new song transports ears and imagination into the shadowed world of sinister atmospheric romances and sultrily surreal drama, a rich, dark adventure to immerse in.

Since the release of their Cinema EP in 2014, the quartet of vocalist/rhythm guitarist Jonny Noble, lead guitarist Stew Falkous, bassist Kieran Healy, and drummer Chris Cox has bewitched attention with their warmly intrusive and hazily lingering sound. To be fair even before that they were enticing loyal fans and strong awareness their way through a potent live presence around the Northeast and further afield. Forming in 2010, the band over time has shared stages with the likes of Royal Blood, Twisted Wheel, and Wolf People whilst this year alone they have opened for Lola Colt, Alabama 3, and The Fall as well as play Tramlines 2015. Musically that period has also seen their sound become darker and more diversely involved; kaleidoscopic in flavour as the acclaimed Light//-//Dark EP, also of 2014, revealed. Confirmation comes again within Power To The Hills, arguably the most intense and dark tapestry from the band yet.

The song swiftly has ears lined-up before a rhythmic enticing which quickly works on the body too as keys gently but imposingly swarm the senses with a suggestive ambience and haunting melodic spicing. Pretty soon these elements align with a bordering on shamanic rhythmic stroll and an even sultrier mesh of spicy guitar tenacity and keys spawned dark seducing. Over these the recognisable tones of Noble spill drama and shadowed lined expression, his presence like a narrator to the theatre of words and the increasingly fiery and tenacious sounds.

There is an essence of the darkest delta blues tones to the song, an acidic almost dangerous lining to the inflamed psychedelic hues and the increasingly addictive lure of the frenetic rhythms. The track is superb, perpetually eventful and unpredictable leaving the listener on an aural cliff hanger with its sudden halt.

Bernaccia continue to bewitch with their musical hex simultaneously growing in deserved stature and acclaim. The first single from the band’s debut album (Growl, Peace, Belief its working title), Power To The Hills confirms that not only this year has been a big and important time for the band but that 2016 will be the year of Bernaccia.

Power To The Hills will be self-released on September 26th.

Pete RingMaster 09/09/2015

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Falling Stacks – No Wives


No Wives is one of those album’s you can imagine being described as anything from a glorious disorderly revelry to a cacophonous irritant, but for those with an appetite for psychotic rhythms, abrasing discord, and virulent noise it is easy to suggest that the Falling Stacks’ debut album is going to be one of the highlights of the sonic year. Like a highly agitated union between early Wire and eighties post punks The Diagram Brothers infused with healthy, or maybe unhealthy, essences of bands like The Fall and Fugazi, sound and album provide a raw and lingering magnetism. For sure No Wives is a proposition some may hate but be impossible to ignore but for those with experimentation in their genes, it is a mouth-watering dissonance to get fully involved in.

The UK trio formed in 2011, emerging in Bristol with an appetite for the likes of Sonic Youth, Fugazi, Pavement, and The Wedding Present. Falling Stacks’ music suggests there are many other likes and influences involved in the band’s own invention, whether intentionally or not, and it all makes for web like songs which catch ears and attention with a babel of sound and imagination. As the band soon revealed in a trio of EPs after their first steps, all sonic squalls and rhythmic trespasses, along with vocal incursions, come veined by an understated but potent order. In previous and enjoyable encounters it was swamped by the free hand given to riots of sound but with No Wives, the band has seized such structures and worked outwards resulting in their finest provocation yet.

The album opens with the quickly spicy and rowdy Pool Party, a sonic welcome the lead into a volatile shuffle of jabbing beats and throaty basslines courted by bracing vocals amidst a tangy guitar clamour. Once hitting its full and irregular stride, a contagion soaks ears and attention, the lure of disorder subsequently providing two minutes plus of inescapable virulence. It is a riveting start continued by the just as eagerly inventive sonic chatter of Dust Motes. Hooks and rhythms barely stand still long enough to cast a shadow within the song, the guitars dancing with almost autistic tendencies over rolling beats and a bassline which moves from moody to carnivorous and back again on a whim. The vocals across the release are a more straight forward proposition yet they too lyrically and in delivery are mischievously unpredictable and a thick hook here especially.

Sections And Sub-Sections restrains some of that turbulent energy next, an opening saunter of bass resonance posing as a riff and caustically delivered vocals the spark to similarly reserved but jabbing rhythms within guitar varied jangles. Overall the song does lack the spark of its predecessors but there are moments in its imagination which are almost sinful in their rousing invention and inimitable tempting.

Both No Stops and Los Ticos get ears and emotions over excited, the first with its persistently evolving landscape of time disruptions and seductive discord, Swell Maps coming to mind at times, whilst the second is a prowl with a devilish glint in its eye. It strolls with a deliciously compelling bassline and a mesh of guitar intrigue around gripping rhythmic bait which as every element, has a distrustful feel to its roll. The song is made up of confrontations sharing a tantalising collusion and fair to say the song is probably the only schism that is in truth the perfect union of discontent.

A darker more predacious place is explored on A Fly Would Slide, the track a hug of sonic tension and imposing ambience but coloured with further clashes of melodic and vocal discordance. Its intensity ebbs and flows as energies and emotions revolve with restraint and roars, but whilst the track takes longer to trip the switches than those before it, full persuasion is inevitable over time.

Seven Cuts is a far quicker success on ears and emotions, its caustic tapestry of snarling bass, punchy beats, and kaleidoscope of guitar endeavour, a swift fondling and thrilling of the imagination before its successor Silverware uncages a similar but individual psyche twisting dance on the senses. Rhythms and hooks have as many grasping teeth as a zip as the song shows itself to be a temptation of invigorating disunity aligning in one jungle of infectiously deranged harmony before taking its leave. It is replaced by the tinny beat loaded opening of Double Scull. Magnetism does not do the track’s start justice or the subsequent slim lead into the inevitable busily disharmonic heart of what is another slow but fiercely successful persuasion.

Closing with the physically and emotionally turbulent New Dog, the song like the shadow to the previous track in many ways, No Wives is an enthralling and exciting incitement for ears and thoughts. At times it does not go far enough with its adventure and clangor of sound, an exploration for the future, and some songs just miss the final ingredient of those providing the major peaks of the release, but Falling Stacks has given noise and rock one thoroughly fulfilling stirring.

No Wives is available from June 8th via Battle Worldwide Recordings through

RingMaster 08/06/2015

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The Black Black – Boogie Nights


There is no denying that the One Blunt Death Party / You’re A Danger 7” single from The Black Black towards the end of last year, scored a deep rooted place on the soundtrack of our and a great many other’s passions with its three tracks of psyche flirting post punk. The release was not only confirmation of an already impressing emergence from the Brooklyn band but a sign post of greater exploits being brewed. It is a recipe which has come to a scintillating and seriously compelling boil on the trio’s debut album Boogie Nights, a salaciously contagious and schizophrenically toned incitement of post punk devilry. Inspired by the 1997 movie of the same name, the album is dirtily seductive and sonically swarthy, though no fakery in colour or overblown additives can be found on the lean and creatively rapacious groove machine. If you thought The Black Black was already the tang to your ears and day, be prepared for melt down once the rhythmically voracious and sonically irresistible Boogie Nights takes hold.

Formed in the latter months of 2011, The Black Black were soon luring attention with the self- release of a pair of EPs in 2012 and a split 7” with fellow Brooklyn band Low Fat Getting High. The early weeks of 2013 saw the band entering the studio with drummer Stephen Chopek (The Everymen) to record the double-A single One Blunt Death Party / You’re A Danger, the first for Money Fire Records and released in the September of that year. It was the spark to a far broader awareness and attention upon the band, the acclaimed release also in the words of the band, the first which “truly captures the bass-driven, groove-heavy sound and energy of the band.” With drummer Tomo Ikuta joining the founding pair of guitarist/vocalist Jonathan Daily and bassist/vocalist Chris Schnaars also that year, the band has obviously continued to hone their sound and invention resulting in an album which stalks new plateaus of imagination igniting alchemy.

From the first stubby rhythmic swipes and acidic strikes of guitar, opener the plan is, there is no plan has thoughts and appetite on their feet and throwing moves. The angular spicy sparks and grooves of guitar are instant flirtation which the wonderfully throaty bassline and crispy rhythms match in imposing kind. Teasing with a bluesy scent to those grooves and its air, the song continues to rumble and shuffle vivaciously as expressive vocals behave as mischievous and predatory as the sounds around them whilst sudden dips into restraint and melodic seducing add extra bewitchment.

The tremendous starts is straight away emulated by black black snow, the second song again throwing out wiry and tasty grooves as its body swings beats and riffs like an Ian Curtis dance. AlbumCover-MichaelSincavageThoughts of Wire come to the fore quite swiftly, as too of The Gaa Gaas whilst the raw and rhythmically addictive side of the track is bred from the same primal instincts as The Fall. The track is a scuzzy turbulence of pure addictiveness and sonic sexiness, but it and its predecessor soon have to bow before the brilliance of until death do us party. The lead single from the album, it is a temptress from start to finish with a compelling acidic groove, coldly exotic hooks, and anthemic vocals as its biggest weapons out of many. Discord as ever is a vibrant colour to the band’s sound whilst a toxic melodic hue only excites the already vivacious adventure, but with grizzled bass tones and agitated rhythms courted by Mekons like sonic tenacity, the track breaches an ingenuity which is breath-taking.

The following what the world needs now strides purposefully in next with a beat carrying bulging biceps and a grizzly bass enticement which soon has the appetite licking its lips. A low tone to the vocals adds to the addictive drama before the song expels a caustic breath and garage rock ferocity. It slips through both elements again before twisting into a psychotic swing and vocal bedlam which again has body and thoughts dribbling in pleasure. The glorious tempting takes a different avenue with the darkly shadowed machine, who me?, cold almost sinister essences draping over the vocal agitation and Joy Division seeded revelry. As in all encounters though, numerous side steps and unpredictable turns bring greater fascination and ardour the way of the eventual Baddies flavoured evocation.

The previously exalted you’re a danger soon has ears and feet engaged with its slightly unruly but seriously infectious sonic emprise. Wrapped in richly spiced tendrils of melodic fire and intimidating bass menace, the song simultaneously smoulders and stomps on the way to hypnotising the senses with its unrelenting and feverish tapestry of alluring discord and searing guitar toxicity. The track as so many from the band, just seems to grow and worm deeper under the skin over time, a persistence which flows through the album and especially in songs like this drink’s familiar. Shimmering loudly with every shudder of guitar strings and grouchily tempting with every bass slap, the song slowly swarms over the senses, flirting with ears on the way through with bright flickering moves and raunchy beats.

Things get dirty and greedily energetic again with the silence is deafening, a grooved beast of riotous and infection fuelled escapades, and restrained with the sultrily tempting phillip gets divorced. The second of the pair is unafraid to occasionally fire up its bedlam though and bursts into occasional fierce blazes of sound and vocal fury, whilst both songs treat the imagination and passions to exhilarating doses of bracing and abrasing rock ‘n’ roll.

With the similarly irresistible creative psych-out of this land is not your land bringing the album to a close, Boogie Nights has little difficulty inflaming old passions and triggering new lustful responses. It is a certain challenge to all best of lists due to be offered around now and for newcomers to The Black Black an inescapable and thrilling doorway into post punk anarchy whilst for fans it is simply the best thing since…well the band’s last sonic plaything.

Boogie Nights is out now via on Money Fire Records digitally and on 12″ white vinyl @ and

RingMaster 12/12/2014

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Sleaford Mods – Chubbed Up +

Photo by Sergio Albert Fish

Photo by Sergio Albert Fish

If you have yet to make acquaintance with the acerbic and snarling charm of UK duo Sleaford Mods, then Chubbed Up + is a must. Released originally in February this year as a digital release, the album is now receiving its physical unleashing via Ipecac Recordings, and makes an inescapable and irresistible doorway into the antagonistic world of the band. As the earlier unveiling, the album is a collection of tracks making up the bands recent clutch of singles but this time with an additional trio of unreleased songs. Following the acclaimed seventh album Divide and Exit which hit the senses this past April, Chubbed Up + reminds that there has been a long-time impressive assault and presence to the Nottingham provocateurs which may have slipped many by until this year.

Sleaford Mods is unique, a proposition which can be best described as Swell Maps and The Fall meets Pop Will Eat Itself driven by the observation and caustic lyrical ire of Mark E Smith; yet it is different and individual again. This is probably a band which seduces or alienates, it’s strikingly individual and fury fuelled provocation manna or poison for ears and emotions, but it is a challenge which has to be met face on to know your fate. If they hit the spot it is a long term allegiance which as their albums keep showing, just gets more potent and tightly gripping.

The emergence of Sleaford Mods came in 2006 when Jason Williamson drew on his frustrations with life and society to breed a verbal and lyrical causticity which he honed over the next months. A couple of years in London saw him hit the live scene before in 2009 returning to his home of Nottingham and subsequently meeting and uniting with Andrew Fearn in the band. By this point Sleaford Mods already had four albums under its belt but the fifth, Wank, was the first drawing on the lyrical and vocal fire of Williamson aligned to the musical and sample imagination of Fearn. Its success only led to greater invention and acclaim as Austerity Dogs in 2013 and then Divide and Exit has shown. Now like a stock take and reminder of the bands smaller but no less incendiary minimalistic brawls, Chubbed Up + is a call to new and extra treat for existing fans.

Sleaford Mods’ sound is a two prong attack, the lyrical scathing and vocal belligerence of Williamson in league with the predatory rhythmic seduction of Fearn. There is more to the band’s proposals but that is the dual prime bait as shown by opening song The Committee. One of the brand new songs, it snares ears straight away with a gnarly bassline which alone steals the imagination. With vocal sways inviting equally intimidating beats, the song soon embraces the stirring and raw tones of Williamson. A mix of speaking and rapping, his delivery has a great John Cooper Clarke monotony which swiftly binds attention so that every syllable and word is tightly gripped, yet it does not defuse the equally pungent Sleaford Mods ipc-162lure of Fearn’s sounds.

Though each track has seeds in a similar template, minimal flirtations of hypnotic and repetitive rhythms stalking the corrosive wordage of Williamson, all grow individual characters such as the electro pumped Jobseeker with its post punk bass tempting, the funkily incessant 14 Day court, and the punk heroics of Black Monday. The third of the three strolls with a Caped Crusader enticing, bass and percussion a nagging persistence wrapped in just as small but flavoursome keys. Old school punk with a kiss of early Cure and Television Personalities to it, the song stomps with insatiable appetite and irresistible revelry.

If like us you are seduced by addictive and unremitting basslines than Sleaford Mods and tracks like Jolly Fucker in the bands arsenal trigger instinctive hunger. The song pounds and intimidates physically and mentally, challenging thoughts and passions with sublime ease whilst lighting up body and imagination with terrier like persistence and ferocity. Tweet Tweet Tweet is another ridiculously compelling example, though its tone comes with a more restrained but similarly contagious swagger, musically and vocally a feisty striding unafraid to drape slithers of melodies and harmonies over its robust flanks.

   Chubbed Up + is an unrelenting string of addictions, the unique throaty sonic colouring of Bambi sparking immediate lust with a bassline and scything guitar repetition which lies somewhere between Gang Of Four and Morkobot. Lorded by the riveting antagonism of Williamson, the song is one of the band’s loftiest pinnacles, though the majority of their tracks stalk the same plateau as proved by the earthy menace and anthemic prowl of Routine Dean and the sultry shuffle of Scenery, the latter holding a repetitious spine but a cloudy haze to its slim line landscape of sound around lyrical spikiness.

The bestial tone of the bass returns for the outstanding Pubic Hair Ltd; a rhythmically punchy and vocally anthemic scowl loaded with more contagion than found in the world of banker’s greed. Its enthralling and glorious baiting leads into the final two songs of the album, the other pair of brand new tracks. Bring Out the Canons explores a predatory intent and sound, bass and beats almost leering over ears as vocals and choice lyrics grip the imagination. It is an engrossing and intrusive pulsing of lyrical grudge, which along with the opener and last song Fear of Anarchy, hints that the band is worrying even greater invention ahead. The album’s last track seductively sways with bulky rhythmic hips and melodic intrigue, blasts of brass like teasing adding to the incendiary mix grasping the broody vocal incitement.

It is a scintillating finale to an outstanding release. To be fair any way into the creative anger of Sleaford Mods is a choice invitation but if they have yet to infest the psyche then Chubbed Up + is a must. Be warned though, once tainted it is impossible to give them up.

Chubbed Up + is available now, digitally @ and physically with the extra songs through Ipecac Recordings @

RingMaster 27/10/2014

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Mary Joanna & The Southern Electrikk – Wasted

Picture 12

Sinisterly seductive, Wasted is one of those songs which gets under the skin and leaves an inescapable temptation to persistently tease thoughts and emotions. The track is the debut single from UK band Mary Joanna & The Southern Electrikk, and easy to suggest possibly the beginning of a big affair between artist and British hearts.

Hailing from Manchester, Mary Joanna & The Southern Electrikk is fronted by actress and chanteuse Mary Joanna Coogan. Behind her comes a wealth of experience and talent provided by guitarists Zack Davies and Stephen Evans (Twisted Wheel), bassist Steven Tatji (Paris Angels, Rude Club), drummer Spencer Birtwhistle (Interstella, The Fall), and Rikki Turner (Paris Angels) on keys. Together they cast a weave of sound which binds essences of post punk, shoegaze, psychedelia, and electronic ingenuity into something which is as unique as it is warmly familiar. As evidenced by the single, it is a heady mix from the band and with the siren-esque tones of Coogan quite irresistible.MJ&TSE WASTED COVER ART

From a virulently coaxing of tempting beats from Birtwhistle, the song soon casts a shadowed emotion over its entrance through a riveting bass tone and the vocal croon of Coogan. Radiant shards of guitar ignite the developing landscape whilst a darker breath of keys only adds to the sultry climate of the encounter. It is a compelling adventure which is as hauntingly mesmeric as it is virulently infectious, the hypnotic rhythms and expressive sounds creating a flavoursome canvas for the stunning voice of Coogan to colour and soak in tantalising expression.

Backed by the similarly engaging You Knew You Knew, the single is a stunning entrance by the band. The second song drifts in on a warm breeze of a melody courted by a shadow kissed bassline. It is another irresistible enticement which expels further mesmeric heat with the gentle but full temptation of Coogan’s voice and harmonies. Binding ears and imagination in a persistent echo like persuasion of guitar and keys enterprise, the track smoulders with suggestive elegance, its sonic fascination not quite matching Wasted but certainly give it a thrilling run for its money.

One release is never really enough to suggest greatness ahead but Wasted definitely has thoughts and passions veering in that direction…outstanding stuff.

Wasted is available digitally now @

RingMaster 22/09/2014

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Pord – Wild


Employing a cauldron of hostile noise rock soaked in sonic causticity, Wild is a proposition which simply lights up ears and passions as it numbs and abuses the senses. The new album from French band Pord, the release is an exhilarating and at times gorgeous violation of sonic ingenuity which inspires a deep hunger for more. Their sound is not going to be for everyone but if the likes of Keelhaul, Melt Banana, or Craw tick all the right boxes then Wild is a must investigation.

Formed in 2001, Pord hail from Lozère and through line-up changes evolved with a raw and imposing sound which was not the initial intention of the band on its emergence according to the new album’s press release. Thankfully the band has taken, whether organically or intentionally, a corrosive and raucous route with their sound which has increasingly garnered potent attention and following. Their well-received debut album Valparaiso three years ago drew acclaim towards the trio yet it is easy to feel that Wild will brew a much more vocal and aggressive attention once its uncompromising claws dig in.

Recorded with Serge Morattel (Knut, Tantrum, Ventura, Basement) at Rec Studio in Geneva and released via Solar Flare Records, the album instantly lights up ears and thoughts with Staring Into Space. The first thing igniting the pord_wildpassions is the bass, its presence from the first second offering more primal testosterone than a pair of rutting stags and never losing its carnivorous snarl and beauty across the whole release. Its bestial predation and animal magnetism is soon joined by scythes of guitar, their sonic swipes no less attractive and spiteful on the senses. Drums as swiftly add their antagonistic punches whilst vocal squalls roar with an element of restraint within the storming mix. It is a riveting mix, the repetitive bass lures irresistible whilst the guitar casts scorched tendrils of enterprise which almost crawl in the songs slower sludgier moments and charge with a melodic tailwind when the song opens up a cauldron of energy.

The song is a tremendous start, hooks and grooves lethally delicious, and swiftly matched by I’m Swimming Home. The second song is like a mix of KEN Mode and the now demised Kabul Golf Club, its caustic melodies and abrasing textures simultaneously threatening and seductive, not forgetting ridiculously addictive. Vocals are submerged in the tempest of sound but still a potent protagonist in the contagion of noise and bullying enterprise. As with most of the tracks, there is a swagger and array of barbed creative hooks which are virulent in their persuasion to slightly temper and often accentuate the hostile tenacity. It is formidable romance of noise which is contrasted impressively by My Bloody Galantine. Whereas the previous song has an endearing side, the third track is a predator of the psyche, crawling over the senses with a sinister gait and intimidating ferocity honed into a primal stalking loaded with sludge thick intensity. It is a carnal beast of a track and no less compelling than it’s, shall we say ‘lighter’ companions on the album.

The short fury of Laguiole Bull’s Balls is outstanding. It just exceeds a minute and digs up old school hostility to its sonic furnace and an ever debilitating bass enticing which recalls early Killing Joke in many ways. The devastating statement is followed by the scarring qualities of What Are Tuesdays For? which from a menacing and ear splitting entrance, unleashes a rhythmic agitation and sonic maelstrom which blisters every surface it touches whilst sparking another epidemic of seductive infectiousness. The track has a real swing to its bones as it launches its own insatiable and senses scorching web of sound and ultimately leaving ears blissfully ringing by the time of its departure.

Pools’n’Chicks is another sparking thoughts of earlier eras. Its raging intent and creative wall of sonic temptation proceeds to evolve through a post punk like cold snap and predation before developing a rhythmic addictiveness and discord driven expanse of noise aligned to a raw aggravation. It is an incitement which reminds of The Fire Engines and The Fall as it uncages its mouth-watering tide of sound, living up to the album title whilst sculpting its own addiction forging glory.

The album ends with On The Couch, a final and individual furnace of sonic oppression and rhythmic ferocity which inescapably thrills as it bludgeons ears, body and. soul. It is a last exhausting vindictive suasion, an eleven minute plus violent, corrosive dance within a haunting and menacing atmosphere, and quite brilliant.

As mentioned Wild may not be for all but with a body and soul which lives up to its name, it is one of the physically unhealthy and emotionally invigorating triumphs of2014.

Wild is available via Solar Flare Records now @


RingMaster 08/09/2014

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