Dead Cross- Self Titled

Pic SAWA

As the world seemingly surges rather than drifts into bedlam it is maybe not surprising that a sound is rising to echo it’s chaotic and discord fuelled order. It resonates from the creative union within Dead Cross, a project said to have emerged “out of a series of impractical schemes, fallen-through plans, and last-minute musical experimentation.” Featuring the combined acclaimed talent and creative ingenuity of Dave Lombardo (ex-Slayer, Suicidal Tendencies, Misfits), Mike Patton (Faith No More, Tomahawk, Mr. Bungle, Fantômas….), Justin Pearson (The Locust, Retox), and Michael Crain (Retox, Festival of Dead Deer), Dead Cross has just released their self-titled debut album; a deviously manipulative and skilfully conjured tempest of noise and intent, simply manic manna for the senses and imagination.

There really is no need to provide background to the members of Dead Cross, each individually and within a mass of bands having set down incitements and inspirations so many have fed upon and blossomed their own ventures with. So it is straight to the first breath of the foursome’s first release we go and the initial sonic mist of Seizure and Desist. From its midst surging raw riffs and rampaging rhythms burst, their assault soon joined by the distinctive and ever rapaciously mercurial vocals of Patton. Just as recognisable are the dynamically imaginative and textile swings of Lombardo; his anthemically biting incitement entangled in the sonic rapacity of Crain and the grumbling bestial tones of Pearson’s bass. A senses crumbling assault of hardcore, he track is as multi-flavoured as it is uncompromisingly furious and a hint of the developing web of noise and varied rock ‘n’ roll infesting the punk heart of the release.

The following Idiopathic even further harries and bullies the senses, its rhythms fuelling a barbarous catchiness which spreads to the united vocal attack and raw tone and causticity of the outstanding track. Unpredictability is as rampant as animosity, mischievous craft and fun equally as bold within the senses ravishing, body inciting maelstrom. Every passing second brings a fresh breath of bold and devilish adventure, the track a dancing predator by the time it makes way for the waspish nagging and unrelenting beating of Obedience School. It is glorious stuff, barbarous and harmonically bewitching leaving a tapestry of punk, alternative metal, and gothic rock suggestion.

Shillelagh is simply punk rock yet hardcore unafraid to embrace the spices of other pungent flavours to its infectious animus; the result a venomous contagion which has the body bouncing and appetite drooling before the imagination is enslaved all over again by a riveting cover of the Bauhaus classic Bela Lugosi’s Dead. Infesting it with the kind of energy and boisterousness felt at the Batcave venue back in the day, Dead Cross ensure the shadows and haunting atmosphere of the original are still an invasive temptation; Crain casting veins of melodic acidity which alone beguiles the senses.

The caustic invasion of Divine Filth hits the spot dead centre right after too, Patton and co vocally swinging from imagination’s rafters as the music around them throws itself around like an imaginatively manic dervish, again every passing second bringing new twists and expectations destroying adventure. Grave Slave is equally as tenacious in tone and intent, the Suicidal Tendencies exploits of Lombardo seemingly inspiring the whole of Dead Cross as they funk out with raw intensity and rancorous resourcefulness whilst equally embracing a Melvins meets early Therapy? like friction. It is a highly addictive proposal within an album similarly growing drug like in its temptation.

The persistent creative harassment of The Future Has Been Cancelled matches the lure and entrapment of its predecessor with its own individual and increasingly ravenous quicksand of sound and invention, at one point sinking into a quagmire of heavy seduction before bursting out with its instinctive rabid virulence of energy and sound to head towards the waiting heavy set jaws of Gag Reflex. It too meanders and dashes through a landscape of evolving gaits and twisted manhandling of the listener; each turn increasing its magnetism and our subservience to its manipulation.

The industrially lined shadows of Church of the Motherfuckers brings the album to a mighty conclusion, the track lumbering along with a primal swagger as resonating beauty glistens in its atmosphere. On the ground irritability guides the tempestuous exploits of the track, its climate remaining relatively clam but around a volatile heart which beats with combustibility. Through it all Lombardo springs a rhythmic trap which enslaves body and spirit, his creative mastery the last word in persuasion as the album comes to a thrilling close.

The tag super-group is bound to accompany many references to Dead Cross but ignore them. The band is a real and potent new force in its own right, yes embracing the previous experiences and exploits of its creators but offering something very different and exciting to rival and outshine most hardcore/punk noise exploits around them.

The Dead Cross album is out now via Ipecac Recordings through most stores.

https://www.facebook.com/deadcrossofficial/

Pete RingMaster 08/08/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Pink Muscles -The Signal

There is no denying that 2017 has to date been a truly potent and exciting ignition of personal tastes and that success has just been given another lusty boost through the debut album from US noise punks Pink Muscles. Devouring the senses and imagination with raw hunger, The Signal is a psychosis of sound, an irritant of noise wrapped up in just as lustfully weird tales and quite irresistible.

Hailing from Seattle, Pink Muscles began as a solo project for guitarist/vocalist Marshall McLaughlin. Exploring his unique vision of sound and songwriting, he recorded the Upper Body Strength demo in 2014 before exploring the bringing together of a full line-up which saw the addition of guitarist Eric Elliott, bassist Lee Newman, recently replaced by Stuart Dahlquist (Goatsnake, Sunn O))), Asva), and drummer Janet Trares (Hell’s Belles) in 2016. Their uncompromising fusion of punk and noise rock with a cauldron of other fiercely rapacious flavours from hardcore to thrash and death metal soon found a powerful presence on the local live scene, the quartet having played alongside the likes of The Dwarves, Author and Punisher, Dayglo Abortions, and Nasalrod over the past year. Now they are setting out on trespassing and infesting broader landscapes with The Signal, bringing something unique and fresh to a punk scene which in so many ways no longer boasts those attributes.

Artwork by Cindy Hepler

A concept album in spirit with its 14 “mini-horror films” springing stories of inter-dimensional monsters invading earth to end humanity, The Signal opens with Resumption and a one minute attack of psychotic punk with exotic spatial tendrils and mass vocal causticity, all splintered with warped bursts of sax amidst sonic turmoil. It is beautiful chaos, as addictive as it is disconcerting and the spark for even greater cacophonic alchemy within Teenage Rainbows. With McLaughlin as good as bullying ears with his great vocal presence, the song swings and mentally comes apart within seconds, its creative turbulence bred on caustic guitar riffs and crazed hooks as strings are violently twanged and beats antagonistically swung in another swift off-kilter assault akin to Botch making out with The Locust.

Infestopus invades next, its earthy groove and bestial riffs making a barbarous invitation to a web of sonic loco and scuzzy goodness again as fleeting as a deep breath and just as rewarding before Star Grove unleashes it’s animalistic instincts; guitars and bass going on a murderous rampage as beats damage and bullish vocals arouse. There is a touch of Lightning Bolt to the song, a little bit Melvins too but a savaging individual to Pink Muscles as it corrupts and incites on its uninterrupted way to the waiting humans into insects pharmacy of The Man at the End of My Street. In many ways, the album becomes even more deranged and imagination gripping from this track on. Its thumping beats certainly leave the same scars as its predecessors, but there is a more abstract structure to the weave of colluding and contrasting textures making up the outstanding bughouse. The swarm of guitar trespassing ears is a toxic delight whilst vocals, as the nastily brooding tones of the bass, are a mix of predation and animosity, it all pure addiction sparking.

Black Market Tampons is next, a cosmic horrorshow of “demonic male pregnancy and magic tampons” seducing and corroding the senses. Imagine the dementia of Pere Ubu, the inspiring discord of The Fire Engines, and the punk ferocity of Today Is The Day, and you have a treat of a song if still not quite accurate of its ingenuity.

The haywire webbing of Battery Acid is even more exhilarating; guitars spinning a trap of sonic violation as rhythms tenaciously grumble and impose while vocals paint a giant arachnophobia fear fest. As all tracks, within the carnal exploits there is an infectious air which quickly steals the passions though offering its most virulent strain in this one of the album’s major highlights; a peak quickly rivalled by the visceral climate and drama of Party at Murder Beach. The track is a gripping slab of punk ‘n’ roll with a voracious swing and swagger which alone is a submission giving temptation while The Egg Lady infests and infects ears and imagination with its own certifiable bedlam and theatre of sound and invention.

I Wrote This Song With My Father’s Guitar stems from the instrument McLaughlin inherited from his late father, the inspiration to his exploration of music, and provides fifty odd seconds of insatiable punk rock which simply hits the spot before aurally venomous The Master and Officers of the Universe with its feral dynamics and textures hungrily ravage, savage, and ignite all over again. All three bring a new lust for the album to rise, Heaven is for Real backing them up with its cantankerous wall of sound and vocal ruthlessness; the track a real beast of a proposal.

Bringing the album to a close, Mouth House grabs favourite song honours though with its nefarious air and intoxication of flavours. Playing with the imagination like an aberrantly unhinged merger of Essential Logic, Boris, and Shellac, the track is intrusive bliss building up to a scorching cacophony leaving a lasting imprint on ears and pleasure.

The Signal is the announcement of a new noise punk treat in town and quickly showing that Pink Muscles have much more than that slim tag to their imagination and beef. Another must for 2017 we say.

The Signal is out now @ https://pinkmuscles.bandcamp.com/releases

https://www.facebook.com/pinkmuscles/

Pete RingMaster 09/05/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

ChuggaBoom – Zodiac Arrest

CB_Promo4_RingMaster Review

Chuggaboom is one of those bands which will always divide opinion; its attention grabbing creativity and bullying body breeding a minefield of irreverent assaults sure to blow up in the faces of the band for some and hit the sweet spot for just as many. Behind the character of the band and sound though is a craft and imagination which ensures however the lyrical prowess and content may work for you, musically the band is seriously formidable and to be taken only seriously; after all they in their own words are the “greatest metalcore band in the world”.

That statement of course is the first hue in the band’s satiric intent to spotlight the nonsense which colours, often fuels their chosen genre, the music scene generally, and indeed life. Music is a game which all involved have to play to some degree at some time, ChuggaBoom no exception, but as their debut album Zodiac Arrest shows, there is nothing stopping anyone taking pot shots, hefty swipes, and having merciless fun within that landscape. It is a devilment which drives the band’s sound and the collection of ravenous and inventive tracks within the album raising broad smiles in thoughts and imagination whilst exhausting the body with prime chunks of thickly satisfying metal.

The anonymous British five-piece uncage their new release through opener Raise the Roofie, the track immediately a bedlamic torrent of voices and sound which gets bolder and more ravenous as it intensifies, until eventually becoming a raging fury around a jagged riff and a violent rhythmic spine. Almost as quickly an impressive array of vocal styles and their delivery grabs ears, most expelled by the fine throat of Levi Taurus whilst guitarists John Virgo and Leo Carter sculpt a steely snarl and toxic grooving within their rousing and malevolent metalcore designs. Within its raucous belly though, the song has a perpetual line of inventive twists and spicy additives which ensures every minute is a fresh adventure within the core tempest, and a gripping persuasion which continues through the savage techno hued Unfriendly Operations Up On The Roof. The Browning comes to mind as the track courts ears and spills its animus; driving grooves leading thoughts and an ever increasing enjoyment further astray into a fluid and psychotic tapestry of sound and flavour.

cover_RingMaster Review   Mad Skills Brah! is next, wrapping sinister cinematic keys around a rabid storm of riffs and predatory rhythms brewed by bassist Avira Caprica and drummer xKRIOSx from the off. The vocals show similar unhinged intent and imagination throughout whilst the deceptive calm hanging around with the clean tones of Taurus and ambience spilling keys reinforces the always available unpredictability which veins every song within Zodiac Arrest, as testified by 14 Year Olds Have Sex More Than Me straight after. Arguably, a more merciful proposal with angst lined vocals an early tempting, it too flings hostile hues and erosive textures at the senses. It does not quite live up to the thrills and spills of its predecessors yet continues to linger and entice after departure even as A BBQ In Antarctica spreads its own toxic beauty and atmospheric spite amidst a sonic devouring complete with melodic tempting. Again as much as you can call ChuggaBoom metalcore, there is plenty more to their expansive sound which reaps slithers of anything from post-hardcore to alternative metal, punk to straight edge heavy metal.

Another brutal pinnacle arrives with the insidious maelstrom of Smoke Rings of Saturn, vocals a broad range of demonic potency as the guitars chew and seduce the battered senses in equal mouth-watering measure. It is stirring stuff, another inescapable anthem which will surely tap into the instincts of fans and doubters alike, just as its successor Fat Guy In A Little Coat. The next track is deceptively accessible, at times creating a form of metal pop which between the catchiest of warm choruses paces and crawls over the senses to rip the heart out of the psyche and ear drums. The song did take longer to fully convince but eventually and continually since, has revealed the thickest temptation, though it is always eclipsed by the outstanding #TBT That Time I Made Out With Your Sister and its carnivorous intent and bewitching creative venom. At times it plays like Fall Out Boy does metalcore and in other moments creates a sonic psychosis which is Hollywood Undead meets Hell Puppets like with a delicious dose of The Locust included.

Humorously Elongating The Title Of This Song grinds and growls in ears next, its vicious funk as rapacious as the carnal textures spun by guitars and bass whilst the brilliant Ohana Means Family (You Bastard) opens the curtains on a dark vaudeville entrance which sweeps over and swoops upon the imagination with My Chemical Romance drama, subsequently releasing the jaws of creative hell for another greedy hunger in the appetite sent the way of the album.

The songs majestic theatre and rancor makes the perfect end to the album but no ChuggaBoom have one more treat in store, unleashing a bonus and fun cover of The Lonely Island track I Just Had Sex which is not a patch on their own irreverence but fits perfectly and enjoyably into the texture of the album thanks to the distinctive ChuggaBoom violation given to it.

You may get the joke or not, but for thumping uncompromising metal to get seriously infected by, Zodiac Arrest is the dog’s doodahs; hairs, smells, and all.

The self-released Zodiac Arrest is out now via all online stores and @ http://chuggaboom.bigcartel.com/

http://facebook.com/chuggaboomuk  https://twitter.com/chuggaboomband

Pete Ringmaster 29/09/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Auxes – Boys In My Head

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Storming the psyche like a deranged bluster forged from the sonic invention of The Pixies and Melvins bound in the raw devilment of The Fat Dukes Of Fuck and the acidic charm of The Mai Shi, Boys In My Head is contagion gone wild. The new album from Germany based noise punks Auxes is a masterfully devious roar combining addiction with primal seduction for without any doubt one of the year’s most essential propositions.

The successor to their previously acclaimed More! More! More! of 2012, Boys In My Head sees the band take some of its raw punk persuasion and fuse it to a broader noise and psyche rock exploration. The result is their most compelling and spicily intrusive incitement yet, which as well as those earlier comparisons also sows essences found in band such as At The Drive In, The Birthday Party, and The Locust. Consisting of the combined experiences and adventure of Dave Laney (the co-founder of Milemarker and Challenger), Florian Brandel (Eniac, Kommando Sonne-nmilch, Airpeople) and Manuel Wirtz (Eniac, Honigbomber, Die Charts), Auxes fire up ears and emotions with swift drama and success as Boys In My Head entangles ears with opener To All The Fires. Song and release provide an infestation which is as fascinating as it is unpredictable, as anthemically warped as it is sonically scorching, and from their first notes inescapable slavery.

To All The Fires immediately encases ears in a web of weighty beats and sonic intrigue, a coaxing soon flourishing with feistily flavoursome melodic enterprise fuelling enslaving grooves and hooks. Vocals too have an alluring expression which subsequent harmonies only enhance as the song continues to flirt and dance with the imagination. The impressive start is straight away surpassed by I Can’t Stand You Any Longer, the song from its initial feisty rub of riffery and jabbing rhythms, a voracious stomp of virulently gripping hooks and tangy melodic intrigue. There is a grunge spice to certain aspects of the track but primarily it is a merger of garage and noise rock devilry sparking thoughts of Fake Shark-Real Zombie!

The following I Wanna See Results riles up the passions with its brief but ravenous temptation, a gnarly bassline relentlessly courting acidic guitar endeavour whilst increasingly impressing vocal causticity and just as hungrily agitated rhythms unleash their narratives. Far too brief but irrepressibly thrilling, the encounter makes way for the album’s title track, itself an epidemic of rhythmic bait and resourceful hooks within a sonic haze. Seemingly strongly inspired by The Pixies, the song is a delicious weave of sonic slavery, every groove and tangy chord easy thraldom of thoughts and passions.

The pair of Dog & Master and Life In Their Television increases the album’s grip, the first opening with a predatory rub of riffs and similarly commanding rhythms before striding purposefully with creative rabidity and bewitching enterprise. The track is a scintillating hex on body and emotions whilst its successor is an instant tease with its percussive coaxing and boys in their headmischievous beats. It is revelry though which cannot resist bursting into a punk fired tempest of abrasing guitar invention and vocal confrontation, all around a throaty bass spine. The track is a fiery charge soaked in punk belligerence, it again igniting fresh hunger in the appetite for the outstanding release; a greed right away fed wholesomely by the Frank Black spiced Boom Boom Town. Harmonies and melodies thrive in the sonic tapestry around them, drawing on an acidic wine of sound to brew their equally captivating toxicity.

Every song brings a fresh peak to Boys In My Head, though maybe none as insatiably as Under Fire. Its primal seduction of bass and drums is the foreplay to an orgasmic devilment of barbed hooks and intoxicating grooves, a dramatic infection where there is no second where feet are relaxed and emotions silent, though that to be fair applies to most tracks, especially the relatively calmer but no less transfixing Hand In Hand With The Man and the sultry rock ‘n’ roller Dead Dead Eyes. The first of the two sways and flames with siren-esque sonic candy which brings hints of eighties bands like The Fire Engines and Scars. The second of the pair again has that breeze of nostalgia, offering whispers of the Scottish bands as just mentioned and the likes of Josef K but infusing it into a punk bred slice of ferocious rock with infectious vocals and chorus eventually aligned to anthemic chants.

The album closes with the darkly shadowed I’ve Had Enough, a post punk coloured antagonism engaging ears with a noise and punk rock provocation, and another which is as much an epidemic of tempting as it is a blast of creative turbulence. The song is a brilliant end to quite simply one of the year’s biggest triumphs. There have been a few essential encounters in 2014 and Boys In My Head easily joins the list; in fact it might just be the one heading the queue.

Boys In My Head is available now via Gunner Records, digitally and as CD, vinyl, and cassette versions @ http://auxes.bandcamp.com/album/boys-in-my-head

http://auxes.com/

RingMaster 26/11/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Co-Exist-Skelf

Skelf Front cover Main

Scottish synapse stretchers Co-Exist follow their acclaimed and impressive album Violent Intentions Begin with Slow Incisions of 2010 with another intensive senses exploiting sonic corrosion in the deliciously intrusive shape of the Skelf EP. A rabid sonic savagery spews from the incendiary mesh of intensive metal, rapacious thrash, and vitriolic grindcore; the effect and presence of the release a tempest of intensity, spite, and downright viciousness which exhausts and devours whilst simultaneously igniting the passions.

Consisting of vocalist Dawson Taylor, bassist John Clark Paterson, drummer Quzzy, and guitarists Charlie Perratt and Marc Mullen, the 1998 formed Glasgow quintet have over the past couple of years sculpted an impressive reputation for their sonic scarring and the latest release only reinforces and strengthens their reputation for skilfully crafted and passionately bred unbridled caustic and intimidating persuasion. Creating a squalling quarrelsome mix of Coilguns, Retox, and The Locust, band and EP are an extreme scourge of deeply rewarding invention which takes little time in reaping the more restrained seeds sown in the dawning steps from Of Steel for an intensive examination. Holding itself in check initially it may be but the song is still instantly intimidating in its lure and temptation as it seduces the listener into the subsequent torrent of crippling rhythms, insidious sonics, and ruinous riffs. Driven by the abrasive vocal squalls of Dawson, the track is insatiably brutal but beneath in its underbelly creates an underlying groove and grinding irritant which only entices.

The fury of barbed hooks which score the psyche is continued by the following tempest Eyepliers and the toxic Kick yer fucking cunt in, their malevolence alone nasty and merciless but combined pure sonic destruction. The first of the two is a sonic rape of ears and mind, every note an intrusive grain within a storm of bedlamic abrasion. Its two minutes of life burns the senses whilst lungs try to grasp an ounce of air within the aggressive furnace. Its successor is as equally toxic; vehemence and noxious intent reducing the body and mind into easy prey for its open predation. Both songs are exhausting scintillating treats and easy to give full submission to.

History of violent behaviour spawns from a more metallic source, a classic metal essence coaxing out a more accessible, compared to those tempests before, rampage of grooves and melodic craft within the constant tumultuous rage also employed. It is a superbly structured charge which only invites full hunger for its creative premise but does remain in the shadows of the earlier and subsequent blazes of toxicity as in the outstanding Brass Knuckles, the track almost fifty seconds of tempestuous thrash abuse. Another sonic terror fused to invidious tension, the short mental mauling achieves more damage and provides greater satisfaction than most bands can create in a marathon of minutes.

The release ends with a lasting flight of sonic cruelty in Stress fractures, a track which stands toe to toe with the venomous peaks already stet by the EP. It concludes a rabid and greedy fury of primal infestation which leaves only an urgent hunger for more of the destructive imagination violating the senses. Certainly a release for those with masochistic tendencies towards their music, Skelf and indeed Co-Exist provide a ruinous creative pestilence it is impossible not to have a desperate appetite for.

https://www.facebook.com/Coexistgrind

9/10

RingMaster 29/09/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Them Wolves – German For Duke EP

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Sounding like the softer spoken cousin of Coilguns, though with the same rapacious dissonance, and employing the snarling provocation of a Bishop and the turbulent fire of The Locust strapped to the abrasive beauty of The Jesus Lizard, UK noise rock disruptors Them Wolves make their debut with an EP which is as furious as it is compelling and as sonically destructive as it is caustically seductive. Five tracks of corrosive distrust and clangorous temptation, the German For Duke EP is a delicious cacophonous brawl created with a craft and imagination only those of unique synaptic disorientation could conjure.

Hailing from Birmingham, the trio of Greg Coates, Stuart-Lee Tovey, and Noel Campbell is another impressive encounter to emerge from a rising Midlands scene, a band carving out a startling individual presence within this wind of blossoming enterprise and now preparing to recruit more passions from prospective loyal fans with their first release as it sends twisted aural shapes into a waiting wider national awareness. The band has earned a strong reputation from their live storms which have seen them intimidate stages with the likes of Fucked Up, Trash Talk, Dope Body, Blacklisters, and Bats, but German For Duke as it manipulates and blasts the senses feels like the key to much more.

As soon as opening stings of guitar sonics accompanied by coarse riffs, subsequently joined by even more caustic vocals, brings The Wild Girl of Champagne into view senses and thoughts are ripped from their slumber. The track soon becomes a scything swipe of noise as rhythms tips the balance of intimidation into the favour of predation and the guitars cut through the air with acidic Errol Flynn like sabre swishes of noise. It is a magnetic tempest which draws out the passions with ease and ignites them further as it turns in on itself with a relatively peaceful aside, a kind of lull where bitchy riffs from both sets of stringed conspirators offer a Stinking Lizaveta captivation spiked by the Fall like rhythm and vocal punctuation. Raising to another crescendo it is a riveting blaze of punishing discord and frantic fascination, a potent blaze to mark the introduction of the band and EP that is unafraid to test and complicate things further with a sludgy breath of invention before one final riot of sound.

The following Folding a Napkin on Terminal Island, is of the same breeding seed, the song another crusading squall of synapse mining rhythmic provocation within a scorching shower of sonic industry crafted into an evocative narrative, an aural tale that scrapes and sears its leaden hues deeply into senses and thoughts whilst teasing the passions with enticing venomous grooves. The track is a brief yet contagiously busy piece of confrontation, guitars and rhythms enslaving with their respective serpentine seduction and muscular animosity.

Let’s You and Him Fight takes its time to impose its lethal toxins, beckoning in the listener at first with a Gang Of Four like weave before expanding it into a melodically washed maze of invention and rhythmic chastisement led by the again ear abrasing vocals. Complete with a dip of scuzz and vitriol, the track pushes release and band into another street rife with distinct and unique essences set to a canvas of brain frying intensity. Cutting and emotive, though always under the rein of concussive intent, the song leaves exhaustion and bliss in its place, as well as a lingering and disorientated rapture for the alignment of infection fuelled grooves and an almost funky underbelly to a raptorial stalking, the bass its most carnivorous sounding yet.

Once You’re More Like a Young Mary Bell staggers into the ear with staccato beats and pestilential riffing, the battle becomes even more deliciously intensive, the band fusing air and heat into a swamp of noise that eats away at the listener and chews their brain with a bestial suffocation of ruinous intent. A doom/sludge like intensity takes the track into its menacing finale though still sparking with schizophrenic imagination and a ravenous noise fuelled craft.

Final track Wolf Song preys on fears and the wounds already induced by the EP, guitars stalking with sonic saliva dripping from every note expelled and vocals a raucous chafing stealing any free emotion and breath for their own inciting ends. With the bass finding another depth to its gnarled throat, the track is a towering sinister embrace of mordancy wrapped in the beauty of noise. It is a triumphant end to an equally impressive release, the Distorted Tapes / It’s Just Noise released German For Duke the kind of raw animal you do not want to meet at night and Them Wolves its pack leader with no wish to leave you safe or unblemished. It is the entrance of a masterful sonic annoyance which will only get better and more stunning.

http://www.themwolves.co.uk

9/10

RingMaster 10/08/2013

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