Easter Teeth – Truckstop Fear

Within numerous instinctively magnetic musical lures for us is the temptation of rock ‘n’ roll duos. The past few years has unearthed a host of exciting and stirring propositions across an array of styles and adding to that seemingly ever expanding list is California’s Easter Teeth. Comprising of the Eymann brothers, Josh on vocals/drums and Tim on vocals/bass/keys, the band creates a predacious mix of punk infused post punk and noise rock and as proven by latest album Truckstop Fear, a blend which is quite irresistible.

Growing up listening to their mother’s array of cassette tapes including James Brown, Sam & Dave, and The Rascals while riding in back of the family station wagon, the siblings bring those spices with their subsequent discovery and love of punk, hardcore, and math rock into their own sound. It is as funky as it is irritable, as soulful as it is agitated and with its slim but rich body of rhythmic trespass and vocal energy a real fresh DIY breath in the world of noise.

Truckstop Fear is the successor to 2013 debut album Being Alone With Your Thoughts is for Inmates, the two full-lengths surrounding a split 7” EP with Moral Monsters in 2015 and two track single Shake Hands with Danger released early 2017. Within mere seconds the latest album grips ears and attention as opener Honey from the Carcass whips ears with Josh’s crispy beats, the bass a waiting hum as shouts and hits break into a hectic shuffle. Swiftly hips swing to the track’s funkiness, the senses cowering before its raw edge and scything beats; it all a corrosive temptation coloured by the electrified fuzz of keys. As the music, the vocal union of the siblings is bold and instinctive, a direct incitement hard to turn down.

The following Baby’s Got Cold Feet casts a minefield of shuddering beats as a groove woven bassline strolls with grumbling dexterity within the melodic flourish of keys. Like a scowling tango built on the attributes of Pigbag and Swell Maps, the song hits the spot with increasing addictiveness though it is soon eclipsed by the caustic Art Attacks meets mclusky tango of Play the Harp, Throw the Spear. It is a rabid trespass but with a restraint which only escalates its impact before the album’s title track raises the ante yet again. It too has the scent of numerous decades of rock ‘n’ roll in its uncompromising proposal shaped by the imposing skeletal steel frame set by Josh. Hooks and catchy enterprise erupt across its barbarous stroll, a blend of contrasts just as potent within the pair’s infectious vocal insurgency.

As the previous songs, each in turn built upon and outshone by the next, Good Intentions Paving Co. soon steals the limelight, its kinetic saunter an irresistible collusion between bass and drums enhanced by the ever rousing union of voice and Tim’s squirts of mania lined keys. The track is noise at its most majestic, and demonic, a virulent tirade of manipulative rock ‘n’ roll with a chorus only the deaf could resist joining.

Sit Down Party has its own breed of addictiveness, a fevered but again skilfully controlled incursion of sound and enterprise bearing hues of bands such as Pere Ubu, The Mae Shi, and Big Black in its design. What grabs ears though is something unique to Easter Teeth, an individual character of sound confirmed once again within the rhythmically viral, sonically lusty Inspiration Indiana and the senses stalking Just Curves, a track with something of The Mekons to it.

The album ends with Pick a Puppy, a piece of poppy noise punk with volatility in its heart and virulent dance. It is a superb end to a release which sparked a lustful appetite and hunger here for the band’s sound. At times the best rock ‘n’ roll comes raw, undiluted, and with a tart almost acrimonious flavouring; the evidence there within the wonderful wickedness that is Truck Stop Fear.

Truck Stop Fear is available on ZAP! Records @ https://easterteeth.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/easterteeth

Pete RingMaster 09/01/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The Rott Childs – Alleluia: A Brit Milah In G Melodic Minor

Masks / pic by Fia Cielen

Masks / pic by Fia Cielen

Undoubtedly a musical union from the loins of the Devil, Belgian noise manipulators The Rott Childs are poised to take over the world’s psyche with the unleashing of their second album Alleluia: A Brit Milah In G Melodic Minor. Consisting of ten tracks sculpted with schizophrenic invention and bedlamic imagination, the sonic alchemy uncaged is a breath-taking, fertile tempest of post hardcore and mathcore ingenuity aligned to an aggressive progressive intent which warns not to confirm those best of year album choices just yet.

The Rott Childs made their entrance with the well-received debut album Riches Will Come Thy Way, A Musical in 2009. It was a release which like for a great many outside of their homeland we suspect, evaded our attention but soon received a retrospective investigation once its successor had dug in its staggering sonic claws. Alleluia: A Brit Milah In G Melodic Minor follows on from the endeavour forged on the band’s first release taking it to a maturer and greater incendiary plateau of inspiring confrontation. The quartet of guitarists Christophe Dexters and Jethro Volders, drummer Wim Coppers, and bassist Florent Peevee who also fronts the brilliant Kabul Golf Club, are not content in just engaging the senses and imagination, they want and do take them on a journey through ravenous creative ‘mayhem’ which just enflames the passions.

The opening Prelude offers an intrigue but no real hint of what is to come, its melodic caress and rhythmic shuffling a lure soon 51-QuGgW9vL._SL500_AA280_left behind by the intensive fire of Caloric. Guitars are soon searing the air and teasing the ears whilst the excellent vocals offer a distinct acidic inventiveness too. A scorching sonic bedlam sounding like the deviant cousin to a merger between Blood Brothers and At The Drive In, the track whips up a frenzy of exhausting beauty and predacious energy courted by a crazed craft and mouth-watering invention. Bass and drums sculpt a web upon it which just seduces the passions whilst the guitars weave a ridiculously easy to be addicted to expanse of aural narrative which the excellent vocals and harmonies dance impressively along.

The following Pass Out the Charm parades an even darker psychotic swagger to its adventure, bass lures and sonically hued hooks as with its predecessor virulent tempters spearing the acidically spiced melodic net which just twists and evolves with every passing second. It is a riveting explosion of genius, a feisty torrent of inventiveness which moves its boundaries as it seamlessly flows into a noir clad shadow soaked finale. The song is another masterful pinnacle on an album which gets better song by song, as proven by the fire bred Pretty Diamond. Noise and radiance are easy bedfellows within the rhythmically challenging snarl of a track, a caustic essence of The Fall Of Troy and maniacal breath of The Mae Shi offering their references to the wonderful turmoil being played out.

The next up sinew veined Suitcase Full of Stupid has a Kabul Golf Club toxicity and antagonism to it but within another transfixing melodic meshugah which persists and niggles thoughts and emotions into submission whilst Stumble bursts in straight after with a certifiable rhythmic stomp and sonic rapaciousness, the track virtually stalking and teasing the synapses and emotions into lustful engagement. It is startling and incredibly impressive stuff from song and album, The Rott Childs bringing provocations and spices from all those bands mentioned, to which you have to add Mars Volta at times too, into something loudly distinct and dramatically innovative.

The triumph does not slow down or stop there though as the exceptional sonic storm that is Stutter, the track finding a carnivorous depth which the bass especially feeds off of, and the dark haunting Children’s Life Size Gorgeous Luxury Play House shows. The second of the two is haunting as in an Insidious way, sounds and emotively drenched sonic incitements leaping from the walls and heart of the song to seduce and disturb before ending on a sonic lancing of the ear which leads into another glorious mind challenging provocation. Marching Band is a warped festival of imagination and ingenuity, a technically exceptional, as the album, riot of loose limbed rhythms which simply leave the senses punch drunk and a sonic flaming that corrodes and ignites thoughts.

The closing Gold Crumbs leaves the release on the same persistently consistent high it started upon and maintained. A bewitching and disorientating brawl of never able to settle sound and creativity, the track is a romping puppeteer for lustful passions, a violent and merciless one but one with a wanton seduction it has to share. Not for the first time on the album the bass has a Gang Of Four growl to it presence as the guitars flay ears and air like sonic dervishes, It is a presence which is sheer contagious devilry proving again that quite simply Alleluia: A Brit Milah In G Melodic Minor is unhinged sonic poetry and The Rott Childs the authors of one of the very best albums this year.

http://www.therottchilds.com/

10/10

RingMaster 19/11/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Kabul Golf Club – Le Bal Du Rat Mort

Disorientating and mesmeric, scarring and insatiably infectious, the Le Bal Du Rat Mort EP from Belgium sonic conjurors Kabul Golf Club is pure manic genius. It is a release to boil the senses and scatter synapses to the four winds, though it has probably turned them to steam anyway through its sheer incendiary imagination and sizzling expulsions. A snarling and abrasive explosion of corrosive invention it is hard to categorise the sounds within its pulsating walls. Post punk, noise rock, post hardcore, psyche punk…it is all in there and more. Imagine a mix of Dope Body, Retox, The Blood Brothers, The Mae Shi, and Stump and you have a slight grasp of the beautiful discordant monstrosity that is Le Bal Du Rat Mort.

The opening flaring chords on first track Bits Of Freedom eagerly scrape the ear without giving full notice of what is to come, though it is not long before the full force of the song is waging acidic romance upon the senses. Vocals scorch the atmosphere with passionate squalls of lyrics and sound whilst the drum beats provoke primal responses, it all within a ferocious burning maelstrom of blistering guitar mischief and abrasive energy. The bass is a growling salt within the midst its presence highlighted in the less forceful flurries but ever rubbing away at the defences throughout. The song is masterful and the first of the five epic and most welcome intrusions.

Minus 45 to offer a sonic joke raises the temperature even further, the band wringing the wildest squeals from notes and melodies whilst the bass finds an even stronger belligerence to its gait. With discord fuelling every second of the song for the fullest rapture, it is an acerbic assault, its hunger carnal and rewards aurally orgasmic. There is a live feel to the song and release as a whole which suggests its recording was in that manner, everything organically barbed and inciteful.

The waspish starting swing of Fast Moving Consumer Goods is a mellower scour upon the senses yet still riles the edges of emotions and flesh perfectly. A less punishing breath is soon ignited in sonic spasms by malevolent satanic melodies, again all brought with the utmost of insistent discordance and visceral energy. For many its brief stature will be a mercy, for us it is a disappointment, the exquisite corruption far too swift to take its leave.

5 Minutes 2 Midnight brings a similar presence to the previous track but soon notches up the levels and heat through warped  melodies and venomously twisted hooks. As with all the songs they are near perfect pop songs…ok for the insane but if they make that unbreakable connection they all emerge as a flurry of imaginative melodies, irresistible hooks, and anthemic rhythms, just from a darker and less savoury dimension is all. With a vein of eighties post punk band Fire Engines about it the song is a wanton demon borne bruising of the psyche, and absolutely brilliant.

The closing track Demon Days is an exhausting finale which encapsulates all that came before in one furious sonic sawmill of aggression. Its sounds scythe through the ear leaving resonating energy long after departure and the mind a broken recipient greedy and begging for it all over again.

Le Bal Du Rat Mort is an unhinged giant of a release, a beautiful frenetic and psychotic masterpiece which is maybe the most exciting thing to appear this year. Kabul Golf Club is a band we will all hear a lot more of, let us hope our minds can stand up to their triumphantly dangerous imagination and sound.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kabul-Golf-Club/157594060945110

RingMaster 28/09/2012

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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