Wizard Rifle – Self Titled

Like a sonic devil they tempt your pigeonholing and defining of their sound and with the same Mephistophelian glee side step every attempt with their infernal webs of sound. They are Oregon rockers Wizard Rifle and their latest album epitomises their devilish conjuring of creative deception. Their self-titled offering also provides one of the most rousing and thrilling encounters of the year. Their sound is punk, sludge rock, psych and thrash punk, noise rock, metal and much more besides in one cacophonous temptation; quite simply it is feral rock ‘n’ roll and across forty four minutes pure contagion.

Emerging in Portland in 2009, Wizard Rifle are no newcomers to high praise as their electric live presence, which has seen them share stages with the likes of The Melvins, High On Fire, YOB, Lightning Bolt, Bongzilla, Buzzov*en, Black Cobra, and Church of Misery, over time has been accompanied by two well-received full-lengths in Speak Loud Say of 2012 and Here in the Deadlight two years later. Now the duo of guitarist/vocalist Max Dameron and drummer/vocalist Sam Ford are ready to take on the world with a release which embraces the building blocks of its predecessors and shapes a proposition which defies convention, relishes devouring expectations, and sets out its own unique agenda in virulent noise.

Rocket to Hell ignites the babel of sound devouring the senses from with the album though there is no confusion in its creation and enterprise. The opener teases from its first breath with the plucking of guitar strings, the gentle lure the persuasive deceit before the ferocious babble of sound momentarily waiting to erupt. And break out it does with ravenous intent; the pair’s united vocals as harmonious as they are untamed as around them sonic squalls casts melodic and sonic temptation as raw as it is virulent. The track continues to infectiously nag as it rapaciously ravages, that tempest of flavours previously mentioned blended into a predacious trespass strapped with the keenest of hooks and salacious grooves.

As discord and melody craftily entangle it is a glorious incitement and matched by that within the following Cevaman Waltz. Rhythms prowl as a chugging guitar goes eye to eye with instincts, a devious grin lining rapid grooves and an epidemic of infection while equally compelling vocals ride its hungry currents. Again it is a mix which nags and harries but with less voracity than its predecessor though that is replaced by a pressure of urgency which only accelerates by the minute until erupting in a cyclone of wild and fertile commotion with those original grooves still steering the greed for the band’s invention.

A Celtic spicing infects the compelling landscape of next up Beneath the Spider, its emprise a tapestry of rabid intent and collected melodic dexterity spun with craft and imagination. There is a great manipulation to the Wizard Rifle sound, its hooks and grooves an infestation of the body as melodic irreverence grip the imagination and no more inescapable and powerful than within the eight minutes making up this slice of potent incitement.

The next twelve minutes plus comes in the shape of Funeral of the Sun, the closing cyclonic tempest of the previous track reaped of its incessant sonic persecution by the opening bait of its successor. Dangling acidic guitar lures it entices and then devours in swirls and expulsions of creative ruthlessness and barbarity but an assault which is pure untamed catchiness. Similarly vocals harmoniously invite and venomously bite before the progressive heart of the track emerges to just as potently seduce. The tide of noise cannot be abated for long and it returns but with a much more melodic breath. Pure fascination exudes the track, which never suffers in its length, as pleasure floods ears before it.

V concludes the release, psychedelic seducing radiating from within its intrepid venture of sound and ambition. Seductive and fierce, subtle and bold, the track provides an unpredictable multi-textured furnace of flavour and captivation.

Wizard Rifle’s album is a glorious contradiction; it is animatingly wild yet cleverly composed, boldly untethered but chained to distinct imagination and craft. It is also another of the year’s major pleasures which should see the band burst beyond previous boundaries of attention.

The Wizard Rifle album is out now via Svart Records; available @ https://wizardrifle.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/wizardrifle/

Pete RingMaster 06/09/2019

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Canshaker Pi – Naughty Naughty Violence

The word is that Dutch outfit Canshaker Pi is one emerging proposition sparking excitement and keen attention at every turn.  Now having been introduced to them through their first album it is easy to hear why. Naughty Naughty Violence is a devilishly magnetic and creatively mischievous indie rock romp; one spawned from a fusion of ear grabbing flavours equipped with an arsenal of hooks to make a Cenobite jealous.

The Amsterdam band’s sound is bred through varied strains of rock, punk, indie, and noise woven into a web of rhythmic and sonic manipulation. Since forming, the quartet has earned increasing attention and praise through their music and a live presence which has seen them share stages with the likes of The Cribs, Car Seat Headrest, Parquet Courts, Pip Blom, and Scott Kannberg’s Spiral Stairs and this year alone gather plaudits from playing Eurosonic, SXSW, and The Great Escape. That Pavement link is maybe no surprise as the band’s sound has a certain spicing of them and no doubt helped the band grab support slot on Kannberg’s side project’s tour in 2017 and continues with Canshaker Pi’s debut album being produced by Stephen Malkmus.

Naughty Naughty Violence swiftly shows that there is a definite individuality to Canshaker Pi’s sound, one not necessarily unique but springing a fresh and distinct character of imagination and flavouring which quickly got under our skin. Album opener is Pressure From Above, a song instantly teasing with an electronic wag of its creative finger and soon bursting into a fuzz fired boisterous stroll. As calm vocals join in, the track relaxes but is soon romping again bringing greater clamour and tenacity to its contagious rock ‘n’ roll. Already it is easy to sense that Pavement inspiration and too of bands like The Mai Shi, a kaleidoscope of hooks and melodic unpredictability additionally lighting the great beginning to the release.

It is a start soon eclipsed though, the initial off-kilter sonic lure of next up Tonsil enough alone to ignite our discord loving instincts. It is a kind of false start but the trigger to the glorious swagger wearing exploits of the track, that continuing discord a delicious clamour of temptation and trespass often enticing like a raw pop fuelled mix of Shellac and The Melvins. The final sonic sigh of the track drifts into the opening vocal and sonic discordance of Sooner Later. Around a compelling bass throb, the brief but dramatic track ignites and disrupts the senses, noise and voice a volatile incitement driven by the irresistible manipulation of the drums.

Three tracks in and fair to say we were hooked and only dangling with further enjoyment as Smurf uncaged its infectious canter like a grunge inspired Fountains of Wayne next with the following If Kelly Doesn’t, Then Who Will calming things down with its melodic and rhythmic pop ‘n’ roll. Neither track quite sparked the more lustful responses caused by their predecessors but ears could not evade being caught up in their individual and increasingly persuasive captivations; the latter especially as it just blossomed play by play to have us bouncing around as forcibly as its own endeavour.

But Why provided one minute of rousing noise rock next, rhythms humping ears as guitars meddle with the senses and vocals tease. With not even a breath allowed between them, No Sack, No Way saunters in to match its success, an immediate ear enslaving hook steering its lure. It is matched in magnetism by bass and vocals, each a controlled but virulent tempting entangling for even greater seduction of the imagination. Pop rock has rarely been heard more addictively in our speakers though its successor Put A Record Out with its ballsier rock ‘n’ roll was more than a match as it unleashed its resourcefully fiery clamour around further rhythmic machination.

In contrast to its raucous blaze, Legless provided a calm almost solemn amble through sound and imagination. The outstanding track carries something of early Cure meets Dinosaur Jr to its tantalising slow post punk sway while The Indie Academy straight after is up on its heels swinging along with pop rock devilment to almost as imposingly please.

The final pair of Half Book and Beautiful World brings the album to a potent conclusion, the first of the two again inventively merging flavours and eras with its post punk/pop punk infested rock before the second leaves ears immersed in a shadow wrapped melancholic croon with its own infectious gait and enterprise boiling up to a rousing corrosive climax.

Naughty Naughty Violence is an album which was really hard to move on from which tells you all about its exploits and temptations. As we said at the start, Canshaker Pi is being very highly talked of right now, their new album gives all the reasons why.

Naughty Naughty Violence is out now through Excelsior Recordings.

http://www.canshakerpi.nl/   https://www.facebook.com/CanshakerPi/   https://twitter.com/CanshakerPi

Pete RingMaster 05/06/2018

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Mannequin Death Squad – Eat Hate Regurgitate

After the rousing scuzz enticement of latest single KYMS, Australian duo Mannequin Death Squad uncage their debut mini-album Eat Hate Regurgitate to confirm all the mightily good things found in said single and it’s just as magnetic predecessor.

Emerging last year, Mannequin Death Squad consists of El and Dan; one girl, one boy who between them play and swap guitar and drums whilst offering their potent union of vocals. A striking presence on the Melbourne underground scene, the pair sparked attention with the single Sick earlier this year, following it up with the even more impressive and gripping KYMS a few weeks back. Both feature upon Eat Hate Regurgitate alongside a trio of new proposals which simply whip up attention and appetite for their scuzz punk devilry.

Released via the excellent UK indie Integrity Records (Million Dead, Horse Party, Valentiine), the release opens up with the raw magnetism of KYMS, a track raging “against the relentless pollution of our planet, the song inspired by a hatred of those who continue to defile and pollute the earth.” Plaintive strains of guitar make the first touch, swinging rhythms and caustic riffs the next as Dan vocally bursts into view with the warm tones of El in close attendance. It is raw and inviting, fiery and captivating, hooks and grooves a weave of temptation as the pair vocally dances around the senses. The track’s infectiousness is virulent but only part of the picture as darker shadows and textures blossom as the song progresses, its finale of an imposing and enjoyably oppressive nature breeding blues grooves and a sludgy climate before going out in a blaze of raw rock ‘n’ roll.

The impressive start is followed by Sick, a volcano of scathing pop punk with more bluesy flames in its melodic kiln as thumping and slightly predacious rhythms roam. Like a mix of My Baby, Karn8, and Valentiine, the track seizes ears and appetite swiftly, only tightening its hold midway as again the band suddenly twist into a whole new creative landscape which lifts things to another addictive level.

The muscular poppy romping of Sky comes next, its feisty canter carrying hues of bands such as Jack Killed Jill and The Melvins whilst creating its own character of unpredictability while Van Gogh snarls and aggressively bounces along before slipping into something more melodically and seductively comfortable. It is a strain of persuasion which switches between full-on assault and that bordering on salacious coaxing, casting a tempting which weakens knees in between having them feverishly stomping around. A great live air to the track only accentuates its glory, it challenging the opener for best track honours.

The album is concluded by the similarly addictive and enterprising Down, another swinging from bold energy to harmonic calm and leaving a greed for more in its wake. The track sums up everything great about Eat Hate Regurgitate and the Mannequin Death Squad sound in its four minutes plus and why so many are becoming rather excited about the twosome.

Eat Hate Regurgitate is released October 21^st via Integrity Records.

https://www.facebook.com/mannequindeathsquad/   https://twitter.com/MannequinDsquad

Pete RingMaster 19/10/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

The St Pierre Snake Invasion – A Hundred Years A Day

Photo Lor Nov

No doubt Halloween 2015 will be noted for numerous reasons though few maybe as thrilling to a great many people as that day in time being the moment that the long awaited debut album from The St Pierre Snake Invasion was uncaged. Fans have been waiting for a fair time to chew on its noisy dessert whilst without realising, British rock ‘n’ roll has been similarly biding time for a release like it to re-ignite its potent but smouldering landscape. A Hundred Years A Day is that incitement, a furious punk ‘n’ roll blaze of noise and alternative rock that takes all the potential of the band’s previous encounters to a new volcanic plateau.

The Bristol hailing quintet’s sound has always been an incendiary challenge on the senses and imagination, a riveting and intoxicating roar which is like that rebellious friend you know your parents and the bland norm will take an instant dislike to, especially as they lead you into mischievous deeds and salacious habits. The St Pierre Snake Invasion creates music which is brash, belligerent, and increasingly compelling, with primal beauties like A Hundred Years A Day the glorious result.

Formed in 2010, it was with debut EP Flesh the following year that The St. Pierre Snake Invasion lit, as for so many, our fires, stoking them for bigger lustful reactions with its outstanding successor Everyone’s Entitled To My Opinion in 2013. Such its continuing presence in our for pleasure playlist it is hard to believe it has been another couple of years until opening of curtains on the sonic theatre of A Hundred Years A Day. But it has and the wait has been well worth the impatience offered, a recognition needing only opener Thanks But The Answer’s No to prove.

The song smothers ears in an initial noise smog from within which, a steely nagging groove springs its bait. As the mighty rhythmic pokes of drummer Sam James batter rising riffs, the ever distinctive vocal roar of Damien Sayell leaps out. In no time the track is stomping with heavy anthemic feet and hip swaying inducement, the guitars of Szack Notaro and Patrick Daly spinning an inescapable web of enticement for body and emotions. It is a typical TSPSI proposal in devilment and potently fresh and unique in design, even as a dirty noise rock storm.

The brilliant start never misses a persuasive beat as David Ickearumba swaggers in next on a thumping of beats as a tangy mesh of guitar wraps the calmer but no less zealous delivery of Sayell. Amongst them, the dark, slightly bestial bass temptation cast by Mark Fletcher grabs ears and an already enlivened appetite for the encounter; it’s throaty beckoning an especially potent seduction in nothing but thick lures fuelling the song. With the voice of Sayell showing another range of its psychotic mastery of expression, emotion, and ears, the track produces a rock ‘n’ roll contagion with a healthy dose of volatility to it, that tempestuousness more vocal in the stalking delight of When I See A Sycophant Fly. Bass and drums lead a swarm of sonic stings, a perpetual union even as the track swings between mellower intimidation and infectious drama as prowling confrontations of intensity line its cynical air. Both guitarists add great backing vocals across song and album, here adding calm and unpredictable breath to match the increasingly fiery maze of sound. Like a mix of Nick Cave, The Melvins, and The Dropper’s Neck, another pinnacle is sculpted within A Hundred Years A Day, the album three for three at this point.

Rock ‘n’ Roll Workshops is pure manna for noise punk fiends, its rhythmic shuffle alone irresistible and its De Staat like energy and devilry the perfect courting of feet and the passions. Under the further potent lure of Sayell’s presence, the track bounces around like a dog with a vet’s finger up its bum, exhausting and inflaming as it leads to the glorious devil bred croon of Sex Dungeons & Dragons. The darker hues of a Birthday Party and schizo charm of Mclusky collude here as the band spin a tale of intrigue, musically and narratively, in turn enticing and inciting ears and senses at every turn of craft and imagination. Again diversity upon A Hundred Years A Day is rich and compelling yet still only TSPSI in touch and character, as shown of course by the track’s successor Like A Rag To A Red Bull, it another sonic sandstorm littered with bone splitting rhythms and at forty odd seconds more effective and arousing than most multi-minute proposals elsewhere.

Jesus, Mary & Joseph Talbot has the body throwing shapes like a rag doll in the hands of a child, manipulating limbs like a crazed puppeteer as the skills of the band work resourcefully on thoughts and passions. Listening to the track you wonder if The Stooges were starting out now, this is what they would be inspired by, a wonder turning to a convinced idea as The Great Procrastinator matches the powerful success of its predecessor with its own slavery of the listener. A song which recalls early seeds of the band, songs like Last Words Of A Bent Cop from the Flesh EP, it soon builds its own particular compulsion of enterprise and intrusive devilry gripped by virulent contagion.

Eight tracks in an truthfully there has been no dip in persuasion or invention on the album, song nine, Refauxlution keeping the trend with its predatory canter equipped with tantalising sonic enterprise and a rhythmic targeting pinning ears to the wall in joyful submission. Each song is a maelstrom of physical and emotional turbulence guided by the unavoidable vocal alchemy of Sayell but as shown by Refauxlution, so sublimely crafted and imagined that you often feel relaxed and in a mellower climate as the song chews its way into the psyche.

The album is brought to a mighty close by firstly its title track, a glorious slow meandering smoulder of voice and sound which brews up a crescendo of angst fired ire to singe the senses before slipping back into its shadow thick serenade. If The Only Way Is Essex You Can Kill Me Now is given the task to follow it and end things on a high, which it does in a fuzzy tempest of hook ridden punk ‘n’ roll.

Recorded with Sean Genockey over apparently only three days, A Hundred Years A Day is the raw, live, and creative might of The St Pierre Snake Invasion in one dynamic and intoxicating place. Their previous EPs have been irresistible but there is a new depth in songwriting and sound with a persistent consistency in major success across A Hundred Years A Day. It is also an announcement that the band has not only come of creative age but opened the gateway to even bigger, bolder, and daresay brawly treats ahead.

A Hundred Years A Day is out now digitally @ http://tspsi.bandcamp.com/album/a-hundred-years-a-day and on CD @ http://tspsi.bigcartel.com/product/a-hundred-years-a-day

http://tspsi.co.uk/   http://facebook.com/thestpierresnakeinvasion http://twitter.com/tspsi

Pete RingMaster 04/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more exploration of the independent and promotional services check out http://www.zykotika.com/

We’ll Go Machete – Smile Club

Though knowing the name and reputation earned through their earlier releases, we had yet to get to grips with a We’ll Go Machete encounter. So it is with thanks to the band’s vocalist/guitarist Paul Warner, who introduced band and new album Smile Club to us just recently. All that can be said is boy have we been missing out, as the band’s second album is a glorious tempest of sound, striking imagination, and creative intensity. Smile Club simply infests ears and psyche with a hex of noise rock, post punk, and math rock plus any other caustic spicing you can think of, and certainly left us not hungry but desperate for more.

With a line-up completed by bassist Chris May and drummer Rachel Fuhrer, the Austin hailing We’ll Go Machete first sparked interest with their 2009 self-titled EP though it was debut album Strong Drunk Hands two years later which was the catalyst to richer attention and acclaim. Live too the band has garnered a healthy name and stature, shows alongside the likes of Future of the Left, Melvins, Hammerhead, and Fatal Flying Guillotines, as well as their own headlining events over time marking We’ll Go Machete out as one of the more exciting emerging propositions. Late to the party, as said Smile Club is our first real taster of the band and fair to say the, as its predecessors, Cedar Fever Records released album just whipped up a frenzy in sound and lustful reactions.

   Absence is the first welcome stirring of the senses, tangy grooves and thumping beats enriching an instant sonic swamp of noise swiftly loaded up further with the distinctive, angst hued tones of Warner. It is a striking and invigorating mix which has body and thoughts fully involved from the first trespass. Like something springing from a blend of Melvins, Quicksand, and Sofy Major, the track continues to growl and flex its confrontational muscles yet breeds an inescapable contagion. Adventure is already bold in the album, the song for example slipping through mellower evocative scenery across its potently unpredictable landscape for a mighty start to the inventive emprise of Smile Club.

The following and as outstanding Drawstring is just as quickly captivating, its entrance of tenaciously prowling rhythms and rapaciously alluring riffs gripping attention and appetite immediately. Spicy grooves and sharp hooks only add to the emerging theatre of sound and melodic drama with the again pungent voice of Warner only seeming to inflame the sounds around him into greater enthusiasm of craft and energy. Like a web, the track has fresh inescapable treats at every turn, the rhythms of May and Fuhrer cage like in their union around the acidic tapestry cast by the guitar.

A post punk tone and imagination comes with The Bardo though it is soon overwhelmed by a noise rock tsunami of emotional intensity veined by creeping sonic tendrils of guitar. The song does not have the same immediate impact as the pair before, but blossoms into a bordering on sinister persuasion of clanging dissonant chords amidst suggestive and volatile textures to only enslave over time.

Strasberg Air is a far swifter raw seducing with again hooks and rhythmic tenacity key bait in the evolving ingenuity of sound. Like a more restrained Fat Dukes of Fuck and mellower Shevils, the track bounces off the walls of ears and senses with Fuhrer alone creating an inescapable trap with his addictively imaginative beats. Carrying a grungier colour to vocals and melodies, the song leaves a lingering thrill before making way for the melancholic tempest of Scratch Built. The early solemn come doomy premise and air is eventually set ablaze by the corruptive quickstep of toxic riffs and earthy basslines splintered by viciously swung beats. With its own emotional ecoclimate, the track shifts from heavily dark through torrentially volatile to infectiously energetic before heading back into imposing shadows in a final exhilarating outburst.

The major pinnacle of the album is Positive People which comes next. It is another delving into post punk terrain, an eighties genre spicing lining choppy riffs and a wonderfully brooding bass tempting from May. Elements remind of bands such as Artery and The Fire Engines, whilst the cold air certainly has a Joy Division-esque feel to it, but again We’ll Go Machete only sculpt a startling and addictive exploration of their very own. Discord is always a friend of the musician and here perfectly woven into the torment soaked anatomy of one glorious incitement, its majesty continuing into Break the Kettles which evolves out of its predecessor’s tail wind. A slower corrosively elegant proposal, the track binds ears and imagination with sonic lacing whilst simultaneously sending splinters of guitar invention and rhythmic animosity into its angst thick drama.

Both Shot Giant and Cigarettes and Face Masks keep the compelling power and industry of Smile Club ablaze, the first an intensive shuffle pressuring ears with spiteful beat spilling agitation and ravaging riffery but unafraid to slip into something more melodically provocative and hauntingly intimidating. Its successor brews its own ridiculously addictive and threatening maze of fierce imagination and bitchy rhythms infested with swarms of toxic grooves and citric melodic endeavour. Each only ignites greedier pleasure but the second is especially virulently disorientating and thrilling.

The album is brought to an end by firstly the warped harmonious beauty of Molten Tiny Cell, a song nagging in sound and repetitious mastery until satisfaction is drooling and lastly Dust Storms May Exist. The final song is just superb, a hellacious storm of flavour and imagination which at times has a spicing reminiscent of KEN mode, in others moments a raw tone and feel which is similar to In Love Your Mother, and continually leads the listener on a spiral of exhaustive and perpetually resonating adventure in craft, energy, and again relentlessly twisting swirls of rabid sound and invention.

There is plenty more to say in praise of Smile Club but bottom-line is we simply adore it and feverishly recommend it to all fans of noise, psych, punk…well any lover of fierce rock ‘n’ roll.

Smile Club is available now via Cedar Fever Records.

RingMaster 26/08/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

For more independent exploration check out http://www.zykotika.com/

The Males – Her Golden Blood EP

Dirty, fuzz lit, and pungently unfussy, the sound of UK noise rock band The Males is a proposition which just crawls under the skin and gets feet right through to passions dancing to its feverish tune. The band’s new EP Her Golden Blood tells you all you need to know about the emerging band. Consisting of three songs which are just as grunge/stoner fuelled as they are noise spawned, it is an encounter which does not make massive waves but ripples and smoulders very nicely to leave a lingering and raucously reminding indent in thoughts and emotions.

The Males was spawned from the creative coming together of guitarist Will Goldstone and vocalist/drummer Lewis Young at Bournemouth University during the mid-2000s. Eventually joined by bassist Ben Smith, the trio set forth as The Males and were soon drawing attention and eager ears towards their noise bred rock ‘n’ roll. With inspirations from the likes of Shellac, Black Sabbath, Jesus Lizard, Fugazi, The Melvins, the Misfits, Refused, Queens of the Stone Age and AC/DC spicing up their invention, the London based trio uncaged a self-titled demo in 2012, a raw and unruly incitement of sound sparking the imagination and a growing spread of fans. The single Wolves followed in the October of 2013 with a teaser from their debut EP, Golden Gates touching ears earlier this year. All has helped inspire keen anticipation for the new EP, an appetite easily and potently fed by Her Golden Blood and its potential drenched roar.

Opening track Cut Her Off from its first breath leads ears and feet into its immediate inescapable bait, punchy rhythms and raw riffing leading to addictive behaviour upon which sonic designs and the strong vocals add extra tempting. The song flirts with hints of bands, though the ones which most spring to mind and certainly not influences on The Males being as new as they, is Feud and The St Pierre Snake Invasion. There is an expectations feeding aspect to the song in some ways but also a more prominent refreshing energy and coarse rabidity. It is a tenacious encounter with caustic melodies, increasingly dramatic rhythms, and a glaze of sonic enticement simply luring the listener in further.

The track is a strong and masterful start to the EP which the following Golden Gates backs up solidly. It wraps tendrils of sonic coaxing around ears first, an acidic scuzz lined lure which is soon joined by weighty rhythms and an even bigger bass incitement, its tones bulging with devilish intent. The vocals again bring an expressive and eager revelry to the highly satisfying encounter though ultimately there is not quite the same spark of imagination to the body of the song as its predecessor. It certainly offers enough to intrigue and keep thoughts on their toes though, especially to the latter stroll of the track where it seems to find a more virulent persuasion with an irresistible groove.

The final song Hot Blood has an old school punk flavouring to its fiery waltz of moody basslines, agitated rhythms, and squalling riffs. It is hard to define who it reminds of but there is definitely a nostalgic tang to the track which colours its impressive enticing even more potently. The best track on the release, it is a compelling protagonist to imagination and ears, a track which hints at riots and brawls with its energy yet resorts to primal seduction for the main to ignite once again an already greedy appetite.

Her Golden Blood is not going to lead to declarations of The Males being the next big thing but it undoubtedly has the potential and weight to earn the band a stronger spotlight and reputation in their continuing ascent.

The Her Golden Blood EP is available now @ http://males.bandcamp.com/

http://themal.es/

8/10

RingMaster 21/07/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Listen to the best independent music and artists on The RingMaster Review Radio Show and The Bone Orchard from

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Zebras: Self Titled

Though it came out midway through 2012 the self-titled album from sonic manipulators Zebras quite simply is an album you need to know about and hear. If like us you are just becoming aware of the band  then see this as the key to infernal rapture and if you already know the magnificence of the release than sit there nodding knowingly as we drool all over this review of one of the mightiest releases of last year.

Formed in 2007, the band from Madison consists of guitarist and vocalist Vincent Presley and synth player Lacey Smith as well as across its years featuring a mix of drummers. Musically the band is wonderfully indescribable merging the insidious aspects of punk, noise rock, post punk, doom, and industrial to name a few spices to their unique sonic infestation. Following on from their EP Parasitic Clones Under The Strong Arm Of The Robotic Machine, the new album is a two sided beast which consists of tracks recorded in 2011 on first side Impending Doom, with drummer Shane Hochstetler of Milwaukee band Call Me Lighting, and on the The Fate of a World Plagued By Soulless Shits side, tracks recorded in 2009 with Shawn Pierce on drums. The release is a breath taking collection of songs which shows the move in sound across the two years covered by the band and the giver of the richest rewards and pleasure.

The first quintet of tracks are those recorded in 2011 and are opened by the towering presence of The Dying Sea. Opening with thunderous beats and caustic guitar rubs the song is a brooding doomy weight loaded with the insidious tones of Presley. It is a venomous bruising encounter with a sludge thick energy which sucks the wind from the lungs and hope from the senses before later flailing the carcass with serpentine sonic lashings.

The stunning start is soon left in the wake of Mighty Bayonet, a snarling ravenous rampage of bulbous rhythms, harsh corrosive electronics, and psyche twisting riffs and guitar abrasion. It is a sprawling acidic aural licking with the vocals, a perpetual psychotic mix of Jello Biafra and Russell Toomey of Innercity Pirates/My Red Cell, a malevolent siren within the brief incessant furnace of intensity. In contrast the following Queeny Gloom Doom is a doom provoked arctic wrap of post punk discord bringing elements of Joy Division and Xmal Deutschland into the antagonistic dance of Alien Sex Fiend or Sex Gang Children. As compelling as it is exhausting the song is a darkly shadowed crawl over the senses and emotions with a deviant sexual whisper to its intimidating breath.

A Turd By Any Other Name and Black Cancer close off the first part of the release, both ingenious brawls of sonic intrusion and imaginative violence. The first is a tower of again greedy energy which rages like a hungry fire across the ear whilst the keys of Smith shoot flares of sonic irreverence and flesh spearing melodic weaponry out from within the engrossing wall of heavy aural malice. The other is a punk soaked slice of infection, a ferocious distorted mix of Dead Kennedys, Buzzcocks, and The Pixies which leaves a drooling grin on face and heart, though to be fair all the tracks on the album do achieve that with ease.

Stepping back a little in the evolution of the band the remaining sextet of songs are those from two years before the previous ones, not that you would know it in regard to quality and excellence. As soon as the best track on the release Field-Noise sets off its sonic alarm and the rampant thumping rhythms assault the ear the strongest rapture is fully engaged. Early Killing Joke fused with Mad Capsule Markets, The Melvins, and again Alien Sex Fiend, is the best way to describe the genius at play here, a moment of sheer brilliance and the best song heard in a long time.

Things are just as stunning through the songs Diablo Bianco with its blood thirsty rhythms and scattergun riffs, The Dirty Dice and its viral melodic wantonness and its devilishly discordant hooks, and Tension. The third of these is an acidulous burn of spiky vocals and sonics within a bedlamic presence of manic invention and sinister energy, oh and quite brilliant. The now entrenched treacherously seductive splendour is continued by the equally sensational Wiener Kids and the closing glory of The Serpent & The Pig, the former a riotous ball of mischief which incorporates all the goodness of Pere Ubu, early XTC, and Cardiacs in a twisted embrace and the latter an invidious bitch slap of bedlamic invention and tribal instinctiveness through the thoughts of one wicked set of minds.

It is the stunning end to a sensational album and one can only drool over what will come next from the band. Zebras have grabbed album of the year honours for 2012 with ease and the hearts of The Ringmaster Review.

Find out why by listening to future podcasts of The Bone Orchard.

http://zebras.bandcamp.com/

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Zebras/143884414675

RingMaster 03/01/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright