Norm And The Nightmarez – Psychobilly Infection

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     “From within the thighs of hell’s most wanton temptress, a tempest of psychobilly grooves and rockabilly hooks will converge upon mankind to turn its existence into one incessant stomp of devilish predation and virulent demonic revelry.”

Obviously that is not one of the more well-known pestilences deemed suitable to be included in religious teachings but if it was, it would go under the name of Norm & The Nightmarez and debut album Psychobilly Infection. Thirteen tracks of wickedly contagious and warped rock ‘n’ roll cultured with rockabilly seeded guitar and psychotic imagination, the release is a storming slab of rapacious psychobilly which sets a new provocative and sinisterly sculpted template for emerging genre bands.

Hailing from Birmingham, Norm And The Nightmarez is the creation of vocalist/guitarist Norm Elliot. From first band The Phantom Zone in the eighties, the musician has played in a few bands, last year most notably Mickey & The Mutants where he linked up with ex-Meteors/ex-Guana Batz bassist Mick White and Sharks drummer Paul ‘Hodge’ Leigh. The trio released the outstanding album Touch The Madness, a release it was hard to see anything bettering in UK psychobilly for a long-time to come but then we did not foresee Norm & The Nightmarez preying on the passions. Completed by drummer Frank Creamer (ex- Colbert Hamilton & the Hellrazors) and double bassist Mark Bending (ex-Sgt Bilko’s Krazy Combo) for the Western Star released album, the band embraces the decades of rockabilly infusing their ripest essences into the insatiable jaws of old school bred psychobilly irreverence and invention. It is a varied and riveting incitement which steals the will of everything from feet through to emotions, taking all on a skilful and hungry romp of mischievous enterprise.

Produced by Alan Wilson, the album is straight away gnawing on the senses with opener Stompin in My Grave, its initial earth encrusted riffs immediate potent bait to which the wrist flicking rhythms of Creamer and the dark hearted slaps of Bending add even juicier lures. Unfurling around a repetitive hook led by Elliot’s guitar, his potent vocals colour the imagination with their lyrical enticement. A flame of melodic scorching also adds a rich hue before the song takes a breather, allowing the listener’s body one too before it revs up its hypnotic suasion all over again.

The addictive start is swiftly matched by The Mischief Maker, a dark hearted slice of intimidation with robust basslines and sultry grooves which enslave attentions whilst beats slowly bruise the senses. Whether unleashing a keen gait normandthenightmarezpsychobillyinfectioncdor stalking ears, the track is an incendiary protagonist to give a blissful appetite further hungry urges which are rapidly fed by the acidic twang of The Lights Went Out. There is a scorched country-esque lilt to the invigorating prowl, the guitar of Elliot entwining ears with citric melodies and pungent hooks whilst vocally he snarls with a grizzled tone which sparks perfectly off of the heated climate of the song. The track has whispers of Tiger Army and The Quakes to its rich imposing breath but as with all songs no matter the hints it stands alone as something distinct to album and Norm And The Nightmarez.

The title track, though living up to its title, is rockabilly spawned even with its slight punkish nature. The bass and guitars sculpt a weave of riff and lures which play with body and soul like a sly puppeteer, twisting and turning imagination and passions inside out for a fevered submission. Its contagion lingers far beyond its stay though both Nightmare and Ton Up ensure in their company it is a distant memory at least. The first of the two right away triggers thoughts of The Reverend Horton Heat and Matchbox with flavourings of Johnny Burnette and Hasil Adkins also spicing the fiery encounter. Rhythmically and sonically the song entrances before the adrenaline rampage of its successor rumbles across the senses. Beats descend on ears with an unrelenting coaxing whilst the bass call of Bending brings delicious dark textures to the irresistible road trip. Elliot as ever commands the scenery with his vocals and guitar exploits whilst the trio unite for another ridiculously compelling and magnetic parade of roguish rockabilly incitement.

The flirtatious Sex Kitten teases senses with a salacious sexuality next, its smouldering grooves and sensual melodic curves as infectious as they are seductive. There is no denying a certain Stray Cats swagger to the song but also a danger to its stroll which could be compared to something with the edge of Guana Batz and addictiveness of Gene Vincent. It is an inescapable persuasion though one soon left in the shadow of the wonderful instrumental Devil Girl From Mars. There is something poetic to an intensively crafted piece of psychobilly music with its primal predation and sonic toxicity, and certainly it comes with no finer shape and beauty than here. Imagine a blend of The Tornadoes and The Frantic Flintstones and you get a whiff of its virulent might.

Both Pardon Me and The Past is a Place that I Just Can’t Go have energies and passions in a raw riot of pleasure, the first with its caustic sonic grazing and thumping rhythmic enticement whilst the following track stretches a menacing bait over ears again with jagged riffs, pulsating throaty slaps, and ear crowding beats. As impressive as its predecessor was, the second of the pair is another merciless encroaching on freedom with its rhythmic slavery, melodic venom, and vocal rapacity. It is impossible to choose a track which stands out over the rest on the album but this is always a forceful contender.

The fun filled Elvis Was a Zombie keeps things stomping along nicely and though it lacks the spark of other tracks for personal tastes it is impossible to dismiss because of that mischief and its rhythmic badgering. Its paler presence is soon swamped by the brilliant closing of the album. Massacre at Devils Plain with its Native American croon and howls over a gritty stride of sonic stabs and heavy footed rhythms, sets the imagination alight next whilst final song The Man with the X-Ray Eyes, leaves Psychobilly Infection on arguably its highest pinnacle. Bursting from a sample from the film of the same name, the track is a psychobilly irritant at its most potent and brilliant. It is a predator of a track, rhythms climbing all over the senses whilst guitar and vocals stir up the imagination with rich imposing hues. It is fair to say the song has elements of The Meteors all over it; The Hills Have Eyes springing to mind, but again Norm And The Nightmarez defuse any comparisons with their distinct invention and adventure.

From start to finish there is no escaping the might and sheer glory of Psychobilly Infection and the emergence of a brand new creative devil in our midst, though whether the UK, come to that the world is ready for Norm And The Nightmarez and their hellacious tempting only time will tell.

Psychobilly Infection is available now via Western Star Recordings @ http://www.western-star.co.uk/western-star-releases—cds_36/psychobilly-infection—norm-and-the-nightmarez_146.aspx

https://www.facebook.com/Normandthenightmarez

10/10

RingMaster 29/07/2014

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Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats -Train To Paradise

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    Train To Paradise is the next stop on the ascent of infection brewing psychobillies Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats, an album which builds on their impressive previous release Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat and stretches their sound in further thrilling extensions of flavour and melodic enterprise. Consisting of twelve varied and contagious slices of passion drenched rock n roll, it is an album which grabs ear and passions for a brawling, seducing, and mischievous encounter.

The Minneapolis quartet has induced a loyal and constantly building fanbase since forming around 2010, a following which has grown not only locally but across the US and world through internet recognition. Matthew Sprinkles, Chris Wilson, Cody Hillyard, and Matt Kalsnes, have bred strong recognition for their terrific live shows and equally their releases such as debut album Bad Moon Death Trip of 2011 and undoubtedly last year’s Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat. Fusing influences from the likes of Batmobile, The Quakes, Screaming Jay Hawkins, The Sharks, Mad Sin, and the Frantic Flintstones to their own distinctive rowdiness and invention, the band has continued to earn strong responses and acclaim which you can only see the new release accelerating within the genre.

Opener Graveyard Rhythm immediately grips the senses and feet for a romp across irresistible riffs and fiery melodic temptation whilst the vocals narrate the whole shadow soaked escapade. It is instantly infectious and insatiable in its want to have the listener leaping tombstones with rampant eagerness and a devilish swagger, its hooks and call virulently addictive and persuasive. It is prime psychobilly Dead Bundy style, the distinctive vocals and musical voice of the song taking over immediately where the last album left off ensuring the party is still raging with heat and compelling irresistibility.

The title track soon steps before the ear with southern twisted melodies and busy rhythms igniting the air and ear, its Tarantino movie like breath a persistent and unrelenting stroll down the railroad track of swiftly passing beats and riffs. The song is a delicious warm whisper with energetic hunger which marks the start of the variety and richer depths to the album which were arguably missing on the equally impressive Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat. It begins a ride of unpredictable and adventurous invention for the album with a course which is set well within the walls of psychobilly and rock n’ roll but offering diverse and refreshing sceneries immediately picked up by the following Shipwrecked and City Morgue. The first of the pair saunters in with big boned rhythms and a prowling gait to the bass within again raw melodic heat from the guitar. With vocals as strong a lure to participation as the hooks and barbed drum beckoning, the song is a tune hip swerving was invented for and its ingenious groove a template for lust. It successor raises the dead with another epidemic of addict making riff sculpted hooks and bold bass slaps whilst the mass invitation of the chorus defies death as an excuse not to participate with its punk riled temptation.

Only four songs in and the album has ignited the passions and fired up an even more intense appetite for the rest of the release, a greed soon satisfied by what is possibly the strongest and most magnetic part of what is a wholly captivating album. Dust N Bones leans on the ear with a lone guitar strolling out its notes within a hollowed pocket of air and soon joined by the as ever fine expressive vocals. The rolling beats pulls everything into full view as a western bred melodic tease winds around the senses, the song expanding its chest towards the dusty bold canter through potent and emotive adventure which takes over the course of the excellent song. It is an impossibly infectious lure soon matched and exceeded by the outstanding Dynamite, a song which lights the fuse to full ardour with sinew healthy rhythms, a commanding bass spine, and vocals harmonies which snatch and ignite the imagination. As it strides purposely through the ear the beats offer thoughts of King Kurt and elsewhere Guana Batz inspired melodic infectiousness, the union loaded with punk spawn confrontation for a sensational and album topping encounter…except it is then deposed by the quite masterful Mad Man.

The song teases with an instant delicious groove and subsequently bulging bass fascination to brew up an instant rapture which is soon boiling over as the track flexes its sides for a riotous yet controlled rampage. Hand in hand with the listener the song romps with wantonness to its hooks and rhythmic puppetry which has head and feet rocking like a dog in heat. The track is severe in its narcotic like appeal and one of the best songs within rock ‘n’ roll over recent years.

Both Getting Fucked Up and Pretty Boy Billy continue this new elevation of height for the release, the first with another controlling swing to its gait whilst the second rivals both Dynamite and Mad Man for bragging rights as top dog, though there was only ever going to be one winner. With the country rock lilted Hellbound, the mariachi whispering Ride, and Gimme Rock N Roll with its contents echoing its title, completing the album with strong and pleasing presences, Train To Paradise is a thrilling and inspiring bunch of impossible to restrain rock ‘n’ roll songs. With the release of the exceptional album and the Train To Paradise Tour across the US in its support right now, Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats are looking at a massive and one suggests very successful year ahead.

https://www.facebook.com/DeadBundy

10/10

RingMaster 15/05/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats: Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat

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Providing a villainous canvas for the most essential of mischievous sounds Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat the latest album from Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats has everything you could desire in a psychobilly riot. A collection of songs which are as compelling as they are the instigators of varied rock n roll flames, the album just grabs the heart and thrusts it into a bruising rampage of insatiable riffs, hungry rhythms, and heart borne passion. This is a record from a band which lives and breathes their sound and uses their open influences to corrupt and ignite the wickedest shadows within its willing victims.

The Minneapolis quartet is another band which lets the music do the talking with info about the band as scarce as the desire to behave within the album itself. The band does consist of Matthew Sprinkles, Chris Wilson, Cody Hillyard, and Matt Kalsnes, and employs influences from the likes of Batmobile, The Quakes, Reverend Horton Heat, Mad Sin, and Screaming Jay Hawkins amongst many, as well as a band which springs to mind often across the release, the Frantic Flintstones, to their own mastery. Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat is the follow up to 2011 album Bad Moon Death Trip, and was released last year making us late to its glory but better late than never right? They tag their sound as brundlebilly but whatever they want to call it their roguish conjurations are just essential treasures for all fans of rock n roll.

The eager and thrilling breath of Hexes And Hymns opens up the album, the track a brief instrumental charge which begins with 300gentle caresses before turning on the for pulsating guitar strokes, thumping rhythms, and a delicious whisper of discord throughout its twisted twang. It is a fiery start soon equalled and surpassed by the shadows gifted Evil Deeds And Demon Seeds. With a groaning hungry bass slapping resonance and an irresistible groove the song stomps through the ear with only thoughts of dragging the feet and passions of the listener into action, not that they need much persuasion when confronted by infection carrying sounds like this.

From there the album sets free one of its biggest pinnacles in a continual parade of highlights. Junglebella swings astride the senses with an insatiable energy and compulsive swagger, the vocals and guitar luring irresistible whilst the contagious chorus demands receives compliance from the throat of the listener with immediate effect. It is a sensational song which brings elements of The Meteors, Link Wray, and The Legendary Shack Shakers into play. The musicianship is as impressive as the viral persuasion at work throughout song and album and already only three songs into the release one feels the band is destined for the strongest recognition in their chosen genre if not further afield.

The sinew stretching Bruja with its crushing rhythms and flames of scorching guitar continues the now beyond simmering rapture, the track a muscular bruising with more addiction than primitive sexual urges…oh that is just us then…whilst the likes of the raw rockabilly furnace of Movie Monster and the country lilted evil of Bad Woman with its Dave Edmunds/Polecats like gait brings diverse enterprise and tingles to the release. The last of this trio starts as an old school toned treat which again leads one by the ear to embarrassing rhythmic expulsions on the dancefloor but midway intrigues and excites by twisting into a punkabilly storm which is a mix of Demented Are Go and The Living End.

As the album continues the songs Supernatural Man, She’s A Hellcat, and Road To Ruin only lead to further squeals of joy before another major triumph arrives in the graveyard romance of Bone Daddy. It is a glorious track which romps with sinister intent and deathly mischief. The irreverent vocal squalls and ever potent emotion playing bass prowl fires up the deepest passions whilst the heated hooks of the guitar conjurations pulls the heart into action like a satanic musical magnet.

Closing with the fine acoustic ballad Devils In The Dark, the album is an enthrallment with the highest rewards of pleasure attached to every note and rhythm. Only enthused acclaim can be laid upon Life Is Hard…Death Is Neat and a band in Dead Bundy and the Neat Neat Neats which makes the company of their nefarious creativity as essential as breathing.

https://www.facebook.com/DeadBundy

RingMaster 17/01/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright