Playboy Manbaby – Don’t Let It Be

 

playboymanbaby_RingMasterReview

With their recent single still inciting mischief and bad behaviour, Arizona post funk punksters Playboy Manbaby have just uncaged their new album Don’t Let It Be, eleven tracks of creatively nefarious goodness infesting body and spirit.

The union of You Can Be A Fascist Too and I’d Like To Meet Your Parents was a devilish punk riot of a single leaving greed part of appetite and anticipation awaiting the band’s third album. The Dirty Waters/Lollypops Records released Don’t Let It Be soon shows that the Playboy Manbaby sound is broader than ever, bigger than an elephant’s backside in flavour and sound. Having caught up with their previous full-lengths in Bummeritaville and Electric Babyman, both released 2014, that variety will be no surprise to fans but their successor has really gone to town in adventure and diverse fun to truly leave all before it in the shade.

The Phoenix hailing sextet of Robbie Pfeffer (vocals), Chris Hudson( bass), TJ Friga (guitar), David Cosme (trumpet), Chad Dennis (drums), and Austin Rickert (sax) have become a big deal locally and across their homeland, shows alongside the likes of  Mike Watt & The Missing Men, King Khan & BBQ Show, King Khan & The Shrines, Rocket From The Crypt, Thee Oh Sees, Cosmonauts, The Spits, Black Flag, The Descendents, The Replacements, The Slackers,  and Teenage Bottlerocket to name just a few, pushing their reputation as potently as their sounds. Now having been already tenderised by the last single, global attention is surely poised to embrace Playboy Manbaby and Don’t Let It Be. Justice is never a given of course but neither do anything to deter that expected and deserved embrace.

You Can Be a Fascist Too gets the revelry going, a surge of guitar jangle and bass throbbing swiftly joined by the slightly derange and excitable tones of Pfeffer. Spicy melodies and tenacious riffs almost barge into each other as the garage and punk essences of the track bound through ears, salacious harmonies sparking thoughts of UK band The Tuesday Club. For less obvious reason, The Tubes also come to mind a little too as the song stomps around like a belligerent pup, its raw power pop punk quite irresistible.

art_RingMasterReviewThe zeal pumped diversity quickly comes to the fore with the following Last One Standing, brass instantly flirting with ears with saucy flames as the bass swaggers with deceptive innocence. There is an agenda at play; an intent to turn the listener into a physical puppet and there is no escape for feet and hips to the virulent lures of the rhythms and grooves teasing and taunting within the ska kissed funk escapade. The earnest screwy tones of Pfeffer again are sheer magnetism as too the evolving dark bait pulsating out of Hudson’s bass.

The outstanding track is quickly matched by the even livelier dance of Bored Broke And Sober, its catchy jazz funk garage punk as loco as it is skilfully woven to lure untied bodies. Hooks are as flirtatious as rhythms, every fondling by and flash from the Friga’s guitar ear chaining rascality, and the whole song as those before slavery.

Cadillac Car saunters in next, its low slung groove temptress like as vocals dance with drooling expression of defiance and attitude in the garage punk crawl before Self-Loathing In Bright Clothing throws its post punk/punk tendencies into the ring. A few blows short of a brawl, the track springs its creative agitation with infection loaded enterprise creating a rough and ready tango of fiercely captivating Reuben meets Dead Boys like provocation.

The sultry flirtatious garage r&b of Cheap Wine and the scuzzy pop punk of Popular bring body and soul to the boil again, the latter like a raw Mighty Mighty Bosstones in some ways while I’m So Affluent slips in with a slinky grace as noir lit air hugs skittish rhythms and vocal suggestion. Jazzy with a dark indie jangle recalling The Jazz Butcher, the song quickly blossoms its dark rock ‘’n roll into another majorly bewitching moment within Don’t Let It Be, one with an increasingly tenacious bounce complete with band calls just impossible to be left out of.

That indie sound fills next up Oprichniki too though as all songs it soon shows a jumble of spices and styles in its ballsy pop with Don Knotts In A Wind Tunnel straight after  engaging in dirty rock ‘n’ roll with a certain Rocket From The Crypt fever to its irritable bawl and brass igniting flames. For us it is joy to be unable to pin a sound down, this pair alone showing Playboy Manbaby get just as big a kick from defeating any attempt whilst pleasing their own devious imaginations.

Dark rock ‘n’ roll brings the album’s closing treat of White Jesus to ears, its meandering stroll and creatively incisive accosting portrait of a certain new world leader initially Nick Cave/Tom Waits like before ending as a concussive explosion of Dead Kennedys toned ferocity and bedlam.

The last Playboy Manbaby single set up anticipation for Don’t Let It Be perfectly but barely hinted at the bold inescapable fun and adventure to be found, both which will be hard to find any better on any release across the rest of the year too we suspect.

Don’t Let It Be is out now on CD through Dirty Water Records and cassette from Lollipop Records @ https://lollipop-records.myshopify.com/products/playboy-manbaby-dont-let-it-be-cass with its digital outing available @ https://playboymanbaby.bandcamp.com/

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Pete RingMaster 03/03/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Playboy Manbaby – You Can Be A Fascist Too b/w I’d Like To Meet Your Parents

playboymanbaby_RingMasterReview

How to describe Playboy Manbaby? Hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, they are a six piece punk band where imagining the Banana Splits meets Swell Maps in cahoots with The Tuesday Club and Zebrahead feels the closest in portraying the band’s deliciously creative rioting. They are mayhem in the speakers, irreverence in the imagination and quite simply and as shown by their new single, irresistible.

Described as “the contradictory soundtrack to the contemporary life experience”, Playboy Manbaby is made up by the combined creative mania of Robbie Pfeffer (vocals), Chris Hudson (bass), TJ Friga (guitar), David Cosme (trumpet), Chad Dennis (drums), and Austin Rickert (sax). The past five years has seen the band steal the hearts and support of their local music scene and tear up stages alongside the likes of Mike Watt & The Missing Men, King Khan & BBQ Show, King Khan & The Shrines, Rocket From The Crypt, Thee Oh Sees, Cosmonauts, The Spits, Black Flag, The Descendents, The Replacements, The Slackers, Teenage Bottlerocket and many more. Grabbing major attention on broader landscapes has yet to find Playboy Manbaby, we ourselves only being introduced to them through latest proposal You Can Be A Fascist Too b/w I’d Like To Meet Your Parents, but thanks to the ever impressive discovery of talent by Dirty Water Records, things could be about to explode for the band.

art_RingMasterReviewWith new album Don’t Let It Be in the works, Playboy Manbaby tease the appetite with You Can Be A Fascist Too, the first single from the impending release. Originally scheduled for a February unveiling, it was brought forward to coincide with the US presidential inauguration. From the off it assaults and lures with a belligerent guitar jangle quickly followed by the raw incitement of Pfeffer’s vocals. Second by second new invasive hooks and salacious grooves fling themselves into the punk mayhem, band shouts and off kilter harmonies wagging a beckoning finger as effectively as the caustic riffs and tenacious rhythms.

The track is a treat and mischievous brawl easy to devour as too is its companion I’d Like To Meet Your Parents. In fact it just about steals the show with its less intrusive but just as virulent dexterity in sound and flirtation. Leading up to a chorus which needs mere seconds to recruit and chain listener participation, the song strolls with minimalistic yet alluring melodies and enticing hooks as vocals make a plaintive proposal with a similarly swinging canter. It is glorious stuff with a foot in seventies punk as the band’s unique modern day mania bellows.

Dirty Water Records have a growing reputation for the eclectic range of their releases, the Playboy Manbaby adding yet another thrilling facet and while becoming one of the label’s best singles yet.

You Can Be A Fascist Too b/w I’d Like To Meet Your Parents is out now on Dirty Water Records and through http://playboymanbaby.com/shop/ and https://playboymanbaby.bandcamp.com/

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Pete RingMaster 01/02/2017

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Dick Venom & the Terrortones – SnakeOil for Snakes

Dick Venom_RingMaster Review

Eagerly awaited and as rascally salacious and creatively lecherous as hoped, SnakeOil for Snakes shows exactly why for a great many, Dick Venom & the Terrortones is THE essential British rock ‘n’ roll band. The band’s debut album is a web of flirtation and riot of rhythmic agitation bound up in vats of garage punk contagion posing as songs. It is manna for the insane and inspiration for the lascivious, but most of all, the album is punk ‘n’ roll to get a nation and continent romping.

Formed in 2010 by the inimitable Dick Venom, the Nottingham hailing band has left a fevered trail and reputation behind their live presence, an acclaim infected assault matched in plaudits by their increasingly impressive releases. Aside their own sweaty live stomps, the band has shared stages with the likes of The Meteors, The Rezillos, Bad For Lazarus, Demented Are Go, Lawnmower Deth, The Radiacs, Vince Ray & The Boneshakers, and Savage Messiah amongst a great many whilst first EP RockinRollin VampireMan set the trend for luring strong reactions and praise. Invasion Of The Spider Queen in 2013 only increased awareness and the band’s fan base, with last year’s EP The MonsterPussy Sessions nudging broader spotlights to match the band’s new step forward in sound. Yet another plateau of trash punk invention and pleasure has been breached by SnakeOil for Snakes, its crowd of dirty rock ‘n’ roll bred tracks the kind of thing addiction was invented for.

cover_RingMaster Review     With Wrex St.Clair, Dusty Vegas, and Stevie Vee alongside, Dick Venom is soon infesting ears with his distinctive and zealous tones, leaping forward from the choppy riff toothed entrance of Gun of a Tongue. The opener is soon into an eager stride, interrupting its jagged scenery with glam rock enterprise and sonic mischief. The Rezillos were mentioned earlier and there is an air of the Scottish band as the song bounds into the passions with its garage punk/rockabilly revelry.

I Can’t Find my BrainCell swiftly keeps attention and appetite engrossed and increasingly wanton for more straight after. As a thickly enticing bassline from St.Clair leads the virulence of the song, guitars spring tendrils of sonic temptation whilst beats roll along with a promiscuous tenacity. Venom as ever is a schizophrenic bundle of vocal imagination and rebelliousness, lauding over but only adding to the theatre of the track with his rousing energy, a success only repeated time and time again across SnakeOil for Snakes as shown quickly by TightPants (DoubleHeaded). Surf kissed strands of guitar spin their own irresistible weave as female vocals add a great snarl alongside Venom’s. The song despite its edge is more restrained than the previous pair of songs but just as fiercely catchy and impressive in its fifties rock hooks and tangy melodic imagination.

Three tracks in and it is fair to say that building from the potent inventive base of The MonsterPussy Sessions, the band has honed hooks to be more barbed and gripping with roars even more anthemic and rousing as ideas…well they are shaped by even greater ferocious imagination. Taken from that last EP, Dead Deadbeat Delinquent first time around was proof of a greater adventure being forged and even now, as an old well known friend, it holds the same rich enticement amongst just as devilishly imperious tracks. With bass and guitar bouncing around with slim yet inescapable addictive post/garage punk lures as the beats of Vegas rumble with the senses, the song is primal seduction; everything from toes to emotions quickly recruited and eagerly involved in its fresh psychosis of sound and maniacal enterprise.

Shimmering grooves from Vee welcome ears in next up FFFunny Kinda Luvin, the song’s winy nectar of temptation framed by more inciting rhythms and the measured vocal rowdiness of Venom. Bass and drums subsequently create a tribal enticing as sonic hues smoulder and grow into bedlamic invention around them, it all strung together by a prime hook which even in its absence within the proposal seems to weave rich magic on lustful emotions.

Dirty rock ‘n’ roll colours the walls of Last DumbDregs of Dragsvile after that, essences of The Stooges merging with something akin to The Spits feistily pleasing ears, whilst Go Fuck on the Sidewalk gets garage punk funky with its Cramps meets The Ghastly Ones tango. Both tracks thrill and lead to forceful hip swinging, especially the second of the pair before things get scuzzy with Do The Mash. Though not quite living up to its predecessors, certainly in swift convincing, the track soon boils with its fire of spicy guitar and robust rhythms courted by Venom at his most grouchy and gruff yet.

Taunting with an initial coaxing which surely is a distant relation to something the Knack might have conjured, No Good to get Up To thrills as it spills its intoxicating devilment next. Bluesy to the air, punk rock to the growl, the track prowls and stomps around with attitude and intimidation, igniting another wave of greed from the appetite along the way. It is success emulated by the gloriously lustful seduction of Planet of the HoneyFuzz. Imagine Sweet as Turbonegro and then bound in The Phenomenauts contagion and you have a hint of this unique Dick Venom & The Terrortones treat of an infestation.

   MyWay or the DryWay saunters in next, rhythmic taps a lead into a gorgeous creeping of noir woven creative theatre, whereas Crypt Tonight is a throbbing of garage rock ‘n’ roll which throughout its surf embraced rhythmic meander and melodic shimmering, is like a tongue led insatiable kiss on the senses and passions.

A final trespass of deeply biting and lingering hooks amidst compelling vocal and sonic imagination brings the album to a riveting close, Get Fucked Up Good a brilliant libidinal enticing and entrapment of ears and equally lusty reactions and a sensational end to an album exciting in all departments. Hopes were high and demanding because of The MonsterPussy Sessions, but now left looking lightweight by SnakeOil for Snakes. Dick Venom & the Terrortones are ready to be spoken in the same breath of the garage punk greats yet it is still easy to feel we have still only tapped into the first layer or two of their devious majesty.

SnakeOil for Snakes is out now via Jailhouse Morgue digitally and on 12” vinyl @ http://terrortones.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/DickVenomandtheTerrortones  

http://www.dickvenom.com

Pete RingMaster 09/11/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Atomic Suplex – Fourteen Inches of Fist

Atomicsupplex_RingMaster Review

Great rock ‘n’ roll always benefits from a good dose of creative dementia in its devilry and you get plenty of that and more in the bedlam that is Fourteen Inches of Fist. The new album from London quartet Atomic Suplex is nonstop ingenious lunacy, a dangerous riot for body and soul, and quite brilliant.

The UK quartet has been stirring up sonic trouble for a number of years now, earning increasing acclaim with every release and a reputation as one ferociously exciting and uncompromising band live. Stages across the UK and Europe, as well as Asia, have been shared with the likes of The Hives, Guitar Wolf, The Gories, The Adolescents, Nobunny, The Kids, Jet Boys, Armitage Shanks, Richard Herring, The Spits, The Fat White Family, The Buzzcocks, Theee Bat amongst many more whilst singles and EP’s over time, and certainly acclaimed 2010 debut album Bathroom Party on Crypt Records, have marked the band out as a must investigation for a growing horde of fans. Now it is Fourteen Inches of Fist raising a storm since its recent release, and declaring Atomic Suplex as not a must but the essential riot for all rock ‘n’ roll fans.

Sound and album is garage rock, punk rock, noise rock…any kind of dirty, insatiable rock ‘n’ roll you can think of and a torrent of fun from its first to last breath. One Man Party kicks things off with the announcement “When I say I’m a dick, you best believe I’m a dick! D- I- K.” It sets the aggressive belligerent tone which rousingly fuels the whole album, and a song which is soon erupting into a salaciously tenacious slab of punk ‘n’ roll driven by the rousing tones of Jim Suplex. A sonic web of noise is soon grasping ears through his and Emma Leaning’s guitars whilst a gloriously throaty bass sound is conjured by Dan Suplex amidst the wicked swipes of drummer JD Kickdrum. The track is pure attitude, like early Damned merging with The Sonics, and instant slavery.

The album’s title track comes next, it too a concussive explosion of sound but this time infusing honky-tonk piano, blues rock spicing, and garage rock ‘n roll devilry into its mix of raw sixties and seventies rock ‘n’ roll. Flames of brass only add to the theatre of the muggy scenery as too the gritty backing vocals of Emma behind Jim’s raw incitement. As its predecessor, the track has ears and appetite lustful, a success 14 Inches of Fist relentlessly achieves from first song to last.

Cover_RingMaster Review   Set It On Fire has limbs scything through air next with seventies punk antagonism meets psych rock contagion, its guitars and brass a resourceful scorching, whilst Wild Love invites naughty deeds with a Rocket From the Crypt meets Dick Venom and the Terrortones infestation of sound. Both tracks are ridiculously compelling persuasive yet find themselves outshine by the outstanding Firing Line. The song is manna for the ears and heart, its Mighty Mighty Bosstones like opening alone igniting the instincts to party before rhythms provide a jungle of unstoppable temptation frequented by wonderful squirts of sax. They develop into subsequent deranged toxicity further in, colluding with a just as rigorously arousing web of guitar and bass enterprise. As ever like a side show barker, Jim adds his vocal stirring to the mix for one slice of irreverent creative alchemy.

Fifties inspired and seventies coloured rock ’n’ roll gets the Atomic Suplex corruption next, the raw and caustic devilment of S. U. P. L. E. X. a tempest of sonic and vocal raucousness pierced by melodic bait and fiery hooks. It is less than a minute and a half of catchy mayhem before Two Girls flirts like a punk incarnation of The Shangri-las tutored by The Rezillos. As all songs though, air is raw, sound scuzzy, and the encounter as abrasive as it is virulent, and again thrilling.

   J.D. Attack pounds the senses like the bastard son of a Showaddywaddy and Reverend Horton Heat union, its thumping rhythms and heavyweight brawl of sound one party you know would welcome gate crashers with devilish relish whilst the corrosively scarring Ass Tecnica is noise punk knavery which, as in the previous song, twists anything from surf and r&b to garage rock into its ravenous bellow. The pair unsurprisingly leave exhaustion and exhilaration in their wake, as too the eighteen second punk assault of No Pain No Gain, a song more than backing up its title.

Like The Cramps meets The Mobbs, You’ve Got Some Nerve has the body throwing moves hips were surely not made for across its forty odd seconds, a wonderful physical test followed by some respite through the hex that is Pancho. Sultry sax caresses ears initially though in no time it is joined by a wall of sonic intrigue and adventure which has a whiff of Oh! Gunquit to it. Continuing to spill funky hooks, searing grooves, and a garage bred invention; the song is as psychotic as it is clear infection, and another pinnacle of a very lofty landscape to Fourteen Inches of Fist.

Chicken Rich is a ragtime hued haunt seeded in the past which descends into anarchy the further its nostalgia persists whilst closing track White Shoes is quite simply incendiary rock ‘n’ roll which manages to spin a tapestry suggesting everyone from Billy Haley to The Cramps, King Salami and The Cumberland 3 to Turbonegro, and Screaming Jay Hawkins to Johnny Thunders within its epidemic of unbridled energy and senses inflaming rock ‘n’ roll.

Fourteen Inches of Fist is one of the best real and organic rock ‘n’ roll album this year and of a few before, maybe the best, and Atomic Suplex the one band you were meant to lose your sanity with.

Fourteen Inches of Fist is available now via Dirty Water Records on 12” vinyl, CD, and digitally.

RingMaster 25/08/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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