For us there is little as rousing and rejuvenating as punk rock at its aggressively mischievous best especially when carrying old school loaded attitude and rebellion. In the UK alone we are blessed to have a plethora of such stirring propositions across the country with so many seemingly discovered and uncaged through the excellent label, STP Records. The latest to do the inimitable deed is Hung Like Hanratty, no newcomers to punk devilry, but set to cause a major outcry of pleasure and new support with latest album What You See Is What You Get.
Hailing from Sutton-in-Ashfield, Hung Like Hanratty raised their first middle finger together in 2011, the band name inspired by a man hung in the UK in 1962 but whose guilt has since been questioned. Whereas many bands focus on worldly ills and injustices, Hung Like Hanratty targets those everyday irritants and its participants which piss us all off, songs which simply have devilment and fun running through their core. Previous albums, the 2014 released Human Pig and its successor 50 Shades Of Shit two years later established the quintet as one of punk’s irresistible incitements though pound for pound What You See Is What You Get is a much punchier, dynamic, and addictive protagonist.
The album immediately surges through ears with Clampit Town, the swinging rhythms of drummer Kye Bosh and bassist Tez Tickle driving the instant revelry from first to last note. Vocalist Al Sation stands centre stage exposing the lo fi clothed antics, surrounded by tuneful backing and viperish hooks which bite from the guitar of Vallam amongst Rick Ettes’ riotous riffs. It is a simply outstanding start which has body and spirit bouncing alongside a broad grin, and fair to say the track echoes the album ahead and its title, just it is what you hear is what you get.
The following Lawyers For You stomps around like a fusion of The Adicts and Dirt Box Disco, laying down gentle teasing lures which rise up into irritable charges, moments which will undoubtedly echo every time you see those infernal TV ads. As with most tracks, the song’s title tells you all you need to know about the focus of attention, Disabled Parking another delicious example. Again hooks and grooves become a fresh addiction as rhythms get the body up to misdeeds, Al Sation a magnetic roar poking at the relevant targets. All that is needed is someone to invent a way to have this blaring out every time someone encroaches on spaces they are not eligible for.
Through the provocatively insightful punk ‘n’ roll of Harvey Weinstein and the bold grubby stroll of Stop Playing With Yourself, the album easily keeps attention and participation enslaved, even if neither of the undeniably galvanic tracks quite matched their mighty predecessors. Equally they get slightly eclipsed by Shut My Gate, a Vibrators meets The Damned uproar we have all expressed at one time or another.
As to the last track, there is a rawer edge to Neighbourhood Watch, old school punk driving the contagion compared to more new wave like hues of earlier tracks. Vallam’s guitar catches flames throughout bringing a hard rock scenting to the holler before Evil Clown fingers and torments with its flirtatious escapade. Arrowing straight for the blimp trying to direct the world, this is simply sheer salacious punk craft at its most addictive; vaudevillian punk panto and more potent than a horde of politically charged complaints.
The dark nagging of Outer Body Experiences is just punk manna to these ears, Tickle’s darkly seductive bassline alone reason enough to get inescapably hooked with the jagged claws of the track escalating through the other members. Its glorious act is quickly matched by the open irritability of Keep Your Cat Off My Garden, fine lawns and roses coming before the family pet and in turn Taxi Driver where all our grievances are forcibly aired by the band.
For all the lyrical insight and connections so easy to find, Hung Like Hanratty simply write unapologetically contagious and gleefully insubordinate punk songs, Ten Bob Millionaire and Mr Boring further rousing examples, both tracks infectious trespasses with a dab hand at melodic enterprise and deviously compelling hooks, each continuing the individuality in the band’s sound from song to song.
Closing with the album’s stomping title track, Al Sation the barker fronting a belligerently defiant punk show refusing to bow down, What You See Is What You Get is simply one of the punk riots of the year. Add the fact that the STP Records appetite has been grabbed by the band and Stu and Co only have an a hunger for meatiest morsels going by their releases to date; the album is a undoubted must.
What You See Is What You Get is released September 29th via STP Records, being unveiled at North East Calling in Newcastle.
https://www.facebook.com/HungLikeHanratty/
Pete RingMaster 05/09/2018
Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright
Producer by ex-Vibrator, Pat Collier, High Rise Supersize is the first release to feature new vocalist/rhythm guitarist Joey DeRella and comes as the band venture across the UK on a string of live shows including playing Rebellion in August. High Rise Supersize opens with one of those hooks you just have to take a bite of, guitarist Luca DeRella luring swiftly keen attention, leading it into the waiting rhythmic incitement of bassist Timmy DeRella and drummer Billion Dollar Bish. There is boisterousness to the track which just entangles the spirit especially once Joey’s eager tones join in the rock ‘n’ roll romp. The track is DeRellas typical yet soon shows a fresh character and intent with its animated melodies and sneaky hooks. Equally there is a touch of old school punk devilment to its roar which only adds to the fun.
A whiff of old school lines next up Caveman.com, the excellent feral stomp something akin to The Vibrators meets Turbonegro but distinctly DBD while Stop Shouting similarly taps into seventies punk for its core hook and riffery, draping it in the band’s inimitable anthemic rock ‘n’ roll instincts. Only the deaf could evade its physical and persuasive holler though even Fazzo’s incisive rhythms could probably stir their senses. Both tracks get body and spirit bouncing though maybe not as hungrily as 11th May or the following Mummy’s Boy. The first jabs and harries with beats and riffs, vocals commanding participation as the body throws itself around to the sounds while its successor flies through ears with seventies punk ferocity and DIY aggression to stir even greater involvement.
With Kurt Philips providing drums throughout, the EP kicks off with Giving Up, its jumbled start instantly spawning a tasty guitar hook which soon leads into a tenacious stroll through ears. Simultaneously a new richer flavouring to the band’s punk sound begins tempting, the track merging its raw traits with infectious enterprise as it increasingly stomps around. Dave’s bass has a gorgeous dark steely tone, Elliot’s vocals matching its lure in earnest attitude as his and Nick’s guitars throw their sonic wares around. As with the first EP, we found flavouring more akin to the likes of Psychedelic Furs and The Vibrators than those earlier mentioned influences but more so the band’s own voice in sound and invention emerges this time around.
It is a great start to proceedings which Morally High continues with its spicily grooved stroll. Carrying similar essences and flavours to its predecessor in its own individual way, the track is equally as infectious and magnetic with again classic and modern textures rubbing excitedly again each other within its controlled yet salacious swing. As the music, Coxon has a snarl to his croon, attitude dripping from every syllable and note before My Rock And Roll steps up to coax bad behaviour with its blues skinned devilry entangled in more of the great guitar enterprise which veins the whole of Care Plan For The Soul.
and released in the US as the album Ow! Ow! Ow! the same year. It was a track which vocalist Stefan Ball came across in the early nineties, a song he found impossible to find again since renting the aforementioned EP from a local library but one he never forgot. Hearing it again when Boston’s Four Piece Suit released their own version he brought the song to the band and subsequently they now our ears in the inimitable Bronsons style.
There is a touch of Psychedelic Furs to song and release, nothing concrete just a scent which continues in the more irritable rock ‘n’ roll of Things I Can’t See. At times, as beats jab and riffs bite, the song feels like it is slamming its fists down on the table temperament wise but discontent aligned to a catchy restraint ensuring great volatility in the rousing incitement of sound and enterprise. The track is one of two singles laying down potent teasers for the album earlier this year, the second following straight after. Still Searching sonically shimmers before laying down a trail of rhythmic manna, the brooding voice of the bass courting rapacious beats. The track’s post punk persuasion makes swift slavery of ears and appetite, its bait only accentuated by the subsequent acidic hook and swinging groove loaded gait of the song. Kind like a mix of The Jesus and Mary Chain and Sex Gang Children, the track, as the album, simply seizes ears and appetite with relish second by second.