Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons – Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll

pic debbie-attwell

pic debbie-attwell

As the band work and finish material to grace a new album, British rockers Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons have linked up with Dirty Water Records for the long awaited digital release of second album Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll and quite simply if you missed it first time around and have an instinctive appetite for insatiable bordering salacious punk infested rock ‘n’ roll, than it is a must.

Formerly in a band just called The Johnsons, the Basingstoke hailing trio is fronted by the wild feline wiles of vocalist Puss Johnson with founding guitarist Dirty Jake (Feckle, Lube) and drummer Filfy Antz (The Krewmen) alongside uncaging their own raw and incendiary antics. It is an explosive combination which saw their 2010 debut album Exercise Your Demons earn many plaudits as too over the years a blistering live show seeing the band share stages with the likes of The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, Thee Oh Sees, The Fuzztones, Mad Sin, The Damned, 999, The Polecats, The Creepshow, The Rezillos, Bow Wow Wow, The Meteors, The Vibrators, Resurex, DragSTER, Trioxin Cherry, and Atomic Suplex.  Three years later, Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll was the cause of even greater eager attention and acclaim upon Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons; a spotlight sure to be regenerated by its digital uncaging ahead of as mentioned a new album.

Featuring eleven tracks spun from attitude loaded threads of everything from punk, garage rock, glam, psychobilly, garage punk and any other form of rock ‘n’ roll you wish to offer, Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll is an explosive riot for senses and body alike. Produced by Alex McGowan and featuring guest double-bassist Phil Bloomberg of The Polecats on a couple of tracks, the album instantly prowls the listener as opener Burying The Bodies settles in to place, once set continuing to stalk but with an infectious swagger led by the biting beats of Antz. Straight away there is an obvious devilment in the band’s sound and the lusty roar shared by Pussycat, her presence and delivery a snarling seducing. With big hooks and winding grooves, the slab of predacious rock ‘n’ roll is an irresistible start to a release proving to be unrelenting in its fiery creative and aggressive incitement.

Hell Bent is swift agreement, its whining grooves courting flying rhythms and Pussycat’s plaintive cries, all united in another tenacious track which eyes you up with distrust yet reveals the most compelling enterprise amidst mouth-watering unpredictability before Livin’ With Mum And Dad sees the band move from raw rock ‘n’ roll into a more seventies flavoured encounter as much glam rock and power pop as it is old school punk. For personal tastes, it lacks the bite and spark of those around it but with its Pistols-esque hook and caustic catchiness there is no escaping being sucked in.

front-cover_RingMasterReviewPsychobilly flavours the magnificent stomp of Get Outta My Face next, Bloomberg bringing his masterful slaps to the Batmobile meets Imelda May scented stroll with Pussycat like a punk Wanda Jackson. Fiery guitar and senses badgering beats bolster the seriously rousing proposal as the song shows another aspect to the album and the Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons sound.

The scuzzy blues punk of She Don’t attacks and excites next, its corrosive character and sound as virulently infectious as anything upon the album while Mirtazapine uses similar strains of flavouring for its own individual trespass. With a touch of post punks Bone Orchard to its untamed garage punk challenge, the track is a superb mix of rapacious restraint and unbridled furor taking ears and imagination into the darkest shadows of the fiercest volcano.

There is no let-up of the enjoyably exhausting confrontations as Why Do You Hate Me? sears the senses with its punk rock lava around a rhythmic tempest while Dirty Li’l Dog, with the magnetic craft of the Polecat returning, leaps around with uninhibited rhythmic rioting as blues guitars embrace numerous other spices around the carnival barker leadership of Pussycat.

The final trio of songs just epitomise the variety and devilish imagination in the band’s songs; Sort Yourself Out a fuzzy blend of growling punk and toxic blues within The Pirates like rock ‘n roll and Souvenir simply one glorious invasion of garage punk with a scent of The Cramps, Animal Alpha, and In Evil Hour in its unique best track earning triumph.

Closed out by the adrenaline fuelled and feeding Hideous, a final belligerent detonation of rabble-rousing incitement, the outstanding Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll is its title and so much more. It might not be a new release but it deserves this new exposure and Pussycat and the Dirty Johnsons the fresh attention ahead of what can only be anticipated as another uncompromising uproar.

Dirty Rock ‘n’ Roll is available digitally through Dirty Water Records @ http://www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk/shop/#!/Pussycat-and-the-Dirty-Johnsons-Dirty-Rock-n-Roll/p/75045471/category=2793895 with physical options @ http://thedirtyjohnsons.com/shop/4564430166

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Pete RingMaster 14/12/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

Big Boy Bloater and The Limits – Luxury Hobo

BBB_RingMaster Review

Fancy a rich dose of spice to your rock ‘n’ roll then the new album from Big Boy Bloater & The Limits is a must. Luxury Hobo offers nine rich blues tinged slices of contagious rock ’n’ roll which relentlessly infests body and emotions like a sonic viral complaint to which no cure is available or wanted.

Guitarist, singer, songwriter, and radio presenter, Big Boy Bloater is an artist to which hungry ears and acclaim seem to flock to. His career and unique style in songwriting, playing, and sound has seen him the feast of the blues and roots scenes, playing numerous major festivals across the US and Europe, and tour across Europe, the Middle-East, the USA, and Canada. Equally he has played behind and with the likes of Imelda May, Paloma Faith, and Wanda Jackson and been invited by Sir Paul McCartney to record with him at Abbey Road. He is a wanted man and easy to see why from Luxury Hobo alone.

Forming latest band Big Boy Bloater & The Limits in 2011, Big Boy Bloater defies the description of being a bluesman as predominantly tagged by a great many. As proven by Luxury Hobo, he creates fusions of flavours which no-one else seems to have the notion of casting. For the new album R&B is at times entangled with swamp and delta blues, seventies rock ‘n’ roll merged with old school rockabilly and fifties garage rock, and…

Reality is that the fusions are rich and plenty resulting in songs which play like old friends yet are like few other companions you may have come across, certainly outside of the man’s own creative psyche. Luxury Hobo is Big Boy Bloater’s darkest collection of songs too; its themes bred from a bout of depression in 2013. Talking of the time and release, Big Boy Bloater openly said “I had a breakdown, the album centres around that we’ve got all these great things but are still pissed off and medicate ourselves to be normal,” further adding that “The basic idea of the title is we are all luxury hobos these days, we get to go here, there and everywhere but no one has it the hard way now do they? We all have our luxuries, it’s that juxtaposition; I think the whole album is about the modern day life and society.

artwork_RingMaster ReviewAs evidenced in the album’s opener alone it does not mean there is an absence of the flirtatious hooks and unpredictable twists, as well as the energy driven virulence fans have become so enamoured by in his music. Devils Not Angels is an irresistible start to the adventure; a flirtatious romp from its first guitar flame quickly breaking into a feisty swagger with a seriously catchy attitude and incitement of sound. From the smiling keys of Dan Edwards to the rousing rhythms of bassist Steven Oats and drummer Matt Cowley, the song has body and soul pumped with raw pleasure taken further care of by the gravelly voice and fiery guitar craft of Big Boy Bloater.

It is a superb start which still gets eclipsed straight away by the following and quite brilliant It Came Out Of The Swamp. It too bounces along with a contagious air to get swiftly involved with but its climate and textures are far more dark, sinister, and invasive. The bass borders on a carnal predation whilst the grooves are dirt encrusted flirtation as swamp blues get tainted with psych rock mischief and rockabilly devilry. Sea Sick Steve meets Th’ Legendary Shack Shakers is the best clue we have to describe the glorious infestation of the senses and imagination on offer, with hooks and melodies courtesy of a warped mix of B52’s and The Dirt Daubers.

I Love You (But I Can’t Stand Your Friends) rolls in with its pop ‘n’ rock charms next, tasty melodies cupping ears as vocals offer an opening romance with a sting in the tail. Both traits continue to entice and arouse ears as well as passions as the song strolls along with a grin on its face and rock flirtation in its heart. As its predecessors, the listener’s physical involvement is a quick success and equally drawn by the blues twang soaked seduction of The Devil’s Tail. Hips are soon swaying to its swerving body of grooves and alluring harmonies, ears there before them in submission to its sultry tempting before I Got The Feeling Someone’s Watching Me has the imagination engulfed in dark rock ‘n’ roll intrigue and salacious seduction. The outstanding song crawls over the senses, smooching with ears as the grainy tone of Big Boy Bloater’s vocals lays the seeds to dark deeds from unrelenting prying eyes whether in the noir lit streets of shadow thick towns, the bright romance of Parisian walkways, or more intimate surroundings.

From one immense highlight to another as the sexy swing of Luxury Hobo Blues takes centre stage with one wonderful nag of a tasty hook through a net of catchy rock ‘n’ roll. Potent harmonies and a web of sultry grooves only add to the riveting trap of a song before Robot Girlfriend offers futuristic love in a magnetic rockabilly/garage/blues rock shuffle. As all songs before it, even the dark crawls of It Came Out Of The Swamp and I Got The Feeling Someone’s Watching Me, it has a swing and vibrant energy which has the body tapping or indeed rocking in full allegiance, something All Things Considered decides to go against, though it too only see a sway take the body. Its soulful croon is wrapped in the smoulder of keys, that alone a simmering heat of temptation enhanced by the emotive cry of Big Boy Bloater and the spirals of melancholic yet invigorating guitar.

The album returns to tearing up the dance-floor with closer Not Cool Man, rhythms and riffs colluding to lay a canvas of energetic incitement whilst the bass flirts and grooves flare up above it. Rock ‘n’ roll to get close and personal with, the track perfectly concludes an album which has ears blissful and the body exhausted. Luxury Hobo is pure manna for the soul and if a better example of diversity loaded rock ‘n’ roll arrives this year, it will go down in history as a major classic, much as we suspect this treat from Big Boy Bloater & The Limits.

Luxury Hobo is released 11th March via Provogue/ Mascot Label Group through most online stores and @ http://www.mascotlabelgroup.com/big-boy-bloater-luxury-hobo-cd.html

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Pete RingMaster 25/02/2016

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Murder Shoes – Self-Titled EP

Murder Shoes_Credit Photo to Aaron Fenster_01

Photo -Aaron Fenster

 

A slice of dark seduction always goes down a treat especially when brought with an imaginative smile and psyche haunting radiance. A healthy dose of rhythmic drama and melodic revelry similarly has ears and imagination more often than not seriously enthused within that kind of sultry landscape. It is a delicious mix which leaves us generally hosting a keen appreciation for its source, and in the shape of the self-titled EP from US band Murder Shoes, an especially lustful one. The five track encounter from the Minneapolis quintet is an intoxicating temptation of surf, alternative, and indie rock ‘n’ roll, a sound basking in the smouldering essences of each whilst creating its own individual inescapable seducing.

The seeds of Murder Shoes begin with the meeting of guitarists Chris White and Derek Van Gieson, seemingly at a bar where one worked and the other frequented. Conversations about music led to the pair uniting as songwriters, with a torrent of songs emerging from their complimenting ideations. A new potent factor emerged when vocalist/keyboardist Tess Weinberg was brought into the mix, followed by another spark of dynamics when drummer Elliot Manthey and bassist Tim Heinlein completed the line-up. With everything in place Murder Shoes stepped into the light and released the low key three-track Cash On Fire EP last December. It was just an appetiser for major things, a more than decent toe tester in creative waters, but in hindsight now blown totally aside by the might of the band’s new offering on Land Ski Records.

cover Derek Van Gieson

cover Derek Van Gieson

The adventure begins with Charlotte Manning and an opening temptation of sultrily toned guitar strokes aligned to smaller nibbles of their strings on ears. Van Gieson and White swiftly grip the imagination before the siren-esque lure of Weinberg begins her vocal caresses to intensify its involvement. It is a magnetic entrance but soon finding new levels of persuasion with the darker spicing brought by the throaty bass and more fiery hues to the guitar enterprise. A surf rock seducing by this time is just as fruitfully lighting body and thoughts, it all driven by the respectful and increasingly anthemic endeavour of Manthey. Like that packet of your favourite candy where good intentions in having just one becomes two, then another and subsequently the whole thing, such is the power of the song, every minute left alone listen, leaving an insatiable want for more.

And so it is with the following Maybe You Can, and the whole EP to admit the truth. It is another song rampantly persuasive and in control of the senses from its first singular guitar baiting of ears. That lone lure is soon bulging with a feisty march of beats and wrapped in fresh swarthy kisses of guitar as Weinberg produces more of her warm vocal enticing. There is a feel of The Capsules to the melodic and smouldering aspects of Murder Shoes songs whilst the unpredictable twists and invention within the encounter is like a blend of Chick Quest and Two Wounded Birds. The track continues to masterfully impose and enthral before making way for the fiery Under the Sea. You can almost feel the hot tingle of sand between toes as the surf pop persuasion dances with ears and emotions. Its sixties breath adds to the compelling character and sound of the song whilst mini crescendos even in their brief moments just breed a catchy drama to the glorious pop flirtation.

The following Sea a Little Louder brings another embrace of mellower energy but again without losing any of the gripping invention and melodic poetry of its predecessors. It is too bubbly to be classed as a piece of balladry but similarly with its alluring restraint far from being an incitement of intensive activity, a mesmeric croon the apt description for the song’s atmospheric and creative hug. It is easy to drift away with the breezy temptation, even its muscular rhythm saunter and the little bursts of climatic endeavour only empowering its immersive qualities.

Final track In Your Bed Or On a Train has limbs back in a frenzy and emotions fired up with its fusion of old school rock ‘n’ roll, sweltering surf ambience, and indie rock unpredictability. Think a modern day Wanda Jackson fronting a Morningwood type proposition and you sense why the EP’s closing offering is so irresistible. Rolling beats from Manthey again provide the resourceful and unrelenting wave of rhythmic enslavement which cores most songs whilst guitars and bass spin sticky darkly hued webs of adventure. Shrouded in the almost celestial tones of Weinberg, it is an exhilarating proposition, as the whole EP, and if the flavours we most mentioned, surf, indie etc. bring a lick of the lips, you are looking at potentially your favourite release of the year.

The Murder Shoes EP is available now digitally and on CD via Land Ski Records @ http://murdershoes.bandcamp.com/

http://www.murdershoesband.com/   https://www.facebook.com/pages/Murder-Shoes/331873790352913

RingMaster 05/05/2015

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Creeping Ivies – Ghost World

The  Creeping Ivies

Taking senses and imagination on another psyche ripping helter skelter of raw and sonically sculpted rock ‘n’ roll, Scottish duo The Creeping Ivies unveil their second album Ghost World and prove themselves yet again to be one of the most exciting provocateurs of primal incitement. The new full-length from the band is a riotous seduction of garage punk and naked rock ‘n’ roll with plenty of spices from psychobilly to punk rock. It also sees the band at its most potent and insatiably virulent yet, the release loaded with deliciously caustic and masterfully magnetic, to steal from the title of one of their earlier songs, buzzbombs.

The Creeping Ivies consists of Becca Bomb providing piercing, coarsely sirenesque vocals and raw sonic guitar vivacity and Duncan Destruction who brings heavy thumping, rapaciously intruding beats to the thrilling equation. Their union is a simultaneously primitive and precisely sculpted enslaving of the senses, one which from day one intrigued and wildly enthralled. First release the Rock N Roll Party EP in 2011 stirred up attention and emotions with its synapse searing acidity and voracious rioting, that an ever present trait expanding with greater potency on the following Ghost Train EP and debut album Stay Wild, both in 2012. Inciting audiences just as dramatically with their live performances, which has seen them share a stage with the likes of  Viv Albertine of The Slits and Vic Godard & Subway Sect, the stature of The Creeping Ivies has increased constantly within the underground scene, their sound recalling many influences but undeniably unique to them. Last November the release of the double A-sided single What Would Joey Ramone Do? / Ramona Wolf teased and tempted as the band showed a continuing to evolve invention to their sonic exploits and imagination. It certainly led to the anticipation and expectations of their next album to intensify. The two tracks hinted at the possible magnificence of Ghost World but it is fair to say that its haunting intrusive delights have emerged as a far greater and dangerous triumph than hoped.

The Dundee pair open up the adventure with the album’s title track. Instantly a haunted caress of guitar glances over ears with a caustic kiss coverin tow as well as a rub of riffs and the joining tub thumping beats of Duncan. Immediately enticing in its noir lit breath and grazing ambience, the track pulsates as it worms its way under the skin laying irresistible bait for the entrance of Becca’s vocals. As ever her voice holds a definite Wanda Jackson meets Siouxsie Sioux texture and magnetism to it, intensity in her delivery searing flesh and air as she and the song hit their stride. With an addiction spawning groove and the delicious occasional blaze of harmonica from guest Homesick Aldo, the track takes little time to secure full submission for its tempting whilst showing the evolution in sound and songwriting maturity poised to consume the senses  in hand with the expected sonic feverishness of the band.

The following entangling chords of The Bridge provide an instant variation to the toxicity of the album; its opening fifties bred melodic teasing charming the listener before thrusting sinew packed beats and the wonderfully torrid vocal tones of Bomb into the appealing recipe. The hook which drew the first spark of ardour as the song started continues to vein the stomp whilst a resonating shimmer to the sound engulfs and exhilarates the senses. As with all their songs, the premise is uncomplicated and minimalistic but always thick in presence and invention leading to fully textured and imposing encounters.

The intimidating shadows of The Creeps consumes attention next, their threat and imposing provocation sizeable but defused by an excellent revelry of keys, vocal wails, and the urgent dance of hooks and harmonies. Short, sweet, and irresistible, the song is then put in its appealing place by Love Kills, a brilliant blend of sixties pop, garage punk, and rockabilly energy. Imagine The Shangri-Las and The Cramps in a saucy romantic triangle with Australian band Valentiine and you have the brilliant Love Kills. The track sways and romps with revelry and mischievousness to cast a perfect raw pop song on the passions.

Ramona Wolf just sounds better with each encounter since its single release last November. It’s almost spatial opening ambience paves the way for the vocal seduction of Becca to spread a temptress like devilry, a sonic medusa with a delivery writhing with searing harmonies and enslaving qualities. Musically the song is a repetitive narrative, punchy beats and scalding guitar probing and grazing respectively with singular intent beneath the harsh atmosphere of the tale. It is also quite glorious as is the next up Dream Baby Dream. Providing irrepressible flirting from the sax of Andrew Pattie within its scintillating fifties pop ravaging and punk seeded ravishing, the song stomps over and challenges the senses for another unruly treat, Bo Diddley meets Helen Shapiro at the home of The Trashmen.

Both Trippin’ Out and Haunted High School finger the passions in their individual ways next, the first a heart rapping rampage of jabbing beats and scarring riffs skirting the sinister drama. It is a tale of ghostly enterprise and inescapable rapacious shadows with a heartbeat which resonates through the bone and core of the evocative tale whilst melodic acidity and vocal colouring courts its intent. The excellent fierce smouldering is soon exceeded by What Would Joey Ramone Do?, a song which sculpts a raising of the spirits of Gene Vincent and Lux Interior with that of the song’s namesake. The track provides all you expect and much more, the Cochran/ Poison Ivy Rorschach like mix of guitar sound with the impossible contagious punk stomp of the song an epidemic for the passions.

Arguably the band saves the best till last, though every listen offers a different favourite. Forever Leather fuses sixties girl pop with a raw voracity, the song like the punk infected offspring of The Crystals and The Stooges with a heady dose of Siouxsie menace. It is a scintillating end to an outstanding album. The Creeping Ivies continue to impress as they evolve and push their boundaries, doing so without losing any of the elements which made them an unbridled addiction certainly for us since their early days. Whether their sound will ever find the major spotlight it deserves is impossible to say, such its uniqueness and undiluted rawness, but it will definitely recruit the most passionate and feverish passions from an increasingly growing legion of fans we suggest, it just needs the opportunity to make that infectious strike.

http://thecreepingivies.com/

http://thecreepingivies.bandcamp.com/

10/10

RingMaster 24/03/2014

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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The Creeping Ivies – What Would Joey Ramone Do? /Ramona Wolf

The Creeping Ivies

Continuing to provide a raw pleasure and sound which no-one else seems able to come near, Scottish garage rockers The Creeping Ivies unleash their next seductive persuasion with the double-A-sided single What Would Joey Ramone Do?/Ramona Wolf. The duo from Dundee of vocalist/guitarist Becca Bomb and drummer Duncan Destruction create a brew seeded in fifties rock ‘n’ roll, sixties garage rock, and seventies punk which they force through a scuzz lined filter of noise rock to make one of the most challenging and refreshing encounters around. This alchemy has already recruited a legion of ardour driven fans through the Ghost Train EP and debut album Stay Wild, and with the ever evolving sound and potency found on the new single The Creeping Ivies has set another deliciously scarring marker and plateau for themselves to erupt from.

What Would Joey Ramone Do? is an irresistible conjuration of Gene Vincent, The Ramones, and The Cramps with Becca a2278793946_2producing her finest Wanda Jackson strength and charm. Her guitar strokes equally spark an always eager appetite for the band into the usual hungry reaction, a want increased by her raw Cochran/ Poison Ivy Rorschach like guitar sound which rubs the senses and emotions into a delirious expulsion of emotions whilst the crisp thumping beats of Duncan lead the body into a kinetic dance. The groove of the song is out of the Road To Ruin songbook but with its caustic kisses and sonic intrusiveness it is a temptation unique to the pair.

Second song Ramona Wolf emerges from a sonic lure, its beckoning leading the ears into a glorious wall of acidic riffs, even paced punchy rhythms, and a cavernous atmosphere speared by an intermittent senses scrubbing causticity of guitar. The vocals of Becca ride the sound with the skill and toxicity of a temptress, a sorceress like enchantment washing every syllable expelled through the chilled ambience of the song. The encounter is a bewitching soundtrack to the sirenesque call of a devil witch from outer space, well the narrative to another ridiculously addictive song from The Creeping Ivies but that is pretty much the same thing right?

The Creeping Ivies just get better and better as What Would Joey Ramone Do? and Ramona Wolf both show and with the band’s second album Ghost World expected early next year anticipation and excitement are already showing some impatience in the wait.

http://thecreepingivies.com/

10/10

RingMaster 14/11/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Venus DeVilo – Edgar Allan Ho EP

venus devile 2

Let us introduce you to the dark seductiveness of Venus DeVilo, an artist which preys on the passions like a sultry vampiric temptress bred from artistic alchemy raised from the fire of Imelda May, the snarl of Wanda Jackson, the energy of Fay Fife, and the devilry of Dick Venom, not forgetting a pinch of the infected essences of Horrorpops. Her creative world is one of shadowed carnivals, blood drenched burlesques, and dead borne vaudeville; her music pure sexual fascination and the Edgar Allan Ho EP the perfect introduction to the temptress before the arrival of her debut album Til Death Do Us Party, which we hope will see daylight in the near future, such the hunger now raging.

Hailing from the cemeteries of Dublin, Ireland, well probably a very nice comfortable abode but that hardly goes with the theme does it, Venus since 2011 has frequented and lit up rock/metal bars, Burlesque and Cabaret nights, open mic nights, and other numerous venues around her home city and much further across the country with her Goth-Shock anthems. The host of a series of popular horror themed gigs at the Twisted Pepper, Dublin which have become an almost monthly event, the sonic siren has captured the imagination of the internet media with her dramatic sounds, becoming the favourite sister of the likes of Elegant Savages webzine and the Bone Orchard podcast. Since its release the Edgar Allan Ho EP has drawn lustful attention and it is hard not to understand why as it stalks the minds darkest imagination and cinematic desires.

    Heartless Horseman steps up to tempt the passions first, its initial acoustic guitar stabs and instantly potent vocals the 602969_406666232785880_346571255_nentrance into lyrical and musical stalking of night terrors and their romantic suasion. There is a rockabilly feel to the song which reminds of The Creepshow whilst the excellent soaring vocal imagination and drama of its delivery brings thoughts of Agnete Kjølsrud and the band Djerv as well as Dominique Lenore Persi and Stolen Babies. Unafraid to twist and turn the gait and intent of the track, Venus also sends it into angular and less accessible turns which make suggestions of Lene Lovich. For all the references we offer though, do not make the mistake of assuming the sound of Venus DeVilo is not something quite unique to the graveyard walking beguiler.

The following Apocalips equally enthrals with predominantly acoustic guitar and vocals, though rhythms and bass prowl with devilment in their hearts and wide mischief on their grinning lips too. The song sways and swaggers with the wantonness of a fifties siren and the intimidating composure of instinctive rockabilly, but like the band references these pointers to the sound are only whispers of the full hue of flavours making up the wholly contagious shards of mesmeric aural delight.

Penny Dreadful Love is a song you know should play in the bowels of any mausoleum, its funeral caress punctured and kissed by the again outstanding voice and delivery of its creator. As the lady and song lace the senses and thoughts with their visceral evocation, Venus provokes another comparison, this time to Lesley Woods of Au Pairs in the way she at times slaps words and syllables into the ear. It is a style that is impossible to resist and one which makes the forthcoming album so exciting and this song a dark hearted romantic serenade.

The best song on the release comes with Ringmaster, and no we were not biased in our decision. The vibrant waltz of the colourful enchantment goes hand in hand with the dark carnivale touch, guitar and vocals swinging across the high tented air of the hypnotic mystique and elegant poise. It makes for a glorious soaring flight of theatrical imagination honed into a glorious sirenesque aural spectacular which leads the listener on a tightrope walk of tension and astounding adventure, and note for extra spice its core call around the chorus is a dead ringer for one of the greatest songs ever, Killer Klowns From Outer Space by The Dickies.

The release is completed by firstly Carmilla’s Return, a song which initially has the shadow clouded  ambience reminiscence of Bauhaus song Bela Lugosi’s Dead  and goes on to atmospherically swarm around the ear with the chants of the ‘dead’ harmonising behind the continually powerful and virulently enticing tones of Venus. Once more it is a song which transports you within the sweeping sinister mists of a cinematic painting whilst its successor Miss Frankenstein is simply an epidemically catchy romp with big bold rhythms shaping the cage you are enslaved within. It has a delicious toxicity which leaves you no option but to throw voice and feet into the twisted majesty.

Venus DeVilo is an artist who will scare as many as she seduces but one who will only ever leave a lingering mark in her shadow and if it is anything like the Edgar Allan Ho EP, this dank earth will be a better place.

https://www.facebook.com/VenusDeViloSongsFromTheStalkersPointOfView

10/10

RingMaster 24/07/2013

Copyright RingMaster: MyFreeCopyright

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Chantal Claret – The One, The Only…

by Anna-Franziska Milanollo

by Anna-Franziska Milanollo

With big boned rhythmic seduction and even more tempting melodic suggestiveness, the debut album from Chantal Claret is one delicious romp of sixties pop and modern insatiable inventive hunger, a release which makes the term having a good time as a description seem rudely limiting. The former vocalist for the excellent Morningwood, Claret has crafted her own soulful and enchanting not forgetting vivacious sound, into a larger than life treat which brings femme-pop from five decades ago in a feisty and thrilling union with attitude drenched indie pop. Think Imelda May meets Brenda Lee with strong whispers of Wanda Jackson, Gwen Stefani, and at times essences of Brody Dalle’s Spinnerette, and you get the unique presence of Chantal Claret. The One, The Only… is an album which has feet and emotions pumping in time and passion with the forthright sounds it offers, a release which quite simply and persistently thrills with each and every enthralling note.

    The One, The Only… is something very different from anything Morningwood unveiled though there is still a visible thread The One, The Only. . . Chantal Claret by Nick Walker Photography 2between the two due to the stand alone vocals of Claret who arguably upon her first full length solo release has found an even richer and expansive depth to her tone and delivery. Following up the acclaimed Pleasure Seekers EP whose four tracks also grace this album, the new release dances with the passions and ear to send a rapture marauding through the body like a tide of raucous melodic energy which ebbs and flows yet never leaves anything less than captivated seduction roaming its presence.

The opening intro introduces the artist like you would have found at an authentic live performance or TV show of the sixties, or so my Dad told me… an audience excited and drooling as the artist takes her spot in their eager spotlight. It leads right into the muscular rhythms and initial crafty tease of Bite Your Tongue, a song which sways with devilment whilst coaxing the passions into its instantly infectious embrace. The rhythms continue to dominate from the drums and bass, even in its quietest lure, whilst the keys add smokey whispers to stand side by side with the blaze of horns. It is a terrific start with a female snarl and wile to its magnetic temptation.

The thrilling start continues with Pleasure Seekers, a track which has the fire of the band of the same name in the sixties and the gentle pop artfulness of Nancy Sinatra, through the contagious Pop Pop Bang Bang and on to This Time. The second of the trio is one of the highest pinnacles, its arrival on a nursery rhyme like coaxing opening moving into a riveting stroll of woman scorned devilry with accompanying violent intent. Not the most involved song in its construction but certainly the most dramatically mesmeric and energetic, the track enlists the listener into its revengeful mischief with enigmatic craft and arcane breath. The third of the trio leads the senses into a wealth of bulging rhythms and enchanted melodies coated in a sinister design which sparks an ardour as potent as the sacrificial seduction of a siren, both inescapable and unrelenting.

Arguably there is a constant surface shine and glow to the songs which shades the variety at work initially but with songs like the Crystals/Yeah Yeah Yeahs prompting No Love Lost and the Aretha Franklin/Gwen Stefani call to arms of Real Girls and their curves and swerves, any similarity in the coating is soon dispelled with their individual voices, the latter of these two a hip hop/pop fusion which makes it impossible not to hungrily enlist in its cause.

Further flames of pleasure come with the fifties gaited Black Widow, a song which is as tricky as it is insatiable, its aural tongue licking its lips as it seizes the heart with the appetite of its subject. The Mari Wilson sounding Honey Honey stands alongside the song as another real high point its sixties energetic kiss from keys and passionate vocals leaving thoughts and emotions into unbridled mischief before handing over to the excellent Song For The Sinners, the best song on the album. It stomps with guileful invitation and addictive charisma whilst the licking flames of the again irresistible horns incite further temptation into its cute yet dangerous heart.

The One, The Only… is an outstanding album which guarantees nothing but full and breath-taking pleasure, and who could want to share those moments with anyone other than the temptress Chantal Claret.

http://chantalclaret.com/

9/10

RingMaster 03/04/2013

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