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Hot Snakes – Jericho Sirens


Band: Hot Snakes
Album: Jericho Sirens
Label: Sub Pop
Release date: March 2018
Sounds like: Forgetting your insulin, AGAIN. A hatchet job. Mystery Boys. 

Everyone, Hot Snakes are back, and not just in pog form! I cannot tell you how much I’ve missed this sound. With Obits, frontman Rik Froberg retained some of that tense, scattergun guitar noise, but without his partner in musical crime, aka John “Speedo” Reis, it just wasn’t the same. Couple their six strings together and you get something that apparently owes lots to The Wipers – add in Gar Wood on bass, Jason Kourkounis and Mario Rubalcaba on drums and you’ve something truly incredible.

Whilst Jericho Sirens is typically a Hot Snakes record, time has obviously honed this well-oiled machine, (14 years to be precise) and you’ve something that takes elements from all their past records – the ripping chaos of Automatic Midnight, the experimental darkness of Suicide Invoice and the meaty crunch of Audit In Progress. So, it’s the perfect Hot Snakes record, right? I’m not saying that, but neither am I saying it isn’t. With Speedo’s Rocket From The Crypt touring, releasing mysterious 7″ records, and his and Froberg’s Drive Like Jehu teasing us with sporadic shows, having Hot Snakes back is mouth-watering to say the least.

Jericho Sirens is a bludgeoning, dangerous and deadly beast of a record and the 14 years have been well worth the wait – you need this in your ears right now…

Jericho Sirens opens with the shrieking, stocky guitars of I Need A Doctor, which sounds eerily like If Credits What Matters I’ll Take Credit from their debut, but at a slower speed, but with more seething bile, courtesy of the pipes of Froberg. Time hasn’t weathered those vocal chords one bit – it’s still that same scrappy, raw, hacking sound, especially the way he roars the song’s title “I need a doctor/Tell me what I’m gonna do? I need a doctor/One you can direct me to?” As an opener, it scorches the land with this shredding, wailing caterwaul of the twin Swami-guitars not to mention the howling synth lines echoing in the background. The pace then takes an erratic jolt on the chopped up stagger that is Candid Cameras; percussion is disjointed, irregular and overtly complex, giving nods to the lurching post-punk of the aforementioned Drive Like Jehu which should please fans of the math-rock titans.

Hot Snakes don’t want you to feel any sort of comfort or relaxation though – oh no. Despite them perfecting this particular sound, you would think “okay, I know what’s coming” but you really have no idea – it’s the way they manipulate and attack their sound that sets it apart. Take the 78 second burst of noise that is Why Don’t It Sink In? – it’s pure thrash-trash punk fury, urgent, breathless, sweaty and destructive. It seethes with teeth-gnashing urgency and spitting venom and seems to be in a race to reach the sudden exhaustive conclusion as it smashes into the wall and owes a lot to the speed that made their debut, Automatic Midnight, so vital and vibrant.

The surf-rock vibes on the radiant Six Wave Hold-Down perfectly encapsulates the cover of Jericho Sirens (Gar Wood catching a rip curl, right?) and brings to mind the snarling, tense punk of their work on Audit In Progress, whilst the summer-punk rock of Death Camp Fantasy, has the brilliant call and response from Froberg in the form of: “Have I, been preyed upon? EVERYBODY!” queue the rest of the band screaming the words back at him. There’s your fucking crowd favourite right there.

There’s many of them on this, but the standout track has to be the weighty heft of the title track. As the harmonica creeps in (hello I Hate The Kids) as do those lurching, staggering riffs that don’t let up during this 4 minute barrage of dark, menacing, but upbeat fortitude. Chances are you will have Froberg’s words of “Jericho Sirens, I hear…” firmly ear-wormed into you head by the track’s raucous and punishing conclusion. Easily one of the best songs they’ve ever recorded – up there with Salton City and 10th Planet for sheer heaviness and crunching power.

The ripping chug of the incandescent Psychoactive bristles with hair-raising power-chords and those trademark churning, rolling, finger-bleeding riffs – meaning you’ll be grinning from ear to ear on this one, especially every time Froberg yells the words “I WANT SUCCESS!” – cracking. Jericho Sirens closes with the rambunctious salvo of Death of a Sportsman, a bouncing, scrappy punk number that gives huge nods to Let It Come in structure, with Gar Wood’s booming bass thundering the track forward, backed by the solid drumming power of Kourkounis and Rubalcaba. It’s the sinister guitar lines that haunt this in the background though – coupled with the return of the squealing harmonica and the foreboding suzzy-punk rock drive.

Hot Snakes redefined punk for me when I first discovered them in 2004, and remain an important, volatile and deadly combination of razor sharp guitar lines, sardonic lyrical couplets and brutally fast rhythmic punches to the face, gut, hell the entire body. Jericho Sirens is a bludgeoning, dangerous and deadly beast of a record and the 14 years have been well worth the wait – you need this in your ears right now.

You can purchase Jericho Sirens from Sub Pop or stream via bandcamp below.

 

Top tracks: I Need A Doctor, Six Wave Hold-Down, Jericho Sirens, Death Camp Fantasy, Psychoactive, Death of a Sportsman

Links

Hot Snakes
Hot Snakes Bandcamp
Sub Pop

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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The Chats – Get This In Ya!!


Band: The Chats
EP: Get This In Ya!!
Label: Burger Records
Release date: July 2017
Sounds like: ??? I’m on smoko, so leave me alone. 

At the risk of letting this pass without acknowledging it, I feel the internet and everyone involved needs to know more about the sheer brilliance of The Chats. Their name comes  from Chatswood, in Sydney and the word chat is also a derogatory term according to urban dictionary and basically means, “shit” so the band are called The Shits?! Yeah? Yeah.

Why should we care about them? Well, for the simple reason they’re bloody great, mate. The simplicity of their pop-punk, is edged with this scuzzy, Sub Pop-90s sound, courtesy of the belching bass guitar of singer Eamon Sandwith and the trash-punk drumming of Matthew Boggis, plus the guitars of Josh Price and Tremayne McCarthy which alter between a low-fi punk scrape to a thrashing mash up of stupid gurgling riffs.

A lot of their songs seem to be about having nothing to do. Smoko, for example, is a 3 minute pop-rock banger about taking a smoke break and it’s absolutely excellent, right down to the infectious opening bass riff, to the video that was probably made for about $5 after a night on a lot of beers. The brilliantly unnervingly funny ending features singer Eamon, seeing someone needing lifeguard assistance, but he’s  “on smoko, so leave me alone.” If anything, the video is going to make you want a sausage roll.

Other tracks are just as amusing, such as Nambored (which is about Nambour, and being bored there). a two minute tuneful blast of only having 7 bucks, and not being able to take the boredom and frustration anymore (but at least you can walk to a Macca’s). The bro-anthem of How Many Do You Do is an absolute killer, (thanks to that bass line) and is all about hanging out with The Chats crew, smoking a few darts and generally having a great time!

They say write about what you know, and The Chats seem to do that – Bus Money is all about spending all your cash on six packs, shitty pills and scratch cards (sounds good to me) all delivered in this wonderful Australian drawl. “I spent my bus money on a sausage roll, I’d have more money if I wasn’t on the dole!” sneers Sandwith on Bus Money, ending with the pleading chant of “ALL I NEED IS A BUCK OR TWO!” a sure fire live favourite right there.

Thing get a bit more serious (only just) on the anti-security guard spit of Nazi March – NOFX song in disguise and a full middle finger to fascist bullshit, something which The Chats don’t have time for and the tongue-in-cheek chant of “left-right, left-right” only adds to their cutting venom.

Struggling with a illness is the subject matter of Temperature, with the words of “have you got a fever? Will you let me feel ya?” from Sandwith on this gritty post-punk slab of noise, completed by some great snarling backing vocals and snotty, brackish Shitty Limits-esque fury.

So, let your hair grow out into a fashionable mullet, grab your surf rescue top and a packet of darts and rock the fuck out with The Chats, the greatest band ever in this small time frame until the next one comes along. Also, I cannot stress how much these guys need to come over to the UK and smash up one of our tiny venues.

You can stream/buy/get the beers in and enjoy The Chats below or buy it on a fucking tape from Burger Records, yeah? Get ready to pay about £100 postage.

 

Links

The Chats
The Chats Soundcloud
Burger Records

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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American Nightmare – S/T | KEEP IT FAST, Progressive, Comedy, Hardcore, Thrash, Punk, News, Reviews and Latest Tracks


Band: American Nightmare
Album: S/T
Label: Rise Records
Release date: 16 February
Sounds like: Love American. Hearts. Death.

Hell is hot but I’m keeping cool” intones vocalist Wes Eisold, his nonchalant swagger is apparent on the savage The World Is Blue, the first explosive track from American Nightmares new album, their first in 15 years. This is a massive deal in hardcore circles, as the Boston crew have been through the ringer with name changes, legal disputes, break ups and a revolving door of band members. Thankfully, 2018 means a rebirth if you like, with frontman and creator, Eisold, guitarist Brian Masek, bassist Josh Holden and drummer Alex Garcia-Rivera, who all played on 2003’s We’re Down ‘Til We’re Underground.

Throughout Wes Eisold’s work, the theme of love burns a huge scorching hole in the landscape and never lets up for one moment. His lyrics have always dwelled in the realms of loss, despair, fear and melancholy – however, there’s one emotion that never backs down – the aforementioned love. It bleeds heavily, seeping into all the nooks and cracks within American Nightmare, during its brief running time and it’s enough to make a statement about their world and their resurrection.

American Nightmare contains some of Eisold’s best singing to date – his voice sounds huge, powerful and edged with emotional uncertainty and cutting sarcasm…

I do love how immediate and raging the opening track, The World Is Blue is – full force, no bullshit, jaw ripped from your face and flung into the ocean. Eisold’s scream of “Salvation! Salvation!” like some fanatical preacher (hey Megachurch, get sampling) only adds to the boisterous, enlightening zeal, whilst the gurgling-bass led section of “I see the sun shining down on me” is a brilliant and exhausting final 15 seconds of madness, ending with the crushing lament that “we are nowhere.

It’s like a chase and you’ve got to keep running if you want to stay ahead of the game and second track, Flowers Under Siege, seems to end before it even begins – half the track is a made up of feedback, whilst the mid-20 seconds are a short, sharp, electrifying blast of stripped-back punk rock delivered with spitting, venomous gusto and acerbic, chaotic lust.

Rage builds and builds on the hate-filled American Death; the opening line begins with the spitting “fuck everyone I’ve ever known/spineless bastard slithers home” and only continues to get more wrought and furious. The gang-vocal chants of “days upon” and the end line, in the form of the caustic and oddly humorous “I hope you live forever/cause your life’s worse than death” is a sardonic and withering “fuck you”. A venting, ranting attack to the senses, drenched in raw, bleeding emotion. There’s more to follow with scream of “Don’t forget that the world’s against us/there’s no place I would rather be” on the cutting salvo of War, a track edged with subtle conflict and cries of togetherness and abject dissolution. Props to the rhythm section of Garcia-Rivera and Holden, who thump out an impressive and sturdy hardcore backbone to this pulverising chunk of bludgeoning and scathing torment.

The criminally short running time of some of these tracks makes the whole experience one big tease in places. See the breakneck first minute of Lower Than Life – led by Garcia-Rivera’s euphoric percussion, it clatters through with a thrash-punk attack, before switching up to a swaggering, mic-swinging blast of anthemic gang-vocal glory. The repeated roars of “Deeper than hell/lower than life” cement this as a sure live favourite but tantalisingly finish far too soon.

Interestingly, you can see where a number of Eisold’s past and current projects have had an influence too – from the short sharp burst of 36 second scraping hardcore bile of Dream, (hello Some Girls) completed by a ridiculously short guitar solo to the dramatic goth-rock Colder Than Death – with the overlapping backing vocals, drenched in Eisold’s melancholy gloom, that grinding bass opening rumble and the spaced out, post-hardcore guitar wails, giving it a harder-edged Cold Cave feel.

Another thing to note, the production on American Nightmare is beautiful – credit to drummer Alex Garcia-Rivera for his work on this and the mastering was by Bob Weston? DUDES. Nice one. Also, easily some of Eisold’s best singing to date – his voice sounds huge, powerful and edged with emotional uncertainty and cutting sarcasm.

American Nightmare have created a document that is 9 tales of brutally honest, impassioned, chaotic, diverse and gut-wrenching rock, sealed with a heart to the world of hardcore. Open it and absorb its twisted poetry and noise.

Who cares when forever ends.”

Top tracks: Lower Than Life, Flowers Under Siege, War, The World Is Blue

Links

American Nightmare
Cold Cave
Rise Records

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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Tiny Moving Parts – Swell


a2334147848_10Band: Tiny Moving Parts
Album: Swell
Label: Big Scary Monsters
Release date: January 2018
Sounds like: Sending applause to your heartstrings. A rapid detachment.

“Scan an open road, distort the traffic/Never getting used to these second guesses…”

Due to mishearing lyrics, I thought that on Malfunction, track 8 from the new Tiny Moving Parts album, Swell, vocalist Dylan Mattheisen said “I got dizzy right before the vapid detachments.” I thought “hell, that’s a terrific band name, The Vapid Detachments*!” However, I’m reliably informed that the word is rapid, which is still decent, if not better? Probably?

Tiny Moving Parts then, completed by the brothers Chevalier (Matt on bass, Billy on drums) are back with the follow up to 2016’s Celebrate and their second release through the Big Scary Monsters imprint. It’s quite an impressive move by BSM main man, Kevin to sign these dudes a few years back – they tick a lot of boxes and overlap into several others. Twiddly-math-emo styles? Check. Huge punk rock choruses that feel like a bone-crunching hug of joy? You betcha. An impassioned and earnest vocal lead that makes your heart…er…swell? Thumbs up.

Opening track Applause, asks for veritable ovation be sent to your heartstrings. There’s an edge of darkness in this though, whilst the twinkling guitars, math-punk riffs, scattered percussion and plethora of tambourines litter this, Mattheisen’s cries of “I want to give up” and the line “struggle with every single breath” seem to hold some desire to overcome and breakthrough a period of sadness. Luckily, the cry of “applause my lungs still breathing” on every single one of this song’s damn hook-laden choruses makes the glass seem half-full.

Building bridges is the topic of the soaring Smooth It Out – a track that seems to be about improving a relationship, talk of missteps and “smoke breaks” (taking time out) and offering to be the “weight on your shoulders” hey, it’s about love everyone! Aw. Mattheisen and the Chevalier boys carve out a crackling slab of spirited up-tempo heartland rock, which bursts with even more vigour thanks to the rising background strings/(keys?) and subtle gang-vocal melodies.

The jagged, punchy guitars on the aggravated Feel Alive, give the track a crisp, yet busy feel, whilst Mattheisen’s breathless and erratic vocals compliment the title incredibly well (fella really does want to feel alive it seems). Bloody love the underused additional vocals from Kelc Galluzzo and her call-and-response of “I still miss you.” Kind of makes me think of the additional vocals on High Speed from the Single Mothers album from last year; i.e. not used enough – more of this please.

Caution could well be your favourite single of 2018 and we’ve not even made it through February yet! That mathy-guitar 40 seconds in will do it, or even the massive chorus hook of “I’m still waiting…FOR A SLIGHT BREAK!” or maybe it’s the brilliant video? Whatever it is, this is indeed, love.

Someday we’re all going to die…but not tonight!” shouts Matthesien on the discordant but emo-rock-tastic Wildlife, showcasing how Tiny Moving Parts are striving to create huge fucking slogans to be shouted during their live shows, and all power to them for it. There’s a jagged urgency to the stumbling and frantic Whale Watching, whilst the riff-laden scuzz of Malfunction sets a more aggressive tone, especially the lyrics, with cries of frost filling Matthesien’s head and the repeated scream of “it’s a message” which you can see hordes of fans at their shows bellowing back at the band – superb. Warm Hand Splash starts with an apology and launches headfirst into regret. Should we be happy? It asks for forgiveness, and brims with venting and rending gusto and some lush horn sections adding to the punchy and flamboyant emotional conclusion. The Hotelier are probably taking notes.

Tiny Moving Parts couldn’t have picked a better title for this collection of songs really. These 10 tracks on Swell are fit to burst with impassioned beauty, melancholy, tales of loss and re-connection; from their erratic time changes to the heady blasts of breakneck punk rock and contemplative, brooding lyrical couplets. Sure, it might be cheesy in places, but sometimes that’s what you need in order to feel and care a little too much.

You can purchase Swell by absolute top lads Tiny Moving Parts from Big Scary Monsters. Or stream below.

 

Top tracks: Swell It Out, Caution, Malfunction, Warm Hand Splash

Links

Tiny Moving Parts
Tiny Moving Parts Webstore
Big Scary Monsters

*Also, The Vapid/Rapid Detachments will be releasing their debut album in 2020.

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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Tiny Moving Parts – Swell


Band: Tiny Moving Parts
Album: Swell
Label: Big Scary Monsters
Release date: January 2018
Sounds like: Sending applause to your heartstrings. A rapid detachment.

“Scan an open road, distort the traffic/Never getting used to these second guesses…”

Due to mishearing lyrics, I thought that on Malfunction, track 8 from the new Tiny Moving Parts album, Swell, vocalist Dylan Mattheisen said “I got dizzy right before the vapid detachments.” I thought “hell, that’s a terrific band name, The Vapid Detachments*!” However, I’m reliably informed that the word is rapid, which is still decent, if not better? Probably?

Tiny Moving Parts then, completed by the brothers Chevalier (Matt on bass, Billy on drums) are back with the follow up to 2016’s Celebrate and their second release through the Big Scary Monsters imprint. It’s quite an impressive move by BSM main man, Kevin to sign these dudes a few years back – they tick a lot of boxes and overlap into several others. Twiddly-math-emo styles? Check. Huge punk rock choruses that feel like a bone-crunching hug of joy? You betcha. An impassioned and earnest vocal lead that makes your heart…er…swell? Thumbs up.

Opening track Applause, asks for veritable ovation be sent to your heartstrings. There’s an edge of darkness in this though, whilst the twinkling guitars, math-punk riffs, scattered percussion and plethora of tambourines litter this, Mattheisen’s cries of “I want to give up” and the line “struggle with every single breath” seem to hold some desire to overcome and breakthrough a period of sadness. Luckily, the cry of “applause my lungs still breathing” on every single one of this song’s damn hook-laden choruses makes the glass seem half-full.

Building bridges is the topic of the soaring Smooth It Out – a track that seems to be about improving a relationship, talk of missteps and “smoke breaks” (taking time out) and offering to be the “weight on your shoulders” hey, it’s about love everyone! Aw. Mattheisen and the Chevalier boys carve out a crackling slab of spirited up-tempo heartland rock, which bursts with even more vigour thanks to the rising background strings/(keys?) and subtle gang-vocal melodies.

The jagged, punchy guitars on the aggravated Feel Alive, give the track a crisp, yet busy feel, whilst Mattheisen’s breathless and erratic vocals compliment the title incredibly well (fella really does want to feel alive it seems). Bloody love the underused additional vocals from Kelc Galluzzo and her call-and-response of “I still miss you.” Kind of makes me think of the additional vocals on High Speed from the Single Mothers album from last year; i.e. not used enough – more of this please.

Caution could well be your favourite single of 2018 and we’ve not even made it through February yet! That mathy-guitar 40 seconds in will do it, or even the massive chorus hook of “I’m still waiting…FOR A SLIGHT BREAK!” or maybe it’s the brilliant video? Whatever it is, this is indeed, love.

Someday we’re all going to die…but not tonight!” shouts Matthesien on the discordant but emo-rock-tastic Wildlife, showcasing how Tiny Moving Parts are striving to create huge fucking slogans to be shouted during their live shows, and all power to them for it. There’s a jagged urgency to the stumbling and frantic Whale Watching, whilst the riff-laden scuzz of Malfunction sets a more aggressive tone, especially the lyrics, with cries of frost filling Matthesien’s head and the repeated scream of “it’s a message” which you can see hordes of fans at their shows bellowing back at the band – superb. Warm Hand Splash starts with an apology and launches headfirst into regret. Should we be happy? It asks for forgiveness, and brims with venting and rending gusto and some lush horn sections adding to the punchy and flamboyant emotional conclusion. The Hotelier are probably taking notes.

Tiny Moving Parts couldn’t have picked a better title for this collection of songs really. These 10 tracks on Swell are fit to burst with impassioned beauty, melancholy, tales of loss and re-connection; from their erratic time changes to the heady blasts of breakneck punk rock and contemplative, brooding lyrical couplets. Sure, it might be cheesy in places, but sometimes that’s what you need in order to feel and care a little too much.

You can purchase Swell by absolute top lads Tiny Moving Parts from Big Scary Monsters. Or stream below.

 

Top tracks: Swell It Out, Caution, Malfunction, Warm Hand Splash

Links

Tiny Moving Parts
Tiny Moving Parts Webstore
Big Scary Monsters

*Also, The Vapid/Rapid Detachments will be releasing their debut album in 2020.

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

More PostsWebsite

Follow Me:
TwitterYouTube





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The Royal They – Foreign Being


theroyalthey-foreign-beingBand: The Royal They
Album: Foreign Being
Label: King Pizza Records
Release date: Out Now
Sounds like: Be Your Own Pet cutting you open with their guitar strings. 

The stark contrast between the explosive snarl of album opener C.N.T. and the closing pop-punk blast of Weekender is one of the many, many great things about Foreign Being, the second album by New York trio, The Royal They. In fact, this album twists and turns itself inside out, reshaping constantly, but it is anchored by one common goal – to hit you hard and make you take notice. At first, it felt solely driven by anger – sure, there’s rage in this – boy, is their rage. The guitars howl and fizzle with acidic intent; but there’s also a hell of a lot of heart in this and that heart is pumping raw, bloody emotion from every ventricle.

Take C.N.T. for example (what’s missing? Just “U”) a rabid, powerful, brackish snap of furious noise; a rallying cry for those who have ever felt alone or lost in light of certain events in the entertainment industry. It points fingers and calls out all those with their “perverted breach” and talks of their “sick deceit” and is capped off with the huge “I know you’ll try to fuck the world/But you will not fuck me” scream from vocalist/guitarist Michelle Hutt. Powerful, emotional, burning rage spat with such passion and such vitriol and one of the best album openers I’ve heard in a long while.

Addiction and loss pepper the buzz-saw raw rock of Sludgefucker (excellent song title alert) as talk of twitching eyes, misunderstood anger and referencing moments of pure bliss (but being unsure why) are punched into your ears, whilst the dual guitars scrape and contort through a muddy slide of clawing turmoil. It’s also excellent and a brilliantly constructed rapid-fire piece of fiery riot-punk. This is met with the sledgehammer drums and booming riffs of Pandemic, which belch and hack a hoarse rasp of detuned, Torche-lite noise, held together with shuddering and bruising intent. Absolute credit to the guitars on this track, which chime with trepidation and stalwart misery and expand The Royal They’s discordant and blemish-erupting sound even wider.

The pedal isn’t always slammed firmly to the floor though – there are moments of reflection, especially on the cool-sounding indie-jam of Veritas, which builds into a crunching hard rock number, with an ever-so Smashing Pumpkins-vibe to proceedings and showcases the delicate beauty of Michelle’s vocals as opposed to her earlier snarls of cutting rage. Needler follows a similar path, as though you’re being stalked by the taunt guitar lines, the “I want you to know…” vocal croons and the churning, discordant riffs which lurch, belch and batter the airwaves, only to suddenly revert back to that eerie, menacing tone. Don’t be fooled by the sing-song voice Michelle has on the scything Say Less – while it might all sound all rainbows and smiles in the delivery, the noisy, ramshackle Be Your Own Pet-riffs and teeth-rattling percussion are devilishly corrupting.

It’s when we reach the end of the album everything starts to crackle with three chords and permanent joy. I cannot get out of my head how much Weekender sounds like a 90’s TV show theme. There’s something so “sunshine happy good times!” about the melody on this. “Yeah, I’m where I wanna be right now/Yeah, there’s nothing else to figure out” states Michelle, her lyrics bouncing brilliantly on this pogo-tastic pop-rock banger of an album closer, which absolutely shreds with infectious and confident zest and ultimate enthusiasm – superb.

More people need to hear this band. The frothing rage and high-five fun times in The Royal They is utterly captivating right from the word go. Foreign Being is a jagged, snarling, heckling, vitriolic blast of cathartic, boiling and positive punk. Join their racket now, you need this in your life and your ears.

Grab a slice of Foreign Being by The Royal They from King Pizza Records here or download directly from their bandcamp. Treat yourself.

 

Top tracks: Sludgefucker, Needler, Gullethead, Weekender

Links

The Royal They
King Pizza Records

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

More PostsWebsite

Follow Me:
TwitterYouTube

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,



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Posted on

The Royal They – Foreign Being


Band: The Royal They
Album: Foreign Being
Label: King Pizza Records
Release date: Out Now
Sounds like: Be Your Own Pet cutting you open with their guitar strings. 

The stark contrast between the explosive snarl of album opener C.N.T. and the closing pop-punk blast of Weekender is one of the many, many great things about Foreign Being, the second album by New York trio, The Royal They. In fact, this album twists and turns itself inside out, reshaping constantly, but it is anchored by one common goal – to hit you hard and make you take notice. At first, it felt solely driven by anger – sure, there’s rage in this – boy, is their rage. The guitars howl and fizzle with acidic intent; but there’s also a hell of a lot of heart in this and that heart is pumping raw, bloody emotion from every ventricle.

Take C.N.T. for example (what’s missing? Just “U”) a rabid, powerful, brackish snap of furious noise; a rallying cry for those who have ever felt alone or lost in light of certain events in the entertainment industry. It points fingers and calls out all those with their “perverted breach” and talks of their “sick deceit” and is capped off with the huge “I know you’ll try to fuck the world/But you will not fuck me” scream from vocalist/guitarist Michelle Hutt. Powerful, emotional, burning rage spat with such passion and such vitriol and one of the best album openers I’ve heard in a long while.

Addiction and loss pepper the buzz-saw raw rock of Sludgefucker (excellent song title alert) as talk of twitching eyes, misunderstood anger and referencing moments of pure bliss (but being unsure why) are punched into your ears, whilst the dual guitars scrape and contort through a muddy slide of clawing turmoil. It’s also excellent and a brilliantly constructed rapid-fire piece of fiery riot-punk. This is met with the sledgehammer drums and booming riffs of Pandemic, which belch and hack a hoarse rasp of detuned, Torche-lite noise, held together with shuddering and bruising intent. Absolute credit to the guitars on this track, which chime with trepidation and stalwart misery and expand The Royal They’s discordant and blemish-erupting sound even wider.

The pedal isn’t always slammed firmly to the floor though – there are moments of reflection, especially on the cool-sounding indie-jam of Veritas, which builds into a crunching hard rock number, with an ever-so Smashing Pumpkins-vibe to proceedings and showcases the delicate beauty of Michelle’s vocals as opposed to her earlier snarls of cutting rage. Needler follows a similar path, as though you’re being stalked by the taunt guitar lines, the “I want you to know…” vocal croons and the churning, discordant riffs which lurch, belch and batter the airwaves, only to suddenly revert back to that eerie, menacing tone. Don’t be fooled by the sing-song voice Michelle has on the scything Say Less – while it might all sound all rainbows and smiles in the delivery, the noisy, ramshackle Be Your Own Pet-riffs and teeth-rattling percussion are devilishly corrupting.

It’s when we reach the end of the album everything starts to crackle with three chords and permanent joy. I cannot get out of my head how much Weekender sounds like a 90’s TV show theme. There’s something so “sunshine happy good times!” about the melody on this. “Yeah, I’m where I wanna be right now/Yeah, there’s nothing else to figure out” states Michelle, her lyrics bouncing brilliantly on this pogo-tastic pop-rock banger of an album closer, which absolutely shreds with infectious and confident zest and ultimate enthusiasm – superb.

More people need to hear this band. The frothing rage and high-five fun times in The Royal They is utterly captivating right from the word go. Foreign Being is a jagged, snarling, heckling, vitriolic blast of cathartic, boiling and positive punk. Join their racket now, you need this in your life and your ears.

Grab a slice of Foreign Being by The Royal They from King Pizza Records here or download directly from their bandcamp. Treat yourself.

 

Top tracks: Sludgefucker, Needler, Gullethead, Weekender

Links

The Royal They
King Pizza Records

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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Booji Boys – Weekend Rocker


weekendrockerBand: Booji Boys
Album: Weekend Rocker
Label: Drunken Sailor Records
Release date: 25 December 2017
Sounds like: Wasps in a dustbin covering early Black Flag by way of METZ. 

I want to count this as 2018 release really. Good of Jesus to have his birthday on the same day Booji Boys dropped a new album, eh? Top lad that JC fella, wonder what happened to him in the end? So, what do you need to know about Weekend Rocker then by these Halifax lads? It’s brief, I mean – at 12 tracks and 27 minutes (one of those tracks being over 7 minutes long) you barely have time to gulp a mouthful of air as another song launches itself at you. Taking their name from a character created by the mighty Devo, Booji Boys construct music that sounds like guitars being smashed through concrete walls, a whirling spin-cycle of flailing limbs and several people throwing up inside an amp, drenched in stale beer.

Good luck to anyone who can make out any words (save for the odd song title) spat by vocalist Alex. Lyrics are more gargled than sang, delivered in this breathless, inward-gasping rasp. They’re also fairly low in the mix, which is dominated by the scratching caterwaul of the twin guitars, courtesy of six-stringers, Cody and Drew who attack their instruments with savage and rending intent. Take the title track, the opening barrage to this slab of nuisance. The wailing screech of the guitars, the rabid bass-thumping build, which hammers away at a speed far too unsafe to be called healthy. Vocals sound as if they’ve been launched into a wind tunnel at high speed, slowly disintegrating apart due to the force in which they’re hurled.

This pace continues on the crackling energy of Pisscine Perfect, until we get to the scrappy indie-punk of Doin’ The Pyre, where some melody begins to take shape, especially on the upbeat sing-a-long chorus, which can be interpreted as shouting the songs title in a voice laced with sneering derision.

Weekend Rocker feels and sounds like a throwback to the late 70’s-early 80’s punk, with elements of mud-covered swamp rock thrown in…

There’s no time to take stock, as the next track, Sister, batters past with scuzzy, bouncing punk fury – a thundering blast of turbulence, driven by those razor-sharp guitar riffs, which at times, attempt to clean themselves from the mire of feedback, before launching back into the fetid grime. This is the kind of track the mosh pit salivates for and it’s all too welcoming to dive right in. Songs like the slight-Creedence sounding (melody only) Crowes Kitchen throw the odd curveball to Booji Boys and their racket; moving away from the onslaught, this adopts an almost psychedelic/stoner-vibe, as the guitars devour everything in his enoromous chomping wash of reverb and see-sawing percussion.

I! Have got not satisfaction/I! Only listen to the hits!“* Screams Alex on Satisfaction, an 85 second vein-bursting attack on the senses, bringing to mind the raw fury of Land Speed Record Husker Du. There’s a surprising amount of comprehension on the garage-rock of Locked Up In The City, (from the scrappy NOFX-opening guitar wail) which is a relief after the continuous pounding that Weekend Rocker delivers and I’m A Ripper Too couldn’t be more aptly named – a tearing, serrated, teeth-baring growl of ugly rock ‘n roll. By the time Oh Yeah rolls round, a distortion-drenched pile-driver of frantic cymbal-fills, twiddling guitars, panicked vocal rants and wails, it feels strange that this journey through the world of the Booji Boys has come to an end. At over 7 minutes though, they make the most of it – stringing out what can only be a set closer; burying the listener in a heavy build of noxious feedback and teasing, frustrated noise.

Weekend Rocker feels and sounds like a throwback to the late 70’s-early 80’s punk, with elements of mud-covered swamp rock thrown in, as well as a modern take and destruction of the current state of hardcore. What I’m trying to say is, it’s excellent and you need it.

Stream/smash shit up to Weekend Rocker by Booji Boys below. It’s free as well, or pay what you want. You can order this bastard on vinyl as well.

 

Top tracks: Sister, Satisfaction, Locked Up In The City, I’m A Ripper Too

*Disclaimer – I THINK this is what he’s saying?

Links

Booji Boys Bandcamp
Drunken Sailor Records

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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Booji Boys – Weekend Rocker


Band: Booji Boys
Album: Weekend Rocker
Label: Drunken Sailor Records
Release date: 25 December 2017
Sounds like: Wasps in a dustbin covering early Black Flag by way of METZ. 

I want to count this as 2018 release really. Good of Jesus to have his birthday on the same day Booji Boys dropped a new album, eh? Top lad that JC fella, wonder what happened to him in the end? So, what do you need to know about Weekend Rocker then by these Halifax lads? It’s brief, I mean – at 12 tracks and 27 minutes (one of those tracks being over 7 minutes long) you barely have time to gulp a mouthful of air as another song launches itself at you. Taking their name from a character created by the mighty Devo, Booji Boys construct music that sounds like guitars being smashed through concrete walls, a whirling spin-cycle of flailing limbs and several people throwing up inside an amp, drenched in stale beer.

Good luck to anyone who can make out any words (save for the odd song title) spat by vocalist Alex. Lyrics are more gargled than sang, delivered in this breathless, inward-gasping rasp. They’re also fairly low in the mix, which is dominated by the scratching caterwaul of the twin guitars, courtesy of six-stringers, Cody and Drew who attack their instruments with savage and rending intent. Take the title track, the opening barrage to this slab of nuisance. The wailing screech of the guitars, the rabid bass-thumping build, which hammers away at a speed far too unsafe to be called healthy. Vocals sound as if they’ve been launched into a wind tunnel at high speed, slowly disintegrating apart due to the force in which they’re hurled.

This pace continues on the crackling energy of Pisscine Perfect, until we get to the scrappy indie-punk of Doin’ The Pyre, where some melody begins to take shape, especially on the upbeat sing-a-long chorus, which can be interpreted as shouting the songs title in a voice laced with sneering derision.

Weekend Rocker feels and sounds like a throwback to the late 70’s-early 80’s punk, with elements of mud-covered swamp rock thrown in…

There’s no time to take stock, as the next track, Sister, batters past with scuzzy, bouncing punk fury – a thundering blast of turbulence, driven by those razor-sharp guitar riffs, which at times, attempt to clean themselves from the mire of feedback, before launching back into the fetid grime. This is the kind of track the mosh pit salivates for and it’s all too welcoming to dive right in. Songs like the slight-Creedence sounding (melody only) Crowes Kitchen throw the odd curveball to Booji Boys and their racket; moving away from the onslaught, this adopts an almost psychedelic/stoner-vibe, as the guitars devour everything in his enoromous chomping wash of reverb and see-sawing percussion.

I! Have got not satisfaction/I! Only listen to the hits!“* Screams Alex on Satisfaction, an 85 second vein-bursting attack on the senses, bringing to mind the raw fury of Land Speed Record Husker Du. There’s a surprising amount of comprehension on the garage-rock of Locked Up In The City, (from the scrappy NOFX-opening guitar wail) which is a relief after the continuous pounding that Weekend Rocker delivers and I’m A Ripper Too couldn’t be more aptly named – a tearing, serrated, teeth-baring growl of ugly rock ‘n roll. By the time Oh Yeah rolls round, a distortion-drenched pile-driver of frantic cymbal-fills, twiddling guitars, panicked vocal rants and wails, it feels strange that this journey through the world of the Booji Boys has come to an end. At over 7 minutes though, they make the most of it – stringing out what can only be a set closer; burying the listener in a heavy build of noxious feedback and teasing, frustrated noise.

Weekend Rocker feels and sounds like a throwback to the late 70’s-early 80’s punk, with elements of mud-covered swamp rock thrown in, as well as a modern take and destruction of the current state of hardcore. What I’m trying to say is, it’s excellent and you need it.

Stream/smash shit up to Weekend Rocker by Booji Boys below. It’s free as well, or pay what you want. You can order this bastard on vinyl as well.

 

Top tracks: Sister, Satisfaction, Locked Up In The City, I’m A Ripper Too

*Disclaimer – I THINK this is what he’s saying?

Links

Booji Boys Bandcamp
Drunken Sailor Records

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

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Happy Accidents – Everything But The Here and Now


Band: Happy Accidents
Album: Everything But The Here and Now
Label: Alcopop!
Release date: 16 February
Sounds like: indie-dream-punk-sunshine

The joyful and raucous noise of Happy Accidents is the kind of adrenaline shot we all need at the moment in these testing times. Hailing from the big smoke, this London trio comprised of Rich (guitar & vocals), Neil (bass) and Phoebe (drums & vocals) have crafted an album that will pique the interest of those involved in the dizzying fracture of the DIY punk rock scene.

The double A-side single, Wait It Out and A Better Plan both have “absolute stone-cold bangers” scrawled all over them in jagged, splattered spray paint. The former, a punchy uppercut of hook-drenched, dual-vocal punk rock, drips with wistful charm and crunching, rolling riffs. Meanwhile, the latter, in the form of A Better Plan, is a scuzzy, indie-rock number that has traces of the huge, fuzzing choruses of The Thermals (circa The Body, The Blood, The Machine, so you know it’s fucking great) and it’s a fist-pump of elated, fizzling, comforting energy, coupled with co-vocalist Phoebe’s soothing, dream-like vocal delivery. Bloody hell, this makes me want to stick on Returning To The Fold right now.

Is it possible to fall in love with a chorus? Yeah I reckon so. Take Act Naturally, a song that ends far too quickly just as it gets going (that means you slam it on again, right?) As the vocals slowly build and overlap in the song’s growing and evolving final chorus, you kind of wish it would go on longer, the teases. The weaving vocal interplay between guitarist Rich and drummer Phoebe complement each other superbly, whilst Neil’s steadfast bass keeps this upbeat and pulsating blast of Johnny Foreigner-esque pop-rock rumbling forward. This kind of brilliant vocal-back-and-forth is present on the bouncing-pop of the smiling Free Time, which grows into this blazing wall of sound, before abruptly cutting off before the feedback begins to shred the airwaves to bits. Happy Accidents know the score, there’s no messing around here – Everything But The Here And Now channels a direct, no-bullshit rush of tunes that never outstay their welcome and warm the heart.

Unwind is the best post-Weezer-turning-shit-song that Weezer never fucking wrote. It’s completely sublime, huge, fuzzy guitars, gorgeous backing vocal crooning, rumbling drum patterns and that slow-burn hum of completely lightness and elation of a warm summer’s day. Crack open a beer and drain it dry, this is the kind of fist-in-the-air anthem of slacker-rock that deserves your undivided attention immediately.

The soft melody of the atmospheric Text Me When Your Home exudes the dream-pop vibe of this three piece perfectly, from the noisy burst of maudlin guitars and crashing drums to Pheobe’s lead vocals talking of “walking home with headphones blaring…” it ends with another heady blast of distorted noise, book-ending the almost spoken word tale within. Even the guitars on the wistful Maybe Tomorrow sound nostalgic – how is that even possible? The wanting to stay together, the looking back at a friendship, it feels so equally melancholic but bursts with ardent love.

Constructing something with as much heart as the songs on Everything But The Here and Now is no easy task. Happy Accidents have crafted a delightful collection of positive and life-affirming songs that shimmer and equally, roar with gusto and crackle with life – superb.

Stream/download Everything But The Here and Now by Happy Accidents below or order from Alcopop! Records.

 

Top tracks: Act Naturally, A Better Plan, Text Me When Your Home

Links

Happy Accidents
Alcopop!

Lizard Hips

Lizard Hips

Junior Vice President of Keep It Fast. In other news: I work in social media, talk about dinosaurs, run a book club and have amazing facial hair. I am also a male man who is still not dead.

More PostsWebsite

Follow Me:
TwitterYouTube





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