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Henry Blacker – The Making Of Junior Bonner


Band: Henry Blacker
Album: The Making of Junior Bonner
Label: Riot Season
Release date: 13 April 2018
Sounds like: melodic dirty sludge riffageddon.

Ever listened to a record that makes you feel like you need a thorough wash afterwards? The kind of album that makes you feel unclean even looking at it? Sitting in the corner, radiating an oozing, murky vileness that starts to dissolve and eat away at everything surrounding it? First thing that springs to mind is the ever happy downright fucking depressing stream of noxious bile of Harvey Milk, who rule hard, but also the grim and subtle decay of Henry Blacker, Riot Season’s hidden gem of a band.

Comprised of members of the bonkers Hey Colossus, Henry Blacker are the band you were warned about but dismissed due to naivety. Having witnessed them live, their unique and ferocious sludge-metal onslaught was downright excellent, uncomfortably raw and chaffing. Whilst the brilliantly named Hungry Dogs Will Eat Dirty Puddings and the sinister Summer Tombs are no doubt, excellent records in their arsenal, The Making Of Junior Bonner, is where they really step it into overdrive. First thing to note is the production – it’s downright gnarled, like a misshaped lump of old wood. If this record was anything else, it would be a mighty wizard staff, etched with deep arcane runes, glowing with power. Jon Hamilton’s mastering means you hear every filthy, dirt-flecked note emit from Tim Farthing’s guitar, whilst his brother Roo, hammers out a direct, bludgeoning attack and bassist Joe Thompson brings that fuzzing, ungodly hum to the lower end of the spectrum.

The Making Of Junior Bonner is an unpleasant, melancholic and ghoulish collection of sludge-rock excellence…

The opening attack on The Making Of Junior Bonner bursts into frame in the form of Cag Mag, a bruising and crunching roar of scathing power. The words inside are a foul tale of mutation and flesh sliding off the bone, delivered in a suitably grim and determined manner.  The incendiary Two Shapes follows fast and is the juxtaposition of slovenly heaviness with some of the most melodic hard rock you’ll hear all year. It’s deceptively brilliant, borderline between that scuzzing, raw scrape but has the kind of emotionally wrought chorus most Deep Elm bands would kill for. Lyrically, it touches upon the Greek myth of the Minotaur, referencing the shift and morph between bull and man, delivered expertly via Farthing’s hissing drawl.  Roman Nails has one of the best opening lines since a christian fitness album in the form of “Like finding love in jail, not easy…like crawling out of hell, not easy…” chilling and coated in toxic black humour – you can almost hear Farthing’s grim grin splitting through the airwaves. His shouts of “pounding…you blind” obviously have some mixed connotations and there’s a certain crucifixion element layered beneath the surface. The guitars are a teasing, spitting gargle of noise, whilst the thundering bass keeps everything just about on the rails.

Just the name, Dredger’s Thirst makes me want to take a shower. Hell, it brings on the constant feeling of a parched throat and general queasiness. The fact it lurches and bucks like a horse trying to navigate a tiny boat in a huge fucking storm doesn’t help matters along with screams of drinking foul and dirty water play right into Henry Blacker’s stained hands. That stony-faced determination resonates loudly on the raging Truckfighters-esque stomp of the depressing Shingles To The Floor, as talk of a noose around the neck and the words “I’m going to swing, oh from the attic beam…” all delivered in this deadpan and resolute tone backed by the scuzzing, reverberating hate and sorrow.

The fascinating and morbid tale that makes up Cellmate conjures up all sorts of thoughts and a sizable amount of fear. From the opening riff, which is coated in bad feelings, the sinister sound of prison bars being tapped and the line “last night I murdered my cellmate, strung him up with his sheet” there’s no light here, only ever-enclosing darkness. It’s also where Henry Blacker deliver their harshest vocals – Farthing dredges the polluted well, gargling some suitably throaty diatribes on this unsettling and harrowing tale of death and decay. These chewing and guttural rasps are brought to the front on the chorus of the scathing The New Evil, backed by some wonderful, yet muted keys and yet more of that driving, sludge-punk creak. It almost feels cocky, in that a slight Every Time I Die/southern rock element pushes at the sound, threatening to break through the silt and muddy fury.

Hidden beneath the fuzz of Keep It Out Of Your Heart exists the remnants of a pop song that’s been horribly corrupted by time and decay. Whilst the melody feels moderately upbeat, lyrically it swims in the realms of despondence and a dripping mire of frothing distaste. Final track, the hacking spittle of Little Lanes, rolls into view, a false-jaunty number that by all appearances could be confused as being upbeat, but it’s another nod to the Minotaur-myth, with talks of a labyrinth, snaking chambers and the sickening screams of cutting through to the other side.

The Making Of Junior Bonner is an unpleasant, melancholic and ghoulish collection of sludge-rock excellence – a stunning piece of work and one to keep an eye on during the end of year lists, because this should be rearing it’s ugly and nightmarish head around all corners.

Side note, I also love the artwork in the form of a drawing of Steve McQueen and Sam Peckinpah on the set of the film, Junior Bonner. Cracking stuff!

You can purchase Henry Blacker’s The Making Of Junior Bonner via Riot Season on CD-R, tape, vinyl or download. It’s dirty good.

Links

Henry Blacker
Riot Season

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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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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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.

More PostsWebsite

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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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Rötbrains – Nekro Punk Terör



Artist: Rötbrains

Title: Nekro Punk Terör

Release: 10″ vinyl / Tape / Digital 

Year: 2018

Label: Dead Generation Records (Tape), Profsny Records (Vinyl)

How many times have you been bloody chainsaw attacked by a bunch of wonky, Kawakami worshiping zombies? Not yet? I guess, you haven’t listened to a lot of Turkish d-beat and raw punk either.

Rötbrains hail from Istanbul’s enormous in its size and population district of Kadıköy with the gore intention of eating your brains and guts, but not until first destroying your eardrums with an extreme noise that we call punk.

Here we have a filthy dozen of songs that will easily give you a headache. All lyrics are in Turkish language, so that’s your chance to learn some new words. The songs are pummeling with misanthropy and necrotic punk terror from start to finish, so if you’re into bands like Anti Cimex, Tampere SS, and Disorder, but looking for an unexplored territories or foreign languages, you may like this band.

The record was released in a limited number of 50 cassette tapes by Dead Generation Records in Turkey and soon to be pressed on a 10″ vinyl of a hundred copies by Profsny Records. Thumbs up for Ozge, the guy of Profsny who lives in Czech Republic and puts out Turkish bands on vinyl! This is really awesome.



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Rötbrains – Nekro Punk Terör



Artist: Rötbrains

Title: Nekro Punk Terör

Release: 10″ vinyl / Tape / Digital 

Year: 2018

Label: Dead Generation Records, Profsny Records

How many times have you been bloody chainsaw attacked by a bunch of wonky, Kawakami worshiping zombies? Not yet? I guess, you haven’t listened to a lot of Turkish d-beat and raw punk either.

Rötbrains hail from Istanbul’s enormous in its size and population district of Kadıköy with the gore intention of eating your brains and guts, but not until first destroying your eardrums with an extreme noise that we call punk.

Here we have a filthy dozen of songs that will easily give you a headache. All lyrics are in Turkish language, so that’s your chance to learn some new words. The songs are pummeling with misanthropy and necrotic punk terror from start to finish, so if you’re into bands like Anti Cimex, Tampere SS, and Disorder, but looking for an unexplored territories or foreign languages, you may like this band.

The record was released in a limited number of 50 cassette tapes by Dead Generation Records in Turkey and soon to be pressed on a 10″ vinyl of a hundred copies by Dead Generation and Profsny Records. Thumbs up for Ozge, the guy of Profsny who lives in Czechia and puts out Turkish bands on vinyl! This is really awesome.



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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


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.

More PostsWebsite

Follow Me:
TwitterYouTube





Source link

Posted on

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.

More PostsWebsite

Follow Me:
TwitterYouTube

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