I’ve been busy, ok? It’s a hard life drinking beer in the sunshine whilst you watch your mates cook using lighter fluid gel and a great deal of hope. I’m not sure where this month has gone – seems to have been a great vacuum of space/time has absorbed the mid-part from the 8th-onwards. Oh well, back to reality.

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65DaysOfStatic – Crash Tactics

It’s hard to believe that this 65DaysOfStatic. The glitchy, screeching noises that dominate most of this, coupled with the techno-math rock drum patterns and grating guitar scratching have more in common with Adebisi Shank covering Next Life songs. Absurdly disjointed instrumental chaos that builds with a rising euphoria and heaves like a robot vomiting its circuit board over a drum machine – brilliant stuff.

Open Hand – So Far

Remember Open Hand? Think they’ve gone through another line up change. This is a decent fair – the grungy, bitter rock of ‘You And Me’ has been tightened considerably and Justin Isham has reigned in a more melodic, shoegaze-style wash of noise, content to soften his already warm, whispered vocals and give prominence to the soaring backing vocals which compliment the sound excellently.

Melissa Auf Der Maur – Out Of Our Minds

I quite liked ‘Follow The Waves’ and that other one she released. Not so keen on this though. She’s got a decent voice, but the music seems incredibly flat. The guitars have that really tinny, fake-crackled quality at the start and there seems to be no real body to it, just quite a dreary, listless tune that plods with very little style. Some nice “Aaaaaahhhaaaaaa!” wails though, which just about save it from being completely pedestrian rock fodder.

Hearts Under Fire – Liquid Luck

Hearts Under Fire aren’t sure what they want to be. Treading water between some quite formulaic pop-punk and the harder edge of melodic hard rock actually gives their music the right kind of bite that it so sorely needs. The vocals seem to ape Hayley Williams, which is a shame (lack of originality on their part) but it’s a good, strong singing voice all the same. Slightly scrappy drum and bass parts, which only add to the charm.

The Dangerous Summer – Where I Want To Be

Oh my god; stand by for the sort of earnest fist-clenching emo rock that you inevitably fall in love with and put in a playlist as you get horribly drunk on your own, screaming the over-wrought gurning vocalist’s words back at him from your position on the floor in a puddle of ice cold lager and your own tears.

Acid Tiger – The Claw

Fact, Acid Tiger are damn good. They start sounding like some precise math rock band, playing their music through a hardcore filter, which distorts the high-pitched, barbed vocal attack and squealing guitars leaving you with a sound reminiscent of Snapcase trying to be melodic and angry at the same time. The last minute or so, goes all Clutch – swaggering lead vocals, cocksure guitar strutting and a rhythm section that churns out sickeningly good groove after groove – ace!

Mutiny Within – Oblivion

*Looks at watch* Hmmm….nope sorry.

As I Lay Dying – Beyond Our Suffering

Nice guys, just got a few tweaks I’d like you to make – 1.) stop all the shouting, maybe some nice harmonies yeah? Bit of melody, so we can hear what you’re saying, because it sounds like you’re shouting into a flamethrower. 2.) Ditch the stupid metal guitars and pick up an acoustic and try playing some nice chords. 3.) Sack the drummer, far too noisy. What do you mean it’s not the same band? Fuck you.

Lafaro – Cold Dog Soup

Taking a big alcoholic sweat-stained leaf out of the Winnebago Deal book, Lafaro play fast and hard. Similar to Whitemare and Zeke, the vocals are spat with a disgusted, southern drawl, whilst the ramshackle country-punk rock bounces along, threatening to disintegrate through it’s rattling fury.

Grown Ups – Three Day Weekend

For fans of Algernon Cadwallader – the nasally, shout/sung vocals have much in common with these guys, whereas the music falls into the realm of bouncing, vigorous pop-rock and 90s emo, slotting into both genres superbly, with added tappy-flourishes and boisterous choruses. Brilliantly done, infectious rock music that seems to poach from a wide variety of sources and replicates them with a great degree of style and grace.

(Damn) This Desert Air – Ghost I Own

Sounds a bit like Cave In around ‘Antenna’ era. You know, when they were less riff-orientated and concentrated more on big choruses and that. The vocals are suitably impassioned and soaring. The music seems a little on the flat side, but is reasonably sturdy with the odd atmospheric flourish and pairs the quiet/loud dynamic of slow-build to huge chorus efficiently.

Caesars Rome – High On The Nines

Where have I heard their vocalist from? This is going to bug me. Caesars Rome sound big – it’s an enveloping wave of huge crushing guitars and stubborn drum beats, touching on the right sight of stalwart melodic rock, similar to that of Twin Atlantic but with the choruses that roar as opposed to a quiet, muted squeak.

Maycomb – Whatever Happened, Happened

Vocals are a bit wet. I hate playing the ‘if this had been released 10 years ago it would be huge’ card, but the fact is….naa, even back then this would be considered landfill pop-punk fodder. Sorry, but what happened to bands actually trying to sound like a punk band (say like Guttermouth) as opposed to those making something that’s started to rot the teeth out of my head? Balls.

Karma To Burn – Waiting On The Western World

Recognise the name – haven’t these guys been about for ages? Got that thick stoner-groove, wins it major plus points. Vocals have that hollow, yet rich wail, kind of makes me want to listen to Kyuss, which is never a bad thing.

Twilight – 8,000 Years

This is just one big cluster-fuck of shrieking fuzz and the sound of someone shouting himself hoarse into a vacuum cleaner. Something about Edward Cullen.

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Links

See above, the need for sleep is overwhelming.

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – I’ll Eat Your Face
Album – Irritant
Label – unsigned
Release date – out now (free download on bandcamp)
Sounds like – Pig Destroyer with Laryngitis

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Anyone thinking of starting a band shouldn’t for 2 reasons:

1.    There’s too many bands; they’re like crap z-list celebrity biographies – numerous, soulless and mostly pointless.
2.    No-one is ever going to create a name that rivals I’ll Eat Your Face, which is possibly the peak of when it comes to thinking of a hilarious and memorable moniker. The only thing close to this would be Howling Spastic Railway©, but that’s copyrighted to me so you can go to hell.

I’ll Eat Your Face are two dudes from Cork, Ireland with a sound that equates to an army of players rather than the minimalist membership they’ve opted for. It’s the kind of racket that straddles genres, not content to jump waste deep in any definitive lot, but rather adopt a pick-n-mix approach to their defining sound. The core however is built most definitely around grind. I’ll Eat Your Face are all about the bone-shattering assault of blast-beat drumming and sickeningly twisted riffs that either squeal with crazed delight or bottom-out with a gurgling roar.

‘Irritant’ is the band’s first ‘proper’ album – and surprisingly, it’s free! Well, free if you have an internet connection and the ability to load and save around 63MB of a zipfile. It’s brief – clocking in at just over 23 minutes, ‘Irritant’ decides that hanging around is for pussies; bludgeoning the listener to a mashed-up pulp of a bloody rat carcass drenched in piss is the safest bet. Opening track ‘Tony’s Coming To Massage Me’ starts with a crackling, lo-fi recording of a quite tuneful set of chords that are eradicated when the drums break through, punching the lead back into the six-string and cranking the volume to necessary threat levels of extreme noise. From here on it see-saws between grinding fury to a bouncing rock-stomp; switching sides when you least expect it. Totally fucking ridiculous, but disturbingly compelling. ‘I Have A Wolf For A Head’ touches upon Dillinger Escape Plan-style jazz-chords; the guitar hacks a ragged, chewed sound over the frankly outlandish but brilliant drumming style.
There are no vocals – which is somewhat of a blessing, as the sound of some fat bearded shower-dodger roaring over the top would severely distract from the music of Mr ‘The Boy’ Guitar and Mr ‘Barrytron’ Drums. Although I can’t help feel that having someone bellowing “EYES FULL OF SHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!!!!” on the very song itself, would raise a smile. But really though, this slays regardless – the scrambled rush as drumbeats fall over each other in an effort to keep up with the scything guitar sweeps completely owns the I’ll Eat Your Face sound. ‘Really Long Arms’ features a nice jazz-meets-trippy, ‘cover-your-ears-and-you’ll-miss-it’ mid-section, but is mostly dominated by such pummelling riffage and the kind of short passages of blasting hardcore that give nods towards Botch and the despondent snarl of Black Sheep Wall. The schizophrenic buzz that makes up ‘Pecks From Hell’ staggers between a grinding howl and sludge-covered scrape of harrowing drone; whilst ‘Internal Mind Disco’ is like being stuck on a waltzer with Napalm Death covering a Bolt Thrower track, minus Barney Greenway.

Don’t be fooled by ‘Loser: On’; whilst the wrong-footer opening of twee percussion and patterned bleeping if a brief pause from the chaos to allow you your breath back, I’ll Eat Your Face decide to deliver some of their heaviest, most barren material inside a minute and a half of twisted, furrowed noise that chugs with a stop-start urgency and a panicked rhythm. Likewise so does the Simpsons approved, gag-inducing ‘Rat Milk Moustache’ – a track that churns with squealing determination and menace.

Stand-out track is the excellent ‘Six Miles In’, the only piece to feature vocals; albeit unintelligible ramblings fed through a vocoder, alongside buried screams and that sense of uncertainty created by the disturbing ‘taunt’ of the guitar and drums, which seem almost mocking in their tone, pointing invisible fingers at the listener and berating them, like their target is a sibling of the girl who smelt of spam and by default, is ripe for derision.

‘Irritant’ is plain nasty – the drums batter you into submission; the caustic riffage dips between a blitzkrieg of pure grind, math-punk distortion, grime and stoner rock. I’ll Eat Your Face constantly keeping things interesting with their irregular time changes, witty song titles and a furious heaviness that in some cases, feels like you’ve entered a fight that you’re most definitely going to lose.

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I’ll Eat Your Face’s debut ‘Irritant’ can be downloaded from their bandcamp site for free here. Also, check out the split EP they released with Hands Up Who Wants To Die.

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Links

I’ll Eat Your MyFace
I’ll Eat Your Face Band Camp
I’ll Eat Your Big Cartel

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Jogging
Album – Minutes
Label – Richter Collective
Release date – 5th May
Sounds like – The sneering hatred projected by Ben Chaplin’s version of Matthew Malone fronting a Fugazi covers band.

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You’ve noticed the pattern here, right? Dublin-based Jogging are yet another healthy edition to the ever bulging roster of bands that belong to the Richter Collective family. Whilst much of the RC’s releases have recently focused on the graduating shifts and subtle crashing builds of experimental post-meets-dance rock and off-kilter electronic-indie noodling; Jogging have more in common with label mates BATS than anyone else.

Jogging sound frustrated and this is a good thing. Frustration as we all know is a sign of irritation and annoyance and coupled with the ability to play an instrument to a respectable standard is potentially the winning formula (to these tinnitus ravaged ears) when creating music that people will actually bother to take notice of, rather than dismiss as landfill. Jogging sound agitated – they sound like a fair amount of pent up aggression is bubbling to the surface and the best way to vent this is through their spiky brand of Future Of The Left-style disgust, coupled with a gnarly punk rock edge.

The thing about Jogging is, they fucking rock. ‘Minutes’ is the kind of breathless, exhausting rock album that most sane people will struggle to not air-punch along to. Jogging seem to draw from two direct sources – the first being Epitaph-style punk rock, back when the label had a fair amount of credibility and around the time the Punk-O-Rama compilations were of considerable high quality. The melody and determined drive is something that would sit quite nicely with the early work of bands such as Beatsteaks and Hot Water Music. The second falls in the Dischord territory, drawing on the likes of Fugazi, Minor Threat as well as the intensity of bands like Rites of Spring.

Opening track ‘Threadbare’ starts with a jaunty, enthused “Whoo!” that dives headfirst into a driving post-punk romp of jerking tempo changes and rasping vocals. It’s an exceptionally well-crafted tune; whilst the vocals tend to lean on the side of sneering, the lyrics remain uncharacteristically optimistic – “I raise my glass to my teeth!” (hey, it’s good to think of it has half-full right?) However, bubbling beneath the surface is that uncaring edge of discontented brackishness.
“Everybody’s laughing at your weakness….everybody’s laughing at your name” spits Jogging’s seemingly bitter vocalist, who doesn’t hide the snide feelings he has for the subject matter of ‘Not Simple’; a track that rattles along with the fevered stabbing rage of ‘Suicide Invoice’-era Hot Snakes. It’s clear that Jogging are attempting to drag feelings of animosity from the listener; not to the band, but perhaps to unresolved issues that person may have. ‘Fostered Foes’ is a maniacal rush of math-punk; all stumbling drum patterns and mangled chords falling over each other in some attempt to emulate the strident vitality of At The Drive-In; which it manages with style.

‘Shake Up Shakedown’ writhes like the staggered post-hardcore of These Arms Are Snakes, but by sounding even more severe and cutting in both vocal delivery and the barren guitar tone. The drums adopt a bouncing funk-punk edge complimenting the restless sound made by the bass and guitar excellently. The spitting snarl of ‘Bruises Like Bowties’ seems to channel the rage of early Dischord hardcore, mixed with a grinding bass heavy lead and guttural punk rock discrepancy. The delivery of the vocals “with the blood on my hands!” on ‘Cleft Chin, Good Heart’ is done with such despondent sincerity and primal wrath  it stirs up the kind of raw emotional pull that harks back to that early 90s late 80s emo, back before it became a dirty word. Two minutes of harrowing, dark punk rock that all 4 members of Fugazi would swear blindly was a lost album track.

‘Lifeline’ overflows with tapping, sporadic guitar tweaks, diving in and out of a frenzy of choppy discordance, before hitting a lumbering stride through a grinding bass-driven body of sound. The dual vocals (one high-pitched, raw and scratching, the other hoarse and weathered) on ‘Heartwood’ work brilliantly, whilst the persistent and dogged drive of the track’s unashamedly gruff nature gives a heavy nod towards the brash punk rock style of Dillinger Four. Surprisingly, ‘Curtains’ is a more light-hearted affair; falling into similar territory as ‘Plenty For All’ by Hot Snakes – anthemic, yet with subdued aggression and more focus on melody and even harmonies (particularly the vocals).

My conclusion? Well, Jogging STILL fucking rock, and if you haven’t got yourself to their bandcamp and parted ways with your euros/pounds yet I want to know why. This is the kind of gritty, no-nonsense punk meets post-hardcore rock that exemplifies just how vitriolic, passionate and energised music can be, a magnificent debut of aggression and aggravation.

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Links

Jogging Myspace
Jogging Band Camp
Richter Collective

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By Ross Macdonald