Event - Download Festival (Sunday)
Bands - 3 Inches Of Blood, Saxon, Cinderella, Slash, Billy Idol, Airbourne, Stone Temple Pilots, Aerosmith
Weather – Scorchio! Followed by Max 10 Rainfall
Beer – Finally found some ale (Hobgoblin) but too little too late.
Mood: Soaked to the skin.

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Sunday morning…the sun is blazing down and yet another warm lager and apple is consumed whilst reading Viz seems like an acceptable start to the day.  It has worked the last few mornings, so why break what has been a good routine so far. By now the weariness has set in and my lack of sleep the previous night after some truly epic snoring from the tent across from me, the kareoke in the hat tent and the chuffers who will be first up against the wall, what with their incessant cries of “BUTTSCRATCHER!” Jog on, numpties.

It’s to the second stage for Canada’s 3 Inches of Blood [7] who are as hilarious and over-the-top as expected. Vocalist Cam Pipes channels Rob Halford’s ear-piercing shriek perfectly, whilst the band whips out razor-sharp lashings of concise battle metal. Notable highlights included a rousing rendition of ‘Sword Master’ and a barbaric blast through of ‘Deadly Sinners.’ Not bad for a bunch of Warhammer-obsessed fanatics.

Saxon [6] play a tight set of focussed granddad metal that does nothing for me, however the singer’s remarkable likeness to Peter Stringfellow (long, flowing white hair, the shuffled movements akin to someone’s dad, drunk at a disco) raises a smile. They play through their entire 1980’s ‘classic’ ‘Wheels of Steel’ and chuck in a few extra tracks, which I think helped contribute to the time changes/band clashes that RATT’s absence left.

Cinderella [2] are completely dire and falling asleep takes precedent over standing through the rest of their woeful set. Finally, Slash [10] makes himself known and Sunday’s Download gets a firm kick up the backside/guitar smashed around the face. Joined by Alter Bridge vocalist Myles Kennedy, Slash puts on one of the performances of the festival. The hour long set is packed full of covers, notably 4 Guns ‘N Roses songs, not to mention a version of Velvet Revolver’s ‘Slither’, expertly sang by Kennedy, who’s voice is nothing short of incredible. Take note Scott Weiland, this is how a frontman should be. The enthusiasm of Kennedy, who seems a little taken aback at times at the warm reception he receives, not to mention Slash’s dry humour and note perfect playing is how every band should be on a Sunday afternoon. ‘Night Train’ and ‘Sweet Child Of Mine’ are note perfect, (particularly the latter, which causes the biggest sing-along of the whole weekend) with Kennedy’s incredible singing voice streets ahead of the drawling stutter of Axel Rose. Lemmy joins Slash for ‘Doctor Alibi’; instantly transforming the song into a more guttural version of Motorhead. As the opening bars of ‘Paradise City’ ring out, the second biggest sing-along of the weekend kicks into gear, there’s no denying that Slash is truly exceptional – both as a musician and as an act. Could have (and perhaps should have) headlined playing nothing but G ‘N R covers. Superb.

Billy Idol [9] brings three R’s to Sunday afternoon = rock, roll and rain. It doesn’t just spit – oh no…it absolutely chucks it down. Idol is however in good spirits and doesn’t let the rain dampen his performance. He throws himself into it with feverish gusto and complete disregard for his own safety. Halfway through the set and he’s climbing over soaking people in the pit, running around the death-trap of a stage, sliding into barriers, all the while swinging his microphone like some crude slingshot. As the PA system begins to crackle and pop, vocals are momentarily lost at times, which results in several mic changes and one amusing moment where Idol is seen testing ALL the mics on stage to find them nearly all completely knackered. All the hits are played though, which is what the audience wants. Opening with a rousing version of Generation X’s ‘Ready Steady Go’ and followed up by ‘Dancing With Myself’ Idol storms the main stage. My one gripe is the lack of material from ‘Devil’s Playground’, except for the single ‘Scream’, which despite its hilariously stupid lyrics, is a massive punk rock anthem and one of the set highlights. Idol strips down to his vest and then loses it all together during some sections, reminding me somewhat of a certain peroxide vampire. His cover of ‘LA Woman’ by The Doors is changed to ‘Donnington Woman’ to rapt applause whilst the acoustic first half of ‘White Wedding’ is chilling (although this could be because I was soaked to the skin). ‘Rebel Yell’ closes what has been set slightly marred by the heavens, but on the whole a terrific slice of snotty 80s new-wave punk rock attitude. Come back next time Billy, but leave the rain yeah?

Having returned from my tent after getting absolutely drenched (seriously, the walk back seemed to take hours), missing Steel Panther was a crushing blow. Here was a band we had been chanting the lyrics of all weekend and due to an act of god and my mate being soaked to the skin returning to base was the only option. Thankfully, though, Airbourne [10] made me forget missing singing along to ‘The Shocker’ by being absolutely freakin’ awesome. The rain actually made their set seem more gritty…more alive….maybe the fear of electrical shock from the shear volume of the wet stuff. Anyhow, Airbourne rock like absolute bastards, their sleazy, AC/DC meets Motorhead rock is fantastic. Vocalist Joel O’Keeffe screaming phrases such as “ARE YOU READY TO ROCK?” and “ROCK AND ROLL IS ALIVE PEOPLE! IT BEATS IN OUR HEARS! IN YOUR HEARTS!” like he’s been possessed by the spirit of Dio after downing too much whisky. The set highlight however features O’Keeffe scaling the side of the stage to play a guitar solo. In the rain. On top of the second stage. The man is frankly insane. How he doesn’t get electrocuted/fall to his death I will never know. When the sound guys finally cut him off, the assembled crowd who’ve had their hearts won by the 4-piece begin booing, and screaming “AIRBOURNE! AIRBOURNE! AIRBOURNE!” like they have been possessed by some enraged rock ‘n roll god. As O’Keeffe makes it back on to firmer ground, the atmosphere is incredible. By an act of stupendous bravery, this man has won the hearts and support of thousands. Excellent work from him and indeed the rest of Airbourne – true entertainers.

However, “true entertainer” are two words that obviously don’t fall into Scott Weiland’s vocabulary as the newly reformed Stone Temple Pilots [2] stagger through a set that even they look bored playing. Weiland is obviously off his face on whatever illegal substances he can shove up his backside and from what I see of their fairly lacklustre performance, features the old cokehead shouting his slurred vocals into a megaphone, distorting the sound and making him and the rest of their set seem even more tedious than it already is. Good work, you utter penis.

Aerosmith [7] are a paradox. They are good, but disappointing at the same time. Whilst explosions, bright lights, Steve Tyler’s sparkly suit and his trademark “yyyooooowwwwwlll” dominate the show there’s no real soul. It feels a bit empty to be honest. The rock is there – no doubting that, but maybe the result of the incredibly inclement weather and my sobriety it doesn’t have that edge. ‘Eat The Rich’ is suitably raucous however, as is ‘Livin’ On The Edge’, but there’s very little on offer to keep me interested. Being too much of a casual Aerosmith fan, their set doesn’t really appeal which is a great shame. Notable absences from the set include ‘Pink’ and ‘Rag Doll’ much to my chagrin of the latter and to my friend’s on the former. There’s also no ‘Crazy’, but instead we have to put up with a run through of a song that helped make a movie staring Bruce Willis almost unbearable to watch – ‘I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing’ in all it’s overblown, moist-eyed, sappy-rock glory. Thank god for the encore of ‘Dream On’, a stomping blast of ‘Walk This Way’ (sadly, no Run DMC in attendance) and ‘Toys In The Attic’ to round off what has been a strange set, that was possibly not suited to my taste, but seemed well received by the assembled masses.

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With the sound of Steve Tyler’s irrepressible howl still ringing in my ears, I make it back to camp to finish off the lager and sit outside on a chair listening to speed metal, contemplating on what has been a fantastic Download Festival and one I will look forward to repeating next year.

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By Ross Macdonald

Event – Download Festival (Saturday)
Bands featured – Rage Against The Machine, Deftones, Megadeth, Lamb of God, Five Finger Death Punch, Flyleaf, Hellyeah, Rolo Tomassi, Genitorturers, Rock Sugar.
Beer – It was a 3 tin walk just so you know.
Weather – Pleasant/baking hot
Mood – Yup

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Waking up feeling extremely groggy and after popping 2 Anadin and having my ritualistic morning breakfast of an apple and a can of Carlsberg, it was soon time to make tracks towards the main arena once again for another 9 hours of the finest hard rock and metal and my first proper full day of music at a Download Festival.
With the sun blazing down, I settled down on the grassy knoll (devoid of snipers) to watch Hellyeah’s [7] set. The combination of Mudvayne, ex-Damageplan members and some guy from Nothingface worked to create something that resembled a bunch of cowboys (from hell) playing southern metal. Nothing remotely wrong with this – it’s a solid set of the same song being thrust down your throat, but they swagger through it with a cocksure attitude. When vocalist Chad Gray introduces the band, it’s drummer Vinnie Paul who receives the biggest cheer and rightly so. They finish with a number entitled ‘Alcohaulin’ Ass’ which perfectly sums up the Hellyeah attitude and sound – a bunch of rowdy cattle rustlers who’ve listened to Clutch and Metallica’s ‘I Disappear’ far too much; a good set.

With the need for sausage and chips, not to mention an ice cream, a detour was made to the second stage to watch Rolo Tomassi [7] play. It’s pretty incredible to see the rise of this band – a bunch of kids who were at one point busting a gut on the toilet circuit and now playing to a strongly assembled crowd at one of the biggest metal festivals in the world. Eva Spence is on form as usual – switching from death growls that sound like a cat being sandpapered, to a shrill croon. Meanwhile, her brother James channels the energy and vocal technique of both Johnny Whitney and Jordan Blillie, throwing himself into the crowd whenever he doesn’t need to man the giant keyboard setup that he spends a good deal of time mashing into oblivion. In any case, their jazz-metal chaos is well received by most, some laughing at the incredibly twee nature of Eva and her in-between song-banter. Good set, sound levels so much better on the second stage than the main, which is a slight concern, especially if you’re Flyleaf [4] who seem to bear the considerable burden of having a deaf person controlling their audio output.

Whilst their white-dressed clad singer tries to make herself heard, she and the rest of the band are buried and I mean BURIED by the echoing bass booms and clanks throughout their entire set – truly fucking awful. Whilst the sound clears for Five Finger Death Punch [2] (thankfully someone unplugged Flyleaf’s bassist) they seem to be stuck in 2001. It’s as if Marty and the Doc went back 9 years, stumbled on this band and brought them back to the present day for no reason what-so-ever. What FFDP have is lowest common-denominator nu-metal. It’s ugly, chugging and embarrassing to witness – a bit like dating your mum. Why anyone would even consider this band worthy t-shirt material (the plethora of chuffers walking about sporting them was baffling) I have no idea. A bunch of Ill Nino copyists who perhaps looked at a picture of nu-metal and tried to emulate all its worst characteristics and sounds.
With much of my Download experience confined to the main and second stage, it was nice to have a change of scenery. Arriving for the last 5 minutes of Genitorturers [?] a band comprised of a police dominatrix and Nine Inch Nails b-sides, I eagerly awaited the arrival of Rock Sugar [9]. Their vocalist, Jess Harnell is every bit the entertainer – swaggering on stage to give a thumbs up, waving at the crowd dressed in a white suit, complete with cowboy hat, sunglasses and a smile that probably makes that Colgate ‘ding’. Those unfamiliar with Rock Sugar should know that they perform mash-ups of various 80s pop and rock songs. It is something that shouldn’t work – it should sound disjointed and clumsy, but in reality it’s an incredible experience. The roar from the crowd is surprisingly raucous; even the band look slightly stunned by the warm welcome (this is Rock Sugar’s first Download and first ever UK show). Harnell is the consummate professional showman – he gets the crowd warmed up with a series of chants, whoops and hollers, before kicking into their Journey/Metallica cut up, ‘Don’t Stop The Sandman.’ The sound of hundreds of metal fans singing a 80s soft rock ballad to one of the most well known metal tracks in history is an absolute joy. It’s not hard to see why Rock Sugar are so well loved; they’ve got the stage presence, the glam, the enthusiasm and cocksure attitude, not to mention this technique for constructing absurd cover-mash ups (Paula Abdul songs at Download anyone?). Harnell treats the audience to some impressions; namely Axel Rose, Paul Stanley and Ozzy Osbourne which are met with a roar of approval. They close with a fantastic rendition of ‘We Will Kickstart Your Rhapsody’; a Queen-polka mixed with Motley Crue’s ‘Kickstart My Heart’ – a sprawling set closer to end all sets and provides one of, if not the biggest sing-along of the whole weekend. An incredible performance of charismatic, heart racing rock and roll. My one gripe is the length of the set – 5 songs just is not enough; the second stage beckons for 2011…

Attention turns to the main stage again and whilst on route to get food and liquid refreshment, I unfortunately witness some of Lamb of God [3], a band that define boring, chugga metal to it’s very core. No one remotely gives a shit what the next song is called, as their dreadlocked singer bounds about the stage, inexplicably swearing his head off. The lyrics and indeed the entire performance are buried under needless screaming, death growls and a sense of growing nausea and boredom. Less of this sort of thing please.

Megadeth [7.5] put on a strong show; their sound quality varies at times, particularly Dave Mustaine’s comical voice, which is tossed about like a juggler with Parkinson’s disease. Nevertheless, their thrash metal is tight, focussed and warmly received, with tracks such as ‘Headcrusher’ and the schizophrenic ‘Sweating Bullets’ (“hello me, it’s me again!” sings Dave) being a particular highlight. After a comical lyrical change made by some friends during ‘Symphony of Destruction’ (“just like Knight Rider…”) Mustaine and Co finish with a superb version of ‘Peace Sells’ and round off what has been a riff-filled, guitar-squeal of eccentric but punishing thrash metal. The band departs with a bow, thanking Download – ever the professionals for what has been another successful set of singing about systems failing and robot overlords.

Deftones [8] plough through their set with gusto and unrelenting rage. Vocalist Chino Moreno (who looks fitter and healthier since his time climbing over school desks) is a whirlwind of a sweat-stained check shirt and facial hair, bounding about the stage with such effortless enthusiasm. Opening tracks ‘Rocket Skates’ and ‘Diamond Eyes’ from the album of the same name are bone-crushingly heavy. The down-tuned grind of stand-in bassist Sergio Vega and drummer Abe Cunningham is punishing. During their 17 song set, Chino and Co. strive to cover ground on most of their releases. There is however notable absence of any material from their self-titled effort, which is somewhat of a surprise. The mid-section is made up predominantly of their work from ‘Diamond Eyes’, whilst the closing tag-team of ‘Root’ and ‘7 Words’ from their first record ‘Adrenaline’ go down a storm. Notable highlights include a passionate, spine-tingling version of ‘Change (In The House of Flies)’ and ‘Passenger’. There’s a great cheer as ‘My Own Summer (Shove It)’ kicks into gear as thousands of Matrix fans scream themselves hoarse, whilst ‘Be Quiet And Drive (Far Away)’ is a destructive wave of crunching alt-metal. A savage, raucous set, but where’s ‘Back To School’ guys? You missed a trick there, I was all set to do my Chino impression.

Finally then…it is the moment nearly everyone has been waiting for. Well, except if you’re a Jared Leto fan. Rage Against The Machine [10] arrive 30 minutes late (I’m guessing Zack de la Rocha was having a roast dinner perhaps?) kicking into ‘Testify.’ It’s as though someone has electrified the entire field – the amount of bouncing, small circle pit outbreaks and unhinged jubilation is staggering. This is followed by ‘Bombtrack’ and 2 attempts at ‘People of the Sun’ (the first one aborted due to someone getting crushed at the front; no doubt a waif-thin 14 year old). After this, it’s essentially a greatest hits run through – all the classics, from ‘Know Your Enemy’, complete with the rabble-rousing chant “ALL OF WHICH ARE AMERICAN DREAMS!”, to ‘Bulls On Parade’ and a surprise airing of ‘Township Rebellion.’ The cover of the Clash’s ‘White Riot’ is an unusual addition, which at first could be a tad dubious, but Rage pull it off with flair and a respectably snotty attitude, with Zack de la Rocha’s vocals suiting the ramshackle nature of the tune. Much like Chino Moreno before hand; de la Rocha is a whirlwind of endless enthusiasm; bounding around the stage like he’s trying to escape an angry lion, whilst guitarist Tom Morello pogo’s around with the energy of a thousand punk rock guitarists compacted into one man. His playing is an aboluslte joy to watch; if he’s not tapping various parts of his guitar in order to get the right sound he’s flaling it about his body, mashing the wammy bar, waving it at the speakers,  forming sounds using just the lead bashed against the palm of his hand, whilst shredding that brilliant, guttural booming sound.

The one-two punch of ‘Guerrilla Radio’ (Tony Hawk’s 2 fans rejoice!) and ‘Sleep Now In The Fire’ are suitably epic, whilst the rap-funk-rock of ‘Wake Up’ and the line “FIST IN THE AIR IN THE LAND OF HYPOCRISY!” is met with the desired raised fist and defiant chant. After the obligatory fake encore, the Rage boys return to run through ‘Freedom’ and finish with a song that was Christmas number 1 or something. The close is spectacular; de la Rocha didn’t even need to show up to be honest, as the backing vocals of the thousands of people singing themselves hoarse, air punching for all their worth, eclipse everything. For a song that was recorded and released 20 years back, ‘Killing In The Name’ still sounds as fresh and possibly more vital than ever before. A fantastic set, by the second best band of the entire festival – Rage take no prisoners and dare I say, pull possibly a bigger crowd than AC/DC the night before. Would have loved to have heard ‘Renegades of Funk’ though – that would have been Jam Sucka.

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Links

Rage Against The Machine
Deftones
Megadeth
Lamb Of God
Five Finger Death Punch
Flyleaf
Hellyeah
Rolo Tomassi
Rock Sugar

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By Ross Macdonald

Event – Download Festival (Friday)
Bands Featured – AC/DC, Them Crooked Vultures, Killswitch Engage, 36 Crazyfists, Unearth
Beer – Overpriced Tuborg
Weather – strangely warm
Mood – Euphoric

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After 2 days of gorging on barbecued meat, warm lager and winning several games of poker, not to mention a muddy stagger around the Village taking in the various delights that the Wednesday and Thursday of 2010’s Download Festival had to offer, it was a pleasant surprise suddenly realising “hey, we’re here to see some bands as well, excellent!” With Friday’s musical treats not starting until 3, it gave us enough time to drink as many tinnies as possible (alcohol wasn’t allowed in the arena, meaning over-priced Tuborg lager was the only drink really on offer and was also something I became so desensitized to by Sunday afternoon, it was like drinking fizzy cold water), set fire to some sausages and brave the 2 (bumped up to 3) beer-walk to the arena from orange camp. With the apparent ‘heavy showers’ being mysteriously absent and ‘partial sun’ being heavily upgraded to a ‘scorching heat’ things were looking up.

Sticking to the main stage for the Friday, Unearth [7] opened proceedings. Their metalcore assault is fired up and passionate, with crushing breakdowns and some truly fantastic drumming. The sound wavers occasionally, but vocalist Trevor Phipps bellows himself hoarse in order to be heard – a strong, punishing and suitably heavy start to the day. Unfortunately the sound quality books 20 minutes to shitty town during 36 Crazyfists [6.5] set, causing the bass to dominate everyone and everything within the radius of the main arena, drowning out vocalist Brock Lindow. His perseverance pays off and the monkey that was playing with the sound engineering is removed halfway through their set and the low-end throb is replaced by his impassioned roar and Steve Holt’s razor-sharp guitar. Singles ‘At The End of August’ and ‘Bloodwork’ are well received, as is ‘Slit Wrist Theory’; notably by the group of girls standing near me who enthusiastically scream the obviously and deliberately misheard cry of “LESBIANS! LESBIANS!” Howard Jones of Killswitch Engage (a man who seems to be a heartthrob among the metal-loving female population),  joins Lindow for ‘Elysium’; more on him in a moment.
With a quick relocation to the other side of the massive and badly placed sound stage and a top-up of ice-cold but stupidly expensive Tuborg, Killswitch Engage [10] enter the stage. The roar upon the arrival of Howard Jones for a second time is incendiary – even more so when guitarist Adam Dutkiewicz bounds into the fray; superman cape attached to his back, as well as massive sideburns and a maniacal look in his eyes. Their set is quite frankly astonishing – with the sound levels finally fixed to an audible hearing level; Jones’s powerful booming voice soars above everything, whilst the band ploughs through 45 odd minutes of some of the finest metal I’ve heard. Songs like ‘End Of The Heartache’ and ‘My Last Serenade’ are powerful juggernauts that bulldoze through the arena. Whilst Jones cuts an impressive stance as the frontman (he never stops smiling, his stage presence reminiscent of Matt Caughthran); Dutkiewicz is the star of the show.

The man doesn’t stop – he’s everywhere; roaring into microphones with his indignant guttural vocal technique, flailing his guitar like a whip, death-staring the audience, a volley of foul-mothered shouts to raise support from the ever-increasing crowd and generally acts like an escaped mental patient. Jones looks on throughout, his expression somewhere between embarrassment and pride, like he’s Dutkiewicz’s carer or supportive father. “This song goes out to all of you girlfriends’ vaginas. I wish I was headbutting them all!” roars Dutkiewicz just before ‘My Curse’ – the man can do no wrong. The biggest sing-along appears in the form of set closer ‘Holy Diver’ a song the band take in their stride and perform perfectly, especially Jones who’s vocal technique is something truly marvelous and a worthy tribute to the late Ronnie James Dio.

It’s difficult to imagine anything topping Killswitch’s set, but Them Crooked Vultures [10] come extremely close, and dare I say, equal the Massachusetts five-piece in terms of quality. Joined by additional guitarist Alain Johannes they treat the assembled throng to an incredible journey of blues-rock, intense, noisy jam sessions and mind-bending experimentation. ‘Scumbag Blues’ becomes a lengthy and possibly improvised piece of raucous jamming, whilst the heaviness of opener ‘Elephants’ stamps with a stoner-rock punk racket, courtesy of Mr Grohl’s concentrated drumming. Highlights also include Johannes performing a brilliant solo of squealing, angry blues whilst John Paul Jones (who receives a huge cheer when Homme introduces him) plays an instrument that resembles a guitar crossed with a spaceship on ‘Mind Eraser, No Chaser.’ Normally to me, lengthy guitar noodling comes across as quite snobbish and tedious, but in the case of Them Crooked Vultures it’s a demonstration in pure, raw, bare-bones talent. It’s difficult to describe the intense wave of euphoria I felt during their set and thinking back to it now, I wish that I could feel like that all the time.

Attention shifts from the main stage to the AC/DC [11] construct on the left. Decked out in Angus Young school boy caps, complete with devil horns; a runway and the feeling that something majestic is about to happen. They don’t disappoint. Opening with an explosion and the emergence of a derailed locomotive prop (with the band obviously break into ‘Rock N’ Roll Train’) the next 2 hours are more than just a band standing playing their instruments – it’s one of, if not the most incredible sets I’ve seen a band play in 10 years of gigging. Angus Young is the star of the show – for a man well into his 50s, his enthusiasm and stamina whilst performing is incredible. If he’s not doing the Chuck Berry duck walk, he’s climbing various parts of the stage, bombing it down the runway, or spinning round on the floor in some weird spasm, ala an excited Homer Simpson.
Both the Bon Scott and current Brian Johnson-era are covered extensively. Set highlights include an extended version of ‘The Jack’ which causes a lot of the girls up on their boyfriend’s shoulders to reveal their ample delights contained beneath their shirts. This then leads nicely into ‘Hells Bells’ and of course, the compulsory bell prop rung by Johnson himself. ‘Whole Lotta Rosie’ goes down an absolute storm, complete with a giant inflatable Rosie straddling the wrecked Rock N’ Roll Train. Closer before the obligatory encore is an incendiary performance of ‘Let There Be Rock’, which hammers out faster, heavier and louder than I could possibly imagine. The one-two punch of ‘Highway To Hell’ and ‘For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)’ threatens to drown out Johnson, such is the response from the crowd and the passion and vitality AC/DC create with these two tracks and indeed, the contents of the entire set. It leaves you with that tingling feeling; much like Them Crooked Vultures beforehand, AC/DC’s high-voltage rock n’ roll is an explosive, unstoppable force of power. A flawless set, comprised of a terrific selection of songs that even if you were a newbie to the Scottish/Australian 5 piece, you’d find yourself singing under your breath for the rest of the weekend. There’s no doubt in my mind that AC/DC are the best live band I have ever seen; an incredible, electrifying experience.

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Links

Download Festival
AC/DC
Them Crooked Vultures
Killswitch Engage
36 Crazyfists
Unearth

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Words: Ross Macdonald
Badly taken photo: Ross Macdonald

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

Bomb the music Industry – Planning My Death

When I started this track I wondered if the player had malfunctioned; it reminded me of the olden days when you could play a 33rpm vinyl at 48rpm.  This manic sound made me think they were a comedy band. It seemed that they did have some instrumentalist who could actually play. The vocalist’s voice sounded as rough as a bears arse, as he screamed into the poor defenseless mike.  I can imagine a sweat filled stage with half naked performers playing and screaming into the microphone, while a room full of sweating bodies gyrates at a manic pace. I would clearly wish to be somewhere else. With luck I will not find this in my Christmas stocking.

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I Made This Mistake – Billboards

The name of this group is what I did when I started this number. I thought I might actually like it, alas this was not to be so. Nice opening instrumentals were spoiled by the nonsensical vocalist words that made me think the player had jumped a track.  I attempted to understand the lyrics, sadly I failed, the pace and mood of the number seemed mystifying as to what it was trying to be. Listening to this was a bit like banging your head against a brick wall; nice when you stop.

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Los Campesinos! – There are Listed Buildings

I quite liked the tune – I also felt I would like the number but as it progressed I felt no, it would not be going onto my Christmas list to Santa.  The vocalist spoke the words rather than singing them and it seemed to be a race with the backing as to who could drown the other first.  I would have liked it to have been the group then they could get some meaningful lyrics instead of the chant I listened to. The tune was OK not happy about the overall sound.

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The Album Leaf – Falling from the Sun

A nice gentle number make nice background music for the car. The singers are in harmony with the group – a good number to finish off, at the end of the evening so that sweaty bodies can glue themselves together with the promise of more fun later.  I did like this one better than any of the others, I would not buy it, but I would listen to someone else’s copy.

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Errors – Bridge Or Cloud

This instrumental number took almost 2 minutes to finish the intro. I kept waiting for it to start. At over 5 minutes this number is 5 minutes too long. It reminded me of a background to a very poor film, slightly one step up from lift music.  You can imagine when this one starts everyone rushes to the bar as they have 5 minutes to get the beers in.

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The Besnard Lakes – Albatross

Another pleasant number this. The singer seems to be able to really sing and not shout and scream into the mic.  The instrumentalists could actually play their instruments without drowning the singer, and in fact complementing her. The tune was a bit monotonous but I quite liked it.  I would not buy it, but I would listen to more of their music to see if they were a one trick pony.

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Links

Bomb The Music Industry released (or made available if you’d prefer!) their most recent album through Quote Unquote Records. All tracks are available to download for free from their label’s website.

I Made This Mistake’s most recent album ‘Bow and Quiver‘ is available from Bermuda Mohawk Productions. Great album cover alert btw.

Los Campesinos! released their 3rd album ‘Romance Is Boring‘ near the end of January and can be bought from the Wichita site here.

‘A Chorus of Storytellers‘ by The Album Leaf is available from Sub Pop now, plus several free Mp3s if you want to try before you buy.

Errors recently released their second album ‘Come Down With Me‘ through Rock Action.

The Besnard Lakes third album, ‘The Besnard Lakes Are The Roaring Night‘ was released on the 10th March through Jagjaguwar and the track ‘Albatross‘ was a free download on iTunes a few weeks back.

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By Mad Mac

We are still alive. My time has mostly been consumed by going to the pub and I’m starting to think I might have a problem – i.e. I don’t go to the pub often enough because it’s been pretty rad. Oh yeah, happy weekend everyone, here’s a post and a special photo. Remember: looking good is all that matters.

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High On Fire – Frost Hammer

High On Fire are totally ace. Dirty, filth-encrusted metal that combines the right moments of speed and thrash, with that twisted progressive edge and theatrical classic rock fury. Matt Pike’s chanting of the tracks title is a throaty roar of terror through the booming crash of Des Kensel’s beats and the rumble of Jeff Matz’s bass guitar. The convulsing, thrusting solo that shudders through in the tracks final minute absolutely slays.

Rob Zombie – Sick Bubblegum

I feel sorry for Rob Zombie. He wrote a killer song and then decided to copy that on nearly every album; dipping into more and more extreme horror themes as he went until reaching the point when singing about vomiting sweets was the best course of action. Saying that, this is possibly the best interpretation of said first track and sounds like an anthem that would be played to a motorbike gang as they chain-whip their way through some Hillbilly settlement.

The Unwinding Hours – There Are Worse Things Than Being Alone

The Unwinding Hours are made up of Craig B and Iain Cook, both ex-members of Scottish oddballs, Aereogramme. It’s a sparse, delicate effort, with Craig’s vocals dominating over the gentle pluck of the guitar. The fragility of his voice is truly beautiful – part drenched in angst, part hopeful of resolution. The build of scratched loops and crumpled programming melds into this voice, like a cacophonic drone engulfing a doomed siren – amazing stuff, words can’t do this justice – LISTEN.

Delain – April Rain

Nice keyboard intro that morphs into the discordant heavy barrage of abrasive guitars and Rammstein-style marching drums. In fact…until the un-German female vocals kicked in, this could have easily covered as a lost b-side for the Buck Dich boys. Think operatic metal in the same vein as that Within Temptation lot and Nightwish and you’re about right; but with that slight industrial edge – not overly original, but a terrific voice.

Hope Is Noise – Peace & Quiet

Obviously a somewhat ironic track title, as there is very little peace or indeed any quiet in this. The guitar tone is a scratching, caustic mess of warped, shrill squeals under the shout-sung vocal bark. This is dense and incredibly blunt rock music that bridges the gap between post-hardcore and a wall of feedback.

Crime In Stereo – Not Dead

Absolutely brilliant stuff right here. Crime In Stereo are a terrific amalgamation of barbed, spiky hardcore-meets-Brand New-style intensity. Some brilliant vocal interplay between the main singer and the backing vocalist over the serrated riffs and the slight Hot Snakes-meets-Hot Water Music punk rhetoric.

So Many Dynamos – New Bones

The best thing about this? The space invader/car alarm/someone mashing a kaos pad with their hand/trippy beats that litter this song, giving it that unconventional and off-kilter sound of someone fucking about in the studio and coming out with something that strangely works. Unfortunately when it’s not doing this, it reaches pedestrian-level indie-wetness with tedious vocals – turn the guitars up, lose the vocals then we’ll talk.

These Monsters – Call Me Dragon

This is a bit like entering a cave and disturbing something that should have stayed dormant. Whilst mostly instrumental; what vocals that do manage to fight there way through the spiralling twist of bleak prog-noise are jumbled cries of help, whilst the whine of the saxophone is the almighty roar of a beast that is frothing with malicious intent.

Story Of The Year – I’m Alive

They’re certainly keen – I mean, the eagerness bleeds through this so much, I’m in danger of being drowned in fresh-faced, soaring alt-rock. Unfortunately, the interchangeable nature of so many bands that sound like Story Of The Year means this doesn’t really do anything for me, except sounding like a track that would probably soundtrack a particularly poignant moment in One Tree Hill or something equally naff.

Person L – Goodness Gracious

This should probably come with some kind of health warning – you may injure yourself and others from all the vigorous dancing you’re about to engage in. A combination of stoner-ish, fuzzed out bass, a great emphasis on percussion, a rich infectious garage-rock drive of snotty aggression and the slightest element of funk this is one of the best tracks I’ve heard this year – outstanding work Person L.

Straight Lines – Versus The Allegiance

Holy shit is that a 12 year old girl singing? Hmm…it’s decent rock in the same vein as Fighting With Wire, but cleaner and tighter – brimming with youthful optimism and bounce, which certainly makes a change. Vocals could divide opinion however.

Mia Hope – (Filmed Like A) Modern Day

Oh man, what is it, ‘hilarious vocal month’ in the Rock Sound office or something? First we have the sound of one of the chipmunks covering a Foo Fighters song, now we have someone trying to do an impression of a crow squawking over double-bass pedal, rasping metalcore-meets-spazz rock. Actually, the tormented bird vocals work surprisingly well, obviously showing the influence of early-Poison The Well and seem to have ex-Eden Maine members as well – nice, worth investigating this raw, hardcore onslaught.

Fear Factory – Powershifter

Ah it’s nice to see things never change. With Fear Factory you’re always guaranteed the following  things – songs about machines taking over/rebellion against/of machines/destruction/construction of machine, ridiculously fast drumming and Burton C Bell’s slight-operatic-meets-Iron Maiden wail of fury at those damn self-reliant mechanoids. If they ever change, prepare for Armageddon.

Ihsahn – Lakes On Mars

This is some black metal dude who used to be in Emperor. Stabbing, punk-rock drumbeats litter this composition, that plum the dark recesses of scourged black metal, coupled with the soaring/hoarse vocal combo of dread. The guitar seems to wander at the halfway mark, leaving the drums and bass to continue down the same dark pathway of despair but holds it’s own as a competent piece of progressive metal.

In Vain – Captivating Solitude

The girl from the exorcist is coming through one speaker, whilst Marlon Brando rasps his way over well played, but dreary noise-metal through the other and ultimately melding together into some weird ritualistic chant, followed by suffocating keyboard whines. I don’t have a clue what’s going on, because frankly it’s pretty disturbing.

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Links

SEE ABOVE JACKASS

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By Ross Macdonald

I have followed The Blood Brothers since 2003 after hearing ‘Ambulance Vs Ambulance’ on a compilation, which made me have that ‘ohmygodi’vegotsomefuckingjaffacakesinmypocket’ realisation. I’d listened to a lot of hardcore punk/metalcore before, but nothing prepared me for this. The castrated vocal squeals, the raw guitar scratches, the nonsense lyrics  – not to mention the glockenspiel. It all seemed to fit together in a weird, dysfunctional way – and I was immediately hooked by their scattered intensity.

The Blood Brothers began in 1997, featuring vocalists Johnny Whitney and Jordan Blilie, drummer Mark Gajadhar, bassist Morgan Henderson and guitarist Devon Welch (who was soon replaced by Cody Votolato). They didn’t record their first album until 2000, having released a stream of 7” records (which were later compiled as the ‘Rumours Laid Waste’ Ep, which also features Welch on the cover). Their debut, ‘This Adultery Is Ripe’ was a raw, scrappy cluster of noise and epileptic shouting. Dual vocalists Whitney and Blilie were like two yappy little dogs, biting and snapping at each other in a blind fury. Two years later, the band returned to the studio to record concept album, ‘March On Electric Children’ a 9 song short story about the bleak lives of the characters Mr Electric Ocean and The Skin Army. This was the band’s first foray into utilising other instruments, aside from the standard guitar, bass and drum set up. Henderson’s use of korg synthesisers as well as a range of samples came into play, however, the terrifying highlight is the bizarre closing track that features only Whitney and Blilie sat at a piano. The pair alternates between mashing the keys, and screaming like unruly children to a rather Bugsy Malone-style, honky-tonk lead of flamboyant optimism. It’s a jarring, and disconcerting end to an album that took the template set by ‘This Adultery is Ripe’ and ripped into the notions of egotistical superficiality.

The band was soon snapped up by V2 Records and released ‘Burn, Piano Island, Burn’ in March 2003. With a bigger budget and nu-metal maestro Ross Robinson on board, it soon became their breakthrough record. Between ‘Burn…’ and ‘March….’ The Blood Brothers evolved significantly. For one thing, ‘Burn, Piano Island, Burn’ was twice as long as their previous release, clocking in at just under 48 minutes. Their style had changed considerably – the hardcore element still remained, but become tighter, reigning in more chance at experimentation and the extension of sounds. Songs like ‘God Bless You, Blood Thirsty Zeppelins!’ were cut into various scenes, shifting from alt-rock to fiery hardcore punk through razor-sharp time changes. ‘Every Breath Is A Bomb’ was the sound of a circus playing Black Flag songs via a Gay Pride Parade. ‘The Salesman, Denver Max’ spliced acoustic and stoner elements perfectly, whilst the slow burn of ‘The Shame’ and the chaotic noise-core thrash-fest of ‘Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon’ emphasised just how far the band had come in creating something totally mind bending. It was a triumph and is often regarded as their best work to date.

‘Crimes’ followed a year later and saw yet more change. Votolato’s shrieking guitar was toned down in places, whilst more macabre sounds were injected into the fold courtesy of Henderson and Whitney as well as more percussive elements alongside Gajadhar’s drumming. The album had a subtle political message, targeting both military policy and the Bush administration, with the closing two tracks ‘Celebrator’ and mostly ‘Devastator’ critiquing the US military campaigns in Iraq and Afghanistan. ‘Love Rhymes With A Hideous Carwreck’ became a massive hit and was on regular rotation on the hard rock music channels, more so than ‘Ambulance Vs Ambulance’, which came out a year before. After touring ‘Crimes’ Whitney and Gajadhar worked on a new project called Neon Blonde; which mixed more electronica-based elements and dance-rock alongside the harsh punk of The Blood Brothers sound. They released the EP ‘Headlines’ in 2005 and followed it with their only album, ‘Chandelliers in the Savannah’. Blilie and Votolato joined with Nick Zinner of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Justin Pearson and Gabe Serbian of the Locust to form Head Wound City, a band described by Bilile as sounding like “The Alien and Predator’ starting a band instead of fighting each other.” The only recorded output is a 10 minute self-titled EP, which was also released in 2005.

After time apart with other projects, the band went back to the studio and recorded ‘Young Machetes’ their 5th and final album. The 15 tracker, would be their longest album to date. It was also a possible foreshadowing for their split; as it brought together all the various stylistic shifts the band had gone through since it’s inception. Songs like ‘Rat Rider’ and ‘Johnny Ripper’ harked back to the days of ‘This Adultery Is Ripe’ hardcore punk, whilst ‘Laser Life’ gave a nod towards the heavy use of keys and samples as heard on ‘Crimes’ and ‘Set Fire To The Face On Fire’ and ‘Vital Beach’ had elements of the band around the ‘Burn….’ sessions. Of course, their current sound was also in play: tracks such as ‘1,2,3,4 Guitars’ blended a sombre Radiohead-ish vibe of despondence with their caustic hardcore, whilst ‘Street Wars/Exotic Foxholes’ mixed ambient trance elements with a new-wave pop edge and ‘Giant Swan’ fixated on the celebration of large birds under a staccato rush of noise.

After two UK tours at the beginning and middle of 2007, the band was put to rest through a collective decision. Blilie stated later that the split was also down to “not being able to find a middle ground where everyone was happy” and generally just drifting apart.

What I admire about The Blood Brothers is their talent in creating such exciting music. Their shifts and alterations in sound over their 5 albums shows real progress in redefining their music and style. It was still heavy and discordant enough to engage those who liked the more raucous side, yet it had that dark pop edge and chaotic punk rock streak of scatter-brained insanity.

They basically destroyed what I knew about hardcore punk – they made all other bands in that spectrum of music sound pretty much irrelevant. Their music was harrowing – it stalked me. When I first got ‘Burn, Piano Island, Burn’ I found it such a difficult listen. I’d make it about halfway through and have to turn it off and just sit there thinking “shitting crikey.” I think if an album can make you do that, then it’s truly something special indeed. It was such a concentrated rush of unrelenting rage and wailing emotion, mixed with a dangerous fire of unhinged brilliance. I kept going back to it though, re-listening to certain songs over and over before moving on. It began to consume me. This was the only thing I’d listen to. I’ll always remember the look I received from my friend Tom who lived next door to me in halls who looked in during one of Whitney’s testicle-retracting screams – it basically said “you either lost your hearing ages ago” or “Ross seems to be listening to the soundtrack of someone having various vital organs removed through their nose.” – Possibly right on both accounts.

Their lyrics were largely nonsense, full of non-sequitur shouts and visions of warped depravity and at times, commentary on the current political climate, especially the material from ‘Crimes.’ A mythical place dubbed ‘Piano Island‘ was a regular lyrical feature; appearing in both their debut album and as a subject throughout most of ‘Burn….’ Due to the dual vocal attack, most of their songs were deranged conversations between Whitney and Blilie, trading lines with each other like two warring misanthropes and were for the most part, extremely unsettling once you deciphered their content.

It sounds cliché, but there will never be another band quite like them, (mostly because no-one in the world can imitate THAT voice) but they should feel proud to be one of the most experimental and influential bands associated with the post-hardcore community.

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Where are they now?

Johnny ‘sounds like a castrated choir boy being tortured’ Whitney and guitarist Cody Votolato joined with J Clark of Pretty Girls Make Graves to form Jaguar Love, a dance-punk/indie/weird beast – all camp screams and flamboyant mannerisms. Jaguar Love are now currently a two piece (Whitney and Votolato) and are set to release their second album, ‘Hologram Jams’ in March this year.

Mark Gajadhar, Morgan Henderson, Jordan Blilie and old guitarist Devon Welch have formed Past Lives, who’s debut album ‘Tapestry of Webs’ should be out soon. They released the EP ‘Strange Symmetry’ back in 2008.

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Video

Click on the player below to listen to ‘Cecilia and the Silhouette Saloon‘ taken from the ‘Jungles Rules‘ DVD.

Links

The Blood Brothers
Jaguar Love
Past Lives
Neon Blonde
Head Wound City

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Lightning Bolt
Album – Earthly Delights
Label – Load Records
Release date – last October
Sounds like – 2 guys called Brian playing bass and drums

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I would dearly love to get into the minds of the two Brians (Chippendale and Gibson) that make up Rhode Island’s Lightning Bolt just to see where the hell they get their ideas. I’d also be intrigued to know what the thought process (if any) led creating each particular track on ‘Earthy Delights’ and indeed, on their past efforts. Part of me feels that a lot of this is improvised – jam session material that the two have come up with whilst trying to write something, but because both musicians know each other so well, to them, it never feels like an extended work out; this is how they play – this is their sound. It’s like they share this hive mind link of knowing what comes next. For every distorted bass pluck, there’s a thundering drum pound; for every unintelligible vocal howl, there’s the sound of an engine revving through an amplifier.

‘Earthly Delights’ is one of those rare albums where the cover art exactly reflects my feelings of the music contained on the compact disc inside. I’d imagine that if this CD was fed to a specialised automotive drawing machine, within 10 seconds it would be a flailing mess of mechanical limbs; scribbling and carving abstract shapes, distorted butterflies, misshapen devil flowers, smothering it all in layers of psychedelic paint before combusting. I imagine though it’s a subtle tribute to Hieronymus Bosch, only with less naked torture and bird demons eating damned souls.
Opening track ‘Sound Guardians’ is a stodgy start – a militant drumbeat, keeping a steady pounding rhythm as the bass circles it, like some kind of banshee-like predator, howling a pulsating drone of terror. Then it leaps on the drums and starts tearing and shredding with all the subtly of an axe in the back and a kerb to the face. Bassist Gibson then shifts gear, ripping a howling distort of swirling fury through Chippendale’s drumming, which is quite frankly, astonishing. This isn’t just mindless noise; this has serious grooves. Grooves you could graft onto the side of the Statue of Liberty. The bass, whilst thick with this murky distortion, has that driving grind that makes the listener want to snap their body into all kinds of convoluted shapes and spasms.

The dense attack of ‘Nation Of Boar’ cements the sometimes tight, but always relentless that the Rhode Island two piece have. In these 6 minutes, Lightning Bolt shift from a claustrophobic metal stomp, to a spaced out trance of sonic destruction. Gibson’s bass shifts ever closer to white-noise territory, straddling lines between brain-haemorrhaging feedback and aural brilliance, whilst Chippendale’s staccato stop-start rhythmic pound on the drums keeps everything in check (if that’s even possible). ‘Colossus’ slows actions considerably, favouring a sluggish build of thick, textures and almost progressive structures. It purrs with stoner pretensions; keen to be recognised as something the dope-smoking community would perhaps be content to nod their head to whilst entering the realm of doobie central, whilst the vocals are lost within this miasmic haze of gluttonous bedlam.

Lightning Bolt have never been a tight band. There sound is characterised by their scrappy, other-worldly approach to song writing and construction. This couldn’t be exemplified more than in ‘The Sublime Freak’; a messy jaunt of fake telephone rings, before a sudden dive into the muddy waters of scathing fuzz. The drums clatter and bounce as though they’ve been constructed from old pots and pans; particularly the pounding bass drum; which reverberates with a tinny stomp of unyielding power. Chippendale barks down the customized microphone; his vocals lost with Gibson’s drawling bass as the two combine to create a high-pitched clamour of dread. ‘Flooded Chamber’ is a strange one, even for Lightning Bolt standards – the first 2 minutes are reminiscent of someone re-tuning an incredibly loud, broken radio, whilst trying to play the stylophone at the same time. It howls like a wounded animal, present even when Gibson’s bass and Chippendale’s drums cut in, possibly in some vain attempt to drown out this wall of impregnable noise. I’m unconvinced whether this can be classed as music; it’s more like the occupants of a mental asylum doing some free-form musical experimentation as part of their ‘group therapy work.’

‘Funny Farm’ is classic Lightning Bolt of old; metallic riffs that grind and roar, complete with a distorted playground-chant from Chippendale and yet more impenetrable percussion.
The drugged nature of ‘Rain On Lake I’m Swimming In’ blurs boundaries between scribbles of improvised key bashing, with an atmospheric drone of stoned bliss. For some explicable reason it makes me think of summertime and running on a beach in slow motion, whilst a helicopter crashes into the sea in the distance. ‘S.O.S’ splices Theremin-style siren-noises within the turbulent rhythmic destruction. Whilst the track title pleas for salvation, the music tells a different story – it’s a chaotic abomination of rusty, guttural riffs and slovenly drumbeats, with the ever present wail of Defcon-4 in the background – punk fucking rock and no mistake.
It ends with ‘Transmissionary’; a lengthy 12 minute opus that vomits and rasps filth in every direction. The bass sounds as if it’s being played using a high-powered drill, layered with barbaric feedback, whilst the drums are just a deep groove of unrelenting fury.

‘Earthly Delights’ is a raw, pulsating beast of an album – a product of two individuals who live and breathe a plethora of warped and twisted sounds and do not know the meaning of the words “could you quieten down please.”

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Links

Lightning Bolt
Laserbeast
Load Records Myspace

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By Ross Macdonald

You don’t know how hard it is to find a picture of an insect playing an instrument on google images. No, I don’t want a crude drawing of a grasshopper riding a motorbike, that’s exactly the opposite of what I wanted.

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You Me At Six – The Consequence

Skyscraper high hooks that could net Moby Dick and that fresh, earnest sounding desire to please; it’s a bit like dropkicking a puppy in the face by slagging off bands like You Me At Six (atrocious band name). Despite their wetness, they actually make some half-decent pop-punk, which straddles the line between jumping on the railway tracks, before scrambling over the side before the guard catches them.

We Are The Ocean – (I’ll Grab You By The) Neck Of The Woods

I’ve reviewed these guys before; they’re pretty decent actually, trying to tap into that hole left by Funeral For A Friend, by mixing their soft post-rock noodling alongside Poison The Well-style big riffs and weird, grungy vocal wails (which don’t really work that well) but I suppose make a change from the strained yowl of the lead singer who struggles to make himself heard sometimes. Anyway, solid track.

Day Of The Sirens – Juneifer

A promising start that’s obliterated by the try-hard American-wannabe vocals that seem to have been copied and pasted from about 60 billion other bands that sound exactly like this and THEN they have the audacity to do the big SCREAMY breakdown bit – oh fuck off, I’m totally fed up of this shit now.

Dommin – Dark Holiday

I like the keyboards – reminds me of some baroque rock opera song; can almost imagine the floppy-haired lead singer swinging himself from the rafters like a yodelling miscreant. It’s that morbid gothic sound – more Danzig/Alkaline Trio (when they were really miserable) with (for once) a unique vocal lead, a chilling backing drone, heavy percussion and a confident swagger. Keep an eye on these guys.

Emilie Autumn – Misery Loves Company

Glitch-beats, a smattering of strings, squelching synths, odd bit of pounding techno and grit-your-teeth keyboard shrieks, coupled with that quirky cabaret gloom and some clichéd lyrics = Emilie Autumn. A decent voice, alongside an amalgamation of sounds that shouldn’t really work, but are surprisingly pleasant. For fans of Amanda Palmer, still undecided; kind of wish she’d given the track a different name.

Tiger Please – Without Country

I feel some punctuation has fallen off Tiger Please’s name. Perhaps it should be Tiger? Please! Anyhow, despite the music being pretty standard, (think alt-rock, rising guitar scrawls, scattered percussion, very Hundred Reasons in delivery) the vocals punch through the mix with a degree of age and wisdom, despite the fact Tiger Please’s singer resembles someone who isn’t old enough to buy alcohol. A clawing attempt to capture the spirit of 2002, which I commend.

Survive Atlantica – We’re All Shipwrecked

Someone’s been listening to Brand New. Yes Survive Atlantica, I’m talking about you. In fact, it’s like you’ve stolen the thoughts from Jesse Lacey’s head and crafted them into your own work. Slower passages and a greater emphasis on that rising hum of reverb that’s destined to crash in alongside a painful scream. No original ideas here, although it’s perfectly listenable.

A Hero A Fake – Swallowed By The Sea

Three dudes in this band play guitar = well overkill. Technically impressive, all ‘I can swing my guitar round my head and plant the body into your face, shattering your nose, yet still blast out an awesome riff’; also approve of the lyrics (of what I can hear) “OH GOD I’M SINKING!” – even the clean parts give it potency by not sucking complete arse. Would be interesting to hear what their other material sounds like.

Alesana – To Be Scared By An Owl

Bwahahahahahahaha, fucking jog on you bunch of overcoats.

The Mantra ATSMM – Helder Pedro Moreia

This is a bit like listening to a remix of an old-post rock song backwards; the skipping, shudders at the beginning, the short passages of crashing glitch-noise. Then a new element is introduced – ghostly vocal cries bleed through the smog of conflicting sounds and spiralling beats, only for the reintroduction of some 65daysofstatic riffage to finally finish the listener off. Stunning.

BigElf – Superstar

Trying to recapture the sound of the 70s, BigElf and their beards of power are a step in the right direction. Catchy choruses, cheesy keyboards, psychedelic riffs, steady rhythmic rumble and a sound that brings to mind Slade, Queen, The Beatles and T-Rex, this makes a nice change from the legions of screaming mongs that I have to put up with. Theatrical cock-rock eccentricity done with style and grace.

Rising – Dead Kings

This is actually a lot better than some metal I’ve heard from Scandinavia. Instead of just a bunch of dudes screaming at each other over some sloppy clattering; Rising have decided to actually write a tune; their sound is grime – the bass seems to dominate most of the verses, rustic to the point of collapse, whilst the guitar rings out an ominous screech ever chorus break and the drums feel like a savage blow to the head from a club hammer.

Slomatics – It Won’t Make You Happy

Never had a band been more aptly named. Slomatics take an unhurried approach to their playing, content to sit back and loiter on each note, each distorted drum hit, and each slurred vocal. Christ, with this relaxed attitude, I’m surprised they’re not playing backwards. Stoner-rock gone beyond; flying somewhere in the face of a sluggish, lingering pause and the sound of the Melvins crushing some bass guitars under an industrial press.

Throwdown – The Scythe

Are there any original members left in Throwdown now? This is more of the same; drilling-into-the-earth drumming, the odd flourish on the guitar, but it’s mostly the same stop-start-mosh-break brutality; but vocalist Dave Peters is actually trying to sing now instead of his usual meathead shouting; focusing more on raising his voice above the relentless barrage. Sometimes it works, sometimes not – weird one this.

Annotations Of An Autopsy – Impale The Sun

If you’re a fan of the sounds of someone hacking up a nice phlegm ball and gargling it for about 4 minutes, then chances are you’ll like this you disgusting human being.

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Links

See above. COMING SOON:

Mad Mac – casting his eye at the new music for 2010!
Retrospective (open to suggestions)
Hopeful album review
Amazon Marketplace challenge
Mixtape
Attempting to play Beatles Rock Band after too many beers

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By Ross Macdonald