From mosh-core punk rock of last month, Rock Sound throw up some hook-laden pop + 3 chords and the truth just to mix things up a bit, or at least inject some sort of theme. Maybe it’s a subtle way of trying to make their readers think it’s summer still. Anyway, some top stuff this month, only a couple of duffers. The best offerings are in the form of Mastodon, who seem unstoppable, whilst New Found Glory, We Are The In Crowd, Transit and This Time Next Year all do a sterling effort with their pop-punk cheek.

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New Found Glory – Radiosurgery

How come Jordan Pundik of NFG still sounds so happy? Surely at over 30 he should be a misanthropic bastard, but no – he’s still singing like the world is made of kittens and rainbows. ‘Radiosurgery’ is just under 3 minutes of sugary, pop-punk bounce that wouldn’t sound out of place on their debut self-titled or ‘Sticks and Stones.’ There’s some nice scuzzy bass thrown in, choppy guitars and a great soaring chorus of “aaaaahhhsss” and if I’m not mistaken, a Less Than Jake style bounce to their anthemic sound.

Polar Bear Club – Screams In Caves

Polar Bear Club have been around for 6 years, but I’ve never heard of them, or possibly got them mixed up with some wet indie-side project with a similar name. This is anything but that – gruff vocals that instantly hook you, backed by a weird mix of heavy-Jimmy Eat World melodic emo and passionate post-hardcore rock. It’s honest and incredibly crisp-sounding in delivery and a credit to the genre.

Mastodon – Black Tongue

Apparently the new Mastodon album is called ‘The Hunter’ – quite apt really, considering ‘Black Tongue’ seems to be about the thrill of the chase. Although, they claim it’s not a concept album, this track gives obvious nods to the title. The roar of “you can run to the sea, you can run to the forest, you can hide but you’ll never escape!” Is a chilling warning from the lurching tusked-mammal that is the Atlanta four-piece. ‘Black Tongue’ gallops and rolls with deadly precision and a wailing drone of bludgeoning stoned-out metallic chaos and is easily one of the best tracks I’ve heard from these dudes.

Thrice – Yellow Belly

Thrice went weird ages ago didn’t they? I think their new stuff suits vocalist Dustin Kensrue much more – always felt he was straining a bit on the old chords sometimes when they were all screamy. Really like this; the heavier moments sound massive – the guitars soar and wail like And So I Watch You From Afar and it all goes a bit post-hardcore, with elements of raw-rhythmic noise provided by the over-prominent bass, which gives a slight grunge feel.

Staind – Eyes Wide Open

Hands up if you know anyone who still listens to/likes/acknowledges the existence of Staind in a non-ironic way? Aaron Lewis – why so angry bro? A confused mess of what 2001 sounded like, mixed with an incongruous guitar solo, Lewis shouting and mewling like a petulant child. No brainer-moshcore, nu-metal toilet trash.

We Are The In Crowd – Rumor Mill

You might have to visit the dentist after listening to this lot. Tooth-rottingly sweet; We Are The In Crowd will not only leave you with less teeth than Shane MacGowan but they’ll also lodge the sickly twee-pop punk exuberance of a billion e-numbers in the form of their music stuck in your mind. Despite it being steadfastly American, they don’t half sound j-pop in execution. The kids are going to love this; hooks bigger than New Found Glory (sorry guys) and a singer who yeah, sounds like the chick from Paramore but trades off well with some strong backing vocals meaning there’s some good call and response.

This Time Next Year – Matchbook

Why would you dress up in gasoline? This Time Next Year goes through the pop-punk rule book and pretty much have it nailed down tight. Kind of has that vibe of The Wonder Years, without the intense lyrics, but rattles along nicely with the leaping brackish attitude of The Ataris (before they went weird) and some strong soaring “wooaahhooohs” that give a nod towards NFG. Not very original, as their sound is 10 a penny, but on the strength of ‘Matchbook’, they’re certainly among the elite rather than the shit-munchers.

Transit – Listen & Forgive

I reckon a few more beers down the road and I’d be a broken man listening to this. I’m getting soft I reckon and it’s all Transit’s fault. This kind of reminds me of Brand New, circa-‘Your Favourite Weapon’-era, more along the lines of ‘Soco Amaretto Lime.’  – Must be the backing vocals and that acoustic guitar they cleverly buried in there. I can’t make up mind if it’s really sappy or mature – somewhere between the two, but whatever it is, it’s bloody brilliant.

Dangerous! – Not One Of You

Sounding like they don’t give two fucks, Dangerous! Remind me a bit of The Vines trying to cover early Icarus Line material. Vocalist Tommy pretty much shrieks himself hoarse through a mangled voice box, whilst musically it touches on good time rock and or roll, with elements of sleazy garage punk and rolling around in broken glass. A fist-pumping destructive noise, that maybe slightly too clean when that rough-as-sandpaper voice doesn’t crunch through the mix.

Exit Ten – Curtain Call

Utilising big sweeping cascades of heavy de-tuned guitar, clattering percussion, Exit Ten know how to drop it in choruses. Vocalist Ryan Redman has an imposing and powerful voice that is perfectly matched with the sprawling metallic crash of Exit Ten’s sweeping crush of alternative metal.

Jumping Ships – Broken English

Having given this several listens, I’m just not feeling it at all. It’s not terrible, just feels incredibly strained and try-hard. The vocals are a nasally, irritating whine – and even on the slow bit, there’s a moment of over-the-top flamboyance and posturing that is sadly not cocky enough to be amusing or enjoyable and just sounds embarrassing.

Decade – The Doctor Called (Turns Out I’m Sick As Fuck)

God, every band thinks they’re Set Your Goals nowadays. Only joking guys, but you’ve got a copy of ‘Tomorrow Will Be The Death Of Us’ yeah? CHECKLIST: mosh-core instrumentals? Tick. Gang vocals? Tick. Earnest, youthful vocalist full of hope and passion, mixed with gusto who isn’t afraid to shout? Tick. Seriously though, Decade are basically nailing a formula that has been done before, but they’re the ones to follow, not the followers and on  the strength of ‘The Doctor Called….’ They deserve credit.

Red Enemy – What We Call Home

I AM SHOUTING PAY ATTENTION. Red Enemy do the down-tuned metallic scrape of furrowing metalcore dirge and bury the bastard under shuddering, stop-start guitars the squeal and twitch like a pig being tortured. There’s elements of Emmure present, but not as bottoming-out in execution.

Bleed From Within – The Novelist

Proper chugga-chugga metal right there. Vocally it doesn’t stray much from the path of rasping brutality, occasionally swinging into a weird impression of your man from Black Dahlia Murder – i.e. hilarious high-pitched screech to compensate the rough and ready bash-brother tactic of the music, which feels like it’s pushed you over then stamped on you for good measure.

Octane Ok – Pretty Lady

‘New kings of pop-rock!’ I bet Octane Ok are every band before them are sick of that tag. Fairly standard really; polished until it could blind you, Octane Ok has that crisp, slick sound, with some added breakdowns that are unfortunately fairly tame in comparison to what they could sound like. It’s safe, radio-friendly and will probably sell by the truckload.

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Links

See above, it’s time for some sleeps.

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By Ross Macdonald

Sometimes I wish Amazon marketplace never existed. Thinking of all the money I could have saved not buying old nu-metal albums for a penny and £1.28 postage makes me weep. Then I realise that I’d only waste said money the next time I passed a Fopp or a local establishment that sells alcohol. Recent purchases that kind of break the rules set out in the first two parts as I’m vaguely aware of who Cougars are, but had never heard a note of Tanner or Snot’s music – but all purchases were actively sort out rather than random impulse *add to baskets*.

Band – Tanner
Album – Ill Gotten Gains
Release date – 1995
Price – 98p
Thoughts – Tanner are a lost gem. Part of the Swami collective in a way. Fronted by Gar Wood (happiest left-handed guitarist ever) along with 2 other dudes, Tanner were active for a bit of time around the San Diego scene before disbanding after two albums. ‘Ill Gotten Gains’ is their first and the only one I could justify getting for a decent-ish price. I really, really like this. Tanner’s sound has a slight grunge quality to it, mixed with I suppose that Swami-cool-as-fuck attitude. Wood is a fan of making his axe howl and I can hear a lot of Hot Snakes and especially The Night Marchers in this (both Wood’s former and current bands respectively).
Vocally, it’s fairly scrappy – Wood’s voice doesn’t have the coarse grating scratch of Froberg or the snarl of Reis; instead he channels this slightly high-pitched yelp in some places, whereas the rest of the time it see-saws from a low-fi drawl to a snappy bark. His voice suits the music; it’s quite tense, post-punk that rattles and rolls with gritty confidence under some odd time changes. The bass is also fairly prominent, leading a lot of the songs with this sinister grinding hum.

Standout tracks? ‘Computers That Breathe’ is a compact mix of taunt punk rock energy and angry-Therapy? style hard rock. ‘Purma Pak’ is a short-sharp shock of three chords and the truth, whilst ‘Siener’ mixes scrappy punk charm with brass, in a similar style to Rocket From The Crypt.

‘Spastic Art’ sees Tanner aping Fugazi almost perfectly. The guitar has just the right tone – that sense of total and utter rejection and low-end misery. It will then sound like its being completely mangled against the side of the drum kit, whilst Wood’s Ian MacKaye impression is spot on.

Verdict – Underrated; Tanner fit the mould of being the sort of band who should have been huge in the underground, but were perhaps overlooked; considering their alumni features Gar Wood and Chris Prescott (Pinback, No Knife, shitloads of other bands) it’s strange, but there you go. I can also see were Fickle Public got their sound – The Scottish four piece must have some Tanner records on them, because vocalist Alan Ferguson does a damn good Gar Wood impression at times. Perhaps more of an influence than we thought. If you can get hold of ‘Ill Gotten Gains’ and are a fan of Fugazi, Hot Snakes, the aforementioned Fickle Public then this could be an interesting addition to your collection. Drummer Chris Prescott has actually made a load of Tanner mp3s available for free download as well! Top bloke.

Band – Cougars
Album – Nice, Nice
Release date – 2003
Price – £1.75
Thoughts – From listening to Cougars, I’ve come to conclusion that they don’t play music – they destroy it. Back when they were an 8 piece (the band has now sadly stripped their keyboardist, trumpet and sax player from their line up) the pre-requisite for a Cougars song was “turn everything up the 11, and then make it louder, you fucks.” On ‘Nice, Nice’ this is met with gusto and then some. One thing I noticed, is how much the guitars shriek – they seem to be tuned to that ‘permanently putting your teeth on edge’ soundwave.

When listening to Cougars, you will wonder what the hell that thing singing is. Note, I think it is actually human. Vocalist Matthew Irie has one of the strangest voices ever. He sounds like his life has been spent gargling broken glass washed down with the strongest whisky imaginable. It’s a sharp, guttural grate and he is content to howl his lungs out like he’s vomiting up sandpaper. Irie makes as much noise as any other instrument – he’s not subdued – his feedback-soaked voice box punches through the dense instrumental wall of the Cougars sound like a Superman haymaker. What ‘Nice, Nice’ has that I love is the impenetrable layers and layers of different noises that keep it moving. The keys on ‘Mustard is Pissed’ are a squelching tidal wave of doom, whilst heavy trash-rock nature of ‘Slow Pants Changer’ is a San Diego-style yowl of pumped up adrenaline. ‘Flatbrush’ is this intense barrage of noise that features a pleasing, almost jazz mid section, before the chaos manifests itself once more in all its shrieking glory. The keys vibrate and hum in the background, like the motion tracker on a submarine destroyer, whilst Irie completely loses his shit. ‘A Friend To Dogs’ sounds like And So I Watch You From Afar jamming with a couple of dudes from Rocket From The Crypt whilst drunk.
Relentlessly badass; Cougars take no prisoners with their crowded cluster of explosive rock ‘n roll debauchery.

Verdict – ‘Nice, Nice’ is Cougars bludgeoning, stamping and snapping the bones of rock music, leaving it in tatters.

Band – Snot
Album – Get Some
Release date – 1997
Price – £1.95
Thoughts – I only investigated Snot after reading about their former guitarist Mike Smith being in Limp Bizkit for a bit during Wes Borland’s quitting days. I then read about Snot’s history and it completely bummed me out. In 1998, Lynn Strait their singer was killed in a car accident as was his dog, Dobbs who graces the very cover of ‘Get Some.’ Before Strait’s death, Snot had recorded 10 or so tracks for their second album and asked a number of guest musicians from the nu-metal and hard rock alumni to sing on it and dedicated it to the memory of their deceased vocalist. The album was called ‘Strait Up.’

Ok, wiping away tears – you didn’t come here for a wikipedia article, let’s focus.

‘Get Some’ starts with someone asking (possibly) Strait about the record and how he feels. He responds with “FUCK THE RECORD AND FUCK THE PEOPLE!” You know how this is going to go. Slotting straight into the nu-metal template, ‘Get Some’ is all massive bass-heavy overdrives, tinny drum pounding, shit loads of cymbal crashes and hip-hop guitar segments. Strait meanwhile, howls, hollers and generally goes completely apeshit and seems to be having the time of his (short) life. If he’s not spitting rapid-fire soundbites like the Beastie Boys crossed with Rollins, he puts on a ridiculous Chris Cornell style grunge-voice and at times sounds like the cast of Deliverance singing Limp Bizkit songs. This isn’t disrespecting the dead – Strait’s vocals are what drives ‘Get Some.’ As stated previously, it sounds like out of everyone, he was having the most fun during the recording sessions – obviously given free reign to try different styles and totally nailing it on every track. Standout tracks? ‘Joyride’; due to Strait’s cowboy drawl, the tight metallic-punk drive and my thoughts about whether it’s a bit ‘dude not funny’ due to the sample at the end. ‘Deadfall’ is a tribute to the film of the same name and is too fucking funny for words. Basically made up of Nicolas Cage’s ridiculous ramblings where he played an insane mental patient disguised as an insane wig-wearing, fake-tanned, drug taking version of Nicolas Cage. This is all set to some tight hardcore punk thrash, with Strait spitting the words with increasingly agitated speed and determination. He even throws in several Nic Cage impressions for good measure. ‘Mr Brett’ is a snapping, punk rock wrecking train of ‘fuck you!’ directed at Bad Religion main man, Brett Gurewitz about how he’s not really punk but corporate punk. Hey, a guy’s gotta eat!

Verdict – Stonking great. Sure, it’s juvenile and a bit stupid, but ‘Get Some’ by Snot is the sound of a band having far too much fun. Strongly recommended if you like stupid, crass punk rock meets nu-metal chaos.

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By Ross Macdonald

The Horrible Crowes and Hawks and Doves? Quite a bird theme this month. Fairly apt really. I went to Rainham Marshes today and saw a Lapwing, a Black-tailed Godwit, several Swans, loads of ducks, a Crane and a massive flock of Canadian Geese. I love away days = let’s go round a reserve and look at birds/wildlife, then eat cake and drink tea in the visitor’s centre that resembles a crashed space station. Awesome.

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The Horrible Crowes – Behold The Hurricane

“Hey it’s some dude doing a really good impression of the guy from The Gaslight Anthem!” Yeah that’s because it is Brian Fallon from The Gaslight Anthem. Accompanied by guitar tech Ian Perkins, The Horrible Crowes make dark, blues-inspired rock, laced with that moody shiftiness of stepping into a bar you’re unaccustomed to and having the entire clientele turn to look in your direction at ‘what the cat dragged in.’ Gritty and lonely; a song that sounds like someone singing about a glass half empty than half full, would be interested to hear a lot more of this project.

The Devil Wears Prada – Born To Lose

Shouty metalcore usually bores me to the point of wanting to throw myself off something, but at least The Devil Wears Prada bother to actually inject some originality. Three different vocal batterings are on offer; from the wide-eyed, banshee howl of disgust, to the guttural bellowing to the clean, Dallas Green-style harmonies this Christian mob do a decent job, and the screams of “BORN TO LOSE!” over a wave of crunching beatdowns certainly help matters.

Trivium – In Waves

Lol Trivium. Seriously guys? This? Get bent.

Mariachi El Bronx – 48 Roses

Magical stuff this. Mariachi El Bronx triples the passion of their punk counterpart, with a song bursting with sporadic brass, flamboyant guitar plucking, rampant percussion and vocalist Matt Caughthran singing his heart out. Gutsy and mesmerising, this is a band that doesn’t seem to be able to put a foot wrong, whatever their style. If any of the songs on their second album have even half the impact and beauty of ’48 Roses’ then we’re in for a treat.

Charlie Simpson – Farmer & His Gun

Splice my sausages, what in hell is this? Captain Fightstar doing acoustic stuff? Can’t you guys do some really loud breakcore nonsense, or something that sounds like a Dalek wanking in a cathedral as opposed to playing a guitar with 3 strings on a farm up North? Absolutely cringe worthy, hand-wringingly awful lyrics. Good voice though, which is what just about saves it. Preferred your early stuff about the Year 3000.

Rise To Remain – Nothing Left

The guitar playing is in the similar vein as Killswitch Engage – all squealing stop-start stutters of shrill, jagged breaks. Instrumentally, it’s solid, youthful metalcore that favours that radio-friendly appeal of mashing fast metal and clean vocals, that are a touch to pop for my tastes and fall somewhat flat in some areas, which is a shame as there’s real promise lurking here.

All Pigs Must Die – Sacrosanct

Kevin Baker from Hope Con and BARS? Already good. All Pigs Must Die are heavy. Speed, crust-hardcore punk that leaves massive purples bruises bristling with anger. The thrash-metal chorus breaks give the impression of a dense wash of battered and mutilated grindcore played by a band off of Bridge 9 records. Dark, intense hardcore that snaps with menace and desolation.

Ancient VVisdom – The Opposition

Ancient VVisdom look like 4 guys who fell off the set of Sons of Anarchy. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they sounded nothing like I imagined. Instead of some trite standard thrash metal, ‘The Opposition’ is a song born from the body of stomping, almost acoustic folk-metal with a hint of bluesy-angst and rebellion. “Hail to thee, Lord Lucifier” croons vocalist Nathan, who’s voice is laced with sombre dejection and a hint of revulsion. Stirling work lads, definitely worth repeated listens.

Circles – Act III

Il Nino, is that you? Knock three times….nicely gnarly bass. Probably should tune those guitars differently lads? No? Sod you then. Got tired of the quiet/loud/quiet dynamic 2 minutes in – sounds like Incubus from the ‘Make Yourself’ album – which I like, but I’m sitting here thinking “why don’t I put Incubus on instead?” Good voice mind, but really tedious fits and starts which just seem an excuse to stretch this track out to well over 5 and a half minutes.

Black Tide – Walking Dead Man

I saw Black Tide recently – was impressed by their energy and metal spirit. The screaming/clean vocal mix is fairly old hat, but Black Tide nail it incredibly well, injecting their youthful exuberance and bite into their music. They’re incredibly tight and the vocals work best when Gabriel is barking them with barely restrained spite. Somewhat too clean-cut in places – the edges kinda need roughening up.

Hawks and Doves – Hexing

Ex-Planes Mistaken For Stars frontman Gared O’Donnell has the kind of voice that cuts deep – it could probably strip paint from walls. It’s a scratchy, hoarse croak of brooding disgust; like he’s spent the day downing whisky and chain-smoking then stepped into the recording studio after a coughing fit. Musically, there’s elements of stoner-rock at its very bare-bones, rattling and cracking to pieces under a punk attitude of misery. Absolutely love it.

Hildamay – Delicate

I don’t like the name, but the music is something I could be seriously interested in hearing more of. Obvious points of interest point to Hot Water Music; the deep throaty rattle provided by frontman Tim Lawrence, who sounds like his diet has consisted of purely gravel and lighter fluid. It has that early 90s emo blast of jangled guitars, mixed with big walls of crashing drums and scrawling feedback.

Lightguides – Bachelor Death Party

Not sure what the hell is going on here, but I like it. For a three piece, Lightguides make quite a racket. Both guitars see-saw up and down through some quite taunt and tuneful post-hardcore, that tries to sound like a Fall Out Boy song, but even tighter, with jagged, cutting guitar lines and a full-blown injection of sugary pop-punk bounce. Like a bunch of attention deficit disorder patients smashing their instruments into each other over some odd time changes.

Nazca Lines – Bones In Boxes

Nazca lines have been listening to Rick Froberg a lot then. Nice stop-start parts on this, kind of staggers with this menacing, creepy gait. Vocals are superb – a demanding, sterile shout over some huge post-hardcore rock that sounds fucking massive.

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – The Wonder Years
Album – Suburbia: I’ve Given You All and Now I’m Nothing
Label – Hopeless Records
Release date – Out Now
Sounds like – rollicking punk rock air-punching excitement, drenched in sweat and beer.

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I only discovered The Wonder Years a few months back on a Rock Sound CD and was, if you pardon the cheesy expression – hooked. Their songs are a huge rush of spirited punk rock and storytelling. Apparently they’ve been around for 7 years, but this is the first I’ve heard of them.

As album titles go, it’s quite a mouthful. Taken from the Alan Ginsberg poem ‘America’, ‘Suburbia…’, tells ‘the story so far’ if you will, of The Wonder Years. It seems packed with references to their past releases (lyrical call-backs litter every song, as well as nods to Saves The Day and Ginsberg’s ‘America’. It’s a nice idea – a sort of concept pop-punk album if you will.

‘Came Out Swinging’ fades in through a sampled, confused voice and a drum roll before exploding with vocalist Dan ‘Soupy’ Campbell bellowing “MOVED ALL MY SHIT INTO MY PARENT’S BASEMENT AND OUT OF OUR OLD APARTMENT…” as he begins a long list of ailments and a desire to stay young, despite the stress, pressures and fatigue of a hectic lifestyle. There’s a sense of ‘world weary’ in Soupy’s lyrics, especially “my heart keeps saying stay young, my lower back seems to disagree” – but it’s the boisterous energy and barely restrained glee with which these words are spat which seem to say otherwise – singing about being shattered in a exuberant way is the new black. It’s obviously a song about the pressures of touring – “I spent the year as a ghost…” – never settling, roaming across America, across Europe, across the world possibly. “I’m not sure where home is anymore” – The Wonder Years should tour with Touche Amore. It’s hopeful though; “I spent the winter, writing songs about getting better and if I’m honest…I’m getting there” roars Soupy, in an enthused bear-like growl.

I’m still trying to decide what I like most about ‘Woke Up Older’; early contender for my track of the year. The lyrics aren’t as good as ‘Came Out Swinging’ but the chorus – my god the chorus. It’s a huge anthemic hook of enormous sing-along proportions: “HEY JESS, I WOKE UP OLDER CARRYIN’, TWO YEARS OF BAGGAGE UNDER MY EYES!” It’s one of those songs that the fans absolutely bellow from the rooftops – it’s a fist-pumping raucous shout of barely restrained energy and rampant enthusiasm. I think though, it’s because the chorus seems to have a similar structure to ‘Shoulder The Wheel’ by Saves The Day (a track which is referenced on the last track of this album).

‘My Life As A Pigeon’ is a mixture of Guttermouth punk rock – it’s snotty and abrasive, yet has that vibrant, fresh-faced appeal of New Found Glory. It’s also relentlessly optimistic, which is what ‘Suburbia…’ seems to harness – it points out areas where things need improvement, but punches itself on the shoulder and says “life could be worse, so let’s make it better – let’s make the most of our situation, let’s not dwell, yeah?” ‘Summers in PA’ exemplifies this the most – the chorus:

“There’s something about weeknights in the suburbs
And there’s something about me and all my friends
Kings of awkward situations
The plum blossoms are falling
I’m more than happy going down with them.”

It’s soppy as fuck, but damn – it’s the kind of honest, passionate, gang-mentality punk rock spirit that makes music feel so alive and visceral. ‘Coffee Eyes’ is a heady slice of melodic rock, dipping into some heavy drum rolls, mellow passages but still this gutsy determination and snappy, punk rock barks of wanting to succeed, brimming with positive vibes and agitated aggression.

‘Don’t Let Me Cave In’ is a Four Year Strong-worthy circle pit of hard, fast and dangerous punk rock. It draws much on what made ‘Coffee Eyes’ sound so personal, yet swaps out the mellow passages and melodic rock, for hefty slices of vibrant punk energy, fist-waving mid-sections, gang-vocal cries “DON’T! LET ME CAVE IN!” and yet another HUGE sonic-sing-a-long chorus, with vocalist Soupy touching some nerves and hearts with his passionate delivery. In contrast, ‘You Made Me Want To Be A Saint’ is just over 90 seconds of near-hardcore punk ferocity; gang-vocal swear-a-thon choruses, taunt punchy guitar lines and dual-vocal call-and-return under a barrage of pissed-off chords.

‘Suburbia, I’ve Given You All And Now I’m Nothing’ is a kicking and beating heart of the current new-pop punk scene and it’s an album I can’t recommend enough. A superb, uplifting collection of songs, packed with gutsy, “I want to hug you and jump around like a lunatic” choruses, along with a heavy dose of speed and snapping charm.

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Links

The Wonder Years
The Wonder Years Myspace
Hopeless Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Bands – Colonel Blast, Cancerous Womb, Magpyes, Dyscaphia and Diascorium
Album – Split Roast
Label – Condate Records
Release date – Out Now
Sounds like – unicorns, fluffy kittens, banjos, Mumford & Sons, the colour pink and ponies. ON FIRE.
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Christ, could you imagine it – you’re talking to an elderly member of your family, perhaps one who you haven’t seen in a while and has just got over some operation and they ask:

Nan: “So, what have you been up to recently?”
You: “oh, not much, working and stuff…I play in a band.”
Nan: “That’s good, is it a rock band?”
You: “Yeah.”
Nan: “And what are they called?”
You: *pause* “Cancerous Womb?”

Yeah, well fucking done you.

Ok, this was released back in May but I’ve only just got round to looking at it. I feel duty bound to perhaps scrawl some words of insanity though, as I took the time and bandwidth to download the thing. 20 tracks over 60 minutes? Oh god. Well, as an introduction to the underground UK metal scene, yeah it’s a good start really, so hats off to small independent labels like Condate records for doing it.

Colonel Blast

Northern Black Metal – so it’s going to be some dudes shouting about breaking my legs if I don’t buy them some cigarettes over a lot of guitar jerking? Colonel Blast sound tinny; the drums are a clattering machine gun fire of someone trashing a bunch of huge dustbins, whilst the guitars grind through some pretty tight speed metal. The slower bits are mind-numbingly shit though and plod like a three legged elephant – lumpy and off-kilter. ‘The Crime Is Passion’ finds its feet in actually being fairly taunt and menacing. There are some nice time changes, furious stop-start patterns and it’s really great for the most part, some nice brutal beatdowns and a real sense of “I think someone is trying to kill me…” vibe. They then ruin it with a fucking fade out – what the hell? Learn to finish a song, don’t start turning the volume down you pussies. Minus a billion points.

Cancerous Womb

This smacks of wanting to be the Scottish version of Anal Cunt. Seth Putnam is probably rolling in his grave. ‘Copying Anal Cunt is Gay’ dudes. It’s not as funny, but there’s some nice stupid thrashy bits mixed in with this unsightly mess of grind, metal and barbaric noise. ‘Tepid Decrepit’ is easily the best track – it’s insultingly brutal and sporadic and doesn’t seem to know which way to turn, seeming content to just mash bottoming-out riffs and double-bass pedal terror in order to achieve results. The live track ‘Austrian Basement’ sounds like a truck load of pigs being stamped to bits in a slaughter house by Leatherface whilst listening to ‘Everyone Should Be Killed.’

Magpyes

Yeah, either that’s the drum machine from hell, or about 6 drummers or something not of this earth. Love the description on their facebook page: “intense eardrum pummeling northern grind! So fast you’ll shit!!”

Some reasons why Magpyes are the best band on this release:

1.    Most of their songs are around 50 seconds long and even the longest one (at 3:42) doesn’t sound like a complete fucking chore
2.    They obviously have a sense of humour.
3.    Some of the best drumming I’ve heard this year – blisters? I’m surprised his kit isn’t stained red after every show.
4.    It’s straight up, no messing around grindcore, with some wicked sludge-metal moments, aka similar to Weekend Nachos.
5.    They’re from Leeds, so they probably all have Xboxes and have shot me in the face numerous times on Halo.
6.    The vocals actually sound like a load of magpies being fed through a mincer.
7.    They have a song called ‘Wolf Bukkake’ and another song ‘Sir You Forget Yourself’, which seems to exist as a wall of pure ear-pummeling chaos, with no tune, chorus, mid-section or style, yet still absolutely kills it.

Dyscaphia

Yet again, we have a drummer who seems intent on exploding like the dude out of Scanners all over his kit – absolutely bludgeoning playing ability on ‘Impious Conflagration’ – hey, isn’t that a Warhammer magic spell? Causes 2D6, strength 4 hits, no armour save, right? From Manchester, Dyscaphia are tech-death metal that ticks all the boxes in some insane asylum where death metal bingo is played. I actually don’t know what the screams were at the end of the Warhammer song and I think it’s best it was left that way quite frankly. Dyscaphia know how to make someone feel like their about to be left a gibbering, bleeding wreck. Don’t really like the vocals; they sound like some fat accountant belching out passages from Lord of the Rings, rather than some bat-shit insane black-metal druid barking commands to the dark overlord.

Diascorium

Also from Leeds, Diascorium are a different breed; more all over the place than anyone else on this split – they seem to be content to pick from a massive, overbearing metal tree loaded down with styles. Rather than selecting a few and honing their skills on them, they seem to have cut down the thing and dragged it back to their pit and brutally torn it to shreds, sucking every last bit of taste they can out of it. A mess is what it is. There are some weird moments of jazz, thrown in with detuned guitar squeals, vocals that range from a vomiting burp to a gnashing roar of damnation and then back to some fairly impressive tech-metal posturing that gives it that well needed brick-to-the-face of furious disrespect.

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Links

Colonel Blast
Cancerous Womb
Magpyes
Dyscaphia
Diascorium

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Limp Bizkit
Album – Gold Cobra
Label – Interscope
Release date – June 2011
Sounds like – five dudes breaking stuff

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The starfish navigation system must be working again it seems. It must be hard being in Limp Bizkit – you’ve got a frontman who feuds with more people than Dave Mustaine and has an ego writing checks his ass can’t cash; a guitarist who quits every other month and blacks up at every show; a bloke who won’t stop taking it to the Mathew’s Bridge, another guy who likes to ‘bring it on’ and then the bassist. It also must be hard trying to top your first three albums, which to be fair, are classics when it comes to frat-boy nu-metal posturing. Since then, the Bizkit has been decidedly Limp. The Borland-less ‘Results May Vary’ had about 3 good songs (NOT THAT COVER GOOD GOD NO) and Bill Paxton in one of their videos and ‘The Unquestionable Truth Part 1’ was so shit that the second part was taken on an epic Lord Of The Rings type quest and chucked into Mount Doom. There needs to be some light at the end of the tunnel, to stop what has possibly been a frustrating, but by no means entertaining time on the Limp Bizkit train of fun. This is why ‘Gold Cobra’ has to be good – it has to at least be a half-decent record to rescue Fred and Co from their slump – it has to be the album that makes them feel like a united, fully co-operative band again.

Time for this red cap to get a rap from these critics huh.

It’s so easy to prepare for the worst; with a Limp Bizkit album. Coming into this with low expectations is almost the default. To be honest, my mind is pretty open when it comes to the Bizkit train and I was surprised that ‘Gold Cobra’ is actually a damn good rock record. Like their first three releases, it has something that has been missing from the formula of their most recent offerings: songs that aren’t complete and utter pony. The actual song ‘Gold Cobra’ is vintage Bizkit and is what you would expect – there’s a stupid video of Fred dressed a bit like Michael Jackson; Wes resembles Yoshimitsu crossed with an evil David Bowie, there’s a girl in a bikini jiggling her assets and a fast car. It’s unashamedly them and they deliver that familiar bass heavy-rumble of detuned, rap-metal perfectly.

‘Bring It Back’ squeals and screeches like a Drowning Pool-b-side (thanks Wes) whilst Durst bellows “HELL YEAH!” and we hit a weird wall of crunk-rap posturing of “WHAT? WHAT? WHAT?” with Durst stating how they’re going to “bring it back” cheers dudes. The best line however is “we still rainin’ blood in the club like Slayer….” Which is more like it, for something that sounds like they’ve cribbed a load of ideas off of Rage Against The Machine, got drunk, then tried to play them backwards.

‘Shotgun’ might be the best song they’ve ever recorded. It’s straight out of the ‘Three Dollar Bill Y’all’ catalogue of scrappy, careless rap-rock back when they’re instruments were rusted to hell and they just didn’t care. The chorus is spot on; a massive anthemic jump-around, noise fest of beer-swigging, fist-pumping chaos, (“EVERYBODY JUMPS FOR THE SOUND OF THE SHOTGUN, IN MA NEIGHBOURHOOD, EVERYBODY’S GOT ONE”) whilst Borland’s guitar solo (YES A SOLO) seriously shreds in all its squealing, abrasive caterwaul of terror. Props to Lethal’s sampling; yeah, I’ve heard ‘Rock N Roll Gangster’ as well mate. ‘Shotgun’ should in years to come, be as big as ‘Break Stuff’, ‘Rollin’ and that George Michael cover.

‘Douche Bag’ on the other hand, sounds like a lost cut from the ‘Chocolate Starfish…’ era. Borland’s guitar wails in and out of tune, whilst Rivers and Otto hold everything together with a solid rhythmic pound of posturing nu-metal dumbness. Durst spits his pretentious gibberish on a track that rivals ‘Hot Dog’ for the amount of fucks in this fucked up rhyme. It’s just a flail of preppy, brainless yet amusing angst from a band that it seems, still haven’t grown up yet (and thank god).

‘Walking Away’ is a fairly decent stab at something less plane-pointing. Durst’s voice is uncharacteristically fragile and despondent, whilst Borland’s guitar is dominated by a wash of fuzz and feedback. The last few minutes are immersed in a crushing crescendo of clattering drums, murderous screams, scratches and a wall of mangled shoegaze-meets-metallic rock. In some ways, it’s the ‘Re-arranged’ of ‘Gold Cobra’, but a denser, taunt rush of concentrated bleakness and rage.

Hilarious synthesized Jaws theme used on the intro to ‘Shark Attack’. It then goes all ‘Break Stuff’ – Durst even re-uses “it’s just one of those days…” before launching into some quick fire verbal hating, sampled “YEAHS!” and a bouncing hip-hop beat and that ever present, macho pomposity and arrogant swagger that’s about the size of a Great White and just as deadly. Infectious? Yes. Self-referencing (“red cap,” “Freddy Kruger”) and a mid-section that melds back into electro-Jaws territory and references to Sushi – you bet. I’d be very surprised if this wasn’t single material.

There is however, the usual duffers in the form of ‘Loser’, which might as well be called ‘pointless filler track’ for all it does – Durst moans a bit, wallowing in self deprecation and ‘oh woe is me’ bullshit over some quite uninspiring, turgid Staind-lite rock. I’m still confused as to what the hell ‘Autotunage’ is about – I also can’t decide whether it’s total shit (hearing Fred repeatedly saying “OOOHHH YEEEAAHHH” on the song’s irritating chorus set my teeth so far on edge) –  at least the “rockin’ and shockin’ the flow” redeems it somewhat.

The intro to ’90.2.10’ is over-the-top fret-wankery; the lyrics are hilariously bad but the chorus and Durst’s incredibly low, slurred and spiteful delivery, coupled with gang-chants and the swaggering nerve actually elevate it as one of the more interesting tracks, even if it essentially the equivalent of a dumb-jock chucking a football at the nerds table, laughing like a horse.

The stench of their first album resides all over ‘Get A Life’ which is jammed with anger, pain, frustration and goading. The riff is a huge, bouncing pogo of crushing hate, similar to that of ‘Stuck’; as is Fred’s bitter delivery which reeks of distaste.

‘Why Try’ opens with “oh, no guess who’s back….” – why isn’t this at the start of the album? It seems completely misplaced as the penultimate track. Regardless, it’s a stone-cold anthem – a head-banging, boisterous 3 minute salvo of bravado and yet more past album referencing (‘eat you alive’, ‘dollar bill’ and ‘sucker MCs’ this time). The riff that slides in is a massive slice of guttural, filthy groove-laden metal and exactly what the Jacksonville five-piece need to be delivering.

Sure it could use a few tweaks, but the fact of the matter is, ‘Gold Cobra’ is an impressive, if cocky, return to the metal and hard rock scene from a band, that despite their troubles and colourful past, have actually this time, delivered the goods in making a record that they should be proud of and deserves your attention. Yeah, it struts and has the arrogance about it, but it wouldn’t be a Limp Bizkit album without that would it? Surprisingly, recommended listening.

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Links

Limp Bizkit

Interscope

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By Ross Macdonald

Time for an update! There’s been a lot of decent stuff on this month’s CD. Obviously at Rock Sound towers they’ve gone three chords and the fuckin’ truth crazy, as the majority of punk rock bands on offer was quite staggering, so good work there for making one of the best 100% volume CDs of the year. Save Your Breath, Living With Lions, Saturday’s Kids, Attention Thieves, Goodtime Boys and Fights And Fires all get a drunken stage-diving crush for being awesome.

Taking Back Sunday – El Paso

It’s good to have Nolan and Cooper back under the TBS wing, god knows it’s been a while. Those expecting a tune reminiscent of the ‘Tell All Your Friends’ era will be disappointed; however, the caustic bite of Brand New-style screams and dense guitar chords, not to mention the spitting-dual vocal back-and-forths and barely restrained rage and passion sees the Long Island lads back in superb form.

There For Tomorrow – Joyride

Bit to sweet for my tastes; There For Tomorrrow tap into the big choruses motif, whilst injecting a bucketload of pop hooks beneath some well polished My Chemical Romance rock, that is about a minute too long.

Save Your Breath – Vices

This is better, but by no means perfect. Save Your Breath replicate early 00’s pop-punk fairly accurately. A distorted drum intro, the sound of a guitar being plugged in and some nice scrawling punk chords and the kind of clear, snappy vocal delivery that is perhaps nothing new, but certainly lifts spirits and is altogether a pleasant stab at refreshing the genre.

Living With Lions – Maple Drive Is Still Alive

Living With Lions have the speed and determination of Lagwagon – for this, they should be commended strongly. The slight gruffness in vocalist Stu Ross’s delivery, not to mention the rapid-fire drum beats and jarring breakdowns make this a winner in my book – strong, emotionally charged punk rock delivered with guts and determination.

Of Mice & Men – Purified

Not actually as bad as I was expecting. Just found out this is the ex-vocalist of crabcore laughing stock, Attack Attack! Yeah mate, you sound much better on this. It’s actually fairly decent post-hardcore; good balance between the screams and clean vocals, fairly bass heavy, sort of like Of Legends – quite thick and groove-driven.

Saturday’s Kids – Empty Space

I like the low-fi scrape this has – the guitar is one long relentless jangle of mangled chords, whilst the drums are buried beneath the smothering bass drone. Vocally, it’s a strained, almost lost shout beneath the building wall of noise and raucous rumble of sharp post-punk rock that drips with sweat and bitterness.

*Shels – Butterflies (On Luci’s Way)

I love *Shels, so prepare for this to be incredibly biased. Not only is this suitably crushing, like nearly every other aspect of their music, it’s also wonderfully moving. The almost choral chant in the song’s coda that then evolves into another epic rocking breakdown is a superb shift in tone, not to mention singer Mehdi Safa’s extraordinary vocals, which will send a chill down your spine. Also, props to the break in the middle.

Heights – Letting Go

What’s with bands having single word, plural names now? There’s something uncomfortably dark about this – Heights start off sounding like proper hardcore fodder, but they then keep building on this despair of fairly brutal, almost post-hardcore noise, that rises with such scathing and acidic disgust it becomes an absolute winner. Points for syncing in a mournful piano loop that seemed to creep up from nowhere – ones to watch; chilling stuff.

Attention Thieves – Can’t Say

Must have been punk rock day in the Rock Sound towers or something. That furious, punishing hard-rock of We Are The Ocean is given a big nod here, as is some rather tasty riffage and bouncing choruses; the lyrics let it down somewhat by being pretty throw-away shouts that mean very little, but the delivery is fairly profound.

Goodtime Boys – Harrow

Holy shitballs, this is Alex Pennie from the Automatic! You know, the yelpy little bastard who wanted to see Raoul all the time. I really like this; Pennie’s voice is a gruff, rattle of sneering dissent, whilst the rest of the band power through a twisting post-hardcore racket. Intense, slightly sloppy, but it all adds to the charm of some refreshing DIY punk fury.

Fights And Fires – You Can’t Say Slags On The Radio

Fights And Fires look like they’ve never kissed a girl and all collectively stepped out of a Games Workshop. Their guttural Every Time I Die-groove of blisteringly fast punk rock however is fucking excellent. Four Year Strong are still wishing their new record sounded like this, but it won’t, because Fights And Fires have nailed the thrash-meets-pop-punk whirling dervish of sound perfectly – glorious stuff.

Wolves Like Us – We Speak In Tongues

A filthy bass hum perpetuates over this. Wolves Like Us operate on making a gargle of rusty, angular noise that’s not a million miles away from the barren metallic rock of Therapy? It’s sinister, and unholy, delivered by a vocalist who spits and snarls with morbid disgust, but yet sounds as if he’s still having a good time.

Suicide Silence – You Only Live Once

Note to any deathcore bands – please, please, please, please, please stop making such bland sounding, ear-rotting garbage like this. I find it amazing these kind of bands still exist and that the kids haven’t got sick to the back teeth of it yet. Predictable beat-downs, and vocals that sound like someone is downing drain cleaner inside a lift full of vomit.

The Black Dahlia Murder – Moonlight Equilibrium

Dude from The Black Dahlia Murder has a hilarious voice. It’s proper high-pitched and snappy, with a slight hillbilly-ish twang to it. Like if Cleatus decided to front a death metal band. This has so much more going for it than Suicide Silence – for one thing, the drumming is all double-bass destruction, with some nice classic metal guitar soloing and thunderously overblown vocal howls that are gloriously GIANT HAM in their execution.

Breaking The Day – Hours (Broken Clocks)

That doomy, kind of drone-metal stuff is getting a lot of support nowadays huh? Breaking The Day make big walls of sound. Kind of sludgy in places – it relies on huge builds and crushing chords, backed by hoarse vocal barks and an unrelenting sense of despair and lack of worth. Hey, Cult of Luna do that! A slow burning, progressive chug of alt-metal that drips with sinister menace.

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Links

^up there. Next time, on Keep It Fast….

Mad Mac returns!
Probably an album review!
Some other stuff!
Yeah!

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Touché Amoré
Album – Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me
Label – Deathwish Inc
Release date – Out now
Sounds like – Aggravated, severe hardcore throwing itself at you with tearing ferocity and passion.

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“When your chasing brightness you lose concern with the damage done.”

What is apparent about Touché Amoré , is that they don’t like to hang around. Clocking in at just under 21 minutes, with a total of 13 tracks, ‘Parting the Sea Between Brightness and Me’ is an album you’ll have finished by the time you’ve travelled to work (in some cases you may even be on your second play through). This could lead to the argument of feeling short changed – disagree. The thing about hardcore and more importantly, modern hardcore is the replay value it has along with the necessity for the songs to be kept short – for them to be this snapping, uncompromising bite that lasts for barely a minute and also completely free of repetition or any form of chorus. Plus, anything that lasts over 2 minutes in the hardcore punk world is either – a) trying to hard or b) not hardcore punk (or at least, not the stereotype of the genre).

Touché Amoré knows the score though. Opener ‘~’ (pronounced ‘tilde’) is just under 90 seconds of jagged punk rock. It’s a jarring clatter of guitars and thudding drum beats, which alter between a traditional beat, to an almost thrash metal rattling. Vocalist Jeremy Bolm has a barbed, caustic shout – his words barked through a raw filter of aggression and passion. What makes this stand out from a lot of hardcore is how clear Bolm’s voice is – yes, he’s shouting, but it’s done with such comprehensible gusto and vigor, it adds a new dimension to the hardcore sound. For those familiar with Guy Picciotto’s Rites Of Spring; imagine that voice layered over something that sounds like them playing songs written by Ampere.

“I’m not the golden boy so don’t shine me on/I’m the bastard son of romantic Babylon” roars Bolm, on ‘Art Official’; a track that certainly touches a nerve with its quite intense and bitter longing. In fact, the entire duration of this album is one big angst-ball of intensity. Touché Amoré barely let up; rushing to cram as much of their tight and twisted sound into as fewer minutes as possible, yet the depth of their sound is stretched nicely through these minute and a half long explosions of sound.

There’s a sense of callous alienation with Touché Amoré, especially on ‘Method Act’:  “Have you always wondered why I drive alone? The same reason why I never pick up my phone?” Which on paper, might read a bit tame, but through the Touché Amoré filter and through Bolm’s irrepressible bark – shit man, they tap a nerve. “I understand that I’m fading….I understand that I’m fading away…I’d rather play dead, than play catch up…” there’s a almost resigned, disparaging tone to their sound, which matched against their dense and punk attack is quite a strident experience.

It kind of feels like Touché Amoré is acting as a place where the listener can experience some kind of depressing safe haven. On ‘Sesame’, Bolm invites the listener in to wallow “If you’re looking for a place, to hang your head in shame, the light is always on, so come on in…” ok, this feels like something you can really start to feel miserable about…then they throw in handclaps – fucking handclaps in hardcore. It works though, hey, it’s on a slow bit but the chopping and changing from something that resembles a bear roaring in your face to a puppy staring at you inquisitively is a complete curveball. Speaking of which, ‘Condolences’ changes pace completely, by being a desolate, piano-led piece, with Bolm twisting at hearts, with his scathing bark. It’s actually fairly creepy, but also a mesmerizing and despondent gut-wrench and a surprising highlight on this record.

Another stand out track is ‘Home Away From Here’; a very personal outpouring from Bolm regarding conflicting emotions surrounding staying in one place and settling down, as opposed to being out on the road. “It’s just I have this problem where I want to be everywhere I’m not” he yelps. It should be noted that this is one of several songs that incorporate blast beats, superbly with their dark hardcore attack and yet, still sound so clear and crisp but no less relentless.

The thing about ‘Parting The Sea Between Brightness And Me’ is that it’s got such intensity; such a personal and concentrated attack, coupled with sparse moments of melodic, early emo it can be quite a lot to take in at first. Believe me, it’s a heavy listen, but ultimately it’s a fantastic and rewarding piece of hardcore punk of the future and one of the best albums I’ve heard this year; fans of Give Up The Ghost, Rites of Spring, any early-90s emo band and blast beats apply here right now – you need Touché Amoré and their bitterness in your life.  

“If actions speak louder than words, then I’m the most deafening noise you’ve heard.”

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Links

Touche Amore
Deathwish Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – The Casket Hecklers
Release – Phoenix Rising
Label – unsigned
Release date – out now
Sounds like – Snotty, UK garage punk rock with third-wave ska tendencies

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It’s somewhat of an anomaly to find a band still playing punk rock with ska upstrokes. Back in 2001 to 2005 you couldn’t move for the amount of bands straining for a place on an already too-full line-up at your local music venue. Now, it’s like there’s been some toxic plague that has eradicated any band that thinks the phrase “pick it up, yo.” Props though to The Casket Hecklers, who appear to be resurrecting a fallen genre, or at least, breathing some fresh life into it. Formed from the ashes of about a million of other punk and hard rock bands (Punktuation, Press to Continue, Pretty Little Mutiny, skycolouredperfect, chaos baby, The Ghost House and probably Iced Earth); guitarist and frontman Joey Mutiny teamed up with bassist Roo Hyuga and drummer Ryan Cowie to create The Casket Hecklers. The aptly named ‘Phoenix Rising’; their debut mini-album, is the kind of release that harks back to the dingy, underground basement shows, gaffer-taped guitars, mohawks that touch the ceiling and an attitude that comprises of a middle finger. Limited to 300 (all hand-numbered by Joey), this CD-R release, complete with brightly coloured inlay sleeve (as well as superb cover art, designed by Holly Knowles) feels incredibly personal and at the same time, incredibly punk.

Opening track ‘Home Truths’ has a Capdown-vibe, circa their debut ‘Civil Disobedients’ – whether it’s the bouncing ska beat, or frontman Joey Mutiny, dipping into that same rapid-fire vocal technique, I’m not sure. “It really beggars belief, you’re an oxygen thief!” slurs Mutiny, emphasising deep seated resentment and disparagement in a song that’s obviously the musical equivalent of a man, pointing and laughing, possibly at you.

‘Man Down’ kind of staggers between Leftover Crack-skacore pick ups, with a quite melodic punk rock chorus, and a distorted, aggressive break of static and warped shouts, whilst ‘Severence‘ is pure street-punk aggression, complete with rousing “Oi Oi’s!” and some rather caustic banter. Perhaps the lightest track on the album is ‘Fires Within’, which bounces with such gleeful exuberance, it’s hard not to be warmed. The dual vocals and choppy beats, not to mention when it kicks up a gear means it has all the elements of something that mixes The Filaments with Captain Everything, but with an even snottier attitude – one that is more likely to give you a hug than punch you in the face.

‘Skank The Plank’ is part espionage, film noir in execution, part choppy ska upstrokes and almost dips into The Offspring’s ‘Come Out And Play’ before the gruff pirate interlude muscles its way in. The rest of the song then rattles along like something cribbed from a Turbo A.C.’s record – quiff-rock n’ roll lip sneers and a mountain of bad attitude. This is perhaps where The Casket Hecklers are at their strongest; punchy, raucous rockabilly that you want to bang your head to.

‘Comeuppance’ is a juvenile, scrappy piece that doesn’t so much shout revenge song, but screams it in your face with burning rage – it’s hardly subtle, hey, nor was ‘Prayer To God’ by Shellac, but both get the job done I guess. ‘Tethers End’ follows a similar pattern, but seems a lot more tongue-in-cheek, kind of following in the style of Aaron Barrett, by being both uplifting and silly musically, but being fairly downbeat lyrically. “You’re like an anchor around my neck to keep me drowning….you’re no good for me” barks Mutiny, his bitterness apparent, yet with that cheeky sneer of someone who sees the glass half full as opposed to half empty.

The slow burn of the title track, is reminiscent of closing time at your local; in fact, it reminds me so much of Sublime (especially the intro, which makes me think of ‘Santeria‘) and to another extent, the Mad Caddies, as it could quite easily slot on to their ‘Just One More’ album. As a drinking song, it checks all the right boxes – big soaring chorus you can bellow along to, a slightly melancholy, yet hopeful outlook conveyed with guts and sincerity by vocalist Mutiny, as well as mashing that Long Beach ska-sound with the scuzzy punk rock warmth of Hertfordshire.

If you are interested in getting a copy of ‘Phoenix Rising’; contact The Casket Hecklers on their Facebook page to get it at the knock down price of 2 quid. You can also download for free their cover of the Old Crow Medicine Show song, ‘Wagon Wheel’ from their Facebook or Reverbnation!

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Links

The Casket Hecklers Myspace

Casket Twitterers

Casket Hecklers Facebook

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By Ross Macdonald

I actually feel I’ve missed quite a lot recently; got a bit of a backlog that needs clearing – it’s just making time for it all really. I’m still yet to hear the new Obits album in full, despite it being out for the last 2 months. The Cold Cave album is particularly interesting and one I strongly recommend. Weekend Nachos are currently killing it in the hardcore stakes – so if you fancy some deranged, grind-sludge power-violence then check out ‘Worthless‘; an album I awarded 9 out of 10 on metal site, planet-loud. On this month’s Rock Sound CD, Foxfires, The Wonder Years, Dananananaykroyd, Tree Trapped Tigers, City & Colour and the rather superb Touché Amoré all receive a high-fuckin’ five for being totally awesome.

Black Veil Brides – Fallen Angels

I’ve heard a lot of complete gash in my time, but nothing quite as appallingly bad as this. Pop-metal by numbers that will probably sell fucking shed-loads to 14 year old girls – hey, if you can exploit a target market for big bucks with gimmicks you do it, right? Also, they all appear to have about 6 ravens imbedded in their heads and had make-up shotgunned blasted into their faces.

Fucked Up – A Little Death

A shot to the stomach that leaves you winded; Fucked Up are the angry, drunk, bearded lunatic who is inches from your face, bellowing a tirade of incomprehensible but dangerous, ramblings. The layers upon layers of guitars, not to mention the crunching drum rolls and Father Damian’s rasping vocals make for an intimidating, yet boisterous blast of heated punk rock fury – glorious stuff.

Frank Turner – I Am Disappeared

Classic Frank Turner here – that folk-bounce, quite sweet sounding. The drums add a well needed kick and the breakdown for the chorus is quite superb – all twinkling pianos, crashing cymbals and fast-paced strumming. Still preferred it when he sang about Byzantium empires falling though.

Touché Amoré – ~

Stripped-down, barebones punk rock – hell yes. Touché Amoré completely batters the listener; their vocalist spits his words with venomous malice, yet is still clear and perfectly audible. Fuck choruses, this is 88 seconds long of tight, concise hardcore that is so sharp, you can feel the air cutting around you. Ones to definitely watch – the future of aggressive music.

Heart In Hand – ThreeFifteen

South-coast (UK) hardcore upstarts; Heart In Hand mix the gut-rumbling roar of BARS with the same intensity of Give Up The Ghost. There’s some excellent gang-vocal chants and that sweaty hum of bludgeoning, no-frills aggression, mixed with melody that hasn’t been completely buried. Could do with being slightly shorter though.

Foxfires – Resilience On The Side Of The Road

*N64 kid air-punch* YES! This is the kind of thing I want – Rampant, scrambled speed-punk that sounds like it came out in the 90s, back when people thought windmilling was cool. It’s not. But this is. The amount of times vocalist Josh Lyford screams “FUCK” and the way he spits his vocals with such distaste and spite, it’s as if a bear with tourettes has decided to front Agnostic Front after listening to some Champion records.

Blitz Kids – Photograph

Rather disappointingly, not an Odd Future project. Blitz Kids vocalist must be the most relaxed man in the world. His voice is so horizontal, you could stand a house on it. Unfortunately, this is not a compliment – he sounds bored out of his mind and the rest of the band seems content to go through the motions of some very weak UK-rock that barely makes an impact.

The Wonder Years – Local Man Ruins Everything

Big swinging hook of pop-hardcore has again impaled itself in my back. The Wonder Years absolute kill it. The melody is absolutely spot-on as each band member falls over themselves to sing their part – it’s a delightful scramble of gang-vocals, chants, power-punk blasts of anthemic sunny destruction and the chorus, oh god the chorus; life-affirming. Four Year Strong are probably picking their jaws up off the floor as I type.

Dananananaykroyd – E Numbers

Do Dananananaykroyd still do the double drumming thing, or is it all dual-vocals now? Not that it matters. On ‘E Numbers’ the Scottish sextet sound suitably mental. Actually, I really don’t know what to say about this, because it’s completely unhinged to the point of breaking apart. One of the guitarists seems to keep squealing and distorting his instrument with no concern for anyone else, whist the other 6-stringer and the drummer play this stabbing, stop-start poppy bounce of uplifting rock ‘n roll and the two singer dudes trade words like playground insults – incredible.

Maybeshewill – Accolades

The keys on this are absolutely gorgeous. I’ve never really listened to Maybeshewill before, despite knowing them to be an instrumental band, they’ve passed me by – but this is truly spectacular. The quite loud dynamic is basically the intimidating/aggressive dynamic in this case – Some great heavy-emo rock blasts of noise, coupled with the melancholy of the strings and the rising piano chords. A chilling, raucous burst of sounds.

City and Colour – Fragile Bird

Big fan of Dallas Green’s voice – some of his best work is his Alexisonfire “wooaaahhhooooss” – this synth led piece is fairly haunting, despite a trippy bounce that the drums seem keen to inject into proceedings. Green’s pipes dominate this though; his extremely sorrowful croon is enchanting. Props to the fuzzed-out, mangled guitar solo, which seems slightly out of place, yet gives the track much needed warmth.

Shapes – Allure A Hore

No idea what Shapes are up to – sounds like they all went away, wrote some stuff, then jammed it all together and decided to construct the lyrics out of various shopping lists and what they saw whilst staring out of a window. Obviously they were high when they recorded this – structure-less and scrambled math-punk rambling that is both exciting and completely stupid at the same time.

Tellison – Kill Thy Foe

One of the most boring tracks I have ever had the misfortune to listen to. Grow some balls ffs.

Three Trapped Tigers – Cramm

It’s like someone has tried to mash to Adebisi Shank tracks together backwards, then cut up various parts and glued them back together in the wrong order. Not even sure what to bill this as – synth-led technical space punk, with a jazz element of ramshackle chaos. Three Trapped Tigers make alien music for aliens and it’s refreshing, uplifting and kind of sounds like the Space Harrier theme played by Lightning Bolt without the scuzz. Best track on the entire cd.

Across Tundras – Tchulu Junction

A meandering, almost listless slog of tired, metal that never starts, but frustratingly never stops – making it to the end of these 8 minutes should reward the listener with a medal – a pointless, soul-crushing dirge.

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Links

It’s raining.

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By Ross Macdonald