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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

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I’ve only heard a smattering of past Set Your Goals material – what I have experienced has been decent (several tracks off of ‘Mutiny’, their second album - ‘This Will Be The Death Of Us’ and this excellent Jawbreaker cover) – it’s rapid-fire pop-punk, that doesn’t stop bouncing; some nice dual vocals between the nasal-twins and it fits that template of fast hardcore with the sugary guitar chords of a radio-friendly hit.

I read somewhere that ‘Burning At Both Ends’ was a ‘make or break’ record for Set Your Goals. Clearly, those sort of remarks are often banded about just to drum up publicity for the record, because I can imagine this is a release that they are going to want to tour the arse off of. ‘Burning At Both Ends’ is certainly a lot more poppier than past material I have experienced from the sextet. It sounds so incredibly clear and clean – not a bum guitar note, no scrawling feedback; just this very crisp and polished sound. Something which can be both a gift and a curse.

Set Your Goals know how to write a killer chorus though and in pop-punk it’s vital; it’s the lifeblood of the song and they pretty much nail it on every track on ‘Burning At Both Ends.’ Similar to Pulled Apart By Horses, Set Your Goals are heavily influenced by the 80’s, or at least gratuitously reference that decade to death. I mean, have you seen the video for ‘Certain’? It’s a complete glorious mess of film-montages, Michael J Fox worshipping and really dodgy looking CGI.

Opening tracks ‘Cure For Apathy’ and ‘Start The Reactor’ (an obvious nod to Total Recall) are boisterous, pogoing anthems – the former, being a raucous explosion of rapid-fire pop-rock, packed with gang-vocals and bass-heavy rumbles, whilst the latter takes a more hardcore sound; crunching opening riffs that see-saw up and down, ricocheting against the dual-vocal attack.

‘Certain’ however, is where the high mark is at – and rivals The Wonder Years for pop-punk song of the year. It’s a cheeky, fresh-faced leap of barely restrained energy in around 3 minutes. The bizarre Back To The Future-inspired video, complete with the ridiculously badly animated tentacle monster, cheesy dancing and lasers blasting from the band’s instruments and eyes shows that Set Your Goals have a sense of humour and freely embrace their obvious referencing in a gloriously silly way. Also, by the time the 3rd chorus has swung round of the insanely catchy “and if you really want to fight with me…” and you’re not singing it back in your best nasal tone, you’ve officially no soul. It’s like the first time you heard ‘Hit Or Miss’ or anything off of the first New Found Glory album – it’s just poppy enough to hook you and reign you in, as well as being punk enough for you to bellow along to and work yourself into a frenzy over.

There’s emotional depth on ‘Happy New Year’, one of the heaviest and starker sounding songs present on this album. “I’ll leave commitments pending; the worst year of my life is ending…” – shows not only sadness, but relief in past events finally being out of sight and enthusiasm for the future being a lot brighter than the darkness that has been left behind. It’s probably one of the most mature sounding songs on the record, touching on moments of early 90’s emo, particularly in the guitars, whilst still rooted in pop sensibilities despite the dark lyrical content.

In contrast, ‘London Heathrow’ spring back to the cheery and cheeky popcore zeal, complete with superb vocal-trade offs between Matt and Jordan, almost finishing each others verses with their eagerness. ‘The Last American Virgin’ shares lyrical similarities with the 1982 film it is named after – boy warring for the affections of a girl who doesn’t know what she really wants. The pop-hooks are once again, huge-snagging blasts of liveliness and vigorous punk melody. ‘Exit Summer’ is proper old-school hardcore-speed-pop fury – fast-paced vocals that stumble over each other in their escape, air-punching choruses, brimming with passion and some nice crunching breakdowns.

Would you believe there’s actually a song called ‘Product of the 80’s?’ Yeah. The chorus is fucking hilarious, sample:

“I grew up with David Lee and Tiffany, in love with Billie Jean and was terrified of Freddy. I grew up, no dvds or mp3s or plasma screen tvs because I’m a product of the 80’s.”

It works though; for all it’s face-palming horror, Set Your Goals nail it on a song that is the equivalent of a huge steaming lump of stilton. They even have time to throw in loads of stupid quotes from the Goonies, Saved By The Bell and other dross in the break before the last chorus. The instrumentation even sounds like it’s from the 80’s – packed with weird synthesised shrieks and bleeps.

The thing is, ‘Burning At Both Ends’ is a fun album – it’s built to be played at parties – it’s the kind of record you’d blast out at an American frat party – hell, Set Your Goals would probably play at some freshman’s college dorm for a few kegs and a warm bed. It’s obvious that Set Your Goals have really enjoyed creating this album; enthusiasm and fervour sweats off of it in bucketloads – essential summer listening, a cracking third release from a band that deserve more recognition.

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Links

Set Your Goals
Set Your Facebook
Epitaph

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By Ross Macdonald

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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

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

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

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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

Bands – Some Skeletons, When A Train Hits A Truck, Worselings, Fresh Eyes For The Dead Guy
Release – Notts In Space EP
Label – None, self-released
Date – Now! Available from the Notts In Space bandcamp via download or CD.
Sounds like – One small step for man, several giant riffs for rock kind.

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Back in April, a group of like-minded individuals decided to host a ‘launch’ party in Nottingham at the Chameleon Arts Café to promote all things ‘Space’-themed (so as you can imagine, ‘Neighbourhood’, ‘Female of the Species’ and that other song that Liverpudlian band released were featured heavily) The reason? To celebrate 50 years of man in space. They even roped in Steven Hawking for this trailer for fucks sake. Now, that’s commitment – what have you done lately, huh? Bet you haven’t run a successful Space-themed party and put out a split EP featuring 4 local bands, all contributing new tracks themed around the magic of….SPACE.

Also, the title of the event; ‘The Difference Between Me and Yuri is I’m Notts In Space’ – absolute genius.

There’s a rich warmness about Some Skeletons – their sound is a wonderfully crisp roar of crashing guitars and scattered drum rolls. There’s an early 90s emo vibe about ‘Author’ without it being too stressed and whiny. Instead, it’s incredibly thoughtful, with a heavy, Mineral-style blast of intensity at the start and the last 40 seconds of Amplifier space rock breakdown. Based around the lifecycle of the sun, ‘Author’ finds great strength, not just only in it’s noisy, alternative rock but also in the overlapping vocal melodies and jangling, somewhat scuzzy guitar lines. There’s a touch of Small Brown Bike in their delivery, as well as a keen earnest nature in the vocals, which at times sound quite fragile, but somehow work nicely with the swooping rush of their post-hardcore riffs. I just wish I could fully understand what the last few lines actually say at the end of the track; which reads something like:

“With the power to crush all remnants of my birth all through and into the earth” – which states quite clearly, how much some of us probably underestimate the power of the sun.

There’s a great sense of childhood innocence and nostalgia woven into ‘Making Spaceships’ by three-piece, When A Train Hits A Truck. The song is essentially about constructing lego spaceships, the trials and tribulations of following the sometimes less than helpful instructions and the nature of creating something to wave around your head and make “pow pow!” noises with. Musically, it’s a pop-punk bounce of energized rock that utilizes a good mix of overlapping dual vocal shouts, scuzzy, yet sturdy basslines and a slightly sardonic view on both vocalists’ abilities in constructing a battle cruiser out of building blocks. Kudos to WATHAT for writing a deeply infectious chorus; the soaring “we will fly through bedrooms skies….to…god knows where!” is one refrain you will have trouble removing from your brain.

Worselings sound like they’re trying to remove something nasty from the soles of their shoes. Not only is there a sneer in the delivery of their acid-tongued vocalist, but also in their music, which is fairly jagged and intense. It’s a stabbing, spiky rattle of disenchanted and quite stark sounding heavy rock. Their track, ‘Lost Cosmonaut’ is spat at the listener rather than sung, especially on the chorus, where the track title, is spluttered out through a strangled half-scream of disgust. It even starts off annoyed – “don’t think you’re something special, don’t think you are the first…you were just the lucky one….” with Worselings doing their best Falco impression of comic revulsion. The track is apparently based on the many unsuccessful fatal launch attempts that preceded Yuri Gagarin’s trip into space. Dense, Therapy? Meets Future of the Left metallic punk and possibly my favourite track on this EP.

Apparently, the handclaps were the hardest part on ‘When Gravity Goes’ by Fresh Eyes For the Dead Guy. Similar to Worselings, Fresh Eyes, sound increasingly bitter, with their music assaulting the listener in a much crisper, but still equally sharper manner. Kindred spirits – there’s some nice Drive Like Jehu elements present; it weaves and contorts with similar urgency to Froberg’s band of post-punk legends and the vocals are barked with that familiar spite and delirious fever. The structure of quiet/loud builds, not to mention the scrappy, noise breakdown halfway through is reminiscent of These Arms Are Snakes, especially the cry of “UNITS OF DISTANCE, UNITS OF TIME!” Jagged, determined and frightfully chaotic punk that scythes and roars with malevolent gusto.

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You can buy ‘Notts In Space’ from the bandcamp site here. Also, check out the Some Skeletons ‘Kypes | Pests | Throats’
 EP, When A Train Hits A Truck’s ‘Special Dice’ EP, ‘The Angry Hum’ by Worselings and ‘Triceratops‘ by Fresh Eyes For The Dead Guy.

Links

Some Skeletons

When A Train Hits A Truck

Worselings

Fresh Eyes For The Dead Guy

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By Ross Macdonald

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Chances are those of you familiar with the Beds and Herts circuit will known who Arms & The Man are – or at the very least seen them demolishing your local pub/house/respectable music venue. If not,  you’ve probably been living under a rock, yeah?
You know how Pulled Apart By Horses sound like one big epic party train; all high fives, stage dives? Arms & The Man take that template, smash it to pieces, burn the ashes and build a party fortress on the smouldering remains. Despite the somewhat cavalier attitude as displayed in their press release, it’s clear that this EP is something that all five members have poured a lot of time and effort into creating. Yet, the three songs present on this self-titled effort are so cocksure, so laden with swagger and Henry Winkler thumbs-up, finger-gun coolness, it’s difficult to wipe the massive grin that will slowly spread across your face as the tracks burrow their way into your subconscious.

It’s a sum of many parts; bordering styles clashing together to create some kind of unholy raucous rock n roll destruction machine. First track, ‘Guitarmageddon’ is straight out of the ‘Gutter Phenomenon’-era Every Time I Die rulebook. From the fairly dense opening bombardment of the taunt bass and drum crash, coupled with the sturdy, grinding guitar lines, the vocals punch through the mix like a rasping drunkard, hollering for his next fix. As quickly as it begins, everything is shifted up a gear to a lurching and somewhat stocky clunk of filthy stoner rock as the vocals dip from enraged screams, to moments of sporadic melody and then back to a Matt Caughthran-style bark. Arms & The Man embrace a “fuck it, let’s party” attitude and seem to try and jam as many fist-in-the-air choruses as possible.

This EP is basically a taunt – an arrogant, goading sneer at other bands and you can tell Arms & The Man are loving every minute of it. “So I read the blog about your band man, and it appears to me, you would kill for the fuckin’ swagger that we’ve got…” roars vocalist Ben Davies, high on his own giddy boastfulness and especially so when he screams “HAS YOUR BAND GOT ANY RIFFS?” and is greeted with a resounding “NO!” from the rest of the A&TM boys. It’s fantastically egotistical and supremely awesome. The finishing breakdown and cry of “DANCE MOTHER-FUCKERS, DANCE MOTHER FUCKERS COME ON!” is a resounding slab of pure groove-metal beatdown.

‘Riffalanche’ twists and turns with such chaotic precision; yet despite its raw heaviness, it still sounds like the most fun in the world. Like Kvelertak, they’ve created metal that makes you want to embrace people instead of punch them. A combination of bro-core high-fives, with a hilarious poser attitude that oozes confidence from every riff, every drum beat, every time a proud line is spat, you just want to grab the nearest person in a bear hug and force them to jump around on the spot until they can’t feel their own legs and are grinning as wide as you are.

‘Stay Down, Hitchin’ is Fu Manchu-meets The Bronx, swinging from a slick stoner groove to barbed punk rock rasps. “WE MAKE MUSIC, FROM THE HEART AND SOUL!” screams Davies and you can tell the boy means it. There’s a touch of Baroness-riffage in the way the track kicks into a higher gear, sliding into a filthier southern-rock vibe.

So much confidence bleeds from Arms & The Man; it’s scary. It’s as if they’ve smoked a load of weed made out of Jeff Winger’s hair and ingested his “It’s clear from looking at me, that I am awesome” attitude – but the thing is, they can pull it off. Why? Because their music speaks it in volumes, through the impenetrable breeze-block thick grooves, through to the punk-meets-hardcore swagger, Swami-guitar licks and that ever-so-noticeable aroma of desert rock; Arms & The Man have earned the right to be this cocky, because not only have they got the attitude; they’ve got the tunes to back it up and it’s not only refreshing, but essential.

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Links

Arms & The Man
Arms & The Man Facebook
Scylla Records

Pre-order ‘Arms & The Man’ here.

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By Ross Macdonald

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There must be something in my mind that makes grindcore so hilarious. The sound of a man gargling paint thinner over filthy guitar riffs and drumming that sounds like someone knocking over a pile of pots and pans is automatically the funniest sound ever. Of course, it can also be the most brutal and Wormrot do just that. In fact, not only do they do ‘that’ they take ‘that’ outside, cover it in petrol, set fire to the bastard, piss on it, then burn it some more. Then nuke it. Then take the elaborate metaphor even further.

Straight out of Singapore, Wormrot are a 3 piece (drums, vocals and guitar respectively, fuck bass players dude), and are absolutely insane. I had to check to see if they had a drum machine, but was impressed to see that an actual human plays at the break-neck speed that the band only seem to be able to run at. ‘Dirge‘ is their second album, and condenses 25 tracks into 18 minutes. Now, that’s fast kids – that’s like the Flash and Superman starting a power-violence band. Wormrot are crazy awesome though; stuck in the one gear of course, the gear labelled ‘this is the part where your bones shatter into pieces on impact.’ The vocals range from insane mental-patient howls, to snappy, rabid yelps, to hardcore-punk gruff shouts and then some standard screaming and then back to the psychotic mind growls. The drumming consists of a blast-beat intensity and blister-induced savagery, whilst the guitar work shifts from groove-metal (see ‘Deceased Occupation’) to a thundering thrash attack (‘Waste of Time’). What is interesting, is the way Wormrot sound so deliciously scrappy, yet there seems to be this invisible barrier encompassing their music, that tightens then slackens then tightens some more, every time their sound drifts into a near incomprehensible scourge.

‘Spot A Pathetic’ mixes harsh black metal thrash with snotty hardcore punk tomfoolery; as does ‘Principle of Puppetwarfare’, which mixes that stocky 80s punk attitude with a swagger of 90s dumb-meathead fist swing. ‘Butt Krieg is Showing’ is sonic-blast beat dementia fed through filthy mesh of crust-metal chaos. The vocals on ‘Ferocious Bombardment’ are akin to that of the wailing and gnashing of some kind of starving demon spawn; a fitting and rather apt title methinks. ‘Stench of Ignorance’ is what Minor Threat would sound like if they’d spent more time drinking and listening to more grindcore and spent less time being straight edge.

There’s a nice tribute to Napalm Death about halfway through ‘Dirge’ in the form of ‘You Suffer But Why Is It My Problem?’ At 5 seconds, it’s five times the length of the seminal grindcore masterpiece, but is a nice touch and one that the ‘Death boys would no doubt find amusing. ‘Back Stabber Mission Aborted’ splices growled black metal cries, with an almost Hatebreed dual-vocal bark and scrappy, thrash-metal guitar licks and that same relentless percussion that is pure savagery spliced with discordant thunder. ‘The Final Insult’ is the only track that feels like it wasn’t recorded after about 10 buckets of coffee ice cream, washed down with a pint of whisky. It’s a riff-driven stagger of chugging alt-metal that adjusts from a hardcore head-banging jerk to an almost tribal slog of progressive rock inside 109 seconds; making it also the longest track on the album.

‘Dirge’ is under 20 minutes of pure savage ferocity; that tears and shreds at your senses like a banshee controlling the drum kit from hell. Blister-inducing, chaotic grindcore done with such wide-eyed intensity and precision, it’s hard not to be impressed – complete air-punch brutality; all hail the rise of the worm.

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Links

Wormrot
EarAche Records

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By Ross Macdonald