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

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65DaysOfStatic – Crash Tactics

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

Open Hand – So Far

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

Melissa Auf Der Maur – Out Of Our Minds

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

Hearts Under Fire – Liquid Luck

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

The Dangerous Summer – Where I Want To Be

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

Acid Tiger – The Claw

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

Mutiny Within – Oblivion

*Looks at watch* Hmmm….nope sorry.

As I Lay Dying – Beyond Our Suffering

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

Lafaro – Cold Dog Soup

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

Grown Ups – Three Day Weekend

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

(Damn) This Desert Air – Ghost I Own

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

Caesars Rome – High On The Nines

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

Maycomb – Whatever Happened, Happened

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

Karma To Burn – Waiting On The Western World

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

Twilight – 8,000 Years

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

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Links

See above, the need for sleep is overwhelming.

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By Ross Macdonald

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Links

Jogging Myspace
Jogging Band Camp
Richter Collective

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By Ross Macdonald

Bomb the music Industry – Planning My Death

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

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I Made This Mistake – Billboards

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

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Los Campesinos! – There are Listed Buildings

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

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The Album Leaf – Falling from the Sun

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

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Errors – Bridge Or Cloud

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

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The Besnard Lakes – Albatross

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

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Links

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

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

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

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

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

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

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By Mad Mac

Band – Worrier
Album – Source Errors Spells
Release date – 5th April
Label – Richter Collective
Sounds Like – The ocean swallowing Les Savy Fav

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Worrier seems a suitably apt name for this trio from Milwaukee (you were expecting me to say Dublin, right?), as the vocals have a degree of panic about them. This isn’t the kind of fright or anxiety you would associate with some weak-willed simpleton shuddering in the corner; this is the kind of intense, manic-staring panic of unhinged madness and scattered logic. The yelping cries and bird-like squawks of trepidation are juxtaposed with the flourishing, extravagant nature of Worrier’s eclectic sound.

There’s a kind of breathless exuberance in their music – not in the minute long feral power of say bands like Some Girls, because Worrier actually have tunes and melody. What I mean is, there’s this kind of intense and euphoric aggression present. Many of the tracks on ‘Source Errors Spells’ are staggering over each other in a glorious stumble of miscellaneous sounds. There’s so much earnest creativity on offer and the alarmingly different shifts in sound, speed, pattern and focus draw several deserving comparisons; such as the oddball eccentricity of Liars and that outrageous passion of Les Savy Fav.

Worrier open proceedings with ‘Let Down Your Hair’; a track that begins with the moody hum of a church organ, backed by a soft fuzz. The drums kick in along a wavering pattern – rolling and bouncing alongside the heavily synthesised layer of sound. The dual vocal attack folds into itself, mixing a chanting lead in with the soaring backing cries and shouts like a cluster of rowdy drunken teenagers. But there’s a delicate craft in this – whilst it predominantly sounds like a raucous sing-along reserved for the kind of places where you’re likely to get half a bottle embedded in the back of your head; the melodic pop-hooks balance out the chattering hustle.  ‘I Am The River’ follows, driven predominantly by the militant electro-drum beat, that is devoid of cymbal crashes and instead centres on an almost tribal thump of relentless energy. The guitars and keys are a lot more subtle this time, giving way to breathless vocals and purring atmospheric hum.

The vocals are going to be the marmite on this particularly fine cake of musical notes however. They range from this gasping, almost husky drawl; especially ‘I Am The River’ but also a odd rising vocal shriek that isn’t too dissimilar to Jaguar Love’s Johnny Whitney. You know; the kind of singing voice that makes you think the person’s testicles have started to retract back up inside them. However, it’s these vocal swings that make Worrier an appealing prospect, something that is best emphasised on ‘Reverse the Hearse’ which captures the squawking shrillness and the wheezing calm so well.

‘Sea Section’ takes the sturdy drumming of ‘I Am The River’ and collides it with eerie bleeps and screeching synthesisers in a similar way to Liars, if they started writing songs about boating trips whilst mashing the keys of a Yamaha. The vocals are notably different again, taking on a more rough-shod punk sneer of indifference and lyrically seem quite headstrong and ring with defiance. It also references the need to escape, with the emphasis of being free from various shackles. The words “…and we’ll sail away in a casket made of clay….to melt down right before your eyes…” supports this with a nod towards regeneration. ‘Lost Ships’ keeps with the aquatic theme, blending heavy, spiraling electronic influences with a distinct dance-rock frame and the crashing wave of glitching squeaks and roars. ‘I’m Not The Ocean’ is a brash retort to ‘I Am The River’; the cry of “these are blackened ships!” and the trippy, dilapidated quiver of the guitar and drums, coupled with the intensity of the severe vocals is what Worrier pull off extremely well.

‘Black Death Princess’ sounds like Neon Blonde and Rutger ‘About’ Hoedemaekers jamming in a studio after too much caffeine. Talk about menacing – the Neanderthal drumming, creepy, yet swirling keys, dark pulsating loops and the hauntingly hoarse backing vocal screams and a rich warm lead voice that wails with an eerie sinister lust make this an obvious album highlight. ‘Wind in the Sails’ is a big smug grin of tooth-rotting indie pop that many will find not to sing along to by the second listen. Infectiously warm and soothing, with strong prominence on anthemic gang vocals and buzzsaw keyboard lines through the jaunty, summery buzz of twinkling noise. ‘Axeidents’ sounds eerily similar to the massively hyped Test Icicles with Tim Harrington-aping vocal barking about fist fights over the top of bouncing dance punk that sparkles like it’s been waxed clean by Superman.

‘Source Error Spells’ by Worrier is a splendid piece of eccentric, indie-dance-rock; it’s schizophrenic nature, both musically and vocally is somewhat jarring at first, but one that open-minded listeners, particularly those who follow Why? Liars and Jaguar Love will find rewarding and full of vibrant energy.

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Those looking for a copy of ‘Source Errors Spells’ can download a copy for a mere 5 euros (just under 5 quid) from their bandcamp site.

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Links

Worrier Myspace
Richter Collective

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – The Continuous Battle Of Order
Album – Pttrn Skrs
Label – Richter Collective
Release date – 17th April
Sounds like – distress calls, cattle rockers, clannish hoedowns.

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The Continuous Battle Of Order win the award for having a name that makes me think it should be the tagline to a Command & Conquer or Call Of Duty game. Heck, it would work attached to a Viva Piñata title. Comprised of just two guys; a drummer who goes by the name Craig and a guitarist by the name of Hornby, The Continuous Battle Of Order formed out of the ashes of math rock-types, We Are Knives. In some respects, they share similarities with Rhode Island’s Lightning Bolt – the minimalist set up, songs mostly devoid of vocals and instead utilising a barrage of sound as the mouthpiece. Yet, they sound nothing like the bass-noise duo, as their sound is more in common with the buzzsaw drone and exuberant flourish of Shield Your Eyes and in small doses, label mates Adebisi Shank.

The opening track on ‘Pttrn Skrs’  is filled with the following: a Morse code-type distress call, glitched bleeping, the rushing of waves that bleed into lumbering drum beats and jarring, swirling out-of-tune guitar crashes that don’t seem to follow any pattern, rhyme or reason. It’s captivating in a strange way; as with The Continuous Battle Of Order, it’s unclear of their goal or even what the next few seconds are going to bring. It’s a bit like staring into the mind of a manical schizophrenic. These are his thoughts – fluxing between hoarse vocal cries, tribal percussion; the de-tuned haze of a sea-fisherman’s radio relaying co-ordinates, trippy passages of drugged guitar chords and mangled rhythms. It then bleeds into some impossibly fast tappy/math rock guitar scrawl that the drums battle valiantly for domination. It’s like listening to OXES played at a faster/wrong speed whilst the shipping forecast is being recited in the background. ‘Pttrn Skrs’ feels incredibly raw; fresh studio jams that lack polish but instead feature that guttural nuance of scrappy discord.

The guitars and irregular drum patterns stumble over each other like two ADD-sufferers trying to complete a three-legged race; particularly on ‘002’, which dips into Don Caballero territory for pretentious sustainable notes and ramshackle percussion. It’s held together with this grunge-edge that grooves and shifts with arrogant assurance and a rumbling bounce. ‘003-1’ starts with a persistent guitar twang, with a woman’s voice reading various numbers like someone feedbacking the lottery result from the 1930s through a cheap transistor. ‘003-2’ is predominantly a stop-gap percussion piece, focusing on tribal drumming, clattering and banging with the only thing missing being a sweet glockenspiel passage.

The soothing wash of the rich guitar plucking on ‘004’ is a stark contrast to the somewhat unpredictable rush of sound that the previous tracks have offered; yet its mesmeric tone is captivating. The subtle fade-in and out offered by this track, not to mention the quiet strings help create a luscious piece of absorbing sound. ‘005’ stutters and staggers with very little control as the duo that make up TCBOO fire out quick bursts of rattled tappy-instrumental melodic rock. They pause periodically to regroup; refocus and twist the track in another direction – by either following the same repetitious chord pattern or completely changing progression all together, diving down another pathway of busy clamour.

The last track begins with a shrill wail from a Theremin, coupled with the fuzzed vocal sample chanting the line ‘WE ARE ALL JUST PATTERN SEEKERS.’ ‘006’ is clearly the heaviest and progressively noisiest track by TCBOO; the rasping burst of the grunge-rock guitar scrawl and irregular drum strikes eventually slips nicely into some spiky, math-rock waves, whilst the unremitting drum roll is furious and encompassing. It ends abruptly with the tapping Morse code as heard at the start of the album.
Some might say that this whole experience cements the feeling that ‘Pttrn Skrs’ is not an album, but merely half-an-hour of varied sounds made by a radio transmitter and an erratic disc jockey. Others, would state it’s the work of two individuals who have gone beyond the realms of structure and focused on making music that excites, confuses and inspires.

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The ‘Pttrn Skrs‘ album launch takes place on the following dates:

16th April – The Quad, Cork, 8pm
17th April – Twisted Pepper, Dublin, 8pm
13th May – Black Box, Belfast, 7pm

The band are also playing Brixton Windmill on the 23rd May with Tweak Bird.

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Links

The Continuous Battle Of Order
The Richter Collective

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – The Display Team
Album – Drones
Label – Genin Records
Release date – Out now, chuckleheads
Sounds like – The Beach Boys + Rocket From The Crypt x System of a Down +  Mike Patton rubbing his hands, cackling with glee = still not even close.

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Let me create a rather daft but truthful metaphor for you: listening to The Display Team is like leaving several attention-deficit disorder kids with a load of art supplies and a big white wall that says “do not touch.” Within seconds you’ve entered a world of garish paint splatters, demented scrawls, bizarre constructs, amusing doodles, eccentric caricatures and the feeling that you’ve just discovered a group of masterminds.

Back to reality: The Display Team are 6 individuals; 2 guitars, 1 bassist, a drummer, a trombonist and a trumpet player who create the kind of batshit insane-musical chaos that will leave you more confused than sitting through both Matrix sequels back-to-back. The underlying style is raucous punk rock that has been shattered with a sledge hammer and scattered with numerous other styles. These range from flamboyant lounge-jazz, to sporadic hardcore, to even a dash of reggae, to ballsy rock ‘n roll and of course, the circus frivolity of ska. However,  it is the vocals that really slap the listener around the face like some enormous metal claw. With all 6 of The Display Team’s personnel contributing their fine sets of lungs to vocal proceedings; many of the tracks on ‘Drones’ are given a strange ‘A cappella’ feel (but of course one accompanied by instruments) or as I like to say, “a punk rock Beach Boys” and to me, it is this that sets them apart from the normality of the current music scene and raises the question: “holy shit, did they just do that?”

It’s that crucial 1-2 punch opener that distinguishes a good album from a superb album; and the Display Team fall heavily into the latter category. The immediate blast of noise that is opening track ‘Worry-Sponge’ is sledgehammer of sound. The crash of guitar chords, mixed with the thunderous drumming and reckless brass is the equivalent of The Display Team chasing you down the street like rage-infected zombies. It gets the adrenalin pumping through your body; your heart racing with unnatural speed as well as the fear of what’s lurking around the corner. What is skulking in the shadows is the ‘two’ punch in the form of ‘Gnaw The Iron Paw’; a snotty barrel roll of disgruntled punk rock, which seems to tell the story of dismantling an old regime to be replaced with another. From one perspective, the talk of ‘tear up the blueprints’ and ‘dismantle everything and start again’ (which is shouted with such jovial glee) is reflective of The Display Team’s music in a way. They are rethinking; reworking music we listen to and are striving to create something that will in their own words, ‘upset the see-saw!’ The fact that it sounds like The Mighty Mighty Bosstones trading song structures and time changes with some math rock band who have decided to start a part-time barbershop quartet just adds to how the rules are transforming.

Third track, ‘Norwegian Honey’ (which details the humorous stalking antics of an obsessive Scandinavian beauty) runs at a completely different pace when compared to the thrashing sounds of the opening salvo. Whilst the jaunt is still there, it staggers drunkenly between exuberant swing music and ‘Rock The Plank’-era Mad Caddies pirate ska. It even manages to shoehorn in some classic rock guitar squeals and short passages of ambient jazz and the odd shot of dancehall for good measure. From this description you may be thinking that it sounds like a jumbled mess of incoherent sounds, but in the hands of The Display Team, it morphs into a whimsical and vibrant shanty.

The freight train barrage soon slides back on to the rails in the form of ‘Check Up (From The Neck Up)’ which seems to tell the story of a deranged lunatic and a cry for said maniac to seek professional help; whilst the band crash their way through 3 minutes of stop-start jagged rock, distorted brass and anthemic backing vocal screams. ‘Body Renting’ treads uneven ground between Patton-style violent mood swings of grimey punk rock, with the multi-vocal attack sounding like a pack of excited monkeys jabbering with malicious intent behind the snapping and sarcastic dual leads.

Whilst ‘Karma’s Gonna Get You (Filthy Scum)’ manages to create a derisive and mocking tone; ‘Pitfalls of Politeness’ takes a trip to the circus via a local jazz recital and a marching band. It sounds like something that should be sound-tracking The Ren and Stimpy show if John Kricfalusi was ever allowed to make and release more episodes. Whilst it starts as something quite innocent (much like the aforementioned Hoek and J Cat described above) it soon descends into rasping depravity in the closing 20 seconds – a moment in music that should most definitely be longer and played at maximum volume.

The swing element returns in the form of ‘A Pathetic Pill’ – the bigger brother track of ‘Norwegian Honey.’ The Display Team’s attempt to stuff as much into this track as possible is staggering – one moment it lurches from drunken Rocket From The Crypt swami-shredding, to 70s swing rock, to bouncing skacore, spread with a thin layer of skiffle and even Sweep The Leg Johnny jazz-noise disorder. Throughout, the vocals bark, scream, shout, harmonise, rap, and screech with sporadic efficiency and barely-stifled humour.

Remember the Jazz Club sketch from The Fast Show? Well ‘Conjunctivitis’ sounds as if it was lifted directly from the end of one of John Thomson’s rambling “nice!” monologues as he turns to introduce the band. It also conjures up images of The 13th Duke of Wymbourne sliding into view, glass of brandy in one hand, cigarette in the other and a sinister look on his moustached face. This would soundtrack his dashing escapades like a bizarre cross between Richard Cheese and NOFX.

‘A Letter To Russia’ closes ‘Drones’ in a bombardment of frantic horn blasts, jagged guitars and Patton-style vocal gurgling. The track focuses on two different points of view – the first being school girl Samantha Smith’s letter to Yuri Andropov (Soviet Communist Secretary) detailing her fear of nuclear war between America and Russia. The second part of the song is Andropov’s reply, telling her not to panic and how his country are trying to prevent conflict between the two powers and his decision to invite Sammy to visit the Soviet Union. Out of the 12 tracks on ‘Drones’, ‘A Letter To Russia’ is easily the best both lyrically and vocally. The decision to touch on such subject matter with a slight tongue-in-cheek approach draws similarities with the lyrical content and style of Keep It Fast favourites, Down I Go. This kind of ‘condensed history report’ in a song is a worthy addition to The Display Team’s arsenal of talent and one they should consider repeating on future releases.

If we look back to the painting analogy for a second; it is clear that ‘Drones’ prints the word ‘FUN’ in massive letters, the size of a Donald Trump skyscraper. I’m going to throw out one of those tired music journalism clichés even though I don’t want to, but the fact is, The Display Team create some of the most unique and interesting music that strictly refuses to be pigeonholed or even stay still for more than a second. ‘Drones’ is an incredible musical journey of revolutionary sounds and is a debut that I imagine all 6 band members loved and I mean, loved making.

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Links

The Display Team Myspace
The Display Team Homepage
Genin Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – The Cast Of Cheers
Album – Chariot
Label – None
Release date – out now for free download at bandcamp (physical release April)
Sounds like – Kelsey Grammer passing out after 17 pints of mild.

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Those readers getting excited about finally finding a band that have recorded a concept album about Ted Danson and a group of alcoholic misanthropes should be prepared for bitter disappointment. Whilst the prospect of hearing a load of songs regaling the supposed ‘comedy gold’ of a load of American actors I don’t find funny may appeal to some, I just thank the gods that The Cast Of Cheers reference this show in name alone.
Listening through ‘Chariot’ there are times when you feel you’ve got it nailed on what “their sound is”, only for the next track to bulldoze that constructed idea and begin speedily creating another from the ground up. The Cast Of Cheers flitter between compact passages of twisted instrumental musings; spliced with broken vocal shrieks and a tight dance-punk mentality.

There’s a somewhat techno-blurring of sound on opening track ‘Goose’; which is content to splice a straight forward indie-rock tune, with glitching vocal stutters, deep basslines and robotic drum patterns. The complexity lies somewhere in the structure created by the guitars, which weave between part math-rock and part pop at a relentless pace. ‘I Am Lion’ shares similarities with ‘Goose’ to begin with, but starts to crack out of that template. The scribbled background guitar howls that meld beautifully with the heavy bass lead give the track a weird ethereal quality; whilst the tight percussion gives a nod towards spasmodic bounce of ‘Atlas’ by Battles.

Obviously, having contacts with the record label The Richter Collective, means The Cast Of Cheers are given scope and retain a certain sound from their experiences and relationships with other bands on that label. These will of course have some influence on their sound as it bleeds through, changing and expanding a band’s sound and developing new pathways. Third track ‘Tip The Can’ contains obvious elements of the prog-math-punk-chaos that is Adebisi Shank; it’s a heavy nod towards the driving pace of their track ‘Minirockers’. The guitars take on that rolling keyboard-yowl of being half-mangled, yet still perfectly composed and in tune, whilst the drumming kicks into a more sporadic gear. The vocals appear softer; more soothing – but still slightly distorted and incredibly sincere as opposed to their usual bark. Excellent use of backing vocal stutters, which sound like some peculiar mystical chant gone wrong. A wonderful piece and most definitely one of the stand-out tracks on this release.

The technical wizardry of The Cast Of Cheers’ guitarists is exemplified on ‘Auricom’; a track that not only contains the scream of ‘I’M NOT YOUR FUCKING DEPUTY’ but some incredibly strange jazz-meets-computer game blips and bleeps and see-sawing rhythms. It’s like trying to condense and then interpret Tron into 3 and a half minutes of music. The Rob Schneider-approved 5th track ‘Derp’ incorporates club land drum beats with a throaty bass heave and tappy, yet elaborate flourishes of bouncing noise-pop. ‘Strangers’ kind of stumbles slightly – being the token slower track it feels a bit lost, but the intricacies make up for this as it’s soft, dream-like nature is a soothing calm against the exhilarating rush of the previous raucousness.

The ‘screaming through a load of radio static’ vocal technique is once again applied on ‘Tigerfox’ as the yell of  “Is there any fucking love in here?” is halfway between the recording of a drunken answer phone message and passionate plea for adoration. The atmospheric shrillness of the closing minute mixes nicely with the prog-based rhythmic build before cutting off with sudden abruptness. Despite the jaunty bounce of ‘Autoshottie’, its lyrics are somewhat miserable and bizarre. The shout of “Crooked vampire! Super James Dean!” fools the listener into thinking it’s yet another lyrical non-sequitur of nonsense shouts. However, what follows touches on a darker aspect: “I am alone here….autoshottie….I have lost, everybody…I feel nothing….autoshottie” – it’s all in the delivery – this dark, dejected, almost suicidal tone that is in stark contrast to the upbeat nature of the music.

‘Deceptapunk’ is a disjointed piece, favouring dense instrumental passages of sound, interspersed with ghostly vocal whispers and soft electronic fades that seem grounded in the 80s. The final track, ‘Glitter’ starts with a jaunty circus-style stomp, before leading into a scuzzy bass line and those barbed vocals that seem to hiss and spit every word with Alan-Rickman-esque distaste. The luscious swirl of noise that follows is pitched in post-rock territory, oddly complimenting the tappy-prog of the tracks stammering build.

‘Chariot’ is intelligent, direct, impressively tight and concise dance-punk that embraces a hopeful pop edge into its noisy prog-rock inventiveness. Fans of Adebisi Shank, Battles, Errors, dancing like you’ve been electrocuted need apply straight away; The Cast Of Cheers could be one of the best kept secrets of the musical underground. Make sure you know their name.
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Links

The Cast Of Cheers
The Cast Of Cheers Band Camp

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – A Torn Mind
EP – Barriers
Label – Self released
Release date – 1st March
Sounds like – jazz meets psych-rock-meets Transformers and Phil Collins.

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On ‘Barriers’, A Torn Mind are unsure as to what they want to be in life. They’re a shapeshifter, constantly morphing their sound into new and intricate ways, never staying in one form for more than a minute, before erupting into something even more ostentatious and vibrant. In many ways, this could be a turn off – it could be argued they’re not giving enough time to adapt and work on a specific style, preferring to favour the jack of all trades, master of none philosophy. Let’s take a listen…

Opening track ‘Sixes and Sevens’ is so pompous and overblown you can imagine a fat man gyrating to it whilst stuffing himself at an all you can eat seafood restaurant. The guitars whine with complex precision, falling over each other in casting out the sprawling scatter of notes, whilst the drums roll and pound keeping a steady, heavy beat. Suddenly it begins to glitch and shudder; abruptly stopping and force-feeding the slightly hurried, yet overtly keen vocals into the mix. It changes from a quite heavy intro, into a somewhat cheesy, pop-rock bounce, led by 80s-sounding keyboard blasts and overlapping vocal-effects, not to mention the brief inclusion of a brass section. The soft jazz interlude they shoehorn in divides the track nicely; even if it has a ‘sounds like it should be played in some late night Channel 5 erotica’ (not that I’d know – ahem.) The last half of ‘Sixes and Sevens’ isn’t quite up to the sporadic opening the track promised, but ends in suitable grandeur; with ringing key-shrieks, offset by rambling drums and the fragile, yet gradually-strengthening vocals.

‘Edge of the World’ is like listening to a slower version ‘Pretty Hate Machine’ era Nine Inch Nails without Reznor’s trademark bark and swapping the industrial hammer pound of the techno-influenced drums for a more standard, metallic approach. It also has a lot in common with Coheed and Cambria – the strange mix of prog-elements and light, pop-rock with synthesised passages give a nod towards the big-haired prog-punkers. It’s almost smothering – technically impressive, layered, twisting rock that splices the roaring, chug of the guitar and bass alongside the weighty and intense keyboards which dominate this track with a striking, yet imposing mood. In fact, remember the old Transformers movie? The one with Orson Welles as Unicron (big fuck-off planet) and some of the most comedy dialogue ever? Well this tune could replace any of the ones created by Stan Bush and no-one would bat an eyelid.

‘Titans’ counterbalances the extravagant and flamboyant eruption caused by ‘Edge of the World’ and adopts and more melodic and structured path. It is in this instance where the vocals fit and sound at their strongest. On the more brasher sounding parts of ‘Barriers’ the voice seems a tad weak and constantly battling for attention; like a cat and a dog balancing on a ball in a vain attempt to distract their owners away from the elephant their son won on a radio show. They soar, if that’s the right expression, on this wave created by the swirling 70s-style guitar drone and the chattering bass groove. At just over the 4 minute mark, ‘Titans’ jerks and twitches from the Jekyll character of calm to the Hyde character of callousness, but again switches back to the melodic route, as if suppressing this sudden fracture in their structure.

Whilst ‘Impurity’ starts off as quite a ominous track, it feels a bit weighed down and scrambles to even hold your attention, which is a shame for a piece of music that started off quite promising. However, it gains momentum and surges into life with a demented piece of jazz-noise-punk scrawl as the saxophone takes control, giving a nod towards Sweep The Leg Johnny-style chaotic fury. The dual-chanting vocals, scattered saxophone parps that swerve in and out give ‘Impurity’ that adrenalin boost and it soon becomes this rising tidal wave of squealing, reverb and overblown, yet structured noise that froths with a sinister urgency.

A Torn Mind must be closet Boston fans. It seems strange that they would mention the likes of Genesis and Pink Floyd, yet fail to mention the Tom Scholz led seventies rockers in their long list of influences. What I’m referring to is the similarities between the beginning of their track ‘Vita’ and Boston’s ‘Foreplay‘. It’s a frenzied rush of synthesised notes with only the hard edged stop-start drum pattern adding variation. This introduction feels more like a dedication than anything else, juxtaposing that familiar opening outbreak with their own soaring beats. The lead riff is a joyous sound, a stark change from the disturbing elements heard on ‘Impurity.’ This closing track is a strange one and a perfect example of the schizophrenic nature A Torn Mind have when it comes to song writing. One minute it hits the high notes with the fist in the air, windswept cry to the heavens of anthemic stadium prog-rock self-pleasure; then it deviates to erratic Dillinger Escape Plan-esque guitar shredding, sounding more like a pissed off hardcore band trying to break through. Praise has to be directed towards the excellent use of samples; which appear in the form of excerpts from speeches, particularly one made by Evangelist, Voddie Baucham who is an advocate of God reigning down fire and brimstone on unbelievers, questioning why the lord delays this outcome. It’s possibly one of the best use of spoken-word samples I’ve heard in a long time that perfectly suits the music it’s accompanying. This image of a man screaming to the heavens for the wrath of almighty God to descend down on the sinners is supported by this surging and menacing rush created by A Torn Mind. It’s creepy how well the two compliment each other – you can almost imagine the untold destruction as Baucham implores these terrible events over the crescendo of sound.

For a first release, this is brimming with promise and passion. Through this 5 track, 40 minute juggernaut the different musical directions have been sliced up and scattered throughout, giving a heady mix of what A Torn Mind’s music has to offer. This of course, gives it an unsteady foothold, but those willing to preserve will take to the sudden changes and variations and witness a real talent that isn’t afraid of experimentation.

‘Barriers‘ can be pre-ordered from the band’s myspace here and their EP launch takes place at Sneaky Pete’s in Edinburgh (sold out, so you might need to blag your way in.)

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Links

A Torn Myspace

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – And So I Watch You From Afar
EP – The Letters EP
Release date – Feb ‘10
Label – Smalltown America Records
Sounds like – a roundhouse guitar to the face and a bass drum to the spine.

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It’s always good to kick things into a higher gear. No-one wants to be stuck following down the same narrow linear tunnel; showboating the same moves and familiar scenes. If you’re Pennywise – fair enough, you stick to what you know which is rehashing the same album over and over, albeit with a different title and more songs about sticking it to the man than the last one. For bands like And So I Watch You From Afar you forgo the use of a frontman and instead do your speaking through guitars and drumbeats. Instead of falling into what I see as a familiar pattern with most instrumental bands (although they don’t claim to be this), And So I Watch You From Afar have examined their past material, thought “ok, that was brutal…it was the kind of crushing heaviness we wanted…devastating rock music…what do we do now?” The answer of course lies in the 4 tracks they’ve created in the form of ‘The Letters EP.’  In certain places it’s not as dense as their self-titled debut. It cuts and changes pace with a spasmodic jerk; flitting from a pummelling barrage to intricate string plucks, before changing tact again and swerving towards a winding mass of prog-punk.

‘S is for Salamander’ begins with a disjointed guitar drone – a see-sawing stagger of choppy riffs that envelop you like a warm, yet aggressively loud bear. When the drums enter the fray, they fight a valiant no-score draw battle with the groaning guitar for supremacy. It has the same pattern as an erratic heart monitor, just before the unfortunate individual goes into a cardiac arrest. This rickety build lasts for a good minute before it all stops and a cocky build enters play. Chris Wee’s superb drumming; all flamboyant rolls and wrist-flicking flair brings a positive marching beat to the And So I Watch You From Afar sound. The kick at the 1:45 mark is absolutely sublime as the snarling guitars cut in and out of each other with swirling grace and pinpoint accuracy. The bass roars behind this all, threatening to devour the drums, which become the dominant driving force. It ends with a somewhat low-end snarl of bass-heavy grunge rock excellence.

Despite ‘D is for Django The Bastard’ only being 2 minutes and 32 seconds long, it manages to cram in a hell of a lot of styles. For instance; first it starts all summery; melodic guitar tones a soft, sweeping haze of twinkling notes – then the drums muscle in, stamping over everything with snotty, enraged post-punk disgust; before rolling into whistles, yelps, cat-calls, chants and distorted percussion, supplemented by jerking stabs of angry guitar notes. It then falls into a bouncing jazz beat, sounding like some act that’s soon to be introduced by Louis Balfour, jazz club style, before climaxing in a metallic build of scything guitar lines, those rolling drum blasts and a cacophony of ecstatic noise.

‘B is for B-Side’ sways uncontrollably. Once again, the drums take lead, whilst the irrepressible wash of the twin guitars and mangled bass hum angrily in the background, flooding the track with their down-tuned filth-encrusted salvo. Guitarists Rory Friers and Tony Wright create an unholy disharmony of strangled mesmerizing sounds from their instruments; bending and twisting this raucous chaos into a feedback soaked squawk of beauty.

‘K is for Killing Spree’ is a closer to end all albums. Again, it starts with that subtle build; all calm, focused guitar plucks, allowing the drums to fade in and keeping a steady, regimented beat. It’s then that everything starts to go out of control – as the drums finally find their stride and volume, so to do the guitars, churning out scrawling riff after scrawling riff with energetic prog-rock styling. There is a fair few amount of builds in this – much like 65daysofstatic; ‘…Killing Spree’ relies on the construction and then destruction of sound. It’s like a huge wave, raised high above a lone surfer that then swoops down, crushing the poor bastard beneath its rolls of foam. The midpoint is just after the 3 minute mark, during which ASIWYFA snap the track in two. The first part ending in a turbulent mix of stuttered feedback and garbled drumming and a distorted whine that slams into the Mastadon-esque grunt of metallic barbarianism. But it’s CONTINUOUSLY broken down – it suffers from ADHD; not content to follow the same path, the twists and relentless urgency are so focused and the closing 2 minutes is a spiraling noise-a-thon of unremitting resonance and shapes, sounding more like an army of musicians than the 4 determined noise-makers that make up And So I Watch You From Afar. Vocal-less rock music has never sounded more mesmerizing and destructive as this – With these 4 tracks, And So I Watch You From Afar say more with their haste-fuelled barrage of instrumental prowess than most bands manage in a lifetime – easily the best thing they’ve recorded and sets an impressive outlook for their 2nd album.

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Links

And So I Watch You From Afar
Smalltown America Records

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – Rammstein
Support – Combichrist
Venue – Wembley Arena
Date – 4/02/2010
Damage – would have paid double what I originally paid and then some.

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Rammstein are similar to Michael Bay – both like fire and both like explosions. Also, the louder the explosions and the fiercer the flames, the better it seems. Even standing in the middle of Wembley Arena I still felt as though someone had thrust my head towards an open hearth. I’m surprised some people weren’t holding marshmallows up in the air.

Opening and only support band Combichrist forgo the use of stringed instruments, seeing the guitar and bass as redundant and instead utilise two percussionists and a keyboard player who resembles Blanka crossed with one of the Psychos from Borderlands. In fact, this description would suit any member of Combichrist, although the vocalist has the look of an escaped convict pretending to be a computer game sprite. Combichrist build their sound around a wall of percussion, with both drummers at opposite ends of the stage, sandwiching the insane keyboard player within this vortex of blast-beats. They’re loud – like dangerously loud and incredibly cocky. The two drummers alternate between climbing over their kits (which are designed to look like some bizarre coiled tail), especially the maniac to my right, who spends most of the set wailing on only a cymbal, clinging on for dear life. Interestingly the only lyrics I can decipher underneath the hailstorm of abrasive tribal drum patterns and shrieking keyboards consist of a volley of swear words, meaning that my ears must now be finely tuned to detect profanity as of watching too much late night comedy or Combichrist just aren’t very imaginative when it comes to writing lyrics. There’s something animalistic about their performance – raw, almost Neanderthal in its primitive drive but incredibly focussed and aggressive. Plus points for the dismantling of the drumkits at the end and the left-hand drummers desire to swap sticks every 10 seconds. Like listening to a techno-metal version of Slipknot that’s been confined to tribal music and casio keyboard demos for too long. A band I would be interested to see in a headlining capacity very soon.

For the German industrial metal juggernaut that is Rammstein it’s been far too long. Rumours of them splitting have been banded around since the release of ‘Mutter‘ in 2001; but they’ve remained a unified, well oiled (ahem) machine throughout such gossip and controversies associated with their imagery and music videos and to have them back on our shores is a delight.  When it comes to stage entrances, no one quite does it like Rammstein. As the lights dim, dull silhouettes form on what is presumably a fake wall at the back of the stage. Cracks appear as the band break through the partition and make their way on stage, like something from a European re-make of Star Trek.

They open with ‘Rammlied’, the first track from their most recent album, ‘Liebe Ist Fur Alle Da’ a track which shares similarities with ‘Rammstein’ from the band’s debut album, ‘Herzeleid’, i.e. chanting the band’s name in a thick German brogue. This is greeted with rapturous gusto from the assembled crowd. With Rammstein you get more than just a band standing their playing their instruments – it becomes more than a just a standard gig – it’s an extravagant show where 6 musicians attempt to get away with as much mayhem as possible. The drums don’t seem loud enough? Not to worry, every time there’s a particularly heavy beat needed we’ll set off some fireworks or emit a thundering loud bang, complete with a shower of sparks. Some people in the crowd look a little cold, huddling together for warmth? Not to worry, let’s start spraying fire about the place with our hand-mounted flame throwers! – And so on. Every song is accompanied by an explosive blast or a burst of flame, which some cynics might feel seems kind of a gimmick, but in reality it adds to the experience and the music rather than detracting from it. During ‘Benzin’ a stuntman is set alight by Till and spends the remainder of the song dashing about in blazing inferno much to the amusement of the German frontman. Despite ‘Liebe Is Fur Alle Da’ only being released less than 4 months ago, the 9 tracks they play from it (this is after all, that album’s tour) are just as warmly received as older favourites and sung back at Till with passionate urgency. They’re scattered throughout the set, giving old fans a chance to hear their favourites, such as the regimented march of ‘Links 2-3-4’ the bottoming-out riff-a-thon of ‘Keine Lust’ and conflagration anthem, ‘Feuer Frei!’, which is a blazing inferno of pyrotechnics and blasts of industrial noise-metal. Diminutive keyboardist Flake undergoes a costume change halfway through, and emerges dressed in a skin-tight glittering catsuit and proceeds to spend the rest of their set playing his instrument, whilst walking on a treadmill like some camp-80’s spaceman.

The familiar rapid fire keyboard tapping that begins ‘Du Hast’ is like a call to arms. Fists are raised in a determined salute for what is the band’s signature song and vocalist Till is only too happy to oblige in letting the baiting crowd sing the words back to him. The indoor fireworks and explosion that zooms into the middle of the crowd (on a wire) is a nice touch, as is Flake’s journey into the middle of the arena via a rubber dingy (take note; proper crowd surfing). Of course, it wouldn’t be Rammstein without some giant phallus, and the liberal spraying of the front rows using a giant penis cannon brings the second biggest cheer of the evening. ‘Pussy‘ is yet another pleaser; it’s Jimmy-Pop-aping lyrics that cover the subject of intercourse in a mixture of German and English have the entire Arena screaming “YOU’VE GOT A PUSSY! I HAVE A DICK! SO WHAT’S THE PROBLEM? LET’S DO IT QUICK!” – On a side note, this is an excellent chat up line reserved only for those so desperate for sex with anything female who have just attended a Rammstein show. Of course, by excellent I mean ‘terrible’ and you’re more likely to get a new-rock (do metal girls still wear these?) in the bollocks than your bratwurst in some sauerkraut.  Not that I have tried. Ahem.

After a ticket-tape shower, (decked out in the red black and yellow colours of the German flag) and two fake encores later (‘Sonne’ finally makes an appearance, as does the chant-a-thon stomp that is ‘Ich Will’) Rammstein end their set with ‘Engel’. Vocalist Till descends beneath the stage to emerge clad in gigantic metal wings that of course, emit flaming jets from the tips, whilst fire leaps from the stage either side of him over the hail of whistling keyboards and precision tight drumming. As the final keyboard hum drones out, the 6 (and now topless) men of the greatest German metal band in the world bow and give humble thanks and depart – truly a majestic and glorious evening for music from one of, if not, the most impressive live acts on the planet. Next time I’ll bring some sausages.

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Links (TAH!)

Rammstein
Combichrist
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Words - Ross Macdonald
Picture – stolen from some metal forum