Band – Darko
EP – Darko
Label – None
Release date – Out now (see their bandcamp and myspace for details)
Sounds like – fresh, melodic hardcore punk in the Set Your Goals vein.

-

It’s nice to hear something that is so indiscriminately scrappy. Darko’s sound is akin to that of a mauled carcass. Whilst some parts gleam white, at least half of it is still caked in festering, raw meat, just waiting to be stripped clean. But does it really need to be? Part of the refreshing charm of this self-titled EP is the disjointed gruff nature that holds it together.

Predictably titled opener ‘We Are Here’ is the sweating, rabbit-in-the-headlights kid, thrust out on stage in front of the entire school, expecting to perform a skit without having to suffer the torrent of boos and verbal abuse. Luckily, this first track is akin to said headlights kid performing a dance to a Jamiroquai song, stunning the assembled masses. ‘We Are Here’ kind of falls over itself in the sudden rush spit itself out. The drums clatter and fumble with a delightful ramshackle torrent of noise, whilst the guitar see-saws with an unpredictable uncertainly in the opening 3 seconds, before finding its feet and rushing headlong into a boisterous blast of speed punk. Much like Set Your Goals, Darko channel melodic hardcore with pop punk with gritty determination and rowdy arrogance. The vocals are gravely as expected, similar to that of Small Arms Dealer, with a gruff sarcastic sounding sneer at the end of each word. The backing vocals are spot on, patching the melodic “woaaaahhhoooohhs” with the headstrong, crotchety lead wail.

‘Knives’ has a trashy, pop-punk backbone to support the frantic hardcore leanings provided by metallic guitar attack. There’s also a touch of Jawbreaker in this, and early 90s emotional hardcore channelled within the clattering drum patterns and choppy guitars. It’s refreshing to hear something that’s harking back to a time when music still had bucketloads of passion and vibrant energy – something which Darko have captured with their vibrant gusto. ‘Yet We Breath’ has a rough street-punk stomp, similar to that of Da Skywalkers, with the huge bonding backing vocal roar forcing through that family spirit of fevered unity. ‘Delgaldo’ takes the melodic punk rock bounce of Four Year Strong, swapping keyboard chimes for strangled riffs and tight breakdowns. ‘Blink’ taps into that part of the brain leaving a definite earworm in the form of the words “watch the world go by, take my hand, don’t shut your eyes” backed by uplifting, snappy punk rock. The final track is 30 seconds of splattered speed punk in the form of ‘Paper Mirrors’ a track that tangles itself in knots as it rushes to finish in a blistering decrepit blast of choppy guitars and raw abruptness.

There’s something so fresh about this – sure the production is incredibly raw and the vocals waver occasionally, but this adds to the irrepressible charm and the gutsy determination Darko have. In many cases, these supposed niggles are positives – this is how it’s SUPPOSED to sound. This is music, in its fresh, untainted state and an exciting, refreshing debut, tinged with that early 90s punk snarl and the melodic attitude of the present day.

-

Links

Darko Myspace
Darko Bandcamp

-
By Ross Macdonald

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

-

By Ross Macdonald

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

Links

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

-

By Ross Macdonald

Band – Illness
EP – Gifts From God
Release date – 5th July
Label – Smalltown America
Sounds like – tappy, instrumental rock stripped down to its bare bones.

-

There seems to be a thing for having a minimalist setup these days. Not that it’s a trend, more just a way of executing your music without the unnecessary need for other band members who would prove superfluous. Plus, with a two piece you can fit all your stuff in the back of a Ford Ka probably and get to gigs quite easily, right?

Illness are a duo from Brighton, holding down drums and guitar respectively. Their sound staggers about a fair bit, as though unsure of commitment. At times it strays dangerously close to the tribal builds and crashing barrage made famous by Baltimore’s Oxes, especially ‘Dave Escapes’ – a two minute stuttering tug of tappy guitar lines and abrasive drum patterns. It shudders with this twitching gait, like something that’s being slowly tortured via electrodes; spasmodically jerking back and forth. In other cases, Illness seem to retain a joyful pop sensibility, one gained from prolonged exposure to twiddling twee-indie. ‘Bane Face’ is the best example of this; it’s almost summery bounce, coupled with erratic drum rolls, crashing cymbals and meandering vigour makes for interesting listening.

‘Gutmilk’ is the sound of Don Caballero condensed into 71 seconds. Whilst it manages to stretch out progressive patterns of sound, Illness seem to build upon this sustained ringing note, allowing the drums to dominate the track. They punch through with a slow, steady force under the meticulous whine of the guitar. ‘Hail! Kitty’ follows a rather basic path, occasionally rising and falling as the notes interchange, but unfortunately highlights the somewhat limitations of such a basic setup. ‘Mark In Spring’ takes Illness down the territory they seem more focussed on, which is emulating or rather ambitiously, attempting to out-do Oxes through the use of their staccato beats and odd time signatures that seem to dip into progressive rock, back into gleeful pop and dense post-punk urgency.

‘Old Song’ is the highlight of ‘Gifts From God’ however. It’s decrepit sound tumbles along with a determined focus, that touches slightly on the side the math-rock urgency of Adebisi Shank, stuffed to the brim with feverish drum rolls and a stuttering pace.  My only chagrin is that it should have been longer, but for what it is; a tight pounding blast of rhythmic energy; Illness have exceeded expectations in creating uplifting, positive instrumental rock that has this infectious memorable quality and a raw, stripped-down, ramshackle sound.

‘Gifts From God’ can be pre-orded from the Smalltown America website here.

-

Links

Illness
Smalltown America

-

By Ross Macdonald

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

-

Links

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

-

Words: Ross Macdonald
Badly taken photo: Ross Macdonald

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

-

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.

-

Links

See above, the need for sleep is overwhelming.

-
By Ross Macdonald

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

-
Links

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

-

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.

-

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.

-

Links

Jogging Myspace
Jogging Band Camp
Richter Collective

-

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.

-

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.

-

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.

-

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.

-

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.

-

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.

-

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.

-

By Mad Mac

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

-

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.

-

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.

-

Links

Worrier Myspace
Richter Collective

-

By Ross Macdonald