Whatever drugs Her Parents are on, they’re obviously not sharing them out with anyone else. Probably snorting handfuls of Triple Sod on the Jessop, Jessop, Jessop after a few tabs of Clarky Cat. Creating something that sounds more bonkers than their debut Physical Release was going to take some doing, but they seem to have achieved the impossible with Happy Birthday, an album that is a brief, scything affair (12 tracks in 18 minutes) but proves to be absolutely punishing and suitably deranged, caustic and jolly good fun.

There’s a real sense of frothing madness on Happy Birthday and very little cohesion – vocals intertwine and stumble over each other as all 4 members of Her Parents try and scream down the same microphone, whilst attacking their instruments like they’re the protagonists from Garth Ennis’s Crossed.

Opener You’ve Got Mail, begins with a dial-up modem shriek instead of the sound of an amp being switched on – nice touch guys. “THIS IS HELL! THIS IS HELL! THIS IS SHIT! THIS IS SHIT!“  are about the only decipherable lyrics, which are spat with such vicious, anarchic venom, yet sound so gleefully happy at the same time. It’s as if a group of Gremlins had got bored with sending old ladies out of windows on their stairlifts/attacking Phoebe Cates and decided to  form a punk band. Uncomfortably loud, spiteful hardcore flows forth on this, the longest track, before melding into the shortest in the form of the breathless and suitably witty, Why Are You Hitting Yourself -
a 28 second rant of snotty, rabid, garage-rock.

Lead ‘single’, the superbly titled Why Don’t You Just Fuck Off? is a goldmine of trashy punk rock excellence. Frayed guitar lines split apart under the screeching, car-crash vocal attack, with choice snippets seeping through (a particular highlight being “I’m declaring war….on bellends“) and the bellowing of the song title at just about every available moment.  Horrific imagery is stirred up in the jarring Hollow Out A Horse, which instructs the listener to…well…do just that and enjoy the fleshy darkness. A disjointed, unsettling scrape of discordant and spiky post-hardcore.

Song title of the year goes to the gang-vocal rock ‘n roll bash-up that is Cunt Dinosaurs, because come on…seriously, not even Falco could beat that. Mother-taunting I Live In A Tree shares similarities in chorus structure to There’s A Man – nicely combining a fast punk rock structure, with some taunt, disjointed guitar snarls that sounds a bit like Wives playing a Descendents song.

The drunken, heavy riffs on King of the Babies prop up a rowdy, disheveled little number, which is the musical equivalent of some degenerate old soak who is far too lovable for you to tell to fuck off, whilst Do the Get-Go, clashes the speed and frustrated agitation of The Marked Men with attention deficit disorder.  Bizarrely titled Lithuanian Mercedes lists a load of faults with said vehicle, under a hail of scrappy, Rakes-style indie rock, that should stick out like a sore thumb, but somehow fits into this disorganized and damaged package. Plane Is Fucked makes no bones about being an absolute chaos-storm of biting nonsense. The lurching, Pulled Apart By Horses-style racket and consuming multi-vocal attack turns in on itself in a frantic rush to finish.

Final tracks Your Dead (a leaden, gruff, hardcore number, delivered with the kind of mock sincerity and tongue-in-cheek stupidity that Her Parents have got nailed perfectly) and the oddball bonanza of snarling, snapping bonkers that is Personal Christmas (the harmony bit at the end – what the fuck) finishes off Happy Birthday, leaving you wondering “did that just happen, seriously?”

In short, Happy Birthday makes their debut, Physical Release seem somewhat tame and restrained in comparison – and that was completely nuts as well. Shambolic to the point of falling apart, Her Parents batter music to pieces on their 2nd album and deliver aural chaos and delight in equal measure. Guaranteed to personally smashing your fucking kitchen to bits.

Links

Her Parents
Her Parents Facebook
Her Parents Twitter
Alcopop

Oh hello game changer.

Keeping with a continuing theme of Irish bands being awesome, Portstewart’s Axis Of are a neat little power-trio who just might be 2013′s best kept secret. Tours with punk-rock stalwarts The Bronx, Therapy? and Lower Than Atlantis have all helped their profile tenfold and it’s thoroughly well deserved.

What grabs you about Finding St Kilda is how immediate it is; a huge thumping, crunching rush of excited, exhilarating sounds packed into 34 minutes. Axis Of display their nationality on Finding St Kilda like the roaring explosion of a fireworks shop going up in flames – the accents of drummer Ethan, guitarist Niall and bassist Ewen are so strong and expressive, full of warmth, heart and endearing passion. Backing this up is a genre-spanning hail of interlocking styles. Predominantly punk rock is on the cards, but Axis Of seem to shun the notion of being pigeon-holed, as songs develop and get progressively more intense (the scything bark of Aung), experiment with xylophones (Stan Winston’s Rough Seas) and get thoroughly me(n)tal and more unhinged (Re-written In Big Ink and Edge Of The Canebrake are two strong examples of experimentation, with the former being a barking hardcore hailstorm and the latter a part-prog, part-post-hardcore stamp of solid and expansive songwriting.)

Opener Cardiel is a slick crunch of exuberant pop-rock, driven by a strong melody (that flows constantly through the remaining 10 tracks) with a slight stoner-grunge element fighting its way forward. Continuing the spirited bouncing pace, Mendelssohnstrasse, piles in gang-vocals, erratic, stuttered timing and seriously thick grooves that squeal and hum with vibrant energy.

We Dine On Seeds is an absolute banger and where the air-drumming starts. Sounding like Torche, circa their most recent album Harmonicraft, Axis Of blast out distorted punk rock with speed and huge amounts of sugary joy. The muted trumpets are a particular delight, punching through the bass-heavy mix alongside the soaring choir-like vocals, which are yet another nice touch.

Stringent hardcore is experimented with on The World’s Oldest Computer, a track that feels like an Irish La Dispute turning on itself, chanting and lamenting with equal rage and cleansing, dirge-sounding riffage, which gets progressively darker and more sinister. Aung is under 2 minutes of spitting, chaotic Converge-lite thrash (convenient for a song that seems to be about being chased) Guitars spasmodically jerk and contort alongside the hailstorm drumming, which is tight, intense and breathless.

Lyrically, it’s all about Stan Winston’s Rough Seas – I don’t think I’ve ever heard an album that mentions dandelion beer with such gusto and pride, or laptops telling me to galvanise. The chords are crunchy-as-hell, channelling that deep, booming pop-rock tone, accompanied by the smile-inducing xylophones and the chants of various Irish islands (Claggan and Bellville) – which only strengthens the personality and warmth for their homeland that Finding St Kilda exudes.

The so-fucking-catchy-it-hurts riffs of Brobdingnagian are utterly sublime – as is the fake ending, which just lurches into another Torche-style bear hug of chunky riffs that gallop and fall over each other with punishing precision. The erratic fury of Rewritten In Big Ink, splatters through several stages of hardcore in it’s brief 90 second tornado – going suitably 80′s hardcore squealing riffage at one point, before evolving into a headbanging rollicking of blast-beats and arm-swinging meaty rage. The stark, erratic contrasting styles doesn’t feel out of place, because that guitar sound is so damn infectious and ever-present, even when Axis Of sound like they’re channelling Jacob Bannon‘s Massachusetts mob of nutters, they still retain their odd melodies and alt-punk riffs.

Edge Of The Canebrake is a weird mix of severe post-hardcore; harsh riffage, barked vocals and jagged guitar lines that gets progressively louder and more sinister, hitting the breakdown of a solid wall of Mastodon-style epic-rocking, harnessing prog-elements for good measure and more of that Axis Of trampling, contorted signature tune.

As debuts go, Finding St Kilda by Axis Of is utterly fantastic and absorbing. The songs are huge and discordant, brimming with wild, volatile potency and unquestionable amounts of heart and zealous warmth. Get it here.

I’ll tell you all right now you’re gleaming! GLEAMING!

Links

Axis Of
Axis Of Bandcamp
Smalltown America Records

Band – August Burns Red
Song – Fault Line

Despite August Burns Red having the most emo band name ever, they are far from the over-sensitive, moist-eyed heart-on-your-sleeve types. This is metalcore in all its furious, mauling glory.  Between the Buried and Me comparisons stand out almost immediately (cited as a big influence) – jazzy-guitar lines, complex math-rock shredding and convoluted, sporadic drumming all give a nod to the North Carolina mob. However, there’s plenty of variety on offer on Fault Line – the brash hardcore punk elements are executed with spitting, incandescent rage, as are the chilling breakdowns and pummelling double-bass drumming.

There’s a slight touch of Poison The Well in the vocals, which are roared with bellowing, breathless terror. Lyrically, it’s generic angst-ridden cliché, but there’s a Clint Eastwood reference at the start and to be honest, Fault Line absolutely thunders along with a fiery vengeance.

The album Rescue and Restore comes out on June 24 and can be pre-ordered here. The video for Fault Line is available from this link.

Band – Marmozets
Song – Born Young and Free

This is only the second track I’ve heard by Marmozets and once again it’s an impressive slab of angular, raw heavy rock, that drifts into emotive punk rock and jazzy-mathcore at the flick of a switch. There’s elements of Rolo Tomassi – the more batshit-hardcore elements are fraught and agitated, whilst the chorus is a huge, soaring blast of positive and creative energy. Props to vocalist Becca Macintyre, who throws herself into the track with such gusto and fervor.

An exciting, battering romp of unhinged power and one of the most interesting tracks I’ve heard this year.

Born Young and Free can be downloaded from Marmozet’s bandcamp for free! Or you can chuck the band some money, go on…

Band – TorcheSong – Keep Up

Man, Torche get me pumped. Harmonicraft is sludge-pop gloriousness, Harmonslaught/Rock N Roll Mantasy is boom-chord ecstasy and now Keep Up is somewhere in the middle of both of these and is bloody superb. The lighter bubblegum-pop moments draw the listener in, whilst the crushing roar of the guitar-tidal wave of sludgy-doom buries everything in a wave of delicious surf-rock fuzz. It’s like Mudhoney meets Mastodon, whilst trying to cover a Weezer song.

That weird combination of being bone-crushingly heavy, with sugary good-time bouncing punk is something Torche are absolute masters at producing and Keep Up is another example of their awesome credentials. Only criticism is that it isn’t longer.

You can buy Keep Up through Volcom’s vinyl club when it’s ready for release… or continue to stream it FOREVER right here.

Band – We Are The Ocean
Song – Machine

Ok, I’ve just looked up We Are The Ocean on wikipedia…they’ve released FOURTEEN MUSIC VIDEOS! FOURTEEN? They’ve only been together 6 years and on their 3rd album! That’s impressive guys, seriously. You can’t fault their commitment.

Oh yeah, Machine…massive crowd potential, this is the one they belt out to get everyone singing to the heavens – vocalist Liam Cromby’s has an impassioned, powerful set of lungs – belting out the words “I’LL NEVER BE OWNED BY YOU!” on a track that’s dominated by heavy drum rolls (seriously, half the song is these) and a sense of rabble-rousing emotion. The trade-off between Cromby and guitarist Alfie Scully is one of We Are The Ocean’s strong-points, not to mention their Alexisonfire-lite post-hardcore, which is spine-tingling and suitably anthem-worthy.

You can view the video for Machine by clicking here and buy their 3rd album Maybe Today, Maybe Tomorrow here.

I remember Kill Kenada and their video for Massachusetts Murder Medallions – the one where they’re playing in a filthy looking squat and can barely stand up for more than a second because they’re throwing themselves into walls/drumkits/the floor. Having been unable to work out if the band have actually split or are just on some weird hiatus; vocalist, bassist and man with loads of hair Tim Smithen (now under the moniker Timothy Vincent Cassini, maybe because it makes him sound like a character from Grand Theft Auto: Vice City) has decided to form a new band called The Semper Teens.

Somebody is four tracks of pop-influenced garage punk, that doesn’t sound a million miles away from Cassini’s previous band, albeit it’s a lot more direct and less erratic compared to Kill Kenada and their bonkers time signatures. Opening track Somebody, has a bass-driven surf punk vibe that you can imagine soundtracking a surfing wipeout video montage. It’s snotty, brackish and brings to mind early Ramones in delivery and also The Heat Tape for it’s rough, punk rock attitude.

Happy to Believe is a brilliant slab of summery pop, that straddles between punk and grunge in equal measures, with a killer chorus, backing vocal harmonies and sounds like it was recorded in the early 90s. That gritty, fuzz-rock production, background ‘whoos‘ , tight rhythmic drumming and rattling guitars all make Happy to Believe the best track on offer here.

Never Right is a lot more stripped back and feels almost solemn in delivery; Cassini’s vocals are less yelped, but feel more questioning and laced with scorn backed by a minimalist pop-rock scrawl of desperation. Closing track Modern Love is also a slow burner, somber, yet hopeful vocals are met by shambolic drum beats, grungy-bass chords and optimistically tuneful guitars, giving this EP the feeling it should be blasted on a hot summer’s day whilst downing several ice-cold beers and high-fiving your friends because really, that’s what we want isn’t it? Simple, no-nonsense fuzzy-pop rock that we can enjoy and dance to and The Semper Teens have got it nailed. Fans of the Pixies, Obits and and stripped-down garage rock would do well to investigate Somebody – listen to it below.

Links

The Semper Teens
The Semper Teens Bandcamp

Northlane – Quantum Flux

So how do you like your metalcore? Aussie-style? Possibly. There’s some quite excellent grooves on this – that really deep, guttural roar of guitars scrapping a particularly filthy barrel. Elements of Luis Dubuc’s Of Legends shrine through, especially on the more technical moments and the rather staggered, spiralling gait of twisted guitars and overlapping vocal screams.

Arcane Roots – Sacred Shapes

I can see Arcane Roots possibly being a bit of a Marmite band. No disrespect to them with this description. Happily, I love Marmite and their quite oddball sound. One can only assume the whole of their debut (Blood and Chemistry) is a smorgasbord of stylistic changes, time-signatures and contorted riffs. At times Sacred Shapes is all tappy-mathcore, then it mellows to pop-rock, then hardcore shouts, then spiralling prog sections – think Biffy Clyro (back when they were good) and Aconite Thrill.

Heights – The Noble Lie

Taunt and aggressive are just two words to describe Heights, who seem to have emerged from ditching their previous vocalist stronger than ever. Bassist Alex does a good job in sounding suitably angry and driven to despair over a wave of gritty, atmospheric post-hardcore that radiates a dark and desolate clamor.

Golden Tanks – Burnt Bridges

Not much to be said about this that hasn’t already been mentioned in my review of their EP a few months back – but let’s say, Burnt Bridges sounds excellent on a car stereo, superb, pissed-off high-octane rock ‘n roll hardcore for when you’re gunning it through the rain in the wild hills of Scotland.

The American Scene – Shape Shifter

Earnest and heartfelt, The American Scene (possibly a reference to the Henry James book of the same name) have a crisp and rich sound. More in line with the Gaslight Anthem than say Jimmy Eat World, their take on punk is more melodic, expressed by sweet guitar lines, huge hooks and swirling rhythms. Strong.

Hill Valley High – Move Closer

Back to the Future-loving five-piece Hill Valley High know a good chorus and boy do they nail it. Rushing along like a hoverboard on fire, Move Closer is spirited, bouncing, pop-rock executed with similar gusto to Coastline, some brilliant gang-vocals and unrelenting amounts of joy and optimism.

Anacondas – High Horse

Ex-Johnny Truant brothers James and Stuart Hunter deliver some more heaviness it seems. Different from the paint-stripping gargle of their former band, Anacondas are a contorting, twisted writhe of sludge-rock, with some brilliant shuddering riffs and some shredding stoner-metal tendencies. Foot-on-monitors epic rocking guaranteed.

Malefice – V

Heaviest offering so far, Malefice, play fast, loud and abrasive metal. Their speed and dexterity reminds me a little of Dragonforce in some places, but it’s the technical moments that shine through, angular guitar riffs, hyperactive keyboards and punk-rock, blister-forming drumming which thunder alongside the roaring vocal-scrape and bone-crunching power.

Restorations – D

Despite initially thinking this was yet another post-rock band (the opening build had be jumping to conclusions, ok?) this track evolved in sound, size and shape massively. Restorations explode the rock template, bringing in elements of punk, breathless rock ‘n roll and that heartland-rock burst of exhilaration. An uplifting blast of power that will make you feel like a king.

Bovine – Thank Fuck I Ain’t You

Jerking, agitated guitars that bring to mind Therapy? at their most maddening, Bovine jitter and skid between that tense and caustic sound, into areas of early grunge and modern UK metallic rock, with a side-order of stoner thrown in for good measure.

Cry Havoc – Losing Everything

Hilariously gruff vocals on this – Cry Havoc obviously have a sense of humour on a track that sounds like Megadeth and Pantera back when they were at their best. The shout of SHUT THE FUCK UP! near the end, not to mention the driving Holy Wars-guitars and thrashtastic attitude mean that Cry Havoc are the battle yell of the emergence of old-school metal with a fresh twist.

Come The Spring – The State Isn’t Important As Long As We Are One

Further Seems Forever want their song structure for The Sound back guys. Seriously, PLAGIARISM MUCH? Joking, but it does sound well similar.  If you’re still wondering, this is pure, heart-breaking, voice-warbling emo-rock to the core. Nothing wrong with this whatsoever, the chorus is massive as expected, but it feels so similar, you wonder if Come The Spring really have the right kind of sound to truly stand-out amongst the crowd.

Nai Harvest – Whatever

Good news Taking Back Sunday/emo-fans! Trashy drum ‘n guitar duo Nai Harvest could well be your new favourite band. Combining the scratchy, raw-emo of Rival Schools and the melodies of The Promise Ring, Nai Harvest meld rough-around-the-edges drumming, dual-vocal call-and-response and crunchy guitars into something that’s delightfully summery and full of hope.

For a meaty slab of gnarly, energetic thrash-punk, check out the video above.

The follow up to their self-titled EP (reviewed here) entitled Blood Junkie/Pure Luck and is out on the 7th June via bandcamp. Click here to pre-order that bad boy.

Links

Arms And The Man
Arms And The Facebook
Arms And The Bandcamp
Scylla Records

Never ones to do things neatly, Ice, Sea, Dead People attack music on their second album with the same no-frills fury that litters their debut, Teeth Union. The addition of a second guitarist (filling the band out to a noisy, axe-laden four piece) has added way more meat and considerable fuzz to their already barbed and raucous caterwaul.

Apparently recorded live to tape by Tim Cedar (Part Chimp) and Patrick Constable (Selfish Cunt) – If It’s Broken, Break It More drips with raw aggression, buzz-saw guitars and rattling, dilapidated drum beats. The vocals are barked with equal disgust and scorn, flitting between the howl of The Blood Brothers and the wailing cries of Tom Hudson from Pulled Apart By Horses.

If It’s Broken, Break It More lives up to it’s moniker. This is one jagged, spiky and smashed collection of songs. Diamond Swords stumbles and clatters past like a Hot Snakes track on caffeine; guitar lines jerk with spasmodic ticks and twitches, whilst the bass is an uneven and bending drone, opting for light melody around the minute mark, before tearing back into twitching, exhausting punk. Ultra Silence is all squealing guitars, throaty shouting and odd-time signatures, that breathlessly rushes to a satisfying and messy conclusion of amps collapsing and guitars being thrown in the air.

You Could Be A Model is pure splatter punk – distorted, jagged guitars executed in the style of early-Blood Brothers (think Rumours Laid Waste spazz-rock), garbled overlapping vocals, background wails and jarring drum beats. Fantastically erratic and unhinged in every way possible. Styes In My Eyes is pure first-album Liars and is utterly demented, warped and disturbing through and through, from the grotty bass-heavy drive, to the odd-ball vocal yelps.

The ultra-heavy bass pounding of ‘holding out for a combo-breaker’ I Found A Way, is intense, dread-inducing and frantic. The hypnotic repetition of the title track is somewhat nerve-inducing, as is the direct and brutal rhythmic punk rock rush, which is stretched to a maddening breaking point. Accept the Mystery and it’s off-kilter drumming is also another highlight – tight, squealing guitar lines hold together the ramshackle percussion and the stuttering, spoken-word vocals.

The rapid nature of their sound is best exemplified on Pro Life, Forever; a tweaking, stammer of thumping bass ‘n drum pounding, screwed up, choppy guitars and a Johnny Whitney-style yell of ‘WE’RE COMING TO GET YOU!’ Follow-up track Apropos extends this to breaking point, with scrambled, nonsensical lyrics over a wave of distorted Mclusky-style, chewed up noise-rock which is devastatingly chaotic.

Title track If It’s Broken is one of the weirdest songs on offer – the art-punk element is toned down, for a more direct and dare I say, tuneful respite that feels like Les Savy Fav if they stood still for just over 3 minutes and actually played their instruments rather than cross-dressing and trying to climb over your face. It also kind of sounds a bit like Argument-era Fugazi, which can only be applauded.

Snotty, brash and uncomplicated; If It’s Broke, Break It More is a disjointed, mischievous slice of dishevelled, noisy punk rock and a superbly hectic and fun listening experience – get on it immediately.

Sidenote: is that Nadine Dorries chowing down on marsupial balls on the album’s cover? Amazing work!

Links

Ice, Sea, Dead People
Ice, Sea Facebook
Lost Toys Bandcamp

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“Jesus is about to come…he’s telling you to get ready…get ready…get ready…the storm is coming…put your hand in his hand…he’s about to come back…”

I wrote some nice words about Megachurch a few posts back, praising them for being…well…really great.

Their unique brand of raucous, crunching rock is deeply unnerving, chaotic and hilarious in equal measure, as is their delightful album artwork. Yes, what I want to see is a bespectacled man wielding a fiery sword in one hand, a bible in the other,  riding a massive dragon as pink hot lava bursts forth from a blue volcano, swamping the landscape.

Hailing from Cleveland (home of the rock ‘n roll hall of fame) Megachurch are a three piece, (Dan, Brian and Mikey) comprised of two bassists, a drummer and an army of fanatical bible-bashers. What this equals is quite simply, some of the weirdest, yet most entertaining and unique music I’ve heard since the last lot of crackpots. You’ve got stonerjam-sessions, taunt balls-out, pure rock fury, splatter-gun punk and some truly seedy and scything basslines that sound like immoral braying laughter.

The way Megachurch use their samples, is fantastic – and it’s probably the best use of sampled dialogue in music since Please Inform The Captain This Is A Hijack. Rather than just being tacked on the end or at beginning of a song, Megachurch intrinsically weave these ranting religious snippets of speech into the structure of their songs and into their riffs – take Speaking in Tongues for example, which combines garbled, maddening cackles in with the song’s spazz-rock time structures and see-saw basslines.

On the flipside, The Second Coming is just truly disturbing and weird – mixing both English and possibly Spanish from a particular rabble-rousing sermon, (that gets more and more fervent and feverish) over steady drumbeats on a track that sounds like it’s preparing to charge into a fanatical holy war.

Opening track Resurrection starts with the hillbilly yell of “AT 2:19am MY BROTHER BEGAN TO STIR IN HIS COFFIN!” followed by a lurching, sleazy bassline that sounds like it was stolen from a Death From Above 1979 recording session (yeah, it’s a bit sexy) “THE DEAD ARE BEING RAISED!” then it all goes to hell. Duelling four-strings, weave and twist with dirty, sinful thoughts, whilst the drums thunder this sleaziness forwarded into hell. That takes 89 seconds. This segways nicely into Teabaggers; a tense, heavy thumping blast of radiating power that slowly changes. We’re told to listen up, that even though we’ve made mistakes, America is GOOD! But it all goes bad…the vocals distort and become more…well…wrong. Megachurch relish this – they pounce and attack, driving this rhythmic, choppy stamp of bludgeoning noise forward with a wickedly gleeful smile. It’s like if the Joker formed a band with the Riddler.

What sounds like Johnny Cash telling us “she’s far too young to die..” followed by a cleansing ricochet of gunfire, signals the start of  Battle Hymn of the Republican. Changing speeds from a steady chord progression, to a reckless, fast-paced gnarly punk shred, Battle Hymn spins deeper into the darkness, complete with some superb drum rolls and progressive-rock heaviness. The evangelical preaching on My Father’s Dignity superbly fits with the ground-scrapping, bass-drone that accompanies it; “I DON’T WANNA BE ONE OF YOU! I DON’T WANNA BE ONE OF YOU, WEAK MEN!” roars the maniacal reverend. It becomes a battle cry, accompanying the tribal clattering and caterwaul emanating from Dan, Brian and Mikey who sound like they’re sacrificing their instruments rather than playing them and it’s bloody brilliant.

The Don Caballero stomp of We Are All Witnesses, shows just how chaotic and progressive Megachurch can stretch their sound – switching up from a wall of rumbling, baleful math-metal, to a contorting and shifting slab of howling stoner-rock. The melding of sampled strings between this and Judgment Day, is eerie and uncomfortable, especially when the drums kick in. There’s no vocal samples here, just a wall of punishing, righteousness from the twin-bass attack; whilst The Gay Agenda is all tribal drums, breakneck speed, Dillinger-math-punk time signatures and crazy sampled rantings about homosexuality.

Devious, twisted and utterly depraved, Megachurch stir up a wickedly humorous storm of extremist styles and frenzied sounds to create a unique set of impulsive battle hymns.

“You know, there’s nothing this generation needs more than a baptism of old-fashioned hellfire and preaching…”

Links

Megachurch
Megachurch Bandcamp
Stressed Sumo Bandcamp

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I always wondered how And So I Watch You From Afar were going to follow-up Gangs. It seemed like a daunting an ambitious task to say the least. Gangs is such a breath-taking gut-punch of frenzied, riff-soaked heaviness and positive, hyperactive energy – where do you go next?

Losing founding member Tony Wright was obviously a massive blow in the ASIWYFA camp – the change in band is so obvious, it’s screaming at you in the face, yet it’s the kind of change that has resulted in the band developing their sound down a different path; taking the red pill if you will instead of sticking with the blue. They’ve taken the chance to make something that’s out of their comfort zone – an experiment, an evolutionary step forward with their music. What I’m saying is, this isn’t Gangs Part 2: The Bloodening.

Opener Eunoia is built on trickling, tappy chords that overlap and repeat, increasing in urgency. It sounds like a steady downpour of rain, soaking you to the skin in good vibes and heady, cosmic sounds. Buried, mumbled vocals pepper this 2 minute intro, as does the rhythmic, Gregorian-style chant of “The sun, the sun, the sun is in our eyes…” It’s a taunting and teasing opener and unlike anything they’ve produced on previous albums, showing a fragile and hauntingly melodic side.

Chords and drums slam together like God clapping his hands on Big Thinks Do Remarkable; which takes the dream-like rush of Eunoia and blasts forward with huge scrawling guitars, rumbling bass and loud, bombastic percussion. It’s an explosion of colour – it’s a kaleidoscope of radiant,  incandescent sound – it feels like someone fast-forwarding a looped video tape of a chaotic and brilliant summer break. This song actually SMILES at you and you can’t help but smile back – the familiar chant of “THE SUN, THE SUN, THE SUN IS IN OUR EYES” is now brimming with gusto and good vibes it’s hard not to feel really fucking positive thanks to its infectious and zealous nature.

Like A Mouse is Fang Island on a sugar high, pumped to the eyeballs on delirium and fizzy pop. There are moments on this that reflect the heaviness that appears on Gangs – a huge clattering wall of noisy, destructive hard rock, complete with heavily distorted almost punk-rock riffs and a wonderful build into an embracing breakdown of squealing, euphoric dizziness.

Former label-mates Adebisi Shank have obviously had some influence in And So I Watch You From Afar’s ever-evolving style – Ambulance! is a clear example of this – mashing almost space-rock with dance-punk elements, under squelching synthesisers and twiddling, tappy-emo time signatures. The stuttering, stop-start punctuated spelling out of the song’s title is a particular high-point. There’s even some trumpet thrown-in for good measure, adding yet more expanse and glorious positivity into such a giant encompassing wall of aural textures.

More waves of electronica and glitchy synths take precedent on the trippy and spiralling The Stay Golden Part 1 which builds to a frantic breakdown of blasting brass and huge drum beats and morphs seamlessly into Part 2 (Rats on a Rock), which sounds like Adebisi Shank and Throw Me The Statue jamming together on a Caribbean island. It’s a busy and clustered rush of musical styles clashing together; at times wanting to follow a huge post-rock style breakdown and in others, it excitedly changes tact, opting for huge crushing waves of bright vitality and tropical pop.

The stuttering space-rock of Mend and Make Safe is tappy as hell, driven by Chris Wee’s impressively layered drumming – a concentrated and frantic attack and oddly works alongside the twee-flute loops and robotic-guitar work. Ka Ba Ta Bo Da Ka is a quirky experimental piece, built on spoken-word repetition of the track’s title and is somewhat of a headscratcher and unfortunately one of the weakest tracks on All Hail Bright Futures. Things Amazing is a huge celebration of fireworks, festival floats, costumes, balloons, whistles and whoops of delight and there’s a sense of kinship with the last 30 seconds of the song Lifeproof from Gangs.

Closing track Young Brave Minds sees a welcome return to the old sound from their first 2 albums. It takes to the 2.30 mark to kick in properly; the booming bass chord drives a deep furrow of lurching heaviness, the trumpets once again kick in, sounding fresh and rejuvenating as does the choppy, math-rock guitar wailing, followed closely by the echoing gang-vocal highs. As album closers go, it’s the ostentatious and lavish conclusion to an album that bleeds idiosyncratic styles and eccentric sounds. A possible fanbase divider, but based on the strength and positivity that the majority of these songs were received when I saw them perform a few days ago, All Hail Bright Futures is a complete joy to experience and absorb.

 Links

And So I Watch You From Afar
Sargent House

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Difficult prospect creating the follow up to this really. People have been waxing on about Kvelertak for a while now and all the rampant hype, mouth-frothing praise and owl impressions are entirely justified – they’re a fantastic band; bizarrely bridging the gaps between metal, punk, rock ‘n roll and anything else they can lay their filthy, feathery wings on. Their self-titled debut is still unlike anything else out there at the moment and Meir (More) is next in line to take the crown.

How accessible are Kvelertak though? They sing in Norwegian – at best you can shout along to a bad impression of what they’re saying (I like to shout “I DRIVE THE CART TO KRASH FOR ODEN!” (which is the actual translation) at the beginning of Bruane Brenn – go on, try it). Nonsense,  complicated song titles? Bonkers artwork of birds crapping on a naked woman who’s sitting on top of a ram’s head? To be honest, none of these things should matter. Having seen them destroy on the live circuit three times (the last being particularly epic) I can assure that everyone and I mean everyone was singing the goddamn riffs right back at them and whenever they got the chance, or was bellowing “KVELERTAK!” like some mead-induced battle-cry.

Opening track Åpenbaring builds upon a teasing, perilous intro of wailing, drawn out guitars before morphing into a strong metallic assault on the senses. Double-fast drumming, sporadic guitar shredding and some harmonised backing vocals all make an odd and perplexing combination on a track that ends somewhat abruptly. Spring Fra Livet is more of Kvelertak of old – it bursts and I mean bursts with such vibrant jollity and that signature gruff hardcore stomp. The gritty thrash metal moments are an incandescent firework of explosive colour and happiness, while the big rock, foot-on-monitors epic rocking is taken to new and expansive levels of ridiculousness. At times it sounds like Kvelertak have been listening to swami-rock ‘n roll – all the “HUHS!” and “OOOHHS!” are straight out of the big book of John Reis.

It won’t surprise you to know that lead single, Bruane Brenn is the best song on Meir. Now, don’t take this as a disservice to Kvelertak or Meir in anyway, it’s just how things are. In fact, Bruane Brenn might just be the best song I’ve heard all year – yes, it’s seriously that good. The chorus is achingly brilliant, (those gang vocals are superb) as is the one-note piano bit previously heard on Blodtorst. The breakdown taps into the 70s rock ‘n roll blood that coarses through their Scandinavian veins, whilst the more harsher and stringent elements are a ferocious snap of biting, punk rock fury. It still feels like a hug rather than a smash to the face and once you’ve seen the superb video in all its owl-hat glory, it’s difficult not to be warmed by such a powerful and passionate blast of Kvelertak’s glowing energy (superbly portrayed by a bunch of kids having the time of their lives).

Trepan is a fitting title to a track that is akin to having someone drilling into your skull. The intense, metallic attack is a stark and stringent blast of hectic and caustic energy, similar to the Kvelertak of old, but feels a lot more abrasive and intrusive.

In any other language, Evig Vandrar would be veering close to the side of being decidedly pop-punk and being the lightest sounding track on Meir. This isn’t a criticism – far from it; I applaud Kvelertak in taking this approach on a track that is fairly alien to the others on Meir. It starts with vocalist Erlend Hjelvik clearing his throat and blasts into a decidedly bouncy, punk rock pathway. The stomping boots on the chorus, not to mention the adrenalin-charge that kicks in halfway through all add to a breathless and spirited rush and they even have time to chuck in some acoustic guitar strumming on a track that’s less than 3 minutes long!

Snilepisk is Evig’s evil twin – a throaty scream kicks things off and then it all goes to hell – thrash punk hits the wall with a splatter of grosteque bloody feathers and chaotic riffs. Vocalist Hjelvik sounds like a complete animal; breathless and ragged, he channels hardcore zeal with determination and maniacal energy. The breakdown around the 1 minute 40 mark is surprising. Here, Kvelertak go all eastern-metal on us (conjuring up images of twisting snakes) – it’s somewhat mesmerising and hypnotic, only to be broken by a barbaric breakdown of pedal-smashing drums and Hjelvik’s guttural vocal screech.

According to the text in the album sleeve, Nekrokosmos is about an alien who wishes death to our world. Um…ok. Aside from that, the riffs in this are the howling, exquisite classic rock that Kvelertak play with such gusto, whilst the heavier and more deranged moments are jarring and a reminder of just how sporadic and unique these Scandinavians can be. Underto is a weird track, part, brash, shouty hardcore, part Kvelertak going hell-for-metal-leather; then there’s the outro which builds and builds but fades out before it explodes like you feel it should – but leaves you wondering, should it have?

Closer, simply titled Kvelertak, is like listening to a Scandinavian AC/DC, around the Back In Black-era. From the spirited “WOOH!” of the songs opening, to the glorious rock ‘n roll stampede of Antipodeans riffs, its clear where Kvelertak’s influence lies on this closer. A confident and anthemic blast of Angus Young-worshipping, beer-drenched party rock and one of just 11 reasons why Meir should have its place in your record collection – a breathtaking and exhilarating return.

Links

Kvelertak
Roadrunner Records
Kvelertwitter