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No doubt you’ve re-read the title of this post and are still having trouble coming to terms with the dreadful pun I’ve tried to shoehorn in. Remember Terrorvision? They did that song about drinking that amber/sometimes clear liquid that also involves snorting salt and then squeezing lemon in your eye? Now read the title again. If you still haven’t got it, go tip salt in your ear and shove a lemon up your bum.

Who knows what The Bronx, or should I say Mariachi El Bronx were smoking when they came up with the idea of doing a Mariachi-style album. The seeds for this were rooted in the intro track on their 2nd self-titled effort and it’s been 3 years since this album has come to light. Note: this is not a side project, in all respects; ‘El Bronx‘ is a Bronx album and their 4th full length, albeit a distinct departure from the caustic vitriol that was present on their first 3 records. My knowledge on Mariachi is…well…this album basically. I have none; in fact, this will be my first step into listening to this type of music and hopefully not my last.

Those familiar with the vocal talent of Matt Caughthran will be surprised to hear that the teddy-bear faced frontman has changed from sounding like the bastard offspring of Henry Rollins and an enraged bull.  On ‘El Bronx‘ his voice is uncharacteristically heartbreaking and deceptively delicate. This isn’t to say Caughthran has gone soft; his familiar ragged vocal lead his still present, but instead of pummelling the listener, it’s a soothing alcohol burn of warmth and melody. Take ‘Cell Mates’ for example; after the flourish of exuberant trumpets and intricate guitar-plucking, Caughthran’s voice flows with deft elegance and smoothness. It’s a quintessential summer song that glides along a lazy yet skilful beat. “Honestly, will you wait for me?” he croons, singing with such passion and believable loss, you’re convinced he really is spending a considerable amount of time behind bars, pining for his lover to stand by him.

Percussion is sparse; resulting in steady drum rolls and bouncing patterns of sound that dips in and out of several tracks yet remain a constant militant marching band-style backbone in others. The emphasis really is directed towards guitarists Joby J Ford, Ken Horne and Vincent Hidalgo (of The Drips fame, who incidentally plays the guitarron, a large 6-stringed acoustic bass) whose layered arrangements are astonishingly elaborate and intricate. Those cynical readers maybe wondering “pfft, it must all sound the same then” – you couldn’t be more wrong. For every summery leap of juddering guitar and horn blast, there’s a Mexican-ballad (the luscious, dreamy infection of ‘Sleepwalking’) to the big-band thunder blast of ‘Silver Or Lead’, which would perfectly soundtrack almost any professional dance style (save ballroom and the quickstep!) to the jaunty sea-shanty swagger of ‘Clown Powder’ which wouldn’t look out of place inside a bar from the Old West, nor would Caughthran’s wolf-like howl of triumph in the songs coda.

Typically of The Bronx, themes revolve around death and the afterlife, with possible explicit links to the day of the dead, particularly on the touching, yet mournful ‘Quinceniera’, which despite being about the coming of age ceremony celebrated by Latin-American girls; focuses more on how we’re one step closer to the grave. “Every night I get older…” yelps Caughthran, his voice cracking with splintered emotion, whilst the chorus of “the dead can dance if they want romance, all I need is some air” takes a different path, focusing on celebrating a departed person’s life, rather than mourning it. To counter-balance this, they also focus on the most hurtful of all emotions: love and the unity between two people who have become separated and desire to be with one another again. This is particularly so on the enthusiastic stomp of ‘Despretador’, which sees Caughthran taking the role of someone preparing for the return of a loved one; “I’ve been planning this meeting for days, carefully placing my words, come back to me little girl” he wails, backed by the oom-pa-pa ramshackle of spirited South-American harmony. ‘Holy’ takes an almost calypso-style backing beat, laced with sombre vocals, swirling dramatic string flourishes and jagged guitar plucks of despondence and intimidation.

In many respects,  ‘El Bronx’ does share common ground with The Bronx’s usual hardcore punk racket, despite both musical endeavours weight at the opposite end of the genre spectrum. Passion for one thing; the bleeding sincerity of Caughthran’s outstanding voice, which dips from a heartfelt croon to a boisterous chant (similar to the way he changes from a boisterous Yankee cowboy, to a screaming maniac on previous efforts). The musicianship, whilst different, shares that same meticulous tightness and raw, focussed determination, especially the huge body of sound created by guitarists Ford, Horne and Hidalgo. This isn’t to say that the differences aren’t staring you in the face; they practically scream blue murder, jumping up and down like some ADD-Zebedee, high on the most potent coffee known to man. Elements such as the demanding trumpet arrangements provided by Brad Magers, not to mention Jorma Vik’s elegant, yet light percussion and the luscious strings open doors to new and exciting prospects, collaborations and touring partners for the Los Angeles 6-piece.

I said in my review of ‘III’ back in December last year that their 2008 release was “the strongest collection of songs of their career” –  ‘El Bronx‘ however, romps home with that title and is testament to the truly superb bunch of musicians this band has become and an act you want to see go on playing forever. My only question is: “when will we see another Drips album?”

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Sounds

Click on the player below to listen to ‘Despretador‘ from ‘El Bronx‘

Links

Mariachi El Bronx
The Bronx
Wichita Records

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By Ross Macdonald

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I’m not particularly up on the dizzying heights of the L.A. punk scene back in the 80s; being from the UK, most of my time around then was spent learning to walk, falling down the stairs, trapping my cat’s tail in the door and painting my face blue. Now that I’m older and wiser, I’m still not 100% sure of it all, but luckily the good folks (that’s brothers Shawn and Mark Stern) at BYO (that’s Better Youth Organization) have decided to release a boxed set to pay tribute to their 25 years of service to the punk rock community. BYO was all about promoting the attitude and music of punk and other youth cultures in a positive light, encompassing their idea of “youth is an attitude, not an age” and this release, gives those that weren’t around back then a chance to experience it in 3 different formats; book, DVD and CD.

The DVD itself is a 90-minute affair, consisting of various interviews with the punk rock and hardcore elite (Ian Mackaye, Fat Mike, Kevin Seconds, The Bouncing Souls all adding their own positive thoughts about the label and the Stern brothers) and documenting the rise of Youth Brigade and BYO coming into existence.

‘Let Them Know’ is in most parts, a chronological build of Mark and Shawn Stern’s progression from their humble, surfer beginnings to mentors for punk rock’s continued existence and growth in Los Angeles. Surfing, which was another portal to push the thoughts and actions of teenage rebellion and angst, seems to play a big part in Shawn’s life, having been someone who embraced the non-conformist lifestyle and mentions the notion of slacking off, not going to work, avoiding the clichés of life. Surfing was the escape into making your own pattern. Shawn and his brother Mark then discover punk rock (they go see the Dickies and decide this is the new outlet for rebellion to be focused on) and the rest is…well history.

Below is a selection of highlights and things that can be learned from watching ‘Let Them Know’:

-Forming a new-wave pop-rock group called The Extremes in an 80’s punk rock scene is going to get you noticed (for all the wrong reasons) – thusly described as “all over the place.”

-Ian Mackaye has the strangest voice. He sounds like someone who should be giving advice on your next dice roll in a game of Dungeons & Dragons and not the owner of one of the greatest underground record labels of all time.

-Youth Brigade were originally destined to be a two-tone ska band, but the only band-geek horn players they could find refused to shave their heads. Plus, they read music – losers.

-More people should pursue Shawn Stern’s idea of a swing punk rock band.

-Shawn Stern sounds like a drunken, swaggering Elvis and Youth Brigade were strongly influenced by Sham 69 and many other British acts, particularly in the realms of Oi-punk.

-Staying in a place called ‘skinhead manor’ could well lead to loss of food, your mind and dignity. Described by Matt Skiba (Alkaline Trio) as “a punk rock crackhouse.”

-Back then, people would drive 100 miles for shows. Nowadays, if it’s not happening directly within your field of vision we’d barely turn our heads.

-“Better Youth Org – Organisation of Youth that’s going to better their own being.”

-“Promotion of positive things to do on our own” – an outlook that was very different from the current supposed corruption and negativity.

-Fat Mike states how romanticised people make the LA Punk scene – his vision is that it was scary, violent – cops seen as the worst perpetrators.

-Steve Soto from the Adolescents looks like a reanimated corpse (sorry Steve).

-If you’re a punk, the cops weren’t your friend.

-Naming your club after a giant Japanese, fire-breathing dinosaur is a very good idea.

-Getting TSOL, The Adolescents, Social Distortion and Youth Brigade together for the biggest punk show in LA at that time (Youth Movement ’82)will end in a smashed box office, destroyed bar, people fighting constantly, cops being assaulted and a girl breaking her leg falling off of a balcony.

-Word of mouth was the most powerful tool – caused an explosion in the punk scene.

-Bands would put on shows who had no label, no records, were never played on radio, yet the venues would be rammed.

-The first ‘Someone Got Their Head Kicked In’ compilation is regarded as definitive by a number of punks, including Kevin Seconds, Fat Mike and Ian Mackaye. I still haven’t heard it, but I’ll take their word for it.

-Old school buses – cheap and easy to cruise to shows in, prone to breaking down constantly. – United as a big crew under the BYO banner.

-BYO, Alternative Tentacles and Dischord all had the same philosophy - “fuck major labels, we’ll just do it on our own.”

-The tour documentary, ‘Another State of Mind’ – proved that punk wasn’t a dirty word, rag-tag touring at it’s finest.

-Brian Swilley is the godfather of slam-dancing.

-Never record at Mystic Studios -  “horrible, terrible place to record and it shows in the mix.”

-‘Sound & Fury’ by Youth Brigade – top 100 punk records of all time. I haven’t heard it.

-7 Seconds – positive hardcore punk – “best band of the BYO scene” – Fat Mike

-BYO were underground entrepreneurs – not looking for flavour of the week, everyone had a chance.

-Reviving swing music is a good idea until you and your bros get kicked out of the band.

I could go on forever listing the highlights, because it’s pretty much all gold, in what is an incredibly well-crafted, informative and honest sounding collection of thoughts, flashbacks and sound-bites from a time that I would have loved to have experienced (although the constant fights and having the shit kicked out of you, yeah I’ll pass). The special features include interviews regarding media attention punk rock attracted, a music video to The Brigade’s ‘It’s A Wonderful Life‘ (very U2 meets Spandau Ballet) and many, many other features cut from the documentary about the last show at Godzilla’s, the bad times, origins of the logo - fuck it, there’s loads of extras on here just waiting to be checked out.

The Stern brothers talk with such passion and love for what they have done and are continuing to do, emphasising this constant endorsement of “bettering yourself”, all woven together with this brotherly, DIY ethic that extends far and wide throughout the punk community at that time. If you have even a slight interest in three chords, stage dives, and a complete disregard for authority, then ‘Let Them Know: The Story of Youth Brigade and BYO‘ should be in your collection.

“BYO Records is the founding father of the independent punk rock label” - Steve Soto, Adolescents - trut’ so pure.

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The accompanying CD is also a delight, straining at the belt with 31 tracks provided by past and present artists from BYO’s roster. Instead of original contributions, each artist has chosen to cover another artist’s track.

Highlights include:

Leatherface roaring their way through ‘Doublewhiskeycokenoice’ with distorted punk rock gusto and a vocalist who seems to be singing like an enraged bear and drinking neat whiskey at the same time.

Off With Their Heads deciding 80’s hardcore punk is a logical crossover in their pummelling oi-fury of ‘Headlights…Ditch.’

NOFX’s version of ‘No More Lies’ harks back to their roots when they chucked out 1 minute blasts of scrappy, thrash-punk but yet still pasted the floor with any other punk band that came within 10 feet.

I’m still kicking myself for not getting into Youth Brigade sooner, as their swaggering swing-punk exuberance is infectiously brilliant, especially on their cover of ‘Misfortune’ which sounds like Richard Cheese fronting Tiger Army.

The concentrated, screaming rage of Young Governor on ‘Domination’, with percussion that is akin to someone playing the drums on an anvil.

Both Pulley and The Briefs do a sterling job with their Adolescents covers; the former taking the anthemic sing-along approach of scrappy pop-punk, whist the latter favour dense instrumental work and a snotty attitude.

The brilliantly named Filthy Thieving Bastards and their jaunty, summers-day sounding folk punk. American Steel also favours a mellower path, combining a gentle acoustic introduction, before launching into melodic punk rock, which despite making ‘Dead and Broken’ sound far too much like the original, it’s a faithful and passionate cover.

The Bouncing Souls’ song ‘The Ballad of Johnny X’ is given a punk-ballad makeover by the aptly named Johnny Madcap and the Distractions, taking all the patchy urgency and replacing it with melody and spirited sing-along charm.

But like the DVD, there’s so much packed into this, my best recommendation is to get this right away and get educated and more importantly, get entertained.

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Sounds

Click on the player below to listen to Youth Brigade’s cover of ‘Misfortune‘.

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Links

BYO Records
Youth Brigade

To buy the ‘Let Them Know‘ boxed set, click here.

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By Ross Macdonald

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Converge – Dark Horse

Classic Converge – you’ve got the drums in hardcore punk overdrive, sounding like industrial pistons going 200 times their natural speed, barbaric and extremely dirty guitar strangulation and the irrepressible howl of vocalist Bannon, who sounds like he’s having a shouting match with a vacuum cleaner. This is why they’re the kings of hardcore; with just that right amount of fury and metal to make something that’s truly monstrous.

Baroness – A Horse Called Golgotha

IF I ever decided to take up ‘the drugz’ Baroness would probably be the first band I’d listen to whilst getting baked. Whilst not inherently ultimate-stoner like say Fu Manchu, Nebula, etc. they have that huge crushing grooves alongside their metallic, southern rock flavour, as well as a impressive distorted guitar solo, acoustic guitar plucking and of course that voice which is reminiscent of a god crowing for his minions to march to war.

Pelican – Strung Up From The Sky

Pelican offer up some more instrumental rock and manage to, with its downcast, plodding nature; create the vision of the despondent hopelessness of a wounded soldier, dragging an injured comrade up a hill during some horrific storm. The wailing shriek of the guitars, not to mention the low-end hum of the bass and dead-sounding drumbeats all offer very little respite, but a stunningly morbid piece of music.

Juliette Lewis – Noche Sin Fin

So The Licks have been ditched then for this, which I prefer actually. The bratty, intimidating punk rock sound has been ditched for a more haunting, disjointed, jagged sound with howling guitar effects, an abundance of percussion and a voice that has definitely improved with age – good work; this is the kind of track that swirls with unpredictability and a dangerous edge of confusion.

Flood Of Red – Little Lovers

The last minute is the best bit. The gratuitous usage of layered guitar/keyboard noise and pummelling drums give this track a well needed bit of body, but the vocals need to stop sounding like they’re whining through a recorder by some pre-pubescent; give it some balls man. Pleasant enough in places, but like a disintegrating kipper in others.

Deaf Havana – Another Day In This House

“THIS IS MYYYYY LAAAASSTTT CHANCE TO IMPRESSSSSSSSS” wails Deaf Havana’s Jim Varney-vocalist. It certainly is mate, I’m now 2 minutes through this track and the last 150 seconds better cure cancer or make a copy of Duke Nukem Forever appear in my hands, or I’m writing this off as ‘incredibly fresh-faced but mind-numbingly dull pop-meets-hardcore emo-bullshit that I thought was stopping because everyone was so fucking sick to the back teeth of it.’ Good screaming though.

Horse The Band – Shapeshift

I thought the Nintendo-core had been washed out of Horse the Band after the first minute or so. At one point it sounded like someone farting into a mic at a hardcore show, which then changed to some social retard playing Super Mario 16: Fuck You Peach, I’m Going To The Pub before slowing the first part down and draping this blurred haze of synthesised noise over two people crooning at each other. Strangest song I’ve heard in a long while and the best on this CD to be honest.

Fuck Buttons – Surf Solar (edit)

Try listening to this track whilst choreographing all your movements in slow motion. Whilst it may sound like someone re-tuning a loud radio during a storm, whilst a scratched trance record skips along in the background under the glitching sound of tribal drumming, Fuck Buttons manage to create the kind of resonance that melds together the opposite worlds of noise and house music in one glorious mess.

Tubelord – He Awoke On A Bench In Abergavenny

When in hell did Tubelord start sounding like RayayayayayayayaStantz? They seem to have gone ultra-pop now and twee-to-the-max (i.e. was that a xylophone?) Pleasant – that’s all this is, only really seems to get aggressive in the last half with a nice breakdown and tappy guitar parts.

Cars On Fire – Sharks

These dudes sound a bit like Daniel P Carter’s band, Hexes but with more screaming and less Danny Farkin’ Dyer and channelling a dump-truck load of anger into some nice thick punk rock punches, with a touch of the melody last heard back when Hundred Reasons were good. Solid sounding stuff, great dual vocal interplay between the shouty guy and the melodic guy (although they could be the same person, if so…nice!)

Johnny Foreigner – Ghost The Festivals

I’ve noticed that Johnny Foreigner always have that same ‘errrrrr, errrrrrrrrr’ guitar noise (god, my onomatopoeia is appalling) kind of a grinding, jerky sound. Erm…so…yeah, I mean they sound like an ultra-fast pop-punk band now, that’s channelling that kind of scrawling, low-fi tune that’s a bit Pavement-like, with those high-pitched vocal scream/male-back-and-forth singing that I’ve always had a soft spot for. Pimp.

Latitudes – Antechamber

Move over Pelican, if I wanted the end of the world this is what would be playing as I directed the comet into the sea and flooded all of Earth. This is chilling, desolate and incredibly dense. The muted, Thom Yorke-vocals sound like the last lament of a dying priest, gazing towards the heavens as fire and brimstone rains down upon him. Doomed-post rock never sounded so barren, yet so rich with rasping intensity.

Bury Tomorrow – Evolution Of Self

Promising start, all gang vocals, cries of “AND IN OUR HEARTS, WE STAND TOGETHER!” – That’s brotherhood and unity, staple diet of good hardcore, though this paddles in the waters of metalcore and the melodic vocal lead on the chorus saps the impact somewhat. For something that started off quite battered and world weary, this seems a bit squeaky clean.

Five Finger Death Punch – Burn It Down

Band tries to drag nu-metal back into 2009 and being a massive hypocrite my feelings are they shouldn’t have bothered; because this is so cliché ridden I don’t know where to start. An absolute rotting pig cock of a song.

Skeletonwitch – Repulsive Salvation

This is confusing – the Dani Filth vocals, punk rock drumming, slight-black metal guitar and leaden rhythmic pound seem kind of out of place, but tie together quite well. The song? Something about eating flesh, so it’s probably about cannibalism or some other horror-related guff; scrappy, odd change of pace with the breakdown which makes them sound like a Bridge 9 hardcore act being fronted by the cookie monster – the bastards stole my idea!

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Links

Scroll up mother-truckers. COMING SOON:

BYO Records Let Them Know Review
El Bronx Review
Mad Mac 7:  So Very, Very Tired
Brand New ‘Daisy’ Reivew
Titanic Vs Mech-Godzilla

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By Ross Macdonald

Band – BATS
Album – Red In Tooth And Claw
Label – Richter Collective
Release date – August 2009
Sounds like – A majestic stag head. Hanging upside-down in a dark cave, bloodthirsty screeching. Flesh being stripped from bone, the slash of claws and the gnashing of teeth.

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Holy testicles batman! We could have a surprise on our hands here. Like fresh, warm blood soaking into sawdust, the Kurt Ballou influence is saturated deep within this 11 track debut from Ireland’s BATS. The rough-form template of stuttering, stop-start punk that was present on their ‘Cruel Sea Scientist’ EP has been picked apart, stripped down and reconstructed; Steve Austin (Lee Majors) style – i.e. it’s now heavier and comprised partly of metal.

The themes of evolution and sea creatures which featured so prominently on their debut EP are again present alongside more complex subject matters such as the mathematics of Andrew Wiles, surgical procedures and gamma rays. Whilst they may not be the most typical topics to put to music, like Down I Go before them, BATS manage to create a song out of the strangest issues and more importantly, they’ve fashioned a body of work that had morphed into something truly exemplary.

‘Higgs Boson Particle’ and ‘Gamma Ray Burst: Second Date’ open the album like a familiar double-act who are astute with their timing, poise and dexterity, knowing just when to deliver the punch-line (or in this case, riff and drum hit). ‘Higgs…’ plays the straight man, favouring a subtle build of punchy 1 note strumming that gradually moves stubborn percussion beats and the foreboding mantra-chant laced with trepidation. This continues to rise in sound as the guitars slice cleanly through, followed by the vocal chant which becomes more anxious, irate and maladjusted, until vocalist Rupert Morris is screeching his words under the now heavy wave of pummelling riffs. It then snaps as ‘Gamma Ray…’ muscles its way onto the scene, guitars stabbing great misshapen holes of schizophrenic-punk into the mix. The shift is immediate, similar to that of a lumbering Transformer morphing into some breakneck sports automobile. Vocalist Morris takes on multiple personalities, changing between disgruntled slovenly punk shouting, to steel-voiced quick fire intone, to shrieks of enraged joy and then to harmonised ball-clenching wails. That’s just the first 2 songs; this train of jagged, multi-song-personality head fuck continues throughout the remaining 9 tracks with zealous determination and dexterity.

‘Credulous! Credulous!’ starts with one of the best breathless exclamations ever and continues to build on this almost tribally, dance-beat, within the choppy guitar squeals and discordance. The depth of the BATS sound is stunningly apparent here, as the low pluck of the rhythmic bass, dense drum hits run steadily beneath the sometimes erratic, sometimes filth-covered, sometimes squeaky clean guitar lines.

The grind of the guitars on ‘Andrew Wiles’ hack a sodden path ruthless inelegance, before lurching into the jagged twists of dance-punk frivolity. Morris’s shriek of ‘I DESCRIBE MY LIFE IN MATHEMATICS!’ followed by a detailed account of the great mathematician’s 7 year discovery of the proof of Fermat’s Last Theorem staggers forth with caustic vigour.

Kurt Ballou’s influence really starts to shine through come track 5; ‘Lord Blakeney’s Arm’ as the convulsing jerking shred of Converge picks its way through the layers of Scrooge-tight guitar stabs and rolling thrash-drum beat. The vocals spit acrid venom similar to that of Fear Before The March of the Flames, and of course give nods towards the irrepressible animal howl of Jacob Bannon. The breathless panting, unstable, yet aggressively choppy guitar screech tear and gut with see-sawing determination and complex-hardcore dynamism.

The tale of 2 oceanic beasts locked in conflict is detailed in atmospheric drone of the stomping ‘The Cruel Sea’. Guitars stab with the speed and frantic bloodlust of Roberto from Futurama, whilst vocalist Morris pleads to the prehistoric monster known as the Plesiosaur to save him and the rest of the band/crew from the dreaded maw of a creature known as a Tylosaur. In many respects, it’s the long-lost cousin of Down I Go’s ‘Gigantic! Titanic!’ which also told a tale of a horrific disaster out to sea.

It’s all about layers and the thorough usage of them. ‘Shadow-Fucking’ piles guitar on top of guitar like a furious builder constructing a mansion out of fenders. The background hum of reverb interplays within the erratic shuddering build that then twists into a hook-filled dance punk stomp and what is easily the best song the 5 piece have ever written. ‘Star Wormwood’ fits a similar template, albeit one that’s spent most of it’s time cleaning up its act, leaving the heavier elements on the shelf and instead selecting a more pop-based structure.

The flailing nature of the instruments on ‘Bats Spelled Backwards Is Stab’ gives the impression of a mad scramble to the finish line, with each band member desperately hammering the shit out of their respective piece of musical equipment, eager to for the triumphant victory. I defy anyone who doesn’t join in with the tracks title chant, which is reminiscent of a group of drunken footballers heckling from a terrace, complete with off-kilter handclaps.

The start of ‘Vermithrax Pejorative’ has more in common with battle metal, especially the heavy, percussive opening and Morris’s caterwauling screech of “GIVE ME YOUR DAUGHTERS! THE ONES WHO’VE NOT KNOWN THE FLESH OF A MAN!” Assuming the role of the great Vermithrax, BATS paint the giant winged wyrm as the underdog, a defeated beast that has suffered at the hands of man (“people have killed all my children…this man pierced my throat…I am the last of my kind…”) Musically, it’s their heaviest song to date; a rumbling battering ram of tight, concise metallic rock with vocalist Morris screaming his throat red raw in unyielding ferocity.

Closing track ‘The Barley’ staggers its way forward like a feedback-soaked Don Caballero b-side, mixing reverb and strange pitch noises around its dogged plod. The only vocals are spat with disgust, calling for the death of the witches by conflagration due to crop failure over a quick-fire blast of anxious metal-edged punk. It climaxes with a blurred fuzz of low-end distortion and guttural noise, ending what has been a spectacular debut.

Natural selection is all about the survival of the fittest and ‘Red In Tooth And Claw’ is most definitely a healthy beast, residing top of the musical food chain, wings spread, ready for battle. Just remember, BATS spelled backwards is STAB and possible album of the year spelled backwards is ‘raey eht fo mubla’.

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Sounds

Listen to ‘Shadow-Fucking‘ on the player below:

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Links

BATS Official Site
BATS Myspace
Richter Collective

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By Ross Macdonald

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I’ve got to admit, I’m oblivious to the genre known as ‘dirty folk’ – for those with a wrong mind it probably throws up images of men in long coats visiting theatres that only play movies with 3 X’s in the title. I’m assuming in musical terms, ‘dirty folk’ refers perhaps to a more gritty and ramshackle approach to folk music, possibly the inclusion of impromptu feedback, the light fuzz of distortion and the sound of a mud clod smacking against a snare drum (perhaps not this). South London’s Billy Vincent have achieved this to some extent and even thrown in several more sounds and images to conjure up such as pirates, sunny beaches, being stoned and milk-carton guitars.

One of the most interesting tracks from ‘Stay On Course...’  is ‘The Old Lamar Oak’ which draws some inspiration from psychedelic folk-nutters MV & EE – the slight echoing-pound of the lurching drums, dual-vocal wail and subtle guitar strokes and delicate background percussion give the impression of a group of inebriated druids jamming around a campfire.

The beginning of ‘On The Five String’ fools me into thinking Billy Vincent have covered Tenacious D’s ‘Wonderboy’ – the similarities between the opening guitar plucks is uncanny.  Veering away from the hippy-world of wailing drones and scrawling noises, ‘On The Five String’ features an underlying calypso style beat, effortlessly jaunting along. Even the ukulele sound, which thankfully doesn’t dip into the George Formby territory, is a confident slice of hook-laden acoustic bounce.

It’s the delicate nature of several of these songs that really form the backbone of ‘Stay On Course, No Remorse’, particularly ‘In My Pocket’, with the kind of breathless, shivering vocals that sound almost Icelandic in their delivery, whilst the flowing atmospheric swarm of sounds and rambling Creedence-guitar hold everything together.

‘Destiny Arrested’ gives a nod towards the mournful-spook of Dan Sartain, and his western-style acoustic rock. For the most part it sounds brilliant, like some sorrow-soaked ballad that you’d see a poncho-wearing bard play at the gallows; however, the vocals slightly let it down, sounding a bit Jamie T-ish, but there’s enough of Sartain’s brand of cutting swagger to single this out as one of the best tracks on the album.

The lyrics on ‘Truly’ seem to reference disaster and calamity (“from the pacifist with his head in the noose….the cannonball smashed and split the deck again, sent us sliding from the wreck again…”) but chooses the positive path, with the words “to the debris we will cling till dawn….kiss the sand and sing it all again…” – it has that distinctly rustic appeal of youthful exuberance, with the kind of anthemic sing-a-long that is so effortlessly easy to slide into, similar to Brand New’s ‘Soco Amaretto Lime’. It sounds like something that would be played at over a montage of shots from an American-teen drama series.
The thing about ‘Truly’ is, that it works in dragging the listener in, catching them with its hooky guitar upstrokes, old-man harmonica and an erratic sense of optimistic chaos. It’s radically different from the other tracks, opting for “cram as many instruments in as possible” tact, rather than the stripped down-bareness of the grief-stricken, alcohol-fuelled ‘Wrong Side of the Glass’, which sounds like something a fragile old drunk would belt out the next time a karaoke night hits his local.

‘Stay On Course, No Remorse’ by Billy Vincent is a distinctly warm listening experience, like knocking back several drops of a single malt and sitting with your eyes closed, savouring the flavour as it flows down your throat; that slight burn as it catches your pallet, but ultimately it’s the soft glow of comfort and serenity you cherish.

(Stream or download the album here!)

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Links

Billy Vincent Official Site
Billy Vincent Myspace

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By Ross Macdonald

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Having exhausted nearly all the Arnold Schwarzenegger films by over ‘eggering’ (doesn’t work) the basket on their debut album, ‘The Greatest Band Of All Time’ you could be forgiven for thinking that Arnocorps had run out of material. Fear not, they still have some tricks or should I say songs, up the sleeves of their combat fatigues. Whilst ‘Twins’ and thankfully, ‘Junior’ have failed to make the transition from screen to their new EP; such films as ‘Kindergarten Cop’, ‘Red Heat’ and ‘Terminator 2’ make the cut, as does a re-recording of the song ‘Terminator’ from their first release.

There’s nothing remotely clever about Arnocorps music, except perhaps the ability to match film dialogue/plot lines with a coherent tune – a skill in which they are at the forefront and the true undisputed masters. At first, there seems very little change from 2005’s ‘The Greatest Band Of All Time’ – it’s the trademark sound; fast, aggressive faux-Austrian rock that slams into your ears with relentless force. However, the subtle differences start to break through, like that scene in ‘The Terminator’ where the shoddy-looking animatronic puppet tries to break through the factory door. They seem to have reigned in a lot more of the scrappier sounding, throw-away guitar parts, opting for a tighter, more focussed metallic attack. Holzfeuer’s vocals are a barbed, ferocious instrument of bellowing noise, whilst the dual guitar attack of Barrakuda and Klampfe deviates into classic rock and 70s metal fury.

Opening track ‘I’m Ballsy’ is, in Holzfeuer’s immortal words, “a goddamn anthem of our generation right here…” and he’s not wrong. Note to bands: this is how you open a record. No plagiarised samples, no electronic ambient bullshit 1-minute fade-in load of granny cock; you need your singer bellowing about what a massive studly bastard he is and what cigars he smokes. This could well one of the most perfect songs ever – it’s incorrigible, pummelling punk-rock nature, coupled with self-appraising vocals of grandeur, some terrific backing vocals and a chorus that latches on to you with a force equal to that of a Terminator back-hand through a brick wall. ‘I’m Ballsy’ is the kind of song that leaves you breathless, with the same “what the fuck” feeling that John Connor no doubt felt after being lifted one-handed off his pushbike by a square-chinned, shotgun totting man in black leathers. ‘Red Heat’ follows a similar path; - it’s 3 minutes of Zeke-inspired speed-punk rumbles past a breath-taking rate. The rhythmic hammer of the brothers Alder (Gellend on drums and Toten on bass) pounds through this Russian buddy-cop film with thunderous intent, whilst Holzfeuer rattles off quick lyrical jabs, chanting at the end for us to “FEEL THE BURN! FEEL RED HEAT!”

Whether they know or reference it as an influence or not, The Ramones play a part in the Arnocorps sound, particularly on ‘You Lack Discipline.’ From the shrill piercing whistle opening and the rollicking drum roll, to the skate-punk rush of clattering guitars; the spirit of Joey, Dee Dee and the others lives on in the form of 5 burly action adventure rock ‘n roll heroes. It’s hard not to raise a smile to the lyrics, which reference one particular cinematic outing, which featured the governor of California teaching a bunch of toddlers how to march, tidy up their mess, look after ferrets and dismantle machine guns (ok not this). The very fact they managed to shoe-horn in the “IT IS NOT A TUMOR!” line, singles the anthemic ‘You Lack Discipline’ as one of the best tracks the ‘Corps have ever released. Holzfeuer exhibits the kind of pent-up rage that any drill instructor has, and expels it with such fever-soaked tgusto, it’s hard not to begin chanting along, fist in the air, screaming for “DISCIPLINE!”

The re-recorded version of ‘Terminator’ (original features on TGBOAL); is obviously present to tie in with the 4th film of the ‘brain-destroying-paradox’ that the Schwarzenegger series has now become, despite the fact the big man himself is only present as a computer generated visage. The drumming appears faster and more focused, whilst Holzfeuer’s growl is stronger than ever, showing how his vocal range has achieved a grittier, vicious bloodlust of fury. ‘Judgement Day’ is ‘Terminator’s’ brother-in-arms; and whilst retaining the same speed-punk romp, there’s a distinct amount of melody particularly in the opening 30 seconds, which chug at a sturdy, unbalanced pace. The lyrics obviously detail the plot of T2; “I need your boots, your clothes….and your motorcycle!” and the chorus of “chill out, dickwad…a storm is coming on Judgement Day!” A heroic mid-air arm-wrestle of pure ballsy determination is raised for the guitars, which squeal with cock-rock exuberance and the kind of headbang-demanding enthusiasm that cannot be faulted. As a nice touch, Holzfeuer also references the ‘rescue squad’ from the ‘Predator‘ film; something that he no doubt attributes the band to be, due to their preference of combat fatigues. ‘Rise of the Machines’ rounds of proceedings with a sturdy, yet desolate sounding piece that whilst to all appearances is a driving, metallic-rock number, seems to detail a hopeless and fearful future of our planet consumed by automation.

‘The Ballsy’ EP is a welcomed return from one of the most exciting and interesting hard-rock bands around; proof that goddamn heroes still exist; it’s the perfect soundtrack to enjoy alongside the following activities:

Pumping iron
Smoking stogies
Carrying logs on your damn shoulder
Scaling a cliff
Throwing a boulder

Get Ballsy!
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Links

Arnocorps
ArnoMyspace
Vulcan Sky Records
Anti Culture

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By Ross Macdonald

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Bring Me The Horizon – Football Season Is Over (After The Night Remix)

Bring Me The Horizon have always appeared to be style over substance, no doubt caused by the ‘outrageously wacky’ antics of the tattooed gremlin that fronts them. This appears to be a re-cut version of one of their ‘songs’, with the addition of some nice choppy beats and ‘WOWOWOW’ synth thumping. It’s not bad actually, but didn’t Enter Shikari already do this? The screaming is still abhorrent though – sounds like trollman is vomiting up his pancreas.

Thrice – All The World Is Mad

Thrice went through this big change recently, ditching all their shouty, fast hardcore tunes for a slower, more methodical approach and this is just another example of their transition. Despite the guitars sounding tinny as fuck, the vocals show progression from nonsensical barking, focussing more on melody and keeping in time with the progressive nature of this track.

Every Time I Die – Wanderlust

More KFC finger-lickin’ good RAWK from Every Time I Die; perfect for backwards-baseball cap wearing rednecks speeding down some barren motorway, hollering like brain-damaged monkeys. The vocals are spot on and whilst the music appears somewhat pedestrian and restrained for ETID, it does the job in being suitably obnoxious.

Sights & Sounds – Neighbours

Sadly not a reworking of the popular theme from the Australian soap of the same name. Instead this channels monolithic amounts of washing noise with shuddering, heavy rock and Dave Grohl-style wailing. Superb, with some nice swirling keyboard raking splutters at the end.

Twin Atlantic – What Is Light? Where Is Laughter?

Sean Connery would love this. Scottish to the max, with the kind of whisky-soaked vocals and grandiose-bastard chunks of heavy rock that slams down harder and faster than those blockers in Bowser’s Castle. Melodic in just the right places and guitar-twiddling thumps of noise in others – brilliant work.

All Time Low – Lost In Stereo

Whilst the chorus lords itself like some 500Fft destructo-bot of doom, you could land on it’s head, twist the ear flap back and find some tiny feeble-bodied sprite working the levers and fiddling with the dials. Impressive from the outside; the loud, plodding, heavy pop-punk tries to make an impact, but is lost by being utterly soulless and bereft of any feeling.

Chuck Ragan – Glory

It’s the guy out of Hot Water Music! Sounding like ZZ Top when they did that folky-Western version of ‘Doubleback’ for Back To The Future III; Chuck injects his own throaty baritone to the mix of acoustic strumming and jaunty violins. His voice is the true stand-out ‘instrument’ however, touching on William Elliott Whitmore-style blues that bleeds with the similar passion, warmth and sense of loss. Best track so far.

Frank Turner – Try This At Home

Frank Turner’s gone punk again! Well, cow-punkish. Alright, so it’s a swaggering, fast acoustic-folky affair that seems to hark back to his Million Dead ways in its sense of urgency and the very nature of self-referencing the pressures of being a musician. Possibly the strongest track I’ve heard from him since his MD days.

Memphis May Fire – North Atlantic Vs North Carolina

Never heard of them – but it’s cool to have ‘fire’ in your band name now. It’s the new ‘wolf’. This could literally be anyone from the American post-hardcore community; it’s so interchangeable. I think He Is Legend have already done this – bit of screaming, clean vocals, Guns ‘N Roses style guitar solo at 2 minute mark, more screaming – END.

Blackhole – Don’t Cry

For a band that’s supposed to be more hardcore than eating a bowl of gravel, mixed with acid and drizzled with broken glass, it’s an incredibly sappy track title. It also feels like a bad radio edit in that just as finally chugs into gear with some credible guitar shredding it ends with one of those “dunna, naaa nnnnowwwwwww” finishes that I swear were phased out about 10 years ago. Solid though, but for the love of god MORE BACKING VOCALS.

Donots – Pick Up The Pieces

“What the hell are we waiting for?” Shout Donots. Something that doesn’t sound like it fell off the backend of the My Chemical Romance bandwagon that shot through this no-horse town about 5 years ago. Turgid.

Megadeth – Head Crusher

Like you actually need to be told how totally awesome this. It’s MEGADETH people, they’re like the best band ever you utter shower cap.

Dead By April – Stronger

Yo Dead By April, I’m happy for you, and I really dig your screaming and elaborately wanky keyboard pounding and I’m going to let you finish, but my song that was also called ‘Stronger’ is one of the best songs of all time.

The Black Dahlia Murder – A Selection Unnatural

Salacious B. Crumb has decided that the Star Wars Cantina band and Jabba’s House band should ditch the spacey, keyboard led bobbins and take up death metal thrash. What you’re left with is a squawking monkey-lizard noise over waves of extremely furious guitar twanging and rapid double-bass drum rolls.

Evile – Infected Nation

Not sure if you pronounce the ‘e’ on the end. “Evileeeeee”? Sounds shit. During the first minute, the drumming sounds distorted beyond repair, like a chewed up tape-recording. No-one really needs to hear this – sub-par metal, tedious guitars and a vocalist who seems to think shouting like a medicine swigging homeless alcoholic that stands outside bottle banks is ‘singing’. Get bent.

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Links

As above - I have to go now, my planet needs me.

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By Ross Macdonald

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First things first, the idea of living in a city run and full of dogs scares the shit out of me. I know people drone on about them being man’s best friend; well not to this man they’re not. Secondly, the title ‘Dog City’ is punk as fuck. It has that element of strays and wastrels, rotting down side alleys, dishevelled appearances and an attitude problem that ranges from psychotic to murderous. Thirdly, if there ever was a film made about a city where dogs become the supreme overlords, then these Norwich hardcore book-bashers would probably soundtrack it.

Dorian Gay are a hardcore band that have digested the pages of ‘Our Band Could Be Your Life’ and shat out their own crude template of 80s raucous punk. They’ve also injected the unsophisticated humour of Jimmy Pop in their track titles which rip off various works of popular fiction. Any band that can stoop to that level of rudimentary profanity in renaming Milan Kundera’s book as (yes, I looked it up and no, never read it) ‘The Unbearable Shiteness of Being’ deserve two thumbs up. I’m intrigued as to where they’ll go next on the follow up – how about ‘A Pissage To India’? or ‘The Twatcher in the Rye’? Or my personal favourite ‘Lord of the Fucks’.

Opening track ‘The Unbearable Shiteness of Being’ starts with some spliced together spoken word segments, reciting the band’s name over and over, much like in the style of Trail of Dead’s ‘Madonna’ album. This concludes with David Brent lamenting that “it’s not gay” before launching into an actual song that’s reminiscent of choppy, Bad Religion-style punk rock and vocals that tread a thin line between the rasping shout of Rollins-era Black Flag, laced with a snotty, brattish slur of discontent.

I’m assuming it’s an indirect tribute, but the barking samples on the track ‘Dog City’ give a nod towards Pitbull-Grindcore enthusiasts, Caninus, whilst the tune chugs at a moderate, scuzzy pace, ticking all the right boxes – gang vocals, hefty breakdowns and a thrash-end section that’s cut short far too soon. ‘Your Missing Cat Is Dead’ makes up for this however; firing off breakneck fuzzed-out hardcore punk (that is reminiscent of early Dead Kennedys in places) with chaotic malice and a familiar crunching beatdown. Props for the casio-keyboard ending, which adds a touch of hilarity and off-beat campness to proceedings.

The methodical plod of ‘Bowsers Castle’ apes the giant, spiked backed lizard to a tea; staggering under a weight of its chugging, dogged determination. If the unexpected scream of “BOWSER YOU WAAAAAAAAAAAANKER” (which is something that many N64 players have shouted after being hit by the massive fuck on Mario Kart, just seconds from finishing first) doesn’t bring a smile to your face, then the guitar-scrawling scrimmage of the last 20 seconds will have you chanting your detest for the Koopa King with raucous stupidity. Vocalist Jack takes a lethargic, ‘I-could-care-less’ approach to his singing, which is all slurred splutters of inebriation. However, at several points it’s as though someone has picked him up on this and he begins to get progressively louder, angrier and clearer shouting his thoughts with all the gusto of a deranged religious street preacher.

’10 Steps To Middle Class Rebellion’ seems to point an accusing (middle) finger at the notion of scenesters adapting to whatever new trend is currently sweeping the nation and presumably being ‘fake.’ The lyrics “facial piercing and regrettable tattoos, both something unique to you/been done before, you’re not the first…middle class rebel, in 10 steps, do exactly what the song says.” The DG notion is that perhaps hardcore punk has become so formulaic now; it’s possible to create a step-by-step guide. One thing to note on this track; at the start, the vocals seem like they’re constantly playing catch-up and only tag in at the first chorus. Deliberate? Perhaps – gives the song a breathless rush of snotty adrenalin.

Props to the distorted guitars on ‘The Great Shatsby’, which whine and pitch like they’re being played near a Theremin factory. From what I can make of the lyrics, it seems to be promoting the nature and positive factors of an apathetic existence and the disillusionment with the outside world and possibly channelling elements of Minor Threat.

Wes Eisolds’ now defunct Some Girls seem to have been of some influence here; the Intro to ‘One Came Over The Cuckoos Nest’ shares many similarities to ‘Ex Nuns/Dead Dogs’ – the grinding, stuttering bass build is almost a direct copy, but manages to sound filthier and jarring. The gritty build up sees DG take a slower, more methodical approach, whilst the lyrics target what I can image is the club scene; painting the whole experience in a negative light with the words: “too many dickheads/music is shit…why did I fucking bother? Take me outside I wanna go home.”

Nowadays, hardcore bands are 10 a penny; luckily for Dorian Gay, they’re a particularly shiny penny with the kind of songs that batter home their bookstore-core racket and could well save the scene from gradually becoming like their namesakes famous portrait.

(Below are my suggestions for new Dorian Gay song titles):

’20,000 Leagues Under the Pee’
‘Lady Shatterley’s Lover’
‘Fart From The Sadding Crowd’
‘Moby’s Massive Dick’
‘The Mill On The Toss’

(I’ve had a re-think and least 3 sound like disturbing porn films I would not want to watch. Ever.)

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‘Dog City‘ can be bought here in the following totally radical formats of tape (yeah they still exist apparently) cd (soon to be phased out come 2011) and download.

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Links

Dorian Gayspace
Dorian Gay Site
What Would Henry Rollins Do?

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By Ross Macdonald

Mad Mac was sent ahead as a scouting party on the Friday. I was at work/lazy/wanted to play Journey on Rock Band and didn’t accompany him. His task was to at least sit through at least 10 minutes of the 2 bands that were playing that night and provide a witty diatribe of the proceedings. His attempt at this task wavers between failure and success, much like an unpredictable seesaw. The results read as follows:

Convulsions

This four man group I heard strike up from a neighbouring tent. If I had listened to my first impressions, I would have moved away from them and coincidently - missed a treat. Of the four, three of the band members had seen a good many summers - the term old rockers seemed to fit. The lead vocalist who screamed down the mike; jerked and jumped about like a puppet worked by someone having a fit or a cat on a hot plate. On one occasion, he leaped over the speaker, over the barrier, and into the crowd much to the delight of all. A large crowd collected to watch this really good group. I did not know any of the numbers but a crowd of all ages was enjoying the spectacle. One rather long instrumental was extremely good and a few people started to dance.  The vocalist who played a variety of mouth organs, for some mysterious reason attempted to lift the keyboard he was playing, then though better of it. It must have been a bit heavy. They all played their instruments very well under the direction of the manic vocalist. I watched them for nearly an hour. They played number after number without a pause during that time. Whatever he was taking I would like some of it.

The League of Mentalmen

I did not have the opportunity to spend much time watching them. A massive crowd was spellbound at the antics of The League of Mentalmen. Dressed in skirts, Mohican headdresses made from many coloured belts, leggings and lots of hairy chubby flesh they looked amazing. They made me think of The Village People on speed. Their numbers, which included covers of rock songs given a manic twist, blasted out across the tent to the delight of all. Their outrageous costumes, prancing about like broken necked chickens and the thunderous music had the whole tent rocking.

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Links

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Intro - Ross
Words - Mad Mac

Hiroshi Kyono, The Mad Capsule Markets’ gruff-sounding vocalist had been working on a solo project. Stemming from his DJ sets in Japan, to a range of clothing he’d created, called Wag Dug, as well as contributing music to the Death Note soundtrack, Kyono had been at work on his new venture…Wagdug Futuristic Unity. This solo experiment, which features a plethora of guest musicians (Justice, Chino Moreno, DJ Sid, Shitdisco, DJ Starscream to name a few) led to Kyono releasing a mini album named ‘Nu Riot’ in 2007. The full length, ‘Hakai’ in July 2008, then followed this.

Wagdug Futuristic Unity is a project that walks on a very thin tightrope. It totters and teeters with uncertainty, yet always manages to find its balance and escape the tortuous drop into the bottomless pit of ‘unlistenable chaos’. Kyono’s liberal use of blasting synthesised noise saturates the Wagdug sound. It’s drenched in colossal thumping drumbeats, held together by the kind of grimy bass work last heard in the breakcore work of Dev/Null, Drumcorps and other assorted Cock Rock Disco acts. Some moments appear to be the noises made by an X-Wing as their engines power down, mixed with a cacophony of ear-raping grime that is reminiscent of a factory of gameboys being set on fire. Kyono’s vocals are similar to his MCM-days in places, but tip to the scale of ‘almost incomprehensible’ – it’s as if he was taught English in a wind tunnel by Danny Dyer shouting through a toilet roll. Of course, a lot of what is being screamed could very well (and most likely is) in Japanese!

It’s not all terrifying, eardrum destroying punk-rock breakcore though. ‘X-Stereo’ is a reworking on ‘Waters of Nazareth’ by French electro-oddballs Justice. Whilst it may at first just appear to be the original song with Kyono’s distorted, garbled rap placed over the top (hang on…it is just that!) there’s an element of a warped, feedback-drenched layer of fuzz created specially to contort the track through Wagdug’s disturbing musical psyche.

‘Weapons of Wag Distortion’ comes across as a Prodigy meets *insert name of popular rap-metal band from the 1990s* in some nightmarish, Soulfly-gone-techno mash up of clattering steel drums, deep synthesised rumblings and a swirling aura of reverberating dread.

Obviously The Mad Capsule Markets influence is going to force it’s way through like the alien bursting out of Kane’s stomach. It does so to great effect on ‘Mad Saturator’, sounding similar to ‘Mob Track’ from the band’s ‘OSC-DIS’ release. The synthesised rise-and-fall swirls the track like a cement mixer constantly changing speed, whilst the clattering percussion and Kyono’s rapid fire delivery give the track a much needed metallic bite. ‘Got Life’ also takes the MCM template a royally fucks it through a chaos dimension of spiralling noise-drenched mayhem – Atari Teenage Riot would have been proud; fuck, if they were still going (properly) they’d probably demand Wagdug joins them on their next tour or at least organise some kind of collaboration that would no doubt destroy the fabric of reality.

‘WALL’ featuring Chino ‘BACK TO SKOOOOOOOOOL’ Moreno of Deftones is an unrelenting attack on the senses. Moreno and Kyono’s vocals meld into a deformation of unholy terror that would leave Mike Patton to remark: “that isn’t right you guys.” Whilst this howling bloodlust takes place, the music delves into the realms of darkness, taking on an unsettling and sinister tone, encompassing droning synthesised washes that are bludgeoned to a gruesome pulp by the erratically destructive drum machine. The closest Wagdug gets to pure white noise.

Ever wondered what the sound of someone fucking a synthesiser would sound like? ‘Why?’ just about does that. The strange barking background sounds, which give the impression that this track was recorded inside a kennel, Amen-drum break splatters, alongside the abnormal and persistent pounding beat and pogo keyboard smashes are reminiscent of some sadistic rave that would cause a ‘clawing at the walls’-style mental breakdown.

‘Chaostic Radio’ is the closest Wagdug gets to creating a song with a trace of a ‘pop’ element. The rolling keyboard lines are soon obliterated by the wave of pulsating crashes and snarling cymbal crashes. There’s a nod towards ‘All The Time On Sunny Beach’ in the way the chorus progresses, with it’s jaunty, summer-tinged rise and fall.

This is probably the kind of music that induces seizures in lesser people. The intensity of Wagdug’s sound is that of 100 of those coma-inducing, colour saturated techno-robot shows. Heck, I’ll wager that Kyono has lent his musical talents to soundtracking these kind of shows – and why not; his sound would fit them perfectly. In fact, ‘Systematic People’ is the soundtrack to an anime show called ‘Kurozuka’, a series based on Japanese swordsman Minamoto no Yoshitsune.

A pounding, crunching, barbaric disco-destroying, techno-mash of furious breakbeats and obnoxious rap-metal posturing – an absolute winner in my book and fills that empty Mad Capsule Markets hole in my heart perfectly. All hail Wagdug Futuristic Unity: the underground Japanese digital hardcore king!

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Sounds

To listen to ‘WALL‘ featuring Chino, click on the player below. Commence thy headbanging.

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Links

Wagdug Myspace
Wagdug Official Site
Mad Capsule Markets

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By Ross Macdonald