Album Review: Earth Ship – Hollowed

Berlin’s Earth Ship are a band that crosses genres. Depending on your state of mind when you press play, you’ll hear something different each and every time.

Firing out two parts doom and one part southern metal, Earth Ship have managed to muster an album that collects, like music nerds, a vast range of their influences. Starting out with a driven, downbeat Alice In Chains vibe they steadily ramp up the pace and the power to peak at something equating to Kylesa’s whirlwind crush before bringing it back through thrash and blackened metal to settle back into a doomy groove.

Blasting off the wall of noise with a scowling bag of nails vocal, opener “Reduced To Ashes” melts an initially gutsy, visceral sound into a driven dual vocal that mimics the melancholic laments of the aforementioned Alice In Chains. At ts heart the jerking back-and-forth swinging rhythm is a simple structure by design, so it’s a surprise to find it repeating throughout the album. Following up, the title-track introduces itself as its tonal brother, attacking from a different angle with half-paced, down-tuned chugs creating an imposing force. This looser blueprint risks demoting it to mere filler but at least it warns you just how complex their constructive thought processes are.

Deeper in, the variation continues – morose, lush verses, driven with effortless power by twin vocals, melt into a roared death attack. Surrounding it they use an amalgam of High On Fire’s immense vocal grunt, Monster Magnet’s heady theatrics and Torche’s relentless cyclical riffing to shock and invigorate.

“Conjured” provides a wicked groove interspersed with harmonised vocal “aahs” and is both accessible and memorable. Then, diving into the abyss, “Monolith” offers up a suitably menacing, rumbling undercurrent with big blackened melancholic tones. Imposing its wrath upon the listener it echoes through to violating feedback. “In Fire’s Light” is even darker, heavier and throws ever more powerful hits. It also features the enigmatically repeating line “The sands of time are running low…”. Here, they sound like a beefed-up Purified In Blood.

Wading through, the succulent, thick layers envelop you. Whichever you choose to lock onto, be it the scrawling multiple-overlaid vocal, the demonic throat-scouring or the slow, persistent driven quality, you are always plugged in. And then there’s the moments when they revert to feeding in old school elements. One particular track that will give you a shit-eating grin is the thrashed-up “Castle Of Sorrow”. The fiery, metallic tang, of the thing throwing out curses in twin-speed attack with pillar-to-post riffage is a joy. Even the monotonous closer “The Edge Of Time” has value here with its long, weighty, sustained chord strikes and maddening Acid King-esque ethereal doom.

There are negatives to consider. These aren’t so much songs as they are a series of flavours. There is an over-reliance on sheer power when the variety of attack should be the star. With trigger points supplied by the guttural roared sections they do have a tendency to batter the eardrums a little too often. A solid wall of noise each time will only drive you in one direction. And the album does rely a little too much on needless party tricks. As an example, “Safeguard Of Death”‘s automaton vocal intoning instructions over and over will drive you nuts.

Earth Ship are essentially like getting all your favourite foods and putting them on a single plate. Consume each individual part carefully and you’ll love this experience. Mix them all up and it’ll taste like something you’d give to your dog.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/07/earth-ship-hollowed-napalm/

Album Review: Purplehaze Ensemble – S/T

What’s in a name? Take PurpleHaze Ensemble’s moniker for instance. You’d imagine this Polish quartet to be a Jimi Hendrix covers band who, before each gig, spun a coin to see which band member would get to set fire to his guitar that night. Either that or to be a room full of potheads trading heavy-lidded musings on why Weetabix tastes “like sandpaper, ma-a-a-n”. Of course, they are actually a lot more interesting than the former and a hell of a lot more compos mentis than the latter.

Interestingly, they seem to sit at the centre of a musical crossroads, where the x-axis of grunge and stoner hits the y-axis of progressive metal and ambient rock. One minute they rage like Down, with vocalist Macias screeching like Phil Anselmo would after necking a bottle of bleach, the next they are conjuring up the head-down grunge of a Soundgarden or an Alice In Chains. Head deeper into the disc and you’ll discover that they are even capable of sucking up the progressive, experimental nectar from bands like Tool or Palms.

Starting out as just plain old PurpleHaze, a band focused on dispensing a solid dose of stoner rock, they recently switched drummers and employed synth player, Bemben, who was able to add a new dimension to their music by integrating an atmospheric layer of keys and samples underneath.

Interestingly by paying homage to the “old ways” of recording, they whipped this version up in one-take at at Red Shift Studio in Cracow. Only the vocals and synths were added afterwards – it has certainly made for an album with a vital energy and an almost edgy quality to it. On the downside, that mix has produced rough patches where the instruments don’t quite marry together. In particular, the harsh tones of the guitar leap out at the listener when the rest of the band is raging, but happily it comes back into its own when the power levels drop and the waves calm.

The dissonant fizz of the driving opener “Siren’s Song” is certainly a nasty wake-up slap with Macias at full roar and firing out crunch and sludge in equal measure. The oddly-rambling nature of “Haunt The Freak” instead finds an echoing, psychedelic series of Bombay Monkey-esque samples to lounge in before the dial is cack-handedly wound up and our first taste of their grunge leanings hove into view.

By “Could I” (a nod to Alice In Chains’ “Would I”, perhaps?) they’ve settled down into the session and the track’s natural structure gives us a true taste of their innate knack for songwriting. A gentle build with warping synth soon breaks into a stone-cold groove. Here, Macias uses the rhythmic swagger to impart a chilled blue tone into his vocal. Serving him well, he craftily weaves it around the chords in patterns, throwing neat lyrical twin hooks into the verses – “Spiders on my face / Snakes inside my face”. Running at nearly eight minutes in length, you still wouldn’t say it overstays its welcome.

Ramping up the atmospherics, “Kickin’ Curbs With A Thin Stick” and “Cross” offer up sub-level bass and the warping environs of Deftones-esque lush-to-crush experimentation. The former ends with a section where the strings drop out to leave just the synth roaming from the left ear to the right like a lost bee buzzing around inside our skulls. One to avoid is the mathy “Lie Is The Answer” which punches low as the vocalist trades restraint for over-commitment to the cause. Resplendent at it’s heart, the remainder is just too loud and too loose to really make any impact.

The band’s willingness to trade between grit and power and colour-streaked, ambient washes means that there is never a dull moment at any point in this self-titled debut. Most certainly, there is room for manoeuvre and not everything meshes together quite as you’d expect it to, but there is more than enough quality within to warrant further investigation – there aren’t all that many albums out there with this much variety on display. PHE have certainly shown that they have the courage to push things to the next level and that bodes well for their future. With an extra layer of lacquer applied to the production next time out, they might just yet surprise us all. Now, whose turn is it with Jimi’s big box of matches?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/02/purplehaze-ensemble-st-unquiet/

Album Review: Nirvana – In Utero: 20th Anniversary Edition

It’s 1993 and the nation’s disaffected youth have their new anti-heroes. Nirvana, as a consequence, are being battered by the unrelenting, uncaring glare of the media and it is tearing them apart. With their last album having sold 30 million copies, they have gone from being an unknown garage band to being one of the most controversial rock ‘n’ roll groups of all time. Whilst Kurt may have been at the epicentre of it all, the whole band are cursed with the knowledge that the next thing they write together is going to be dissected and assimilated like never before. Could they, should they, serve up another Nevermind?
 

Honestly, with that ravenous, yet faceless, trend-following populace watching their every move, In Utero never stood a chance. Yet what eventually emerged was shockingly brittle, confrontational, heart-wrenching and violent – in essence, it was an undeniably effective resolution to what was, at the time, an impossible question. As expected, it was hauled over the coals and begrudgingly accepted; an album that failed to be Nevermind and yet burned with a raw quality so intense that it could only increase the band’s value as a commodity. Reflecting on what turned out to be such a short time spent in the spotlight, Nirvana managed with these 12 songs to challenge and change us as fans.

20 years have passed since that time and this fan can still be found regularly spinning these tracks; others have been recently spotted on MySpace writing short stories based on the song-titles (‘Rape Me’ is a particularly savage read). Of course, with it being a 20th anniversary, the record label is about to release what Cobain would probably have called a cash cow. These deluxe multi-format reissues are however, of course, being marketed as a commemoration to a little slice of historical greatness.

And great it is. From the swaggering fire that burns through ‘Serve The Servants’ and continues on through the lumbering, grunge-loaded ‘Very Ape’ to the populist abandon of ‘Frances Farmer Will Have Her Revenge On Seattle’, ‘Radio Friendly Unit Shifter’ and the overtly simplistic ramble of ‘Dumb’. From the sonic bombardment of ‘Scentless Apprentice’, ‘Tourette’s’ and ‘Milk It’ to the Freudian psychology and fertile emotions embedded within ‘Heart-Shaped Box’, ‘All Apologies’, ‘Pennyroyal Tea’ and the menacingly vitriolic ‘Rape Me’. The songs remain as affective today as they were effective.

Elsewhere, you’ll find Grohl’s lush ‘Marigold’, the droll ‘Moist Vagina’ and the menacing ‘I Hate Myself And I Want To Die, all there for folks who don’t have any of their other “found down the back of the sofa” rare releases. Apart from those and the fresh instrumental finds, ‘Forgotten Tune’ and ‘Jam’, the real selling point here is the tacked-on Live & Loud DVD. It’s a pretty clean recording of their 1993 gig at Seattle’s Pier 48 and comes with its own set of extras tacked on (the highlights of which are the rough cover of The Cars’ ‘My Best Friend’s Girl’ and Kurt’s impromptu drum solo during rehearsal).

 

Playing like a chunk of history, every visual performance of Nirvana’s is worth grabbing hold of and the video of this post-release December 1993 gig is no different. Here, upon their familiar angel-adorned barbed-wire stage, Dave’s flying mop of hair, Krist’s bouncing and Pat’s lurching are mere sideshows to the static Kurt with his manic eyes, grinding teeth and twisted smiles. It all starts with a wail of feedback which prompts an immediate wave of crowdsurfers (and occasional shoulder-jumper) to rise up and pay homage. Predictably, the band play straight through with only the occasional break to tune-up or to launch the odd personal insult or sarcastic comment – anything to break the tension. Somehow amidst all this innate ferocity it remains an oddly sterile, yet utterly absorbing affair. In this nude state, the music is brutally effective, and by the end we’re being pitched into chaos as Kurt gobs and goads his audience whilst all around him the band lay waste to their kit and props.

There really is a veritable deluge of ephemera attached to the deluxe editions of this release, so there is certainly plenty for fans and collectors to hunker down over. Be warned though, there is plenty of dross to wade through until you’re able to reveal anything of true value. If you’ve got the cash to splash, amongst all the bonus tracks, live cuts and B-sides, you’ll find a complete 2013 mix of the album by original engineer Steve Albini alongside the original 1993 version. None of this changes the fact that 20 years on, as one of the most passionate and reactionary albums ever made, it remains a masterpiece of mind over matter and deserves being lauded over in this manner. The real genius, of course, lies with the fact that whilst holding up a mirror to their own neuroses, they managed to reflect our own back at us.

Also online @ The Line Of Best Fit = http://thelineofbestfit.com/reviews/albums/nirvana-in-utero-20th-anniversary-edition-137998

Album Review: Alice In Chains – The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here

Deliberately side-stepping the band’s sad history of injuries and deaths and the religious controversy surrounding the title The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here, we now have access to an album that, whilst wallowing in its own melancholic tones, drags you back more closely than ever to the kind of immersive, organic experience that the Staley-era Dirt offered up.


Even though it seems like Alice In Chains have been around for ever, they are only on their fifth album and second since their reunion and addition of vocalist William DuVall. It feels like this because they have been around for ever. Formed back in 1987, their songs are ones that continuously find their way back onto the soundtrack to your lives. Of course, DuVall’s enigmatic harmonies with the luxuriously oiled pipes of Jerry Cantrell are key to continuing the rhythm of their early material, reigniting the memory banks of times gone.

Initially, the yawning basslines and Neolithic pace of Dinosaurs is like being thrust into the arms of Mother Nature. Up into the sky where the seductive winds blow you gently along, into tight eddies and through shape-shifting cloud formations; deep into the forest where you lie, ear pressed to the dry earth, whilst trees creak and moan as they peer into your soul; and down into the depths of the ocean where lapping waves soothe, cavernous spaces reverberate and dense pressure spots impinge upon your inner ear.

Further in, the band lighten the load, increasing the urgency of delivery, by breaking out their more mainstream material like ‘Voices’, ‘Low Ceiling’ and ‘Pretty Down’. These are songs that Nirvana might have referred to as “radio-friendly unit shifters”. Amongst these distinctly accessible moments are surprising, eclectic touches where they grasp hold of a brilliant middle ground that elevates the album to a coveted position where it allies itself to more contemporary tastes whilst remaining respectful of former glories.

With 12 tracks on offer, there is plenty of time for Alice In Chains to get their teeth sunk into the two styles of attack and, in both, there are, fine examples of why they are masters of their own destiny. The visceral ‘Scalpel’ offers a chance for DuVall to sing alone and he shines, gently twisting the knife. The rough edges of ‘Stone’, on the other hand, bite down hard with Cantrell’s rise-and-fall riff providing a contrast to his and Inez’s walking fretwork that forms the backbone of the bleak, vertiginous ‘Hollow’.

The only weak spots here seem to be those moments which stir up trouble, overreach their concept or, conversely, feel a little undercooked. The big guns like the colossal sledgehammering ‘Phantom Limb’ (the vicious lines “I’ll just hunt you like a phantom limb, I will wear you like a second skin” are like something out of a zombie movie) and the worryingly catchy ‘Breath On A Window’ have no trouble picking these ephemera up like mischievous dust-devils.

As a comeback album, Black Gives Way To Blue felt a little light on content overall and The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here has put that right with the value of its unpredictable songs improving with each and every play. It will undoubtedly offer them the same success that King Animal achieved for Soundgarden as it threatens to cultivate the band a crack at retaining their current crowds whilst providing material for a new, altogether more youthful, fanbase.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2013/06/12/alice-in-chains-the-devil-put-dinosaurs-here/

Album Review: Dinosaur Pile-Up – Nature Nurture

Even before you hear their music, it’s very easy to find yourself predisposed to love Dinosaur Pile-Up. Just look at their cute moniker – it’s bursting with imagination, full of potent suggestion and ripe with happy childhood memories of playing out fight scenes with plastic tyrannosaurs and stegosauri. Now glance over at that album cover of a chap falling flat on his face – how can they go wrong with such bare-faced self-mockery? Of course, that’s a rhetorical question – you’re better off asking a politician about self-mockery if you actually want a serious answer.

DPU clearly do understand the concept of experimentation, as over the course of their first two albums they’ve set about dumping the twee-ness that made their EP so discardable. Now sporting beefed up electric guitars and with plenty of throbbing bass thunder inserted whereever they can find space for it, they’ve cultured a grungier rock vibe that has placed them firmly back in time, mimicking bands that are either now defunct or have moved away from their original sounds.

So, where exactly do they intend to fit in? Certainly, by starting and ending with a bang, bookending Nature Nurture with their best material, they give themselves a chance here. Opener ‘Arizona Waiting’ is ripe with blasting bottom-end, a lush wedge of Weezer-esque harmonics and a bitter Deftones-esque minor drop, whilst closer ‘Nature Nurture’ burns with a precise, spacious and single-minded two-key chorus. When something this simple forms the album highlight, there’s surely something awry.

The trouble with the running order here is that they spend every track in between carefully placing their feet on paths well-worn by their heroes. ‘Draw A Line and ‘Derail’ rockgasm over a spot of Foo Fighters riff-and-chug teasing, whilst ‘Summer Gurl’, ‘Start Again’, with it’s fluorescent electro riff, and the delicate touches within ‘The Way We Come’ are bruised with Feeder and Ash colourings. Really dig around and you’ll hear the rip-chords and quicker time signature of early-Nirvana in ‘Heather’ and the warm tones of the long-forgotten Arlo glistening through both ‘Peninsula’ and the gorgeous cruise tune ‘White T-Shirt and Jeans’.

Tried and trusted methods are employed like the split quiet-loud verses and the short pause before the happyslap of the chorus hits. Essentially, it’s paint-by-numbers songwriting, which is fine if you’re filling holes, but a little more innovation would go a long way.

So, where do they go from here? Well, settling on a signature sound would be a start, be that through greater employment of their enigmatic, tone-changing minor chords or, perhaps, aiming to unsettle the listener with odd, possibly even angry, passages that demand self-introspection upon the listener. Dinosaur Pile-Up remain as lovable as ever but, oddly, considering their position, they appear determined to remain unambitious and, therefore, are in danger of becoming irrelevant. So, whilst the Foo Fighters have chosen to evolve and the more elegiac Feeder still get away with shifting thousands of units a week, on this form, Dinosaur Pile-Up seem destined to remain the poor man’s alternative.

Also online @ TLOBF = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/reviews/albums/dinosaur-pile-up-nature-nurture-127056

Album Review: Melvins – Everyone Loves Sausages

Sausages – traditionally, a smashed pig piped into its own stomach lining. Pig – the food that the whole western world devours with such gusto. Bacon, ham, pork chops, sausages. That “wonderful, magical animal” that Homer Simpson refers to when contemplating such a variety of tasty offerings. What an album title, then, to make folks sit up and get heads moving. The carnivores amongst you will all be nodding them savagely, whilst meat-abstainers worldwide may well just sadly shake them. End of the day, there’s nothing to argue about. This sizzles either way.

Now, You’ll probably, like me, struggle to identify a fair few of these songs but I think it’s fair to say that they weren’t ever going to be straight-up reproductions. This is The Melvins (the “The” is silent here), after all, linking their influences and favourite tracks together, throwing their eccentric nous, twisted musicality and a few friends into the mix and emerging with an assorted jumble of flavours that should get your tastebuds churning.

Initially, Everyone Loves Sausages hits hard and heavy with Neurosis’ Scott Kelly guesting for a tear-up of Venom’s “Warhead”. Its mighty vocal lead will have heads bobbing and horns up. Soon though the band shift gears to relocate to something a little less gritty. Appeasing their rock and pop urges, they plump for The Fugs’ “Carpe Diem”, complete with its original warm 60s wash and jinking vibe and the stonking all-in rocker “Black Betty” (Ram Jam). There’s also a grating rendition of Queen’s “Best Friend” with tacked-on, plinking electro-fizz which Melvins develop, flesh out and turn into a hacked rendition of “Heathen Earth” (Throbbing Gristle). Sadly, they do take it a step too far with a 3-minute intro of gruesome ambient noise which kicks-off a preciously reedy version of Bowie’s “Station To Station”.

When they do find their punk muscle, they really set about tearing shit up for a twisted, rough-and-ready rip of The Jam’s “Art School”, complete with ex-U.S. marine Tom Hazelmyer’s anarchic Mockney accent causing much hilarity. There’s also “Timothy Leary Lives” (Pop-O-Pies) and a snotty-nosed cover of The Kinks’ “Attitude” (featuring Blondie’s Clem Burton) to gob all over.

Album highlights are undoubtedly Mudhoney’s Mark Arm giving his all to grunge-up “Set It On Fire” whilst, at the same time, giving The Scientists’ original a run for its money, and a big-bass, lush, loping, bluesy version of “Female Trouble”, the theme music to the infamous movie of the same name.

Refusing to completely ditch the impact of the originals, Melvins have stuck pretty close to the same tones and textures for the majority of the tracks here, but that’s not to say they aren’t worthwhile renditions. Not by a long chalk. There’s plenty that will provide some shocks and maybe a little awe. Some undoubtedly squeeze out above the others, but the whole, with its mainstream classics and underground rarities, stands proudly as a fair representation of the Melvins’ wide and varied record collections. In many ways, a true alternative Best Of The Melvins. Hungry, anyone?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/04/melvins-everyone-loves-sausages-ipecac/

Album Review: Soundgarden – King Animal

Way back in 1997, when innovative grunge-monsters Soundgarden announced their decision to disband, they left an almighty hole which only singer Chris Cornell came close to filling with his hit-and-miss attempts at a solo career and daring adventures with Audioslave. Consequentially, the hullaballoo surrounding their announcement of a reunited front was inevitable and now it has come to pass that their sixth studio album, King Animal, is upon us. It is, of course, the official stamp that marks their recent sell-out shows as more than just a tease, but does it live up to the outrageous expectations that have been placed upon it?

Of course, acknowledging the 16 years that have passed since the release of Down On The Upside, their last album of original material, means their lyrical statement of a lead single (and opening track), “Been Away Too Long”, was not so much an inevitably as it was a necessity. Its cyclical, driven rock riff and sharp, vocal hook take down that hulking elephant in the room and the doubters with it. From here onwards, King Animal laudably sets about ticking box after box, building up a body of work that marks out a natural progression from the point where the band downed tools.

The album’s natural touchstones are Superunknown and, interestingly, Euphoria Morning (Cornell’s first solo effort) with the band offering up a selection of more mature, honed and direct music. The Incubus-like pinged arpeggio and funk pump of “Non-State Actor” and rotational grind of “By Crooked Steps” are fine examples of how to get our attention and hold it. Although there are songs that dip their toes in melancholy (“Bones Of Birds”, a fine example), the band’s tendency to throw out the occasional muscular, subversive side-swipe is all but gone. Bassist Ben Shepard’s dark flights of fancy have also been weeded out from the foreground but you’ll still find similar, if a little softer, experimentation at the album’s alternate ending – the sultry bass riff and beautiful vocal layering of “Eyelid’s Mouth” and the mesmeric, back-and-forth repetition of “Rowing” form the shadows lurking in wait if you happen to stumble in too deep.

Such is the intelligence of the lyrics that every now and then you’ll catch a word that has been used before in their back catalogue – a neat psychological trick that shows off the band’s attention to detail. The glorious ethnic roller “A Thousand Days Before” alone serves fair indication of this and that’s not even taking Cornell’s rich, echoing and carefully graded delivery into consideration. Shining stars like “Taree”, a track which muddies up the guitars and serves up a real two-toned treat, the smooth acoustic wash of “Black Saturday”, and the elegantly-melodic “Halfway There” are hearty enough fare to keep you nodding along.

Okay, so there’s the odd misplaced blob of filler, like the one-dimensional pop of “Attrition” and “Worse Dreams” with its misplaced feedback scrawl and sugary chorus (and the deluxe material is very much “collectors only” quality), but otherwise King Animal is a little slice of wish fulfillment. They may not be as exciting or dynamic as they once were, Cornell’s delivery may be a tad weaker, but the band have compensated by cleanly fusing drive to emotion; breathing fresh air into old lungs; integrating a beguiling flow to their music. It’s this serene, rhythmic pulse that gently tugs us back along their career path, effortlessly building a bridge over that almighty hole. By crooked steps, indeed.



Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/soundgarden-king-animal

Album Review: Tracer – Spaces In Between

Let’s face it, Tracer isn’t the most inspirational moniker you could give your band. Sure, it might put one in mind of modern warfare and its associated pyrotechnics but it also conjures up images of thick pencils and translucent paper. Happily though, this Australian trio have chosen something much more promising for their album title. Spaces In Between could be an indication of their intention to come up with something fresh; a sound that lies somewhere between two different musical styles. Now that would be an ambitious project, but it appears to be one that has inspired a couple of blues brothers, who go by the name of Brown, to give it a bash.

What they have been achieving, since their formation way back in 2004, isn’t anything quite as groundbreaking but it’s certainly solid and initially engaging. With the band setting their sights first on touring their home country, then the UK and Europe, as is often the case with bands born outside the borders of America, the U.S. is the last to get a scoopful of their patching of grunge to rock n’ roll. And when I suggest one being stuck to the other I mean in a haphazard DIY way. Honestly, you could split this album in half and sell it to two different fanbases.

In the top half, “Too Much”, “The Bitch” and “Walk Alone” pull together the pounding desert rock of Queens Of The Stone Age and weld it to the raw licks of Led Zeppelin. “Louder Than This” forms a stand-out jigging howl of a track with lead vocalist Michael Brown giving it the full beans, whilst “Voice In The Rain” is the kind of soft-rocker you could pass off as Whitesnake or Thunder. Occasionally the band break out a kind of Lynyrd Skynyrd-esque frazzled country fizz which adds an edge to certain tracks, like “Push”, but generally they stick to the tried-and-trusted blues rock structures that they know and love.

More excitingly, everything from the title-track onwards begins to really settle down around a grungier sound. The warm fuzz of the bass begins to take a much more central role and the upbeat patterns turn to downbeat tones. “Dead Inside” is a Soundgarden-esque trudger that leaps right down the throat of Chris Cornell himself. “Save My Breath” and “All In My Head” walk the same line but pick up the pace. Then the power and dark heart of Audioslave come into play as Tracer throw more leads in. “I Won’t Let It Die (Run Mary)” tugs in more blues and consequently picks up a Pearl Jam meets Foo Fighters vibe.

One track, “Devil Ride” is, in my mind, an homage to that great cinematic Aussie export, Crocodile Dundee – “Boots are made from crocodile hide / Shaved my face with a hunting knife / Left my lover far behind / ‘Cos I walk the long road” – so that should be an easy entry point for all you film buffs.

Honestly though, you shouldn’t need an entry point because if you are a fan of any of the aforementioned bands then you’ll be well aware that Tracer aren’t breaking boundaries; achieving the impossible. Of course there’s an almighty lump of radio-friendly rock going on in here too and, unsurprisingly, it springs to mind that Spaces In Between is an album that wouldn’t have looked out of place 20 years ago. So yes, Tracer are unlikely to win any awards for originality anytime soon, but then it is instantly accessible, deeply grooved and comes with some pretty catchy tunes… and they did pre-warn you with that band-name of theirs – you can’t go complaining now.



Also online with sound clips @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/tracer-spaces-in-between

Album Review: Cherry Bloom – Open & Die

The Fennec Fox – what an amazing creature. Did you know… with their huge 6-inch ears, which are half as long as their body to help regulate their body temperature, they may look a bit feline, but they are actually one of the smallest members of the dog family and the smallest of all the foxes. They can be found in deserts (when you can spot them – they are camouflaged by their colour) where their main threat comes, surprisingly (considering the arid zones they live in) and yet unsurprisingly, from indigenous humans who hunt them for what little fur they have or for sale to tourists. Being social animals, they mate for life and their cubs can weigh as little as 50g. You won’t, however, see one at a rock concert (with those ears?) so quite why they are on the front cover of the new Cherry Bloom album is beyond me, but it gave me a chance to let you know just how cool they are (literally).

So now you want to know about the aforementioned band? Well, despite having one of the worst band-names in rock, they’re from Paris, France and they formed in 2005. However, the funnest fact about them is they’re a duo. To make up for their lack of bassist friends they, unlike the instrument switcheroo that Winnebago Deal perform, simply do without. They merely lay the vocals on thick, the crazily-named Octave Zangs performs all kinds of dynamic trickery with his guitar, and Julien Jourdan thrashes the living crap out of his kit. Open & Die, currently streaming in full here, is their second long-player and, like the best rock albums, it’s divided into gritty ragers and crafty structures that lurch between attack and release.

“Blood Rights” is a pacy, pounding track run through with screaming, distorted guitars and an adversely laid-back vocal delivery, whilst the title-track merely swaggers, ripped with a soulfully infectious bite. “Breaking Down”, with its prominently feisty wah-wah effect and affected, harmonised vocal is, unquestionably, like listening to Alice In Chains on happy pills. Similarly, there’s no doubting the burnt-out dynamics of Rival Schools (and possibly Reuben too) in the lo-fi, garage rock of “Weeping Lights”.

The sweet heart of the album takes us from the lurching yaw and pinged strings of the excellent “Fall Of A Dead Whale” to the undersold acoustics and light, vibrato lead of “Flying Over”, swamping us with grungy elements. The half-spoken wordplay and dirty meandering around moods are caught betwixt and between sounding a bit like Queens Of The Stone Age and a little like Foo Fighters’ debut. When they bite into the distortion, they do so with a swift crack of the whip. Then, for the crushing smack of “Lovely Deer”, they even manage to eke out a sweet Fu Manchu-esque stoner vibe.

Being a two-instrument band, they definitely benefit from striking superbly clean lines; that freedom from instrument confliction that comes naturally with such a set-up. However, unlike The White Stripes’ Jack White who manages to hold back from overcompensating with power, they occasionally hit the same brick wall that occurs when a twitchy sole and a distortion pedal come into contact. You can’t expect to simply plug gaps by colouring them in with a deafening scrawl. That’s half my problem with the collapsing wall of sound that Black Cobra’s Jason Landrian creates with his crass pedal abuse and linked triple-amp set-up. For the opening wedge of the album, I simply had to yank up the level on my big sub-woofer to get anything like an acceptable level of balance – you simply cannot listen to this with standard issue iPod earbuds and get away with it.

However, even when you take this ever-present failing on board, there is more to love than to hate here, and you simply cannot argue when tracks like “Sick Rabbit” are being bandied about. Those snappy string-strikes and pitching, barbaric riff grip you like a vice. To be honest, even without it, “Fall Of A Dead Whale” swallows me hook, line and sinker every time.

Like the Fennec Fox, Cherry Bloom are an odd-looking animal who, because of their innate differences, face more problems than most but, by evolving in just the right way, they have so far managed to overcome them. Time will tell whether they continue to survive in this barren and hostile environment.

Also online @ The NewReview = http://thenewreview.net/reviews/cherry-bloom-open-die

Album Review: Japanese Voyeurs - Yolk

Now, I like my grunge, so I was always going to dig Japanese Voyeurs. Since they popped up on my radar a few years back, I’ve been following with interest but have yet to be blown away. Other bands who cite strong grunge influences (Nine Black Alps, Dead Confederate, Seether, Trapt, etc.) have stood up and delivered strong, gutsy music, but this London quintet have yet to do so. This, of course, is despite holding one massive not-so-secret weapon, vocalist/guitarist Romily Alice. If you’ve never heard her sing before, think “attitude of a teenager, voice of a toddler”. Her squeaky delivery and stick-thin appearance is a proper Marmite factor. It’s one of the reasons why I actually prefer their recorded material over their live shows, and there aren’t many bands who reduce me to saying that. The reason? I find the piercing quality of her vocal is softened somewhat on the albums but, being brutally honest, it’s also that watching her contort herself into shapes just makes me wince – I want to have one hand on a phone, so I can call the emergency services the moment she snaps.

They certainly seem to be moving in the right direction with Yolk. It’s heavier than their EPs and, consequently, the contrast between the music and the singer is instantly noticeable. Alice’s vocal stands out powerfully and this shows it off in it’s best light. Tracks like ‘Get Hole’, ‘Blush’ and ‘Milk Teeth’ buck and churn their way into life with her voice cracking wonderfully within the musical maelstrom. It’s clear that the Voyeurs’ Nirvana worship knows no bounds as, on top of the pervading air of “couldn’t care less” lethargy that they exude and their fixation (see their website and the album cover’s ultrasound snap) with the unborn (remember In Utero?), they have clearly taken the notes and rhythms of ‘Very Ape’ and ‘Aneurysm’ and rearranged them to form ‘Dumb’ – yes, even the track-title is half-inched from the Seattle grunge monsters.

‘You’re So Cool’ has a big, dirty groove that sits pretty out front and has plenty of mid-range chopped guitar action that washes over and under you in layers. The vocal is set back in the mix and bursts forth in short waves of attack. Oddly, their lead single ‘Cry Baby’ has none of these addictive features, relying on a solitary, flaccid pop hook and an ineffectual spot of string-bending. It’s frustrating as they can quite easily do pop and do it well (‘That Love Sound’, full of blossoming emotion, and the bleak soliloquy ‘Heart Is A Fist’ being fine examples) but they need to stop resorting to type.

Take ‘Smother Me’. It’s a perfectly-positioned reduction; pure, plodding evil. There’s a doomish quality to the track that lifts it up a whole other level. It grabs you and ducks your head under the surface so that Alice becomes distant and ethereal. It’s the key to this whole album. If Japanese Voyeurs can grab onto this thought, leaving behind their other affectations, like the discombobulated messes ‘X-Rayted’ and ‘Dumb’, they can really start to make their own mark on this industry.

Also online @ TLOBF = http://www.thelineofbestfit.com/2011/07/japanese-voyeurs-yolk/