RITES OF HADDA - OCCULT SEX WORKER

It has been many a bloodied moon since I last exposed this angular unit to the depths of the DIY world, they did a mighty fine job in a welcoming gaff and certainly made sure they were in my thoughts to get them another gig.  Alas I dillied and dallied and time passed by with my head immersed in many passions whilst the band progressed quite nicely thank you.  Eventually another gig was sorted, it is due to happen in a couple of months (at the time of writing that is) and I am keen to see what progression has been made (if any).  So, what have these paganised performers got to offer this time? What strange and restless vibrations are set to hit my tympanic membranes? Read on you fervent freaks and tha' just might find out... then again!

'Dependency' is a wondrous clatter-attack done with the trousers down, the balls bared and all hands pumping away with untold zeal.  This opening attack is beautifully breathless, clattering along with an abandon that is somehow controlled (just) and with a brassage in the back passage that keeps the players on their toes and having it.  To open a CD with a charging bull is a dangerous game to play, many nearby ornaments of acoustica may be shattered as a result - somehow I think this won't be the case here.  A quality starter for sure with just the right amount of ingredients thrown in.    

'Attempted Murder' jumps into the still billowing slipstream of the opener with a nasty operation carried out via a tale of a victim with no escape.  The filthy bass vibes that open are a foul treat, the saxy sinisterism is a disarming addition and the drums are straitjacketed and regular so as to keep all in line and the eavesdropper on the ball.  The opening gothic and stated throat emissions are disturbed and yet glorifying the horror show - I remain in a state of unease.  The tension is extreme throughout, the crawl damning and dirty - as a fan of tonal terrors I can, without shame, sing the praises of this suspicious and shady number - a smashing treat for purveyors of the perverse. The final pulse that flickers out rounds off matters quite deliciously.    

A brace is grabbed, a couple of cacophonic conkers are juggled and jiggled before my seeds of thought are spilled.  'Queer Fool' is a beautiful manifestation of all that is capricious, off kilter and shady about the ROH crew.  The opening throes are both mentally diseased.  Blurred reminiscences of jokes slain, burnt offerings of melodies raped and shadow plays of nightmare puppets sent AWOl are all dragged to the fore of the hypnotised head gunk, I am ensnared.  'Glimpse Of Fate' comes over as a short, warped and twisted angular grooming borne from psychedelic twists of the cerebral matter, a gunk perhaps pickled by substances and considerations.  It is a vulgar intrusion - it keeps one on the precipice of pure unease - to wank or not to wank, that is the question perhaps.  

'They Let You Down' is a blend of the cold, calculated and seriously enraged copulated with the releasing gallop of much emotion and urgency.  We start on bended knees, rise, buckle once more and then flourish.  Those creamy flows of crawling brassage have a pertinent maliciousness, the  words are stung and are hurting, the frenzied outbreaks are a matter of course and a reaction to a deluge of disrespect.  This is a delicious two-tone number, feel the passion, the restraint, the emotion.  

Early to mid-eighties horror film vibes briefly trespass via the short interlude known as ‘An Eldritch Call’s’ before we are taken by the sweating palm and led into the darkened and seedy recesses of ‘Sex Worker Of The Pandemic’.  Visions arise of a spunk-splashed apartment where the clinically desperate ply their trade with the throbbing needy who are looking to quench their off kilter thirsts.  Love is abandoned, two victims indulge in animal appeasement,. This is a horror show with the players examples of a systematic let down.  The music is a mesmeric carnival of ensnaring cacophony that I am immediately enchanted by.  The flow is delicious, the power exuded gratifying and the rough and reactionary rhythm a fuckin’ joy.  This is a total peach, a high point from a CD that grows in stature – quite wonderful I do believe.  

Vile and quite glorious bassism lands on my awaiting lugs next, it does so in a flowing glutinous mass of polluted brilliance.  ' Nine Of Swords' is a textured masterpiece with great swathes of damning inclinations and all-absorbing magic liable to consume every sonic soul who gets within striking distance.  The flow is mid-paced, the saturation of sound complete and the gothic oral tones a fine escort to the unsettling words and acoustic rhythms.  This is a quite absorbing listening moment with a dabbler abandoned, cursed and helpless victim to the script of the deadly deck.  Fascinating stuff! 

The quick follow-up is the galloping shit-kick of 'Final Fling' - a brutal tale of an operator under the cosh of a spunk spiller with insatiable needs.  There is an utter bleak and desperate feel to the lyrical overflow and a roughhousing violence to the string surge that completes a real shake and scream number.  The stick slaps are urgent, eager to inflict and with that incessant machine-shit-scatter and overall tumultuous discord what we have is a recipe to choke out nothing less than a number to applaud.  The foamy-whipped sax extras are mere caresses to be wary of. 

We close this CD with the 'Death Cart', a grim and moribund slag crawl that ponders what could have been whilst all hope is lost.  The nefarious arms of the sultry horn reach out, entwine and crush, whilst the opening sub-verse radiates a regret, a rage, a fuckin' damning frustration.  The gothic and devilish tones continue, garish blood visions are summoned, musical pronouncements made in a somewhat grandiose fashion whilst the delightful DIY defecation continues to spill from a rear wound molested.  As we started matters, we sign off - wallowing in a molten pit of flesh exposures, impish insights and something not quite decent. Outrageous? You know it! 

Rites Of Hadda had the chance to undo a lot of good work here, the album for me, came at a time when a certain make or break feeling was in the air - I am happy to say any worries I had have been kicked up the arse and sent into the great vacant beyond as this CD is an absolute peach that is delightfully out of the ordinary, away from any strangulating in-scene needs and of a most potent blend.  There is depth, talent, clout and mystery - I am bedazzled and can't wait for my next 'in the flesh' ear fucking - bring it on. 

OOPSIE DAISIES - WEIRD TOPANGAS

Bedroom pop - what the fuck is that?  Well, as way of an explanation one may have to immerse oneself in a little bit of Oopsie Daisy dabbling and then ponder the suggestive sub-generic tag. What we get here is night time musical meandering set to induce a state of quiescence that is utterly inescapable.  Tones of yore are apparent, shadings of the here and now are within the weave whilst all the while the tender-handed creators go about the creative process in their own unassuming way.  We have two soporific serenades here, I tiptoe in, shuffle out and leave the following appraisal under the pillow of anyone interested.

'Do This To Myself' begins with delicacies of the keys regenerated from of seemingly pillow based new romanticism.  I am slightly fooled, the oral tones hint at something more new wave and 'buggle-ised with a touch of Oldfield-esque shimmerings as escort.  These consered comparisons are all well and good but the individual sweetness to what transpires should not be diluted as the OD creators have something rather beautiful on their hands here.  Tender, emotive, true and limpid - what we have is crystallising liquidity that soons becomes firmly set within the cranial gunk.  A touch of guilt may be apparent, a suggestion of self-blame but all the while an overriding innocence - lovely stuff.

'Weird Topangas' gently bounces along on ballet-kissed tootsies.  The flow is again retrofied, the imagery created of pastel shades and flickering 80's music videos when niavete and something not overly processed still had a slight hold on matters.  The opening throes are charmingly disarming, the pulses and poppings are all done in such an unassuming manner so as to intrigue anyone with the slightest snoopy sonic nature.  I play several times over and invest myself into the shy, retiring and unintrusice caresses taht are offered from tender creative hands - I snuggle up and disappear into the Land of Nod - smiling!  Is this a bad state of play?

Two tepid trinkets to soothe the soul... and more.  I think Oopsies Daisies are best suited to these short and to the point releases - it seems to heighten the colours and shimmerings of the entire end picture. I am now going for 40 winks - this music  will be my escort into the Land of Nod.

EYE SCREAM MEN - GOO WOP

In the midst of much mayhem and overwork I spend many an hour chasing my frazzled tail. Sometimes I take too long to fully grasp the waggling appendage and yet, now and gain, whilst clutching with ardour, I get all distracted and overlook the obvious. The CD under the spotlight here has been in my possession for too long and I have neglected doing my textual duties - what a twat. Many listens have been had over many months, here is my take on proceedings in the usual direct, honest and fully focused way.

The Blackpool-based throw-back cum paradoxically forward thinking crew initially dish out the mild flavour of 'Psycho Over You. The brief drum tumble comes and then we are into the simple, slightly creepy retro sound the spooks and surfs in equal measure. The modus operandi is mid-paced, orthodox with essences of something utterly underwashed, under-processed and honest. No hidden secrecies and with a smattering of poppishness - simple hey! 'Joanne' is a loved-up soft-soap cornball of almost overly besotted mania that has something sickly going on. All is not as it seems, of that I am sure, many may be convinced of innocent adorations, I am sure we have a peephole pervert dreaming of a date with the unreachable and it is this warped outlook that keeps me intrigued. If I thought all was sugar and spice and all things nice, I would be utterly repulsed.

'Blue Moon Over Bispham' perhaps sums over the band’s mood and mode with a quirky and somehow shifty sonic serenade that is both softly whipped, a bit overly foamy and with no crunchy angles to properly get one’s choppers into. It is still a sugary little number with a subtle taste but more than one sitting is needed to fully acquire the full flavour. 'I Miss You' I don't like - it is a slushy shit that gives me the diarrhoea with its unsettling tones, dubious whoa hoas and all round weak-kneed sensation. Like a limp wristed fool crooning in watery tones below his loved one’s window I suggest emptying your aural pisspot over this one and moving on. 'Julie Anne' continues the amorous theme with another tragically hooked offering that pootles along with only one thought in mind. It is at this point I suggest a good wank is needed and a severe hitching up of the kecks. This is a fair number but just needs a little extra clobber to alter the tonality of the scene and give the bollocks a good airing - sometimes discordant indecent exposure is a good thing.

'The Sound Of A Heart Breaking' has more 'oomph' factor and so, as a consequence, enhances the bands appeal and gives me something better to get to grips with. There is a more wraparound feel with a likeable fluidity that keeps matters moving. The trick missed is that the band don't exaggerate the back effects and for me the keyed touches need extra juice to get the best out of this and other snippets. This ain't a bad do though.

The next 3 and already what we are getting is too much of a similar theme. 'Crumb Girls' has a sweet essence, but the aroma is fleeting and nothing is left on the palette so as to encourage one to make a return trip. This is a shame because individually it is a slick song with a foamy feel that lacks rigidity but creates a distinct sound. 'A Million Teardrops' threatens to be the more solidified serenade in the refrigerator of rhythm but as the inspector assesses, the open doorway causes a melting process that leaves one disappointed. Maybe I am looking for too much here but I have to be honest and the feeling I am getting are of freshly baked souffles looking all well and good only to collapse at the merest inspection - tis a real shame. There is good substance but the end preparation is lacking. The last of the chosen 3 is 'I Wish She Was My Girl' a galloping number with the breeze in the hair and haste made. The verse and chorus cuts blend a little too much, the levels flatline and there is no inner flourish - I am now convinced that the CD's greatest crime has been carried out during the end production.

'Heaven Lost An Angel' picks matters up, there is a space-age edge, a clearer view of what the band are trying to do. I feel though I have heard this several times before, is that a good or a bad thing? One thing is that this one, even though it is not my fave snippet of listening matter, has an adhesive quality - that matters.

The last 4, 'How I Love You' is a plodder that is slightly perfumed in the places tucked away and not at all obvious. The general lick though is more straight forward and brings nothing new to this tonal table, or many others. It is more of the same, I now need a speed surge, a sugar fix of the most 'E'd up kind. 'Haunted Heart' has a mid-paced slickness that sees the song produce better assessing results due to the more upbeat persuasion and contrast between the main two compartments - the spunk is generally lacking though and 'Forever And All Time' is a better track with more vim and vigour and general zippy zest. In fact 4 tracks of this ilk would be enough, for this longer stretch though I am in need of more. I do like this little nippy mover though - it enters the roadway of the mind and darts here and there before parking up in the final silence with a sub-stutter uncertainty. The closure should be more than what it is and 'No More Fun' is a weak full stop to a CD that has left me frustrated and floundering. It is OK, but for players such as this, OK is not good enough.

And there ya go, my personal thoughts that may seem harsh but in fact which are honest, hopefully helpful in getting more out of this unit and keeping them pushing and thinking. I am a fan of this band, their last 'Live' stint that I saw was grand, this CD though is lacking in clout, variation and a certain bubble-gum rawness. What can I do, telling lies, as I always say, is never an option - ah fuck it!

THE BAKESEYS - KING OF SKA

By cripes this lot have been around for some years now and have never failed to entertain ye olde Fungal noggin with the reggae/skank hybridisations that are reclined, rhythmic and as cool as a cucumbers skin when left out on a starry night.  There is something very appealing about what this crew do and, in the midst of much hectic living and a constant barrage of wound up and rapid-fire tuneage, this is a welcome respite.  I take my time as per, I am not a slapdash artist throwing words around with wild abandon and palming bands off with a lightly considered review, this is serious stuff don't ya know. 

The opening number gets me right back in the Bakey-fied groove with 'I've Seen You Before' an initially bass and stick driven piece before the necessary brass urges and the extra accoutrements add necessary layers.  The operation of acoustica, when stripped bare, is intrinsically simple but, what The Bakeseys do is add crucial trinkets of tonality in all the right places without creating anything overly flamboyant and vulgar.  I am easily persuaded here, there is much to appreciate and many reason to get up and shuffle the tootsies - a sweet opener. 

A night on the lash, an unsteady gait, a million and one regrets and a single promise. 'On The Way Back Home' is the tale of the foolish pisspot.  This is a scenario I have been familiar with, the gasbagging and swilling all seems like fun until a mental mist rises, a clumsiness invades and the fact that a few too many bevvies have been sunk finally hits home.  There is a lonely night-time feel, the sensation one gets when one weaves homeward feeling a little worse for wear.  Again a simple song but the vibe is spot on - it reminds me why I am now teetotal.   

The cool cruising that is an utter delight continues with 'The Return Of The Liquidator' - a smooth and funky piece that immediately undulates and bass bumbles and has one snatched.  Gentle suggestions are had of the Harry J Allstars classic but this tune has enough nouse and character of its own to be not found leaning on the wonders of the original reggae-skank delight.  The key here is that the flow never lets up, the segues between all compartments are utterly slick and there is a simple sing-a-long cut to grab you by the gonads.  Nice work.  I have a fondness for the following song, namely 'A Penny For Your Thoughts My Dear' which is, without doubt a chirpy little tickler that once again, has one shuffling around the floorspace with smile on the face and all stress eased.  The vocals are clear, they rest atop the musical flow quite perfectly and all areas arrive at the tympnanic membranes with hygienic and warming lucidity - there is a homage to things of long ago and a certain calypsotic ambience that has me seeking further sunshine and some golden sand.  There may be an underlying sub-text in the output but why waste time trying to 'get through' - let’s chill and enjoy baby. 

The more serious inflection of 'Do You Want A Picture' is a subtle switch with the fluid keys and ongoing upstrokes always destined to keep the senses treated.  Those serpentine sinisterisms of the ebony and ivories are a scrummy sound on which my cranial maw munches.  The incessancy of the instrumentalism is pure urging pleasure, the catch in the oral snatch is inescapable and again I am moving and grooving the arthritic carcass to tones of yore and now.  The dismantled music that is rebuilt again with the most basic but effective building blocks is as sturdy as can be.  'Tricky Situation' is a ponderous progressor that assesses matters and decides that a risk is worth taking.  The most reclined number thus far and time to switch off, adopt a loafing position and absorb.  Nothing over the top comes, nothing that will shock one or indeed rouse one into fits of skank-attack spasmodics. No, this is another cucumber cool crawl done with an eye for minor and uncomplicated detail - it eases all forms of stress - the situation may be tricky but with this tune as back-up the solution is no problem. 

'Me, Myself & I' has a good underscore of zesty encouragement with a sub-reggae turgidity that gives the internal sensors a slight throb-thrill.  The chorus has a certain mystique influenced by genres beyond the expected, all the while the controlling languidness and laid-back advancements are holistically absorbing.  From the self-absorbed comes an infection - it seems there is no escape.  'Far As The Eye Can See' is a tonal tonic, a snippet of a sub-skank-scare serenade that hints at more than just a night in the company of the living dead.  The controlling forces are far more evil, the outcome of their nefarious plans is far more debilitating, watch your step folks as the bastards are feeding on your soul each and every day.  The tunes chills more than perhaps suspected with a vile undercurrent that twists the thinking - I still love this one though. 

Into the last 4 I skip, pleased as punch and mightily keen to continue this pleasure cruise. 

'Easy Come, Easy Go' has a lovely crepuscular feel thus giving visions of noir-esque sets where street wise characters lurk, dabble in dodgy deals and frequent thoroughfares where only the shady dare tread.  No worries, no flurries, just a casual meander down acoustic avenues with the senses set to level 'float' and the pulse as relaxed as ever.  The shifty cats sway to the beat, the scurry rats take time out from their secretive ways and shuffle to the sounds of The Bakeseys in their element.  'The Lovecats Made Us Dance Some More' has a certain flamboyance brought about by some initial explosions of expressive and over-excited brass.  The blowers are soon banished whilst the first verse controls matters and gets things on an even but pleasurable keel.  The respite is brief though and the horned hollerers are soon back in the mix.  This is a look back at youthful times when music was a real soundtrack of life and the pimpled, passionate and perplexed did what they did without thought and, to be truthful, without any end product.  There is a suggestion of 'rose-tinted reflection' here but that shouldn't take away from the weight of another good groove. 

Another look over the shoulder next, this time at a time when nuclear fear was induced by more governmental propaganda that, as per, had the masses living in fear.  These regular cycles come, the people react with blind panic, be it a threat of war or a virus, the outcome is always the same.  'Duck And Cover' is a lovely bittersweet drift that captures the mania, the scare, the potential to blow us all to smithereens.  I remember it well, the punk genre was obsessed with nuclear disaster, CND was an active army, and now we are all diluted - oh dear.  I do like this one, for all the strangest of reasons.   

We end matters with the 'King Of Ska' - a meander along a tribute-tary that sees the band sing the praises of a man close to their musical hearts and one who 'Special'ised' in making some darn fine tuneage.  As one escapes the rat race and the ghostly towns where heads are low and in need of some acoustic uplift, one can shake off the blank expression, enter the nite klub and enjoy oneself.  It’s up to you if you sock it to em or do nothing - this is a charming track with a good homage paid.  It is a neat way to sign off, I am smiling and remembering a good band whilst enjoying the current vibes. 

I like The Bakeseys, they are well versed in their chosen artform, need to keep on doing what they do and never compromise their easy style and pure skanky strains.  The Do The Dog Label has been a long term joy, this bonus tickling via the 6th Bakeseys release keeps matters just about flowing - you would be foolish to miss out on something uncomplicated, easy going, reflective of less flustered times and with a subtle impact. 

NEON KITTENS - RED SKY

Another plunge into the dayglo acoustic arse of the befuddling Kittens - I must be a long-term sufferer of musical mania to keep plunging my aural pecker into the jingle-jacksie of this confounding creature but it must be done, and as per, I will give it my best shot.  There are only two tracks here, the creators do not hang about and neither shall I - here's hoping for something akin to accuracy. 

Track One is 'Red Sky' - the drift at first is something akin to sonic sensibleness and organisation (I am shocked) with the distinct clanking and colliding wire-work as fresh in the mind as when I last indulged in this befuddling unit.  The drift advances with stated observations and the jazz-fuck momentum of all players in sync and yet, at the same time, strangely self-absorbed. This is a minor fascination that becomes part of the NK treasure trove of oddments.  Something bizarre continues to bewitch those who dare tread out of bounds - I am still enchanted. 

Track Two is 'The Magickal Life Of'. This is a devilish number that sees suggestions of satanic practices become clear as an innocent meddler uncovers a world of malevolence.  An innocent scrawl, a simple wish and then the manifestation of a being from beyond seems to take shape from the malformed musical incantations that are surely partly responsible for the apparition.  The salient sonic points noted here are the crooked and abstract tangents thrown in and the creeping under-bass that has an intention to create an unease - I am duly disturbed. 

Again I am piqued enough to keep on with the investigations into this warped and wanked world and here I am both entertained, mentally obstructed and abducted and taken to a realm I know not where - this is never a bad thing. 

TRI-SUBVERSION - YOU ARE THE CARBON

Another full-length (live) offering from these political pirates who have something to say and duly well say it.  The band hail from Leicester, have already graced my lugholes with a full length release and are now invading my airspace again with another 14 tracks.  I am expectant, the band create vibrations that grow - here are my textual considerations.  

'Freedom Is War' opens with a Thames Television intro.  The news beckons but is blown away by a fine sing-a-long chant that sees the band start the CD with unrest, numerous niggles and a political disgruntlement that is in the blood.  The impetus is a winning feature here with the stick work almost giving rise to an ad-hoc reactionary feel whilst the hollerers at the fore relish their ravings and deliver them with sincerity.  CD's always fair better when the stage is set with the general intent and some good gusto - I am hoping for good things here.  'Twist And Shine' offers a surprise groove, waltzes along with a simplistic but effective DIY swing whilst making sure the lyrical content stays positive.  A strange offering from this lot and yet in keeping with how the band operate.  It is a nice sub-curveball thrown in early so as to keep one guessing.  I am unsure as to the full intent of the song but some self-assuring belief is radiated and that will do for me. 

The best song so far (and perhaps of the CD) is the powerful construct slapped down as 'Eat Data'.  As many open wide, swallow the digital bilge and throw away their freedom into the great wired-up void we can only wonder how much information is amassed and how we came to a place so diluted and without any semblance of rebellion.  The gluttonous masses can't get enough, their history is logged and the people are now mere numbers who comply then die and piss all over the ethos of DIY.  A sharp and acidic song this, one many will pogo along to, ignore and go back to throwing it all away.  Great tune in a fuckin' mad world. 

3 songs snatched, first and 'Ransom For Many' cuts to the bone, maintains the hollowed-out unaffected and 'live' approach with more verbals borne from angst and frustration.  The pace is slightly slackened here, the cavernous vocals are slightly more hurtful, the meat-grinding musical accompaniment equally injurious. This is not my favourite song, I feel something is lacking here, perhaps more tempo is needed and some different tonal accoutrements - it is just one of those.  'We Are Kin' has a better skip, a better contrast between verse and chorus and something that suggests tones of Killing Joke and matters more industrialised.  There is a dreamy leakage that leaves a vocal after-shadow, an escapist ploy that adds to the fascination factor.  This has me wondering what would happen if the band went down the avenues of realms more tranced - worth a thought methinks.  The third cutlet in this latest tri-examination is 'Ignorant Bliss' - a very nasty sounding piece that has a great rage, a rage borne from the frustrations of the modern world and the controlling factors too many are allowing to run riot.  A digital interlude is neatly done and tilts the CD in another direction, we have a futuristic feel that gives life to a song that could easily be something far less than it is.  A salvation job done well, the increasing sense of havoc captivates, the pressure cooker feel is briefly released but the toxicity is always there. 

'Number 13' tumbles in, dishes forth a handful of observations, takes in a situation and realises the shit that has hit the fan.  Another ghetto sounding spill, an awareness of a world in trouble and walls closing in - society is turning to shit, the machine is revolving and making mincemeat of all hope - the band capture the dystopian misery of it all - I am not sure whether or not I am happy about this one, I feel all stressed - cripes. 

'Darkest Hour' has a fuzzed lick and skip, raves against the overwhelming forces that dictate, demand and dumb-down whilst slaughtering any chance of free-thinking.  I like this one a lot, the capitalists and corporations are having one and all, are we doing enough to defy?  The zest and pace here show that Tri-Subversion always seem to thrive when the speed is increased and the words flow with haste.  I am appreciative of the acid attack and the anger too - nice.   

'Celebrity Monster' is a harsh crawl against the overload of freaks who are looking like shit whilst chasing the plastic dream.  Eternal youth is sought whilst great contributions are made to the all-consuming rules of how to look and how to act.  Dim-wits and pseudo-people created for the celebrity admirers who have no depth and who are nothing more than judges and jerks.  The venom spilled is laden with justified toxicity - the poison factor is what wins a thumbs up from this detester of the fakes.   

Into the back 5 - there is no reason to fuck about.  The title track, 'You Are The Carbon' - waits its turn, adopts a fine drum rhythm with stated string strums and a cold matter of fact oral aide.  The shadowed vocals are stating facts we should all be aware of, the bastards are playing games and this terror-tinted number works well with a good dreamy trance-like feel.  The essence of the number is once again borne from visions of a crumbling society where misery is pasted and pissed this way and that.  I am finding a  certain cultured output here with the usual thinking under-structure - a rock solid number.  'Nothing Is Forever' follows, a carefully delivered song that strangles and suffocates rather than goes for the jugular.  The exotic tones that open come with an initial warning - take heed or make a lifelong mistake.  The band are once again putting their pertinent thoughts forward and using the DIY stage to get one thinking - this is what it should be about.  This is one to digest in small doses and then consider - I think it works and adds another subtle twist on a consistent theme. 

'Decaying Orbit' is the shortest track, I think the CD would benefit from a few similar terse tonal offerings, I have a punk streak that is fond of the 'crash, bang, bollocks' approach and to vary pace and running times is always a good thing.  This somewhat fleeting track is a grubby shit that takes no prisoners, doesn't over exert itself and slips from verse to chorus with practised ease.  Nowt special, nowt new, nowt to shit your pants with but just good to honest DIY dabbling that hits a certain hotspot you may have or have not! 'Industrial Military Complexities' is too similar to what has passed and for a penultimate track I wanted more.  It is fairly waterproof and has a good snarl-age but - there are no real zeniths and I find myself just a little flat come the end.  This may seem a trifle harsh but I am a reviewer who wants to be respectful and decent but squeeze the best out of bands - I think I am being fair as always - besides the title of this one is too long, it ain't being considerate to my aching digits tha' knows. 

Last up and 'Blind Squid' full stops in expected style, I now have the same niggles as previously mentioned but this doesn't mean that this is a duff song.  It has great industry, worthwhile texture and that old-school back to basics roughness that appeals to my dirty dog nature.  There is great beauty found in the pimpled realms of the under-processed and here, with truthfulness and transparency, the band do what they do and round off a more than lucid CD that has great appeal. 

So the final thoughts - I like the approach, the band have the factor that wins my favour and there is no bullshit production here of affected persuasion to trick you into thinking Tri-Subversion are something they are not.  As a critical bugger I would suggest future releases would be more effective if done on an EP basis with 4 tracks as per and 2 tracks going at it full tilt and with some added generic curveballs.  I am hoping to get these guys a gig - it is what I do, what they do, what we should all do - keeping it real.

OPERATION VANGUARD - UNKNOWN ENGLISH SOLDIER

Another album for ye fecund Fungal fruit to roll around the cranial airspace and duly assess.  This is an ongoing state of play and one that has kept me enthused, intrigued and doofing for many a year - the ears though are whistling and there is very little that I haven't heard before.  My appetite is still strong though and I go in here fresh, feisty and keen to do my best.  I was in the beautiful position of not knowing of the creative force and not having heard a single note by the said unit - this is how I like to roll, a virgin thrown into the world of vibrations - ooh me cerebral fanny! 

We begin matters with the very impressive construction known as 'English Soldier'.  The content regards the military regime (oh for a world of no soldiers and no war) and is really not my bag - I find the whole shebang of being involved in macho war and weapon wielding quite baffling (the human race never fails to depress).  The delivery though is exceptional and the pride and passion are noted along with the superb tonal talent on show.  The placement of each instrument and musical shift is heightened by a watertight and carefully manipulated end mix which really does accentuate the whole sub-acoustic output. The harmonica adds brief textures, the horrors of combat are highlighted - we must play this, stop the world of conflict and move on to a better place.  A fuckin' crackin' track. 

'Up And Down' has a sound lick and gets one up and jigging whilst the beer foams and overspills the swaying glass.  The impetus and inflection is utterly glorious, the end production values really do maximise the potential of every contributor and what we get is a real showcase of talent all combining to make a fine construction flying along with fiddle-whipped assistance and harmonica based aid.  The swing in the whole song is irresistible, the political slant sharp and cute and the fact that this one can easily be joined in with must certainly make it a winner.  The follow-up, entitled 'My Town Called Despair' is a number that exudes a certain frisky briskness and a healthy urgency that rises above any despondency and hopelessness.  There is an encouraging vibe running throughout the song and I have a distinct impression of a tonal arrangement that it is something that would fit the bill on a US compilation back in the late 90's.  The execution and lucidity is spot on, for me though there is too much going on and the sonic stew has been slightly overcooked with too many ingredients - I come out of the other end a trifle flustered. 

'Keeping It Real' and 'Where Do You Go' are 2 fuckin' exceptional numbers filled with a superfluity of talent and good buoyant music. There is a bittersweet undercurrent combatted by the tunery that really is laden with life and desiring zest.  The first song opens with a somewhat 'Queen-ish suggestion before finding a flow that is utterly delicious.  A fighting man is back on the streets, has witnessed the vile horrors of war and has come back with a sober and 'fuck it' insouciance that is not all that it seems.  The heel-kicking new-found freedom though is just a joy, something highly tangible is found, we need little, just simplicity and of course, less of this useless item called 'war'.  The follow-up song has a speedy undulation and a distinct rousing impetus that really gets the ass moving.  Questions are incessant, answers few, the relentless quest for a solution is undying, the bouncy life found within this very convincing song, equally so. I consider this brace of songs a real zenith on a quality CD - by heck what choice work. 

'Northern Town' is slightly folked, somewhat nostalgic, very observational.  A sub-dirge is the feeling I am get, a holler from where the divisions of the land are truly felt and those neglected and put down are forever pissing in the wind and toiling to make ends meet.  Within the dirt though there is great hope and that is the sensation that I feel is emanated and that is what gets the song into the recesses of internal appreciation.  As a standalone I wouldn't be overly impressed but as part of the pack it works and helps give the CD further levels of depth. 'Land Of Hopeless Glory' is both fluent and tidily animated and radiates a controlled unrest and questioning stance that will surely ring true with many eavesdropping noggins.  The incessant zest, the political stress and the outstandingly delicious application of each and every tonal donation all make for another solid song that is ablaze with passion. The creative force is on a roll, do not stand in its way. 

Next 2, 'The Road' is a zenith, a pinnacle worth waiting for with the flow washed through with joy de vivre, controlled activity and convincing melody.  The move from verse to chorus and back again is slick, unstoppable and frighteningly rewarding whilst the free-flowing spirit of the song magnetises my sensors and never lets go.  An exciting and breathless number, another one to spin over and over and with added volume. Smashing. 'Better Days' has a nostalgic essence within the opening throes.  The initial verse is observant with a suggestive optimism that comes into its own via the fresh and 'never say die' chorus.  The breeze-blown delivery, the subtle pang and the lucidity of all compartments is what makes this yet another winning song.  The eyes see, the brain registers, the heart responds and the song is created.  The formula does indeed seem that simple, the end result is very impacting and very impressive.  There is nothing new here but what is done is done with good insight and finalising nouse.   

'Free Falling' is a fair romp with the usual clarity donated but here with a sense of hopelessness in the mix and so keeping us all guessing.  This is perhaps the biggest paradox of the lot due to the words dealing with the aforementioned emotions but the overall gist of the music giving one a real boosting arse kick.  I am finding this perhaps the pick for the 'showcase single' - a number that encapsulates everything good about this CD and the enhancing production values. 

And we finish with 'Homeland' and what we get is a slow and heavily pronounced song that has a pride and a belief that will get many sozzled sots and weepy home-birds singing along at the end of a 'live' set.  There are many corned touches and these sort of sonic inclusions are really not my thing but the success comes from the clarity, the honest heartfelt passion and the obvious know-how that is being exposed.  This may be my least favourite song but it full stops a quite satisfying CD I think many will be hard pushed to find fault with. 

So what another surprise, again I am requested to dabble, dabble I do and the end result is of more time being well spent. The question now is whether or not these songs are executed with such authority in the ‘live’ pit – I must find out but am always so ruddy busy doing this, that’ t’other and of course… CD reviews.

NEON KITTENS - PEOPLE IN GLASS HOUSES

A brace of quirky oddments from the broken shelves of the 'glow in the dark' pussies.  Spasmed, wire wanked, at times haunting, at others, soothing, all the while this angular offal is torn out from the musical midriff and thrown before your mush with a certain artistic authority.  There are many who won't get this which, in some obscure and roundabout way, makes it very valid indeed. I have indulged some time with these purring practitioners of the perverse and gladly survived to tell the tale. Here I foolishly go again.

'People In Glass Houses' comes and gives every reason for people to throw some bricks.  In the neon abode where everything is angular and looked at from questioning viewpoints and with 'normality' pissed on from a great height, this pointed song says what it says and for me, gives a warning to those too willing to trash without thought of the outcome.  Aromas are wafted through the seance of sound where ghosts of foreign climes roam and where a defiance to operate within the accepted is the only way - I am rating this a cute destabilisation of something that could easily be something more fashionable. 

'I Was Clumsy' sums matters up, confesses to a real horror show that shows a side to matters that is utterly darkened.  Domestic violence rears a vile head, the true terrors of a life dictated to by a slap, a smack and the resultant pain.  This is a very unsettling piece that at first, seems innocuous and yet is a tale of a child neglected and left to ponder the cruelty of life. Guilt and innocence are a mixed brew, excuses are made whilst the perpetrator hides - what a chiller!  Of course the cacophony is equally cruel and tormented - this is what the band do. 

A precarious double-edge sword that is brandished with carelessness but somehow kept in check. A glimpse perhaps into influences and asides meant only for ears tuned in, or indeed, those tuned out.  Whatever wavelength these purveyors of the incautious are found upon, they do what they do without distraction. 

MARDIGRAS BOMBERS - FIVE MORE SONGS ABOUT SEX AND DEATH

The Mardi Gras Bombers have been around for quite a while and of course, have paraded themselves on many a Fungal stage, over many years.  It has been a ruddy good while since they released anything and it has been even longer since I saw them strut their stuff. I was surprised when I received this CD, but it is always nice to be remembered.  I duly spun the disk and rolled many a consideration around the cranial gunk before letting the aged digits tap forth an assessment.  Here is what the gnarled and crooked appendages rattled out.   

'A Lifetime Of Small Events' is a lesson in cultural excellence that breaks the rusted punk restrictions and other such generic nonsense.  There is an erudition simmering within the melting pot of this insightful opening number that rolls with a distinct unaffectedness.  The initial throes have he and she interaction, great emotion and a tidal wave release that gets the best out of a band at their peak.  The orchestration is exemplary, the tonal satisfaction one receives from all areas is outstanding and I am seriously considering this as one of the best MGB tracks to ever bounce against my tympanic membranes.  As matters progress the intricacies and the exactitudes of the operators all bear a greater lucidity and draw one into an acoustic fold of thermally pleasurable magnificence.  Something complete and utterly satisfying is had here, from the opening skin ripple, the grandiose arrangements and the holistic quality of the whole piece - it is a joyous moment.    

'Money Well Spent' has the unenviable task of following this gargantuan moment and does so in its own feisty style.  This is a beautifully vicious number that sets its sights, considers the death result and goes for the jugular.  An intolerant piece with stunning vocal unity and feeling whilst the strings are manipulated with enthused articulation and the skins are clobbered with hurtful zoned in focus.  The verses froth and foam, the chorus cuts explode with almost celebratory life and give the song an absolute impact not to be denied.  Keyed accoutrements embolden the entire construction - this is a cementing follow-up punch that rounds off a one-two combination to swoon over. Do not underestimate the kick-back here and the intolerance of prejudiced soaked fuckers.   

Track the third - 'First Thought, Best Thought' has a skipping and highly zested intro reminiscent of something off-kilter and slightly carouselled.  The fun-fair magnetism that bubbles  along helps one go with the flow and take a punt at the bagatelle of life.  Sometimes we clash and collide, sometimes we knock over a few pegs, now and again we get a free-run.  This is an ambiguous song which, so I am informed, has essences of 'Soylent Green' influences.  I can see Chuck Heston using this as an escape from a world gone mad and too busy munching on the dead rather than gripping life by the gonads and taking a chance.  Splendid. 

'Cleaners Clean' is a real nasty piece of work that takes a simple situation, adds a bleak and sinister touch and runs with it.  The spiral-twisting disgruntlement overspills and the band whip up a multi-faceted maelstrom of mental disturbance that brings a certain schizoid/fritzoid life to matters with a full on breakdown never far away.  Capable hands and voice-boxes make sure matters stay strait-jacketed and in some state of decency whilst the thrashing legs of the number certainly do wallop one in the mush.  The salivating passion and the need to 'Keep Britain Tidy' is delightful - have it and enjoy the brief snippets of Pistol-ised guitaring - magic.

We fly off into the distant silence via the wings of 'Dragonfly'.  The words of the warbling front lout informed me this is a song about 'pure espionage escapism and 'was built from scratch to finished article in one rehearsal. Again it was written with two singers in mind' - I think this lot know what they are doing!  A deep string skewer, a sing-a-long fancy-dan jaunt that is a dice-rolling jolly that comes alive with the ebony and ivory delights and rich throat donations by the she-hollerer.  There are tonal touches here that remind me of the bloke with the golden gear who like to kill at his leisure and move in shaded circles of high mystique.  This is a genuine angle and another treat that shows a band not willing to laze on their laurels and are always happy to keep one guessing.  Surely a fine 'Bond' theme tune if ever I heard one. 

The fungal verdict is of a splendid CD, one that brings many gratifying tremblings to the inner lug, pleases the DIY desires and shows what a band can do if they push themselves, avoid in-scene trappings and take their time.  This is the MGB machine at its finest - miss out at your peril.  Hey, and I have them booked again to play a Fungalised gig – whose a lucky wanker then? 

SUBURBAN TOYS - NIGHT AND DAY IN BEAT CITY

Punky skankiness from Lincoln comes with a fine degree of innocent poppishness and pimply joy that goes down a treat in this day and age of over-molested shizzle.  From a listen of the first track I knew this CD was worthy of my time and so I opted to plunge into the 21 track showcase and try and do my textual bit. There are people out there who rattle off these reviews with just a single spin, there are folk who think this reviewing lark is easy and there are people who do fuck all and then just expect - not so here - I listen many times, I sweat blood with every review and I expect nowt only a respect for my honest DIY way - once again, here goes everything, here goes nothing.

'Out Of My Head' is a gently sugar-coated poppet that opens with grandiose effect, scuffs it up and soon finds a very likeable modus operandi that I am instantly enchanted by.  The construct of the song is orthodox, routine and obvious but it is done with a believable tonality and may I say, lo-fi brilliance.  The vocalist is put at the fore in a quite prominent position - she is on the spot and duly thrives.  The back buzz is a perfect complement, the shadow singing does what needs be and what we end up with is       a simple serenade of love-soaked honesty - smashing.  'Cry Wolf' follow in a similar manner with a mid-paced strut before lightly skanking along and showcasing a neat diversity to the spillage.  I am already considering a band who have great potential and given a full on production push could easily match the most acclaimed bands out there.  For me the beauty is in the DIY approach though, here we find the true lifeblood of the band and see what they are truly made of.  I am enjoying this second snippet as a result of this appreciation of all things unstripped - there is something good going on here with a strain of yesterday and tomorrow.

The third track ups the ante, has a greater bounce and stretches the she-tonsils a little further. 'Out Of The Blue' is a superb lesson in light-lilted skankiness with a certain purity pondered and a hopeful essence had.  There is no hard-hitting edginess here, no political raving and heavily molested skins and strings - no, just a sweet drift contemplating and doing it mighty well.  I have this one now showcased on my 'Fungalised' Bandcamp page - I handpick various examples of DIY greatness - the reasons here are obvious.

A clutch of three, 'Time To Die' has a sharp acidity that cuts to the core and slightly changes the tack of the tonal outpouring.  Some raw chuggery, a look at the media madness that exposes murder and then indulges itself and some spiteful angles and we get a solid punky parade of well-flexed noise that is played without vulgarity but with a certain throw-back astuteness.  Next and some dabbling bass, a soft upthrust and a delicate swing with 'Just Go With The Flow' a reclined moment of contemplation.  The thought of going with the flow appals me, tis always better to be yourself and see what transpires.  This tidy arrangement seems to be caught in a net of indecision - does one go with it or defy?  The content speaks, the frustration is tangible, the drift a nice juxtaposition to these emotions - I think the band are balancing matters quite nicely here.  The final fling of the snatched hat-trick comes under the tab of 'With You' and after an encouraging 4 count and some coruscated strings the front lass is left to do what she does with a good desire to be who she is and avoid the wretched mush.  The hanging-on love slant is sweet, the fact that someone knows who they want to be and who they want to be with is a joy and this scruffy little oik of a number has good character and is a short inclusion very much worth its weight in... bold.

I decide to stay with the assessing modus operandi, another threesome is bagged. 'Salamander' has a slinky sleaze feel with a girl observed as she weaves her way through the crowd and sends a shiver up the spines of those who dare take careful note.  The lass under the spotlight sounds like a right femme-fatale and not one to take too lightly.  The main tonal quality of the song is nicely sandpapered and gives the end result a gritty edge - I like that!  The ensuing number is a sobered account known as 'Going Down'.  The arrangement is orthodox, the mix now familiar and what we have here is stabilising song that does what needs be - as part of the mush it can be easily overlooked, it has its place and please take a little extra time to appreciate here - we gotta be fair tha' knows.  'Coupe De Ville' is one for the car-appreciation society and one that leaves me standing by the kerb of bewilderment.  Cars are tin cans on wheels that get us from A to B whilst vomiting forth an array of pollutants and creating some status statement that is beyond me.  Having stated my stance on the necessary but overused vehicle I am still swayed by this rinky-dink tune that has a zested free-wheeling liberation borne form a wayward obsession and a need to hit the roads.  The personification of the motor is outside of my realm but it is dealt forth here with good sincerity - ooh the silly buggers.

A brass splash comes nest via the very admirable 'Radioactive' - a very exemplary song with all the trimmings of a band who are in a chosen groove and determined to stick with the route found and loved.  There is a joyous element bursting from every pore of this number, a celebratory feel for all that has passed, will come and what is now before our appreciative lugs. All areas slot into one comfy zone that zips with zest and helps one ride the waves of a sanguine rhythm  - a choice moment with a good pop-bop bassline too.  'Far Away' has a tepid start that fails to charm, it is a distant drifting and I wonder where the song is heading.  We are soon given adequate contrast and matters are accentuated as a result.  When played several more times the inner lifeforce is understood and we get the double-ended reasoning of the band truly revealed - I have no complaints if the truth be told.

A nice crisp twang, a back beat and a ripple of the tympanics and 'Undivided Attention' cracks along with some crafted nouse that is cuter than first deemed.  The band have a liquid flow going here rinsed through with shadow and sure-fire vocals that highlight a situation where one half of a potential relationship is timid and the other a little too caring for their own good.  A gentle hint at being a little desperate is never far away - I am not sure if this is planned or not but the song works mighty well.  'Beat City' is relaxed and looking to enthuse and have a good time.  No fuss, no hidden agenda, just an easy output with and easy target in mind.  Going with the flow and looking to dance away the blues - this is an ear-worm that wriggles deep without the listener being aware.  The tonal quality is perfectly in-line with all that has transpired thus far and that my dear interested friend, is no bad thing.  A minor moment to swing the booty to methinks!

I jump back to the snatching of the threesome and begin with the tremblings of 'Me And You'. A bouncing baby of sound with uncomplication being its greatest asset.  After only a couple of spins one can easily join in with the meanderings, meanderings that are sweet, unfussy and liable to keep the rear end waggling.  A bit of concentrated chuggery adds texture but nothing overly elaborate is had.  The final ponderings reveal a certain jealousy which is a real tangent - I am slightly unnerved.  'Don't You Know' has a certain languidness and focuses its attention on a self-absorbed entity that needs a little bit of friendly advice.  To be fair there are too many in this mire who think the world revolves around them and too many who think they know best - all I can do is roll along and be humble with my opinions.  This is a fair track that has gently opposing tones but I fear this one is in danger of disappearing within a very applaudable pack - I think a real shake-up was needed at this point.

On we roll down the final stretch - I shall be brief and hopefully exact with the next quartet.  'Jazz Bastard' has a fidget bass-line, under the radar strings and light stick taps whilst the lead lady does what she does - there ain't nowt new here although something slightly off-the-cuff is felt which is, indeed, a good thing.  'Try' has a lovely rusted start and is too quick to jump back in the skanky flow.  Having said this I find the verse and chorus cuts and the way they segue and bounce are delightful and this is quite an accomplished little track that shows some real nouse on the bands part. The quick follow-on takes a pop at the middle-class wankers who idle whilst others tumble.  It is a world of utterly wankery but people make these layers and contribute to much imbalance. 'Ivory Towers' exudes much angst and power, a relentless push and great life that really draws me in - it gets me thinking how good this lot would really sound if they went for a few songs with serious haste - I reckon a few speedbursts are lacking here but this is a still a beltin' song.  'Insane' is a poetical probe into realms a little off-kilter - I like the drift and the angle, I am a little wary of it becoming another part of the 'not-my-fault' blame-free culture we are sinking in.  Maybe I have been too hammered by this shittery so I take a step back, view with more positive orbs and ears and enjoy the short and simplified tickle.

2 left, a soppy, sloppy love song next with sturdy backbone of sound and the familiar ST tonal qualities.  '3 Little Words' has a good traditional punk grafting and buzzed up feel with a creamier topping applied by the front lady.  Again there are no real gripes had but, and a polite but at this stage, the CD would have fared better with less tracks, a real curveball thrown in and some inner instrumental interludes to add to one flowing journey.  I move on into the last still thoughtful 'Wasting My Time' is a moody piece with moments of almost indolent lackadaisical leanings interspersed with emotive headrushes that add the necessary 'contrast' factor.  The song dillies and dallies, dashes and darts and puts a full-stop to a showcase of solid tunes by a band on their game.

A good listen this, one I have tossed around the palette for several weeks and come up with the following critique.  A good band, doing what they do well is the summing up but a shorter release would have had more impact, especially, as stated, if a few quick numbers were thrown in with all hands working up a lather.  A good intro and outro piece on the next offering with just 10 tracks of varying flavour will undoubtedly stretch the band a little further – I am wondering if they will take me up on these challenges.