NOMATRIX - SLIBHIN

This band, from Athlone in Ireland, tickle along with no concern for kissing arse, indulging in grandeur and wining false favour.  They are a tight outfit, doing things just right and without any sub-text and idiot underhand game playing.  They put on a good 'live' exposure, nail their songs with zeal and rapidity and 2 of the lads run the fine record label 'Deadlamb Records'.  It is DIY in action rather than a lot of hot talk and contemplating the navel - here I do what I do too whilst finding a bit of time to scratch my knackers (phew).

'Slíbhín' is an angry straight-ahead song that deals with the sneaky snakes in the grass that groom with their smooth flow and then bite you on the ass when a better proposition arises.   From the opening to the final thrust this is a 1 minute 23 second bog-brush basic passion push of good to honest noise making, executed without idiot baubles and cock-firming thrill, but with a reliability not to be questioned.  It is consistent fare from a band who know their stuff and do not look to wallow in experimentation and pomposity.  They could do more with this one but it does what it does and who am I to gripe.  I do prefer 'Identity' though - the emotive content is greater, there is a good contrast factor enhanced by the unleashed, untamed finale and overall the song feels more complete and more challenging to the players and the listening lugs.  The opening throes are pacey and intrinsically laden with Nomatrix essences.  The same spicings are felt via the following gob assisted throes with energy aplenty that is easily more appreciated if the 'volume' nob is cranked up.  Depth is found and again, that final rabid riot at the end sets the whole song aflame.  Ruddy lovely!

A tremble of nervousness and outsider oddness.  The main drive is soon upon is with a very retro-Nomatrix feel that has me pondering the archives and pondering how long this band has been plying its trade.  A gruff, rough and inner-scaffolding with a kick up the arse for those playing a game. 'Victim' wallops home with uncompromising hunger and a no-nonsense style of sound.  Very obvious stuff from this lot and it is what it is - frill-free, energetic and to the point.  The band have better numbers but there is something so damn deliciously consistent about what transpires here.

'Eulogy' has a seasoned and more emotive quality with a very sober and somewhat disillusioned feel emanated.  A hopelessness is found, there seems no escape, the crew face it head on and batter out a very magnetising track that has many nuances and acoustic accoutrements that any knowing fan of the band will appreciate.  When the warbler at the fore adopts a greater sense of relaxed persuasion to his oral emanations things seem to be more honest, natural and emotive - I call for more of this during future expulsions.  Another reliable track methinks.

Four tracks, four examinations and I am still  fan.  As a fan though I now want the band to take a few risks and change up the style - it will be good for the players, the listeners and the DIY scene - challenge set - Fungal wants another EP with a quartet of real teste-tickling oddments. Phwoar!

THE CONSPIRACY - TROLLIED

Metal Postcards deliver another offering via The Conspiracy.  I have dabbled with this combo on 4 previous occasions, I have no need to do another intro, let us crack on and concentrate on the tuneage hey?  I expect something off kilter, challenging and poetically intriguing, then again, this could be anything or everything - onwards.

'Salisbury Gloves' begins with tip-taps and ripples before a title statement is made and a lazy meander is taken down a thoroughfare of deep intrigue.  Having exchanged messages with the creator of the tunery I discover that this haunted tale is about a school were the throat warblers grandfather attended.  A recent visit and a presence was felt, hence the ghostly vibes methinks.  A careful, memory laden subtle chill with a kind of monochrome flicker feel that slowly unravels and with each spin, reveals further layers.  A slow boiler with emotion subdued but if you take time there is persuasive matter here and to mull it over is a must.

The opening sequence to 'Digital' reminds me of 80's to 90's dancey/trancey dabblings that left me musically disturbed.  It was a terrible time for we more regulated rhythm lovers who like things more natural, this is a blast from the past - ooh where's me 'E's.  A mild tempo, a look at a gig, a soothing susurration sensation, a gentle dopamine disturbance with things oh so slightly 'Fall' en.  A very strange and somewhat hypnotic arrangement with a mellow accomplishment had as well as a certain overall nebulousness, I balance precariously on the edge of uncertainty.

'Icarus' is the most textured and balanced number I think.  It is a slow, reliable and comfortably rhythmic.  We fall, we rise, we fall again - repeat.  Along the way we can take care, go wild, walk on tiptoe and sometimes trample - I think if time is taken out to contemplate with this number as a musical escort we may do a little better with the approach.  The caressed strings, the semi-whispered warnings, the soporific lullaby lilt and the overall orchestration leave one with a feeling of having listened to a song that is complete - nice.

'Trollied' closes, a true tale of a gent on an A&E trolly clinging on to life itself.  Again, there is a horror tattooing throughout the content, a contemplation of a time of terror and then of great relief.  The groovy flick along belies the fact that the end of days was near, the upsurge in emotion exposes a frustration with the recovery process - the mental rollercoaster is, I suppose, par for the unpredictable course.  From the depths of despair the musical content reacts, the untrustable overspills come in a number that is one of those snippets that you have to be ready for.  If your cerebral state of play is lowly then stay clear, if you are up for a challenge for the acoustic sensors, have a nosey.  Unorthodox, natural and with a tempo to tease.

And there ya go, 4 songs outside many radars (shame, shame) and 4 songs to get one thinking, throw into the everyday musical mix and to keep things varied.  I am thankful for the listen and am happy I have done my humble bit.

OMEGA TRIBE - POWER POP PUNK ROCK

Cultured, considered and, may it be said, outspoken, Omega Tribe have been, gone and re-emerged and continue to ply their trade with good heart, fine musicianship and a determination to get their voices and opinions heard.  One must be resolute and resounding but one also must maintain that we can't all agree on the same thing, we have to be respectful of others and understand why they disagree and where their foundations for the stance arise from - only love, good spirit and a sturdy backbone can win the day in this world of division, hate, biased madness and down-shouting (well, I think so anyway). Here we have another full-length offering with time donated by yours truly. As I always say, I cannot like everything, will never claim to be a know-it-all scribe and certainly will never kiss arse to garner favour.  What I can offer is a 'bloke off the street' honesty, a musical nouse built on 1800 plus CD reviews and of course, my own scribbling style.  Here I go again, passion and madness hey, what a combo!

We open this account with the defiant and robust snagger known as 'Anti Government Forces' - an easy flowing number with a certain casualness of drift counterbalanced by a sharp stated account of how those in power duly operate.  This is an instantaneous sing-a-long rebel song that floats along on gentle tonality whilst making individual statements that one would do well to argue against.  The day to day disasters and crimes increase as those at opposite ends of the scale tick along with imbalance the great victor.  The suited and booted are playing games with their human toys and all the while only thinking of legacy, profit and personal ego gain.  This is a gentle but equally strong opening account with a good blend of all areas to win favour by many willing to 'think'.  The production values get the best out of matters too - essential stuff tha' knows.

'Nasty Brutal People' points the digit at the scribes and scum-wits who create cerebral disgruntlement and a divided community with the end result being a whole lot more hate, finger pointing and unrest.  The flow is easy, the musical approach not as confrontational as the message, the end result is an easy number to embrace, fall in line with and of course...enjoy.  The individual components are considered and again, there is a solid snag factor that has one striving to shake-off the ear-worm element that wriggles within whilst using great persuasion to win applause.  A concrete follow up to the sturdy opener.

'Goddess' is a loved up bout of admiration, soaked to the skin with perspired passion and ardour.  We are encouraged to clap along before the opening string sensations bring back early alternative echoes that many an outsider thrived upon.  The shift form verse, to sub-verse to chorus is without hitch and the rising zeal is complementary whilst being kept on a very loose leash.  A bouncing song with a certain joy de vivre and unrushed inner belief.  Not an instantaneous winner and not a CD zenith but, a good mover and groover with an accuracy of intent and acoustic prowess to avoid a Fungalised hoofing up the jacksie.  With each play this one embraces and grows in stature - bear with it folks.

Rich and eloquent textures of European flavour trickle forth next before whispered words are flourished with a deep-rooted sincerity.  A love for a child is a thing of purity and selflessness (well, so it should be).  Being blessed with a superb daughter borne from an equally superb wife, I find this song hits the spot.  'The First Time' is delicate, fragile, caring - it captures an emotion many don't take time to ponder and appreciate, it is a cerebrally acute number that deals with something so basic, so natural, so unbelievably precious.  In the world of severe 'let down' - we need listen, take heed and not overlook that which is at the pinnacle of emotion.  Fine content, fine song - play it and think!  'Animal' is a brooding number, a real sober study in abuse.  We masters that have the need to control, restrain and ruin are tainted by a desire to not look beyond our own fatuous (and may it be said 'fat arsed') needs.  At the brunt of our crippled and overly needy emotions are the animals, those creatures  that contribute to a better world, a richer world, a place of intricate interest.  Here the band don't hold back, many questions are posed, some may not like them some may be rankled and spit back but... we gotta always question and try and move on to a better place.  A heavy song this, a mood laden piece awash with disgust and disgruntlement - you need to be prepared.  This isn't a pleasure, I don't think it is meant to be, it is one to be played now and again but... it is worth its weight in gold.

A cluster buster of three, all grabbed by the Fungal mitt, tossed into the assessing orifice and pondered.  'Essential Workers' is a joyous shout out for pure under the radar grafters who do more for the economy than a lot of suited and booted bags of bullshit who talk, barely walk and are forever riding on the back of someone else’s endeavour.  A simple song and a simple premise but a real highpoint with a  good uplifting and celebratory accent.  The endless and thankless plight at those at level 'unconsidered' is there to be highlighted and Omega Tribe do just that and do it mighty well - nifty!  'Angel' begins on a cool groove sub-reggae drift with a touch of wire bending adding a necessary emotion.  We drift into susurrated comfort, we see another contemplation, guilt exposed, thoughts on what is good, what is not - where are we ending up? Passions rise, there seems to be a conflicting source of emotion with fear present and desperation sneaking in.  With it pseudo-religious questioning, the examination of life beyond death and the end judgement, this is a moment that dredges up many inner queries that never seem to be answered.  I love this chill thrill and like the angle it is swinging in from, but I still don't have the universal answer.  All I can advise is that 'you must try and be the best version of you that you can be'.  From this moment we have the rippling undulations of 'Upside Down', another episode of laid back crooning that meditates on a topsy-turvy tombola where the end prize is always something ridiculous and mocking. It seems that those with greatest command are the ones with least empathy and from day dot, if we examine history, it seems we are making very little progress.  If one doesn't take care this can be deemed as a song that waltzes away with an almost insouciant indifference, to class it as such would be a crime.  I like the content but I am not fully in sync with the tonality and find things a little to tepid and underwhelming.  Again, I can't like everything, and here I play and pass on unconvinced, but the words still matter.

Romantic strokes and reclined rhythms make the next song a veritable mood piece.  The frame of our mind will depend on your end verdict - some days this one works, some days I feel the need to move on to music with more clout.  The inner uncertainty of vocal delivery, the flickering hesitancy and the slushy mush is neatly done but it is a 'tread carefully' snippet in CD revoluting time. 'How I Love You' could be easily nobbled by a one listen review, please take your time folks, consider the accents, the switch in style, the aims.  Some may say it isn't 'punk', but if you get bogged down by a made up label I suspect that is what happens.  I rate this fragile, heartfelt but a 'play now and again' inclusion.

A harmonised intro, a lovely chipper jolly and some sage advice done in a repeat-beat style - simple hey?  A skanky serenade with some therapeutic advice proffered for your delectation.  'One Step' has a positivity, a sanguinity and an easy pop-along and ping accent that is no fuss and ultimately, uncomplicated.  We can all get dragged down by the day to day commands and bullshitting dictates - the key is to throw off the shackles, look to the intrinsically basic and most important aspects of life and go grab em'.  Keep things productive and one can surely move fort.  I like this song, some may say it is hippy-drippy flower-power soaked weaving - is that a bad thing ya silly buggers?

'Rain' is a bonus track (unless of course you don't like it).  It deals with the emotive climactic condition that I for one find highly appealing.  Heavenly droplets feeding the needing realms of wild wonder and the cleansing of thoroughfares dusted and tired.  A good run in the rain can be a wonderful thing, watching a film indoors or reading a book, whilst the torrents batter the window is a joy - never underestimate the downpours.  Here we see a swaying song that emanates from a reclusive scenario.  Self-company, inner thoughts, a feeling of safety and warmth are all found in a real switched-off, snuggle on down song that has many meritorious points.  Cosy man.

And we finish with, yes, 2 more bonus tracks.  'Streets of London' is not the Ralph McTell number that was covered by the foul-mouthed Anti-Nowhere League.  This is a 60's sounding tickle too but makes modern day observations and highlights the difference between the haves and have nots.  In truth, this song could be about any major city and is an insight into society as it was, as it is and as it will be forever more - dis-fuckin'-jointed.  A serene and serious coursing travels through the latter end veins of this impacting and thoughtful CD with the final salvo coming via the pertinent and neatly bass-enthused 'The Actual Heart'.  This is a fine closure, a positive crescendo that finds inner strength and commits an act that really is one that should be carried out each and every day.  Let go, give your love, throw away your impeding emotive shackles - play this very loud and celebrate a state of grace where we are actually moving on.  The mix for this one needs to be exact and the balance of all areas both accurate and complimentary - the OT trio achieve this and some. Boom!

A sound and reliable CD with messages aplenty and delivered with what I hope is respect and love ( I reckon so).  I could go into the realms of punk rock analysis here and consider whether this is a punk album or not but... why the fuck would I?  If music has passion, good attention, a thought process behind it and is done with good intent then the need for an added label is nonsensical. If I like the tunes that is a mere bonus and if I don't like them then so be it and respect me for saying so.  This however is a good album - it ain't full on power, it ain't pop as such and it may not be 'punk' enough for ya - but it is a darn good disc of delights - have it!

JEAN MIGNON - MIGNON 7

I like the style, the speed and the scum-fuck suavity of Jean Mignon - the sub-garage rabidity of the noise, the terse running times and the unruly mania that pervades all areas piques the primitive sonic senses and, more often than not, I come away from a review quite pleased with most of what has transpired.  The New York based rapscallion of rhythm chucks out 4 tracks here and I duly put in my thoughts after receiving the vibes via the webwaves.

'Tarmac Gold' shoots out from the speakers like sizzling spunk from the genitals of a Bombardier Beetle.  A two-beat, a lunatic holler and then the foot is pressed on the accelerator and all hell lets loose.  High energy dysfunctionality slapped in yer mush with a  whizzed up, unwashed relish and over and done with in double wick time,  Slap, bank, bollocks baby - have it and pogo like a goon, it is all astounding stuff.

Straight into 'Won't Put Him Down' we go, great pace, electric pulsations of barbituated loaded zeal and a general mush of acoustic madness that one can't decipher only duly enjoy.  This is fast rock and roll and magnetises the senses, intrigues all the areas that love unprocessed, unaffected rancorous rhythm making.  Slagged and sleazy with a 'fuck you' paradoxical decency, this is another mucky manifestation that reeks of earthy reality.

Boom, bang, yelp and a smooth and more controlled groove comes as 'Lookin' For Stairs' snots off, sneers and snarls and takes its time with the overall trash and splash musical grooming.  More off the cuff and reactive than the previous two offerings but this alteration in pace is needed and with the consistent dirty grind style and relaxed and rockin' riffery, this is a tasty piece that gets spicier with each nibble. 

We close with the glorious regulation riot of 'I Did It And I’d Do It Again'.  Coruscated crud is scraped from the scalp of the serenader before a primeval scream opens the gateway for another bout of spittle-soaked, rambunctious riot-making.  This is a scorching beauty delivered with accuracy and an distinct uncouthness that is quite ruddy glorious.  A supreme explosion that rattles the membranes and punishes any areas deemed lethargic.  The lunatic waywardness is delightful, the fact that the player keeps all in line and scuzzily tuneful make this a real winner for me.

Jean Mignon knows his stuff and executes it with aplomb.  A four track is ideal for this kind of noise and I hope these sizzle-snippets keep on coming.  I am choosing the latter track as my 'Song of the Month' - yes baby, yes.

REINE DES LEZARDS - I'M SOLD

A brace from a new creative force on the Metal Postcards label.  I jump in and do, know nothing and come out none the wiser. IN the mix is a guest appearance from Half Naked Shrunken Heads - the plot thickens - gloops, gloop.

'I'm Sold' clambers from shifting subterranean shadow realms were ambiguity and vagueness dominate.  With insistent persuasion, and some effort on behalf of the luggite, a semblance of something akin to a song unfolds, a sub-sonic creation not for those who like to immerse themselves in the obvious it seems.  The general wired and wayward backflow has a construct that just about falls into the boundaries of organised and we end up with a mind-boggle enigma that has many gradients of esoteric interest provided concentration is maintained.  Weird, perhaps under-mixed and with no defining hook, this is hard gruel to swallow if the stomach acids aren't balanced.

'Sasha For President' squelches in, mutters, utters and generally splutters.  A contrast of that which has lucidity and that which is uncertain and nebulous sees the latter hold precedence whilst a  fidgety feel keeps matters moving.  The overall looseness and shimmering molestation leaves me somewhat disturbed, unmoved and cold - there is a lack of something highly definite and defining here and after several rotations I really can't summon enough inner interest to garner any form of intrigue.  I walk away unimpressed and disappointed - it happens.

2 songs, a quick review, I am not in sync with the spillage and don't really get or like what has transpired.  Sometimes this is how matters roll, this is not to say this is crud and it should not stop the creators doing what they do.  I have tried here, listened in but as I say to many folk 'no one can like everything they hear, especially if they are covering many realms'.  What can one do?

GRLDCK - DEMO

In this day of plugged-in addiction and piffle it seems the main bulk of review requests I get are done via the digital drain.  This is a good thing in the fact that it saves on space and stops me building up an unfathomable CD collection that I really struggle to deal with.  On the other hand, too many are ensnared by the trappings of the wired up wank age and I remain dubious about the whole shitty shebang.  Anyway, come what may, I crack on against an unstoppable force and deal with some Queercore from Hamburg, it sounds intriguing but then most stuff does when it comes as a teaser.  I am hoping for something off kilter here, I plunge in like a loon faced with a man eating lion - I does stupid very well indeed.

A pointless opening sees a whispering pug and two others exchange words regarding a vibe - I can't see the point here - can you?  Is it about taste?  Is there some subliminal message that may turn me into a turnip?  Fuck knows and onto music proper with the pain-laden rambunctiousness of 'Let Me Be' - an explosion from an angle where the individual can't be accepted and anything outside the circle of normality is pounced upon.  This has a good NY old-school slagginess and plenty of power reactions that enthuse the gob to keep going at it.  A real feisty affair with plenty of rage, clarity and natural rhythm-making awareness.  The end production values are spot on and there are plenty of balls, bits, breasts and whatever you want - bared with ill-temper, have it ya doubters and down-shouters! 'Burn Flame Burn' has a need, a panging and a forthright compunction to resist, defy and stand firm.  A sub-violent explosion that has clearly had enough, all done and dusted in a quick volcanic eruption that singes rather than sears, suggests rather than slams home.  There could be more done with this arrangement but short and fiery is never a bad thing and so I pootle on and say no more!

'Callout 1' is glam slaggery issued forth from a den of sozzled-head iniquity where the so-called freaks and weirdos hang out.  Garaged sub-psychedelic manifestations from realms where colours are garish and cool, all are pissed on and people can be what they wanna be without fear of treading on anyone's sensibilities.  A mucky pup licking at the lower parts of the listener, I do wonder if I am guilty of a full-on submission!  'DRM-BT_1' is a quick burst of desire, almost akin to a jam session with a frenzied need to 'get seen to'.  A sub-song, as natural as you like but in truth, not really grabbing my attention and turning me on.  'Fingered In Line' is a stumble-bumble confession from what sounds like a heap of sordid shittery that I for one am happy to leave to others. Some may be shocked and cocked, some may be amused and consider themselves liberal - I am merely bored by the behaviour that would be better off done in private.  The sound has a good reckless edge and an uncertainty with a collapsing finale - an unfinished product I reckon, just like the fumbling it seems.

'Top Shortage' briefly groans before screaming its way to blessed relief.  As I screw up the earholes I struggle to make out what the gob is harking on about but take the presumptuous decision that it will be undoubtedly sex-based.  A confused number that can't make up its mind as to what it wants to be methinks - one that is over and done with in the blinking of a bloodshot and weary eye, I remain indifferent to this one and really can't add any more. 'Give Space' is a kick-back against the ongoing prejudice that will appeal to those looking to make a change (sometimes it seems, just for the sake of it).  This is poetry done with an absence of sound and then with a tumultuous backdrop of ill-intent.  The fuckin' human mush is a bastard disgrace and the divisions and fallings out still go on no matter how many holler. I don't mind this, it has a culture and a good intent - is anyone fuckin' listening - aaggghhh!

More talk under the guise of an 'Outro' - hey ho.

In truth this is really not my cup of cha', a bit too crude in many ways and with a rather unfinished feel I think.  There are moments to ponder though and potential is there to be utterly tapped but for now, I shall leave others to make up their minds about this one – I gotta be fair.

THE HALF NAKED SHRUNKEN HEADS - LET'S BUILD A BOY

A debut EP from a UK crew on the Metal Postcards label.  What the fuck is it, who are they, why do I indulge in these things?  I reckon there are connections, I am laden with suspicions but hey, we gotta go in fresh, vibrant and with an unblemished neutrality.  Here are four tracks, here are four examples of Fungalised pondering - I hope all fair, transparent and very real.

We start off with the title track 'Let's Build A Boy'.  A slow blue-light warning comes, the sonic angularity takes time out and comes in spurts whilst the vocal contributions weave along and almost talk their way to the fore of the soundscape with all manners of melodica switched to lo-fi and lethargic.  There is a slight relished anticipation within the spillage but you have to do some work to pick it up.  A very twisted piece that may have in-built creative ambition but can we trust the builder with the end result?  Considerations from strange recesses of the mind and a song lacking in the crucial snag factor.  A misshapen hunchback of noise I reckon.

Beneath the upper and middling layers of resonance comes a suffocated sprawl-scrawl that struggles to build up any semblance of impetus and thus leaves the listener (well, this one at least) utterly deflated.  With a bit of pep in the tank and some extra ping and pop sonic sensation there is a foundation here on which to build.  'Karen Lee' is an idle layer of glutinous cream that only the extremely gluttonous will get fat on - this is definitely not for me.

'Take Me Away' is a soothed disco sub-sound with a whispering plea emitted by a feminine delicacy who refuses to get overly emotive.  Fractured porcelain touches, shuffling astro edges and a roaming bassism all add to a feeling of general waywardness and what could be a subliminal deception.  I feel as though the creators are up to no good here and creating mind melts that may pervade deeper than we realise.  Another cranium crippler done in the most sinister way possible.

'Subspace Johnny Ace' is the best track of the lot, it has a good drive and a certain rust-bucket edginess.  The vocals have apealing clarity, the tempo is efficient, the words wise and offering up another warning.  I suspect this one would work best in the 'live' arena, especially if escorted by dazzle razzle lighting and strobing to fit the intergalactic requirements.  There are no real pulsar blasts of infra-red explosiveness but the song does what it does in a decent, semi-abstract style. Whoosh - watch out for the asteroid belts folks.

So, four manifestations from Recess X, with no compromise to the dictating orthodox and no seeking to please others over self.  I feel like I have dealt with an 'unfinished article' in many respects but, having had various insights into kindred cacophonies this may be the end result.  Not my chosen material but I am happy I have dipped in and experienced what goes on outside many circles.  Please - don't become too insulated, never be afraid to tonally trespass where others fear to tread.

DROPPING LIKE FLIES - 5TH GENERATION PROPAGANDA MACHINE

A very articulate band who are based in the recessed realms of Wales and who pour forth an eclectic cum hectic cavalcade of cacophonic passion that may just tread on a few toes and of course, delight those of a tonally intrepid nature.  We live in times though when socialising, posing and wanking off each other's popularity ego seem to override actually taking note of noise and striving to throw a spanner in many works.  Comfort zones kill, apathy speeds up the process, overlooking angles is a disgrace.  Anyway, I throw caution to the wind, chuck in my attention and knock out the following assessing text.

Explosion Alpha - 'The King's Shilling' - a screwing guitar, a rise in the heat with a shuffle scuffle and then a deep breathe exhalation, stick rattles and we are away.  Fast, vicious and intense with liquidity within the molten molestation very much a key factor.  Multifaceted switches and surges amid tribal chants and rantings make this an off-kilter lesson in the seethingly unorthodox.  The message - fuck the wars and the profits and spit back against this ongoing vile crime where the select keep on gaining.  Within the weave is a mellowed moment to consider all, and then we head to the finale with all muscles flexed, the route meandering but all the while... absorbing.  A very healthy and kicking start with hefty levels of piquing excitement.

'Look At The Zoos' deals with subject matter that is close to my heart.  Animals always seem to get a duff deal in this world, the wild ones more so.  Here the zoos and circuses become the centre of the spittle spraying as well as the welfare of animals in general.  A tub thump, some grunts and compressed wire wanks and then a scream increase the tempo and in we go.  Darkened recesses are opened, a sinister atmosphere is threaded through the eye of your attentive needle - the intensity comes in waves, the band are in no rush to slap home their point and we get many heave-ho's thrown at us from various tangential nooks and crannies.  A growing song that has a swelling stature you may just be consumed by and one that may just force you to think a little harder (it ain't a fuckin' crime tha' knows). 'Midnight' is a filthy mauler liable to molest your nether realms of decency and bring about a climax of sheer unease.  The contrast of pace, the eccentricity of the arrangement, the whole capricious feel make for a schizoid bout of untrustworthiness that sees a potential copulation of strange forces and dubious decadents.  A very strong piece that showcases a band with great thermal energy and a poetically astute creativity that transcends the expected 'crash, bang, wallop and sometimes caveman' arenas of spiky obviousness.  The result of the fiendish intercourse is the freakish birthing of a concrete song with appreciable longevity.

'5 Second Edit' comes, the declining realm due to TV overdosing continues, this song starts with heavy tub tumblings, a metallic guitar wank and some AC/DC style throat screeches.  A chant and sub sing-along opening burst ensues, a great wealth of muscularity is exposed as the throat of sonic stress is torn asunder.  Some insane ranting, unhinged warblings molest matters, we continue with the heavy rock string show with extra wallop and ill-temper added to keep one guessing.  A multifarious mush of momentum that gathers its own speed and sucks one in (not 'off' unless you are very lucky of course - ooh heck).

'Throw That Needle Away' is a superb blast of unstoppable turbine-powered wind whipping.  A veritable anti-drug mad dash that flashes by and leaves one beaten, battered but utterly resolute.  A superb speed surge with an intolerance exposed and a fervid zest to crack on and defy the drag of the dope.  A great delivery with a manic momentum that really does rise high and keep the whole CD's momentum rushing - surely the only rush you need folks!  'Nostalgia For Ignorance' is a desperate yearning for times when the head was laden with naivete, awash with innocent magic and not slam-dunked with the constant barrage of soul destroying shittery.  From the opening flourish this one is fuckin' having it and, as a result, - so am I!  There is a heartfelt quest and a searching need that works within the hammering weave whilst all the while matters are perfectly balanced, lucid and with many a neat touch.  This is a well-oiled machine lubed in parts many others may not even consider (unless they have a lot of time on their hands).  From the opening flourish this is a one mighty mover and  in its own special way, is tattooed with a distinct sadness - crafty work indeed.

There is a very forthright 'fuck off' tattooed deep within the sinewy flesh of the next number.  'Look Him In The Face And Say His Name' has a superfluity of passion, defiance and knowledgeable ringcraft that sees the thriving pug jab, hook, uppercut and ultimately 'kaboom'.  There are many layers to the foaming intentions with all perfectly functioning and brawling for centre stage without ever overpowering their nearby kicking and thumping neighbour.  The flaming incandescence of the overall assault is effective and very draining.  This is noise to abandon oneself too and to really fuckin' appreciate.  The tick boxes are trashed, we move on without generic snags and hindrances - crackin' stuff and ideal for hitting the bag with (no, not your elderly neighbour ha, ha).  From another powerful behemoth we plunge into the tenderly texturized intricacies and open-hearted 'Beautiful Lies'.  The content deals with lost love and pain, has a carefulness and timidity to the opening throes before a blossoming comes and inner emotions are revealed.  The skins are trampled, sighs are heaved out and all matters are off the leash.  Like the effect of a primeval scream, the stress is relieved and after a swift rant the whole scenario is given stunning extra life via a quite beautiful chorus cut.  Contrast comes, paces is varied, rich and ornate moments are delivered with great relish and again we see a 'thinking band' thrive and oversplash the fruit of their fecund loins.  I find this one a highly satisfying banger with added culture - nice.

'We Are Not For Sale' spiral twists, screws to the core and chants.  A personal song that deals with the goings-on in the life of a trying soul - it is good to share.  A sub-rappy mish-mash with meat on the bone walloped here and there and heavy duty musicianship to keep you alive and kicking.  One of those moments when time is needed to fully grasp the gist and a song that doesn't initially grab the gonads of the eavesdropper and squeeze out pure pips of praise.  Evolution of the nodding erection takes place, a seepage of appreciation cums, the tremble-tastic suggestion is of a grower - I am wondering if I will need a bigger pair of shorts come this time next revolution - there is certainly promise and arousal here.

We fuck off, sign the dotted line and slam the door with 'Magpies'.  An escapade that deals with vile abuse, the commanding and demanding slave drivers who use and abuse the innocent young un's and set up failings for life.  A really lush and fruity escapade that bounces in like a jive-assed gold nugget hunter with his chestnuts on fire.  The jig soon becomes serious and we morph into a slam-dunk style with good rhythm shown.  This is very talented music that doesn't sit still, rest on its laurels and take the easy route.  There is a controlled chaos borne from a 'head full of tangents' approach that soaks up the attention like a blood thirsty tampon never to be sodden.  Head transfixing master works done by heads cultivated, cultured and I suspect, a tiny bit clutter-bucketed.  Smashing!

You know what, I like this lot.  Fuckin' friendly people with a fiery musical approach coming at ya from all angles.  The last time they played for me many folks gasbagged at the bar rather than give the band a chance.  The few that watched were impressed, next time I will chase up every ass and get them paying full attention to the racket - it is only fair that they get a look at something quite fuckin' exciting.  Tha' gotta be persuasive at times tha' knows - by crikey it is tiring but thank fuck for worthy music makers and their art!

AUSTIN T - GOING OUT EP

Nah then man, as ya may know I like to mix and match the vibes that I showcase and of course, vary those that bounce off the lug drums when I am in solitude.  Music is one of the spices of my life and I am not one to stick to a single flavour.  Austin T have played a couple of my DIY sonic scab showcases and have entertained me no end.  The earthy blues, the sliding string work, the smooth streetwise gobbage and the energy, laden harmonica highs as well as the general back rhythm all had me aurally agog so when the chance came to review some toons, I duly accepted.  A 5 track EP was sent forth, I invested my time and rocked along to some sweat-free dude beats with plenty of snazzy know-how - here are the Fungalised thoughts that tap-tapped from the end of my 'Bell Ringers'.

'Shot To Ribbons' is a cool cruiser done with a delightful ease that captures some real sun-baked throwback blues that I for one am right in line with.  The delicacy of the oral gifts is a surprise, the smooth, unassuming application of the strings and skins is ideal and the reclined feel to the perfectly positioned gob organ is precise and highly effective.  There is an insightful tattooing of tone here that displays a unit who know their style and certainly know how to deliver it.  The tempo and temperature is balanced and sweetly middling and what we end up with is an appetising slice of sublime sonica that doesn't over face the eavesdropper.  'Going Out' follows, a song with a similar style but with a bit more forcefulness in part and a trifling touch of increase in the beat.  Ultimately, the snippet is an uncomplicated episode of sound that sees the band take no risks and not force any issue.  This one sits slightly in the shadow of its predecessor but it is a minor tickler that keeps matters intriguing and the flow moving. Subtle artistry with understanding shadings!

'Why You Talkin' To Me'  pootles in, a quick count, the harmonies of the gob come, the first verse is slightly relaxed before the chorus is quick, effective and chomping.   A terse number that has a good edge to it and a 'don't fuck' acidity that gives the song further gumption.  The contrast between the approach keeps up the danger levels and gives a certain 'untrustworthy' aspect.  I suspect if one was pushed to name and shame a number as the most punky (whatever that is) then this would be it.  A neat and 'at it' inclusion.  The following number is a real gem, a Man in Black moment with a slow and considered approach delivered with such insightful erudition and exactitude so as to sweep the listener of their feet.  A slow break with minor threatenings that are more effective due to the almost cold and calculating oral spillages.  The whole meandering motion of the song is delicious and complements all other tracks in no uncertain style.  The influences are obvious, nothing outrageous erupts but this is a well-crafted moment with plenty of traditional touches - a cracking job and the definite pick of the pops.

Cough, splutter - wot no spit?  A controlled opening sequence takes us into the closing track, a number that is played out under the appellation of 'Just Around Midnight'.  A grooving mover with a distinct drive.  A sinister accent helps matters and offers a slightly new angle to CD.  The approach is still perspiration free and remains under the full control of the cacophonists, cacophonists may I add who certainly know their stuff.  Almost akin in slant to a certain 'Lemonade' advert I reckon but on a more serious note, this is a real shuffle-inducer played with erudite insight into a subgenre sorely neglected in these apparently eclectic times.  All round good stuff and the bass is given good room to breathe here too - shady man, shady.

Well, what a cracking 5 tracker this is - away from the spiky realm, outside that which I expected and all parcelled and packaged with great unassuming texture, a fine thermality and a variation of theme that has me waiting in great anticipation for the next offering.  I have the crew booked again, I am tickled purple by the fact, I hope they do the business as usual and a few more folk switch on to the vibe - tis' all round wholesome and entertaining stuff!

NEON CRABS - MAKE THINGS BETTER

A coupling of forces, a strange manifestation from folk who have interfered with my discordant decadence and further bent it into shapes both intrusive and vulgar - I suppose it needed doing.  If you are up to speed with my online scribbling you will know where things are coming from here.  If you are dragging your lackadaisical ass and need further insight, go and do some acoustic investigations and let me do what I do.  Come on, we have to be fair tha' knows.

'Make Things Better' has a scurfy move and groove infection inflection that goes some way to producing an appreciable semi-erection.  The bass is the driving force, it has focus and a seeming pre-destined date with the final full stop that it appears very much in need of making.  The metallic scratch and sniff six-strung wire work is real, unaffected and reactive whilst the skins know their place and roll out necessary regularity.  The oral tones are more than familiar and do a great deal in helping create a veritable angularised post-punk product.  Nice!  We fall into the second cutlet of tonality with 'Goth It' - a shimmery meander dream sequence with all areas wallowing in the shallows and in no rush to get from point A to point B. The tones that emanate from the headphones and drip into my lug caverns are mighty familiar and so I am attracted (I do wonder if others will feel the same).  This is slow going and mood-laden with the thoughtful oral abstractions off-the-cuff and seemingly without preparation.  A middling movement and certainly not every day listening but, it has its own brand of intrigue.

'Space Vibes' is indeed just that, intergalactic gently fantastic temperate warp weaving that summons visions of escapist oddballs jiving and jacking whilst the asteroid belts continue to turn til time doth duly expire.  There is a great and obvious B52-ian edge here, a distinct off-the-wall, outside the radar effect that keeps the noise trundling with tangents and a certain freshness.  Get your spacesuit on, hop on board SS Capricious and enjoy the trip outside the stratosphere of normality.  The oral donator has a good relish here, I think we should all adopt the same inclination although I think we best leave the 'Robot Dolls' to those who have specific needs - the last thing I need to do is short-fuse my conkers.

'Age Of Annihilation' is a sober and quite bittersweet sounding song with a stark disbelief at the world around us and the idiot goings on that the human junk can only keep on creating.  The tepid brew swirls with a confounding disillusionment with the questions eternal and seemingly without answer.  I find this one a real conundrum with its content clashing with the soothing bubble-bath tones - I am happy to lounge within the foam and consider - I think this ain't a bad way to be.  A mellow meander that does what it does well - ooh aye!

Next and 'Some Random Country' jingles and jangles and has a good electrical spark.  There is a paradoxical connected disconnection between components with the bass the cementing factor.  A multi-legged frog of racket-making with the next jangle jump liable to end up anywhere.  There is a subtle sci-fi, 'another world' sensation and a general oddness that seems to wind itself up.  Music once again to thrown in the mix of more sedate and routine fare - it all helps the end meal taste spicier.

The last brace, 'Hard Times' is a rising reptile of rhythm,, waking from a slumber and slowly predating the decency of ones senses.  There is a darkened glint in the eye of this stalking cacophonic creature - dare you step too close and risk the denouement?  There is an unstoppable quality to the doom laden advancements with an almost drooling abandonment of hope.  Something impending and unavoidable is set in stone, the future is written and maybe these players are mere vessels to pass on the outcome - not a bad do for those of a pessimistic bent!  Lastly and 'J Spaceman's Blues' is a fair finish but with sable details regarding substance abuse and the inescapable circle of decline one is destined to end up in.  The druggy companions seem to help each other but instead contribute to the unforgiving drag.  The approach here is matter of fact, a lick is found, a mode used and stuck to and we begin, progress and finally tumble away on an interesting footing.  

And another CD review done, another dabbling in the arts of the abnormal it would seem and I reckon, during my investigation, I have been entertained, kept on my toes and come across something a little different for ya.  The turntable of twisted tonality from the vaults of DIY dabbling must be a vehicle on which to emanate all sorts of vibrating invasions - here is something for you to have a think about and maybe include in your play lists.