THE GUILTY PLEASURES - WHAT ARE WE FIGHTING FOR

Every year in the punk rock kitchen numerous punk rock sausages are thrown in the air and their destinies are left to that neutralised aloofer chance.  Some sizzlers flop unceremoniously to the floor left victim to the all consuming critical rat that devours the hearts of the less stubborn players.  Other prime porkers land in the bin, almost as soon as the potential to be something is upon them they are lost forever due to nothing more than sheer bad luck.  Some bangers come to rest near to the hob of action where the close proximity of the flame offers hope and prolongs life but then soon scares and the edible willy shrivels and fades into an unrecognisable state.  The lucky ones tumble straight into the frying pan of punk rock where a real opportunity to 'get cooking' lies and a chance to release all the potential flavours within and achieve the tasty highs of spitting brilliance.  The cooking process can be long or brief dependent on the environment and the weeners wants.  One thing that can be said now is that The Guilty Pleasures are definitely in the pan.  The following CD is a real step up in class and has a consistent rage and deliverance so as to make one realise this lot are now set to a higher degree of heat and look ready to fry.
 
The electric storm that begins 'Fear, Hate, Lies, Deceit' bodes well and looms large without disappointing.  Plenty of vocal discomfort, rattling bass, knife edge guitar and slamming drums all merge to make a thunder and lightning opener.  A stirring essence is exuded and built upon with the mature classiness of 'Forget About The Future'.  A superb guitar sequence enlivens the whole rumble and there are one or two other moments that drip precocious talent.
 
'What Are We Fighting For' is a seething brew that breaks beautifully into a professional chorus worthy of any band.  Many obvious influences are had here with Anti-Flag, Rancid and UK Subs most blatant but for me the GP's add enough of their own fuel to make this a blaze of their very own.

'Corrupt Authority' storms with vehement pace and is a peach equalled in style with the commanding epic 'Goodbye To The UK'.  This is remarkable stuff and although the production may be about 10% down on a real masterpiece this is still a stunner.
 
With balls dropped the GP machine churns on and 'Nation State' roars along on vibrant bass and gnashing lyrics.  In the bellowing slipstream comes 'Dead And Gone' another number impregnated with capable musicianship and attention to detail.  The static boost of 'Governments Get Away With It' salivates a rythmic spittle awash with poisonous infection - a song that enters the brain and refuses to leave until its melodic contagion has well and truly seeped into every ounce of cerebral tissue.
 
'World Religion (Causes War)' upholds the conflict theme and is a slightly heavier track with more sonic boom and weighted undercurrent.  It's another pip in a well seeded fruit as is 'Their Army, Their War' which is generally more regimented in melody but fractures superbly into a haunting tune of armeggeddon and death.
 
'Brainwashed' and 'Media Deception' close a very exciting effort indeed with the former containing a profundity of sound that reverberates strongly and with the latter containing an acoustic showcase that exudes a willingness to experiment and push boundaries.
 
In the fatty seas of punk rock flotsam The Guilty Pleasures have at last found bouyancy which I am sure they will maintain and sail strong and true into further murky waters.  May many a turd and used condom float by as this rocking trio find warmer and more welcoming oceans in which to cruise and may the accolades come as deserved.  Great stuff indeed and as a follower (and fan) of the GP crew I hope they keep on going in this new found direction.

A WAR AGAINST SOUND - DEMO CD 08

A genuine dividing CD this one with a plethora of sub-genres vomited forth to create a technicoloured mix some may deem as aurally aesthetic others may scent as nauseous.  As a reviewer delicate scrutinisation and dissecting analysis is adopted in almost Sherlockian style before any ink is scrawled across paper.
 
The game eventually gets afoot with a composure of abrasive guitar and smooth caressing bass entitled 'Mediocrity'.  The opening burst is both vibrant and not overly busy thus avoiding the self destructive conclusion many other equally talented bands end up with.  With a more accomplished final edit the separation of scratch and serenity could have been more distinct and therefore more effective.  Nonetheless this still works and its identifying characteristics are imitated dubiously as the pursuing doppleganger  'Sakes Sake' kicks into action.  Filled with nifty moves and interchanging moods of attack the longer effort dilutes its own impact by failing to hit the finishing line on time.  It is a case of overcooking a decent song but I am not blinkered enough to not recognise that this could be a failing of my own 2 minute pogoing psyche.  Awash with potential the song does continue the unique theme.
 
If ones concentration dips then track 3 'Deflated Law' slips in unnoticed and the similarity between this ditty and the previous track is too obvious and nullifies any change in course and ambience.  Again consistency is maintained with the feeling that terser, to the point numbers are where the band will find more appeal as well persisting with the grungier moments.  The mellow skank and tinkling guitars work a treat and the tumbling bass is a real busy partner that adds to the resultant end blend.  Vocally the emotive inflection is complimentary and the only overall niggle is in the fact that the harder edged segments don't cut in more brutally.
 
It's a nice 3 track taster and as a promo should arouse curiosity and kindle interest in a forthcoming release.  I'd like to throw these in on a nice punky bag of power as the contrast should be striking.  I do suspect we have a good live band here.

POP FOSTERS - YOUR MUSIC IS SHIT - SORT IT OUT

With a self-effacing title and a sound from an industrial container this garage/punk leakage soils the very speakers from which it oozes with its delightful drone and dense ambience.  The textures are woven deep and the sinister syndrome absorbs rather than ensnares and with careful consideration a good CD is revealed.  Throughout the entire mix one feels criticism may not be far away but apart from the production (which I personally like) this is actually a hard construction in which to nail any sincere niggles.  Strange but true!
 
'Insane' is deliberate and engine-like with a persitant grind and pump that sees the song achieve and at the same time gasp for air with its gaseous, suffocated approach.  This is a compliment and is what gets the whole CD by.  'Firing Line' has a nervous, spasmodic affectation that jerks and quirks along with almost autistic shakiness.  The niavete and eroded scaffold that holds this building together adds character and may I be so bold as to add sublime success!  'Breakin' Up' follows in now recognisable style with a nebulous spaciousness that is paradoxiically both empty yet oppressive.  The elusive magic still works though albeit with a slight loss of focus here.
 
'Everydays The Same' comes across as a desperation concoction bordering on the edge of acoustica and is a simple snippet of factory fundamentals.  'Phoenix' retains the cavernous cacophony and is a sub-radio offering that is statically crisp  as well as being totally tuneful and charmingly corrosive.  'Myopic' gushes reminiscences of pre-punk US underground bootlegs that were ropey as fuck but worthy of a listen.  In fact advancing a few years from this time of carefree production Sid Vicious released a solo effort called amusingly enough 'Sid Sings' and the barrel rolling discordance that resonated from the vinyl is very much similar to this mincing mash.
 
The deliberate gothic of 'The Accused' is the albums lofty listen and is a hard driven erasure that spearheads towards the finale with grim intent and touchy tunnel vision.  The dense atmosphere and overwhelming nature of this composition has vague similarities with Joy Division and I am sure that added effects and more time with baroque finalisation a veritable haunting would be had.  Despite this the track is a creeping corpse with enough blackened resonations to be a minor curse.  'Samuel Byck' opposes the bleak air with a popping beat and bubblegum inflection.  Intertwined is a preaching soapbox style of vocal that makes a real mix of madness to ponder.
 
Passers-by of this roughened noise would surely turn up their noses and critically classify this CD as shite but fools that they are they are missing out on a crucial listen.  'The Night Before' is as unsettled as anything so far and again a doomed tone is adopted .  Nice!  'Self Health Preservation Society' goes back to the simple pop formula and clatters to success with a beautifully incorporated ending that is both moribund and unhinged.

'Eternally True' is an oily romance sinisterly slumbering in hair-raising style. A nice slow piece that crawls subserviently into the similarly paced 'USA'. Both laboured efforts work despite my initial concerns as to whether this band could still be effective at half speed. Lacking the cut of quicker snippets but still good enough to change the flow and add diversity.

'John Peel' squeaks and chugs along and gives me the feeling that the sorely missed music enthusiast would have dearly loved to give this disk a few spins and therefore peddle to the outside world. More Joy Division similarities are had and its then into the pessimistic drawl of 'The Band With No Fans'. A terse piece of acoustic brilliance that says so little but captures all.

The signature tune 'Your Music Is Shit' perfectly closes a gathering of songs that glow with unaffected pride and wholesome basicness. The intrinsic vein that makes music pleasurable runs deep here and more fanciful productions are equalled and some paled into insignificance as this low budget disk promotes a fantastic DIY ethic. Many will adore this retro recording and the downright simplicity and 'anyone can have a go' vibrations it emits is surely achievement enough.

URBAN SCUM - A CLOCKWORK TIME

An active offering here with plenty of mouth and controversial ravings. Droogy Boogie anti-hippy bovver boys and gals will lap this up and the working class Oi brigade will romp and stomp will glee as this quintessentially British bombardment says how it is with complete unconcern for upset and the PC thinking twats. Agree or disagree with the politics or deplore or adore the musical content - I say its real, has bollocks and certainly isn't no slack-jawed offering some of the more younger brigade turn out. There is a good mix of sounds here with one faux pas which is merely insignificant compared to the wealth of pleasing moments.

With bowler donned and boots laced 'Scooter Boys' is struck forth and is a solid opening rev that neatly introduces us to the classy turbo drive of Urban Scum. Rather than hard-edged knuckle cracking riffs the US crew rely on neat subtlety and magnetic melody for this commencing ditty and it works well. Following on is the more powerful and indeed aggressive 'Watch Your Back'. A hippy kicking tirade and one I am sure is borne of a hatred for all liberal thinking do-gooders who have blindly brought this country to its knees and opened the floodgates for the piss-taking wankers to rule the roost. Gets my vote and a fuckin' good tune too!

At this point it is worth noting that when listening to this CD it is suggested that the volume is cranked really high so as to give the whole recording a true lease of life. Some CD's get away with low volume listens and makes the reviewers task somewhat easier. This needs a real power surge and so in danger of pissing the neighbours off I listened loud so as to give a thorough assessment and overview. Just a thought to bear in mind if you buy this blasting ten tracker!

Anyway '1969' chops in with aggravated venom and keeps the standard mighty high with its loyalty ridden content and fuzzed up noise. The clarity and quality is retained and my young 10 year old daughter is a real fan of this whole outpouring much due to the two aforementioned positives. 'Hooligans' pounds the solar plexus with riffology and cutting overlays. The vocals smack of pride and the tribute to fist flying thuggery is a good un' and worthy of a place in the rucking halls of noise.

'A Clockwork Time' is a delightful oddity with chopping guitar, solid calmed vocals and a 60's psychedelia keyboard sequence dropped in here and there. The chorus has a Last Resort feel yet retains its own identifying characteristics. One of the best songs on the album and perhaps the weirdest. An excellent cut and a new aspect to the Urban Scum arsenal.

'After Rebellion' pays homage to the celebrated festival so many 'erberts enjoy and the hazards of drinking too much. Its a theme all too many are familiar with and the song does see out its intention. 'Big Mistake' is a decent song that is the one in the pack easily overlooked for favour of its more striking associates. However this song deserves a chance the note should be made of the way in which it maintains the standard set and the quaklity of the guitar work found therein.

Als good so far on the Urban Scum front and the homely homage that is 'Born And Bred' is a boastful success that ejaculates spunky pride and Yorkshire clout. A justified raising of the bar that I am afraid crashes to the ground with a clattering thud as the terrible 'Tits And Beer' rears its erect nipples only to become a flaccid flop due to the Brewers Droop lyrics that are strictly lads lad and sorely out of place here. The rhythm and melody are good stuff and are wasted on vocal wordage like this. I suppose its a good booze-up number but on such a promising album it sticks out like a blackman at a Klu Klux Klan convention. (Bernard Manning comedy - can't fault it).

So from a fungal frown to a fungal thumbs up as 'Sbronzo e fiero' wins the day and close a fine album in solid style. A skinbo anthem to savour and for me, overall, the job ain't a bad one. I'd like to see how this lot compare on a 'live' basis and going off a few You Tube videos it seems the show is a cracker. I suspect there will be a slight 'horses for courses' overtone to their career but the future could be rosy!

DED MOLE CRICKIT - DOPE BEATS

Riding along on the skanky jive express the Ded Mole Crickit crew rap and slap in cannabanoid cruise mode and present 4 dopehead ditties exuding musical experimentation and underflowing talent.  The narrative orchestration of 'The Symphony' is a dreadhead infusion that varies several laid back paces and modes of operation thus becoming a showcase of underground ability and transcending rhythm.  This could easily slip beneath several categorizing umbrellas of noise and as far as I am concerned it is a highly valid piece of listening matter that becomes even more pleasing after a few rolls of green and a couple of bottles of bronze.  It is a good agreeable construction to mix in with the more blatant punk violence I drown my eardrums in and makes a marked contrast indeed.
 
'Impotence' sidles in without catching the ear but no sooner as the rusty opening sequence become appealing than a smooth wine sipping trickle gently cascades within smoky quarters before a brick is hurled into the placating waters and ripples aplenty shatter the refelctive mood and ambience.  The vocal outburst is superb and opposes both harshly and effectively against the opening dreaminess.  Repeat twice and an instrumental finishing segment makes the end result nothing less than accomplished.
 
Jazzy shards of splintered guitar begin 'Death Ska Vendetta' before a more skankesque urgency is introduced along with an aberrant reggae jingle providing a taste to mull over and over again but never quite pin down.  Purely basckstreet club ska and ideal for hallucinating hashish nuts to chill and thrill to.  Not bad at all and a definite comma to add in many a punk rock tirade.  The 'live' recording is very good too and enhances the overall listen.  The bonus track 'Cheese Face' is also 'live'  and is basically a brief piss-about and thus closes the CD.
 
Yeah - I like this and two previous viewings of this lot have impressed me greatly.  DMC strike me as a band who really couldn't give a fuck and are purely in it for the crack.  With intent, more crashing waves could be made but the frothy foam they spill forth now and again does OK.  More recordings would be nice to hear just to see if the suspected potential could be well and truly harnessed. Jah rasta!

AFS - DELIRIUM TREMORS

I have followed AFS from near enough day one and have been taken aback by the amount of quality product these guys hit the market with. In equal measure I am totally dumbfounded by the amount of ignorance as regards the band in general and the quality ditties they so easily dish forth. This is a tidy outfit who have a plethora of classic tracks to their name yet still struggle to maintain a foothold in this more than precarious scene. Their anti-clique stance is admirable and the fact they tow no lines puts them straight into the fungal fave list. If their first album was a pre-pubescent outburst both musically and lyrically it was still crammed with delightful short, sharp punchy tracks which I thought made it a classic. Even though many quarters overlook AFS the ones in the know thoroughly appreciate what they do and readily chomp at the bit for more. A few E.P's and splits singles plus a mini album have displayed progress with an inkling for diversity and now we have the second full length album - a choice moment for fans. This time the balls are around the ankles and covered in a forest of fuzz with other general growth in all the important areas. So here is a review from a fan who expects - lets see what I got.

The first aural fuckin' comes via the Sub-esque punkishness of 'Wouldn't Wanna Be You' . It immediately captures the attention and neatly follows on from prior recordings. It says says so much and most importantly states AFS haven't forgot what they do best. Great opening and all initial worries of a progressive slip are banished and it's straight into the bustle of 'City Will Burn Tonight', the first advanced approach of the CD. Munki Bois' snarl still bites and the exhibitionist guitar work of Carl is well delivered (flash bastard ha, ha). The bass rumbles constantly and the drums, as expected, rattle in time with aplomb.

'Trouble With Bullets' highlights how AFS add emotive ambience to both vocals and instruments and this ditty is a casual flowing joy with a light heady melody to savour. Maintaining this melody and adding anger in equal balance is no mean feat but this lot do it so fascinatingly well. As an extra note to this songs dissection and knowing Carl so well and all his grunmpy stubborn ways I actually call this (and sing along to) - The Trouble With Baldies' - works bloody well too. He is a good lad though and I wouldn't change the fucker one bit despite the fact he gets on my tits now and again. If the whole scene had his determination, drive and focus and may it be said, selfless attitude towards helping others we'd be doing a whole lot better. He's still a bugger though!

'One By One' sustains the high level with musical nourishment and the straight talking lyrical content is only to be expected and the rant of 'politics is bullshit' encapsulates a large amount of this bands ethos. 'Duped' adopts the punchy theme again and yeah, it's really easy listening material to pick up, play, pogo to and please.

'Fight For Freedom' is brilliantly executed and a nice port of call to admire this band and their ability to build songs. This song is pursued by the extremely basic 'Don't Fit' which is a song any band could produce but couldn't execute as clinically. It resides here perfectly after its predecessor and it displays an unashamedly confident approach towards the belief that songs both simple and intrinsically more complicated can be equally effective and complimentary.

'Dysfunctional' is a semi-acoustic clip that is a pure cracker. It just gets better with each listen and again emotional delivery is the key as this unsettled, questioning rant thrives with disillusioned angst. 'Nobodies' is fuckin' brilliant and one of many personal favourites. The fact that some noodle of a reviewer classified these guys as 'immature european nobodies' proves many things the two most obvious being that the reviewer in question was a cunt and AFS can take criticism, piss on it and throw it back with humour. A lovely snippet and one of those you love for life. 'No Hope' almost is a twin brother of the aforementioned track but is awash with despondency and, paradoxically, the usual Foot Soldiers melody. A choice mix and the more serious 'Code Red' is well timed with its high alert overtones and intense guitar presence. Great chorus alongside an almost over-robotic verse and again, the song works a treat. 'Only Beer Can Save Us Now' is a confusion track which I get consistently muddled with 'Dirty Beer'. One I like one I am indifferent too - this one is the favoured

On we go with 'Architecture Of Life', a classic number and perhaps one of those noteworthy moments in the bands career as this track signified an advance in general outpourings and style when it was released on a previous mini-album. The industrial machine-like opening sequence is superbly executed and the disagreeing lyrical content against this pigeon-holing life and the traditions and procedures found therein is honey to my earholes. Truly excellent!

'Dead Man Walking' is an utter masterpiece and there isn't much more to add. It's high calibre stuff and worthy of anyones attention and is a definite must for the curious punk. 'Happy People' is a misanthropes dream and drips venom and rage thus getting the people hating crews vote. In fact (if you are inclined) whenever your neighbours next have a barbecue you can crank this ditty up to full volume, strip naked and dance in your garden, flipping the V, tugging your tool and thus generally ruining their day. Just a thought!

'Young Guns' breaks age barriers and is a gem that pays homage to the youthful bands who want it. Not the pricks who are just passing time in a scene or those filling a passion fashion but the ones who are stained for life with the punk rock cause. A peach of a song and the fact that these old fuckers kick the arse (in all ways) of many a younger outfit speaks volumes. 'Dirty Beer' closes and is the track I mentioned earlier which I am always unsure about - some days it works and some it doesn't and it is my least fave track on the CD. There a criticism - I knew I'd find one ya twats. Overall though this is a fuckin' corking CD with many cute touches and classic numbers. I love it and guess what? You get 2 bonus 'live' tracks too.

The now nostalgic 'God Squad' and the remarkable 'Guns For Oil' are 2 belters from the ever-growing AFS hit list and the quality of these 'live' efforts is spot on. Inside word has it that the 3rd album may indeed be 'live' and on this evidence I can't wait. Really clear stuff and capturing the bands shows to a tee hopefully a release will be with us real soon and the way this lot churn stuff out I wouldn't be surprised if it's released tomorrow.

GANGSTAS CORNER - COMPILATION

Lo and behold another test of my reviewing patience and time with yet another compilation featuring an assortment of bands and their own unique brand of noise.  The initial scan of the back cover displayed an inkling of the familiar and not so obvious thus promising another diverse mix of melodies.
 
As far as I am aware this is the debut release from this label and comes as a dedication to a Pete and Dug Dugdale who are presumably friends of the compiler. A nice touch and in some ways making the following review seem irrelevant as some things are just a tad more important.  100% for attitude is given but as for content...
 
To be brutally honest I don't like the opening track and feel that a starter to any CD needs to be bold and upfront and here I am afraid the impact made is less than flattering.  Project Morks 'Heisse Bastard Ja' does slightly improve with regular listens but the initial allurement and catchiness just isn't there and so a dud start is had.  The track is a trifle disjointed to say the least and despite having the odd beefy moment it just darts on in too many directions to make it a cohesive listen.  The quality of Red Flag however soon rectifies this weak start with the marvellous 'Eternity'.  A staunch band who effectively hit the net every time with every kick of the riff.  Vanilla Pod approach with the modernised 'Saturday Night Fight'  which is an altogether different mode of operation but maintains the quickly improved standard.  The youthful hardcore of Visual Offence is an acquired taste and one which I do like to partake of.  'Dean Stirred His Porridge' froths with electrified gumption and indefatigable adolescence and is a definite H/C listen.

Compact Pussycat's effort is more like a soft rock piece than a punky number and so doesn't inspire and the shamrock shindig 'Guns' by Mustard City Rockers is a turn-up in tunage and follows a regular Irish formula.  The new school riffs of Arch Stanton with 'No Harm Done' is a snippet of that lifeless mode of so-called punk which thrived for a brief period and which thankfully fizzled into almost obscurity.  It's poison to my soul although there is a market for this so enough said really - just one of those!  Fletch Cadillac get things back on track with 'Broken Dreams (For A Dying Heart)' and The Stray Bullets take things a step further with the regular and likeable 'The Only One'.  Toxic Terror bust through the door and horrify in many ways, dependant on your desires, with the awkward 'Make Haste'.
 
I'm struggling with this whole mix and it seems a case of opposing tastes that rarely find agreeable recipes.  Sometimes reviewing a CD can be a real twat!  On we go!
 
Goober Patrol contribute an eye-opening acoustic effort called 'Easy Answers' and it works mighty finely as do the torrential rapids of 'Girls Take Over' by Volunteers.  Kaotixx follow a similar mode of noise with 'We Bite Back' and Compact Pussycat offer their second and better expulsion with the retro feel of 'Filthy'.  Fletch Cadillac reappear with the juddering DK-esque cum pop cruising alertness of 'Better Tomorrow' and the CD comes truly alive with Red Flags' manic 'Insane People'.  A renaissance for a compilation full of crests and craters and this is probably the best track so far but alas is followed by the worst.  Arch Stanton again with 'Burning' which fails to even make a spark for this reviewers pen to work with.  The entire mix is a total anathema to my earholes that are battered with long term rage.  Sorry lads.

Hit and miss so far and Brownings 'In Remembereing' is a definite Tony Hart Gallery (remember this guy - jolly nice fellow he seemed) bastardisation that drifts in a more moribund style and will appeal to fans of the dreary -  but not to me.  Goober Patrol groovily rock with 'Mind The Gap', a bluesy stutter that is colourfully delivered and has no warning of the superb maniac thunderclap of the pursuing 'Stamp Out Self Doubt' by the Volunteers.  Kaotixx keep the energy levels high with the yell fest of 'I Can't Take It' and still the uncertainty of this CD has me confounded.  It really is a high/low affair so far but this in itself shows a high diversity and offbeat arrangement of sounds that certain extremes will undoubtedly find something to savour which is one of the prime objectives of a compilation.
 
And so again the tempo seems set when a slower stride is taken and the emerald tradition of 'Larkman Love Story' by Mustard City Rockers twinkle toes its way along the cobbled highway to Inner Ear City making merriment aplenty.  Visual Offence are totally hellbent on screaming their way to the top and often succeed and rarely fail.  They are somewhere in between here with a thrashing moment that whips and slips in equal measure.
 
The final 4 uphold thoughts so far with the raucous 'Banshee' by Stray Bullets being a ripped up blast of butt naked punk, Project Mork prod the lugs from all angles with the disjointed and yet curiously sounding 'Egg Bound, Vanilla Pod offer the pallid 'Poets On Payday' which is a sub-yank noise that is well executed and mellow enough for peripheral punkers and the finale comes by Goober City Rockers and 'Yellow Is The Colour' a piss about tribute to Delia Smiths canary boys Norwich City FC.  It does what it does and I wonder if Kevin Keelan made a comeback for this - now there's a name for ya.
 
Well I have worked hard on this CD and played over and assessed from different angles and given benefit of doubt to many flavours but overall honesty takes precedence and the verdict is 'could have been better'.  Hey it's well packaged and the meaning is wonderful bit I am here to assess the whole package and this isn't one of my fave spins.  It's an initial burst from a new label and as ever I am ready and willing to support and assess other stuff in usual truthful style.

TYRANNOSAURUS ALAN - SLAP BANG

The second time I have had the pleasure of reviewing an offering from these skanking reprobates and the marked improvement is immediately noticeable and displays that this dinosaur crew are on a steep learning and talent curve.  The main thing to remember when improving your sound is to maintain your own identity and I feel Tyrannosaurus Alan still do this although this 6 track effort is quite unsimilar to the previous release.
 
'People Like You' opens with a proclaiming fanfare of great adventure and introduces the band in tremendously exhibitionist style promising much for an initial 'live' viewing of this band.  If they replicate this intro piece onto the stage then I am sure all shows will kick off in glorious showy style and set up the rest of the set nicely.  The song ain't half bad either with a repititious brass section that backs up the street-rant tirades quite perfectly before the song folds in and cruises to a flowing dream-like segment and then ends with a final outburst.
 
The snake-charming qualities of 'Cheer Up' are indeed heartening and the final piece is a fuckin' great cut of optimistic skank.  Here quick vocal delivery and blissful brass entwine around each other in serpentine smoothness and the group chorus has a jive ass undercurrent that just adds to the overall appeal of this great ditty.  'Futures' comes across as a bit more traditional and has essences of an abundance of familiar sounds in the ska arena but Tyrannosaurus Alan nail this with expertise and obvious careful application therefore impressing all round.  The pace alteration so far is neatly camouflaged but very definitely there and it takes several listens to judge the different modes that this CD operates at.
 
'Burnout' tinkles along with a calypso smattering and a sunshine speckling before a somewhat obscure and unexpected sub-chorus slips in and out.  The same basic formula is evident and the track succeeds albeit a little less impressively than its excellent predecessors.  It's still a good do and 'Boom' quick marches in with an army style drill call but changing over to a street rap groove that breaks into clockwork skank and then repeats.  A curio that fails to make up its mind but doesn't detract from some good arrangement and delivery.  The ending is unexpected and abrupt and seems out of place but that is a minor blip on a thoroughly good CD.
 
The closure of the sextet comes in the persona of 'Ricky' - a song that has a gangster feel and a spaciousness that falls short at lower volumes but excels at full blast.  Previous twist, turns and inflections are summoned and re-mixed with a roughened chorus to boot.  No real complaints as such and TA have a CD that will showcase their obvious talent as well as one that still offers room for improvement.
 
Gigs should come aplenty on the back of this and I feel the next offering just needs a trifle more diversity and a few harder skanking moments thrown in to take things a stage further.  The capabilities are there so why not squeeze them to draining point and tap the potential to the full.  A band guaranteed to climb further if they want it enough and if they put in the dedication and selfless effort they will do just fine

THE SENTON BOMBS - TURN HEEL

Swaggering punk cum rock here with a melodic mix of adrenalin rush guitar, thumping drums and turbo bass that is thoroughly infected with snarl 'n' sneer vocals of the effective kind.  There's a whole watershed of influences and styles thrown into the mix reflecting the bands appearance and holistic delivery.  I consider this an educated and cultured concoction with careful insight taken into each and every ingredient before it is thrown into the melting pot.  Each song has its own character with many idiosyncracies and punky pustules all adding to the final tingle and thus highlighting a band that have a whole lot more in the locker than they are given credit for.  Not all work for me but most do so and that folks is opinions for you. With concrete foundations and a talent for composition this assortment of aural energisers has taken many a listen and with trepidation I attempt the review.
 
'Buy Me A Gun' bullets in with a rat-tat-tat crescendo before opening up full tilt and blasting brains in all directions.  An explosive track armed to the teeth with on-target rhythm and sincere vibration.  The vocals spark with emotive passion, the drums are additional ammo and both guitar and bass power surge.  An immense curtain up and 'Rogue Style' confidently asks you to 'get this' before steaming in with cool aplomb and measured aggression.  The arsenal of assorted weaponry that hurtles forth is cloaked with rock, punk, metal and glam poisons all tussling to give the most intoxicating effects.  The sonic podium is mounted and the consistent mix comes across well with a few u-turns taken to keep the listener keen.  'My Girlfriend Was A Nazi' (must have been the small black moustache that gave the game away) is a beefy piece of hairy chested tension.  It's an extremely unexpected blow-out and already the categorisation of this unit is a tricky task - successs indeed.

'Justice Lost' displays just why this CD has taken such a lengthy time to review as there is a lot to absorb and evaluate and also a fair amount of these songs are not instantaneous brain ticklers thus needing acute consideration before the nib rapes the paper and assessing words are scrawled.  This track comes across with an essence of forethought and confident posturing although it does have less in yer face bursts than other grenades.  'Charlotte Ann' has a cocky edge as it eases in with casual drums and funked up guitar.  A ready rumble is had but a very cock rock inflection is given that defies punk and slices it right open, tattooing the inner flesh with grooving rock rhythm.  It is a rare sound in a scene that is as diverse as they come but I can't knock it.  Individuality is a prize characteristic and hats off to a band who are unashamed to be different when so many critical pirahanas are waiting to feed.  The spiteful resonance helps this track to cross barriers and the heavier tones of 'Surf 6-66' crashes waves of metal shards and slips in nicely.
 
'Fame And The Wicked' is an atmospheric buzz of relished vocals that undulate with passionate inflection and are the moment when one realises we have a quite accomplished band here that are led by a superior frontman who really is a rock 'n' roll dude to the core.  You can almost feel the guy lose himself in the billowing blasts of sensual sonics and this is a good song indeed.  'Nightbreed' pulses with computer-like insistence and overspills into full rock imagery and loses some of it's punked up edged suffering as a consequence.  From a dish of tasty morsels these are the Crab Clit Crackers one may enjoy or leave at the side of the plate.  Personally I'd have a nibble now and again but really it misses my flavour haven completely.  'You Live, You Buy, You Die' is back on line as the sanguine delivery takes precedence and struts along in classy mode with a catchy chorus to boot.
 
The final quintet is in no way as striking as all that as gone before and this is a shame as the band I feel could have gone out with a real fire-cracking burst. 'Silencio D' Amor' opens with sincere class but drifts along without committing itself. 'Violet Black' again begins slowly this time with a sinister calm before an obvious storm and is not a bad piece at all. It is one of those that you have to listen to over and over before definite opinion is had. However I may wake up tomorrow and say it's shite - you know the kind of song I mean. It does retain focus though and has a flimsy likeability which has a small level of depth and therefore I suspect longevity. 'Sons Of War' crashes into the ground and comes up fighting with another machine gun blaze that fails to be backed up by a violence of vocal that I prematurely and wrongly assumed was coming. A failing on my part and the verses are automatic rap that I enjoy but the chorus, to my ears anyway, is lost. 'Devils Arrow' is the CD's chilled turd and from the first play onwards I feel it doesn't make any significant stench at all. This is a real pity as the masterclass bass lines are essential listening so if nothing else check it out for the 4-string rattle. We end with 'Road Of Bones' a good solid song that keeps straight and true and neatly caps off a CD that showcases a good band but alas not to their full potential. I say this because the last two outings I have seen this crew were exceptional and I came to expect something momentous.

This is a solid effort but please believe me when I tell you that these guys have a real classic in their bones and are on the cusp of delivering just that. It will take time, advice and a lot of pedantic twiddling but I bet you these guys do it. In fact go check em' out first and enjoy a great outfit and see if you agree. Oh and why you are watching em' pick up a CD afterwards - you may just like this!

D' CORNER BOIS/BARSE - SPLIT ALBUM

Scraping the inner depths of my punk encrusted mind I am drawn into a mental grapple as to what is the best split CD I have heard.  Over and over again I ponder this poser and I openly admit that the silver disc I am about to review must surely be one of the greatest.  I cannot recall when two opposing sounds embraced one another so sincerely and reciprocated an enhancing sensation of sound and punk pedigree.  The new crashing noise of D'Corner Bois and the retro, undercooked innocence of Barse both work in unison and compliment in equal measure each others talent and sub generic stance.  This is one to relish and I feel so privileged to review such a mighty piece of music.  Strong, stirring words but this is a cracking mix and the compilers, through either luck or a keen ear, have served up a classic.
 
The first 10 songs or deca'dance' of noise comes via those beligerrent Brummies D'Corner Bois.  A tight unit when needs be and capable of serving up some real hefty tunes that never fail to mix mayhem and melody in balanced proportion as well as maintaining a harsh emboldened sound to all outpourings.  This cacophonous clutch is their best recording to date and gets over the hurdle of replacing vocalists.
 
'Everything's A Mess' blazes in and states venomously what a stinking shithole Britain is becoming.  A real major opening proclamation that rattles off this CD in fantastic style.  My young daughter loves this song as she does the whole raging inferno and you know when someone at 10 has a lughole for up-front ravings as this it really does highlight why some of the more elderly statesmen of punk just seem to let it go over their addled heads.  This is what it's all about and if you are not foaming at the mouth and ready for more after this initial assault then get back into the pit where you hibernate.
 
'Yuppie Flats (Cancer Of Digbeth) has the frontman blasting his tonsils to bits with a shredded inflection that oozes pain.  It's another fuckin' high octane crackerjack and even typing this the rage almost has me ready to smash the keyboard clean in two.  I love it and this is the kind of stuff I was keen to get hold of in the late 70's only to be let down by poor over-production.  Point must be made too that if this split was released in 77 these two incredible artists would be major flag flyers for the good ship punk and things may be a damn sight better than they are now.
 
'Little City Riot' incites activity and if it wasn't for the fact I am typing this at work I would be liable to go on a crazed rampage and burn off my own fingers in utter delight at this bristling noise.  All chemicals are racing and the political 'Duped By Nazi's' is both brave and well-timed as well as a superb simple blast.  No frills here, just a message and a cracking racket and the jobs complete. 
 
Reviewing this is piss easy but the usual 9 or 10 plays were given purely for pleasure as I could have near enough hammered a review for all tracks after just a couple of spins.

'97 Betrayal' pours out more political unrest this time at the idiocy and total inadequacy of Tony Blairs 10 year reign at number 10.  The Thatcher clone disguised under a different banner is given hell here with a blistering tirade that goes down a storm.  Boisterous bursts like this are consistent and 'Red Light Shame' is another drilling crescendo of persistent aural terror. 
 
One of the albums monumental moments next and '20 Years' is as complete a song as this lot have thrown out so far with a perfectly executed chorus that sticks like a nose in a gluebag.  Slicing guitars burn curtains and you are thrown in to a room full of riot.  The guitar thrashing and energetic drums are fuckin' class and when the vocals stop and let the instruments fly the only thing to do is bask in the bang on delivery and accept the pure punk vitality vomitted from the speakers.  No sooner is this exceptional song over then we are confronted by the snarling opening line of 'Spin' - 'A rose by any other name is still a fuckin' rose' is stated and barely finished before the raping strings and lug-fuckin' drums pounce and slaughter with cold efficency.  The frontman lets it all hang out here and the throat is stretched to the boundaries as all hell is let loose.  Quality!
 
'The Sweatshop Hop' restrains itself a little and snipes at the cheap clothing retailers and purchasers and the indiffence to the low paid slavery that goes on in distant lands.  There is still a good edge here and the songs another savoury treat.  Loving every minute of this eruption we are already at the finale with the exceptional and well written blast of 'Throw Your Shit'.  This is an epic for me as both tunage and lyrical content throb my nob and do the busniess in fine style.  Being a fuckin' opinion on legs (hence the OMD tag) and loving this vigourous punk vibe I am in my element listening to this and love the whole ethos.  Yeah 'Throw your shit, give em' some stick, don't hold back, cause...you know, they deserve every last bit of it'.  Incredible and almost breathless and totally awe-struck one immediately worries how can any band follow such a downpour of such brilliant punkology.  And so we come to Barse...
 
In fact this is nothing like D'Corner Bois and comes from a very different angle indeed and for me is that subtle brilliance so many bands fail to capture as they search out high production and end up with a vacant hole where nothing seems natural.  Barse have ensnared reality, niavete and low budget DIY ethics, mixed the lot together and thrown in a few bucketloads of talent and come out with a selection of punk rock gems one can only admire.

The opening guitars of 'New Direction' are just dripping with haunting nostalgia and when the vocals escort the instrumental innocence you know we are in for a sorely missed essence that is rarely captured in these days of banal acceptance and scenester soaked sonics. This is a beautiful track that is awash with optimistic promise and charming melody. 'Dirty Girls' follows a more established pop punk formulae with a comedic bite at youthful slags and sluts everywhere. It works and the joyous youth of 'All For Love' comes in with unabashed honesty as it relates the tale of young love and the blind stupidity foundtherein. The conviction and belief are blatant and you know for sure these are lyrics written by an experienced hand and by someone who understands the recipe for a good punk rock ditty.

This opening hat-trick are sublimely superb and are followed by a piece of music that I feel is one of those unsurpassable moments when all components blend with gratifying unity and create a song that lasts a lifetime. This dramatic epic named 'Bag Of Purple Hearts' is a retro piece of passionate punk that transcends time and as a validity to match the finest tunes around. Some tunes are just to hard to dissect and analyse as to what actually makes them so successful. Here we have such a tune and you will go a long, long way to find it's equal. 'My Chelsea Flat' has that 70's sneer factor and misguided urgency that again wins the day and 'What I Wanna Do' is as basic as one can imagine but stands lofty with a fuzzology that certain punks (the ones in the know) will just fuckin' relish. That invisible bond that held, and still does so to a lesser degree, the punk community together is utterly ubiquitous throughout this CD and anyone who likes something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue then get a load of this.

'Tear It All Apart' is controlled incitement despite the easily misconstrued name. It tickles along with cymbals clanking and drums rolling and again its a beauty. Don't get bored with this CD review as the repetitive praise is only consistent due to the fact I have unearthed a total legend. 'We Got No Values' has a majestic marching overtone and despite slipping into the odd bit of unnecessary crudity I fuckin' like it as I do 'At The Pictures' which is similar to it's predecessor with crude lyrics and formal melody but for some inane reason this lot get away with it. The fact that Barse don't overdose on too much filth is highly relevant and doesn't make a farce of what is a talented bunch.

'Who Cares If The Girl Comes' is double entendre supreme but the popping energy sucks you in and believe me this all absorbant vibe never lets go. Young punks, old punks I suggest you get this and enjoy some 100% punkology - it really is that good. 'You Better Be Ready' could be classed as outdated noise but let me tell you that any pompous cunt that dismisses this invigorating outpouring is in no way anything to with our scene. If you miss the point of this then you have missed the point full stop. The track is a peach and is equalled in stature by the crafted-defiant edge of 'Safety Net'. Incredible to say the least.

At this point note must be made that Barse have a certain danger that seems about to explode into total confusion and cacophonic rubbish at any moment and this fact alone may be the element that makes this so highly fuckin' listenable.

'Don't Wanna Know You' is a toxic twisted spite fright that blisters with acidic spittle and furious chords. Love it or loathe it this is the bread and butter of the genre and I honestly can't get enough. 'Waste Your Time' takes me back to my days of seething hatred against uniformed conformity and petty procedure, a blaze that still burns bright inside this old punk fucker and so making this cut of awkward lunacy a prize pip for me. Yeah 'Piss Yer Pants' ya bastards!

'Spunk In Her Tea' is revenge absolute and although the title lacks subtlety the conviction shown previously is enough to help one to understand where Barse are coming from (pardon the pun). Great stuff and the finale of 'Breaking Up Is Easy To Do' bursts with a Sex Pistols guitar sequence that continues throughout and backs-up some searing vocalisation of the highest order. What an exclamation mark to a sincerely brilliant CD and the promise it has is mouth-wateringly tempting as well as fuckin' annoying.

You see when punks this good you needn't look elsewhere for that sonic buzz and this is real top notch stuff. Barse are long gone and it's up to D'Corner Bois to move forward but after this I don't envy them the task.

For the connoiseur then there is plenty on offer here and the collector needs to catch up with some Barse stuff just to know that the collection isn't lacking. Mine are ordered - are yours.