CRIMINAL BRAINSTORM - LOS ANOS

A fuckin' very entertaining band this who seem to get drastically overlooked by the many who think they know best! These cunts from Kent capture an old school flavour and mix it up with fun, tidy spite and some decent song construction and, just to add for your interest, deliver with an unpretentious attitude that is both a joy and a sheer pleasure. Not everyone can like everything but I do scratch my head why these dudes are not doing more and gaining more notice. This CD has really reinforced my belief in the band and has several delicious retro rockets to shoot up the arses of today’s listeners that will hopefully get a positive reaction. Simplistic and yet with subtle underlay that attracts - 8 songs and here are my thoughts.

'Aggrovator' grumbles and then fuzzes up with the snarled gob trying his hardest to unsettle you. Full of punk rock attitude the first verse is brief and slips with ease into the channelled spiked and spiteful chorus. The intrinsic simplicity borne of yesteryear is captured, the noise is propelled forward into the modern day and for me, something nostalgic is created but without all the sickly sourness many bring to the 'look back' table. Picture the punk walking down the street, full of studded spirit knowing he pisses off the 3-piece suit wearing wankers and dear old mums. Whilst challenging the norm this song could be an anthem to strut to - where did those times go? The production here is fine and dandy and the only worry I have in this fractured scene is that some (nay many) will just not get it!

'Wake Up' comes from the wastelands and is played with an opening threat and warning that isn't lost with guitars providing a deep weave to sink ones dancing feet into. The strings in fact break forth into wonderful smashed glass moments where each fragment reflects a tone that echoes off its counterpart and creates electronic orgasmic acoustica to just become absorbed with. At full stretch this one needs a good whack out from the speakers so has to pick up on the many textured sonic surfaces – yes, a beauty.

'London' plods along in its own well timed style. The repetitive chorus is laboured but necessary to set the scene. A skip comes in via bass and drums with nagging guitar corrosion added to fill any spare space. The vocals here are frosted and 'as a matter of fact' and so we get something I can only describe as a tuneful documentary style song. On face value this effort seems to have little about it but why the hell does it get stuck in ones cranial pubes and no matter what, it just won't shake loose. Better than one first deems I suggest! 'Captain Scarlet' is a tribute song to that puppeted superhero we fondly remember from times of yore. A jingle and nothing more with an easily ‘involved with’ rhythm that isn’t breaking any political boundaries that's for sure. Bands like The Dickies and The Toy Dolls have similar piss about offerings so why can't an underdog outfit. It's one you can take or leave but it does the job it sets out to do.

'Skin' is much more like it with a crawling malevolence and bitter spiteful edge that thrives more and more as the sinister threatening edge grows. The bass holds main control before the title is shouted forth and an icy cold assassin style of gob work is given. The temperature rises into a swashbuckling guitar break that does little, but does just enough, and we travel again with the frost building before the simple chorus hits us with a nasty infection taking over and gets us on our knees in admiration of a fuckin' minor cracker. 'Puppet On A Chain' next and a climbing poison ivy intro that reaches out, grasps, ascends and sets out its rhythmic roots so as not to be shaken free. A 4 count halts the growth only temporarily and with new fervour the frisky foliage bursts and spreads in many directions. Again a good rock and roll vibration is created to get off to and the song chops along on home made DIY waves and takes us into the luscious, unforgettable riff of that rubber spunk bucket called 'Lurex Lucy'. The wrap-around legs of this ditty cannot be escaped and when the vocal vagina finally draw you in you gotta hang on in there boy or risk prematurely bailing out and missing out on one great rhythmic ride. The subject matter is of course titillating nonsense but the musical melody is just fine!

The closure comes with a piece called 'Terrorists', a provocative cut filled with a more raucous feel and highlighting the band can play it cute or give it to ya nice and rough. The greatest intensity of the whole CD is found within this gristle and grime effort and one wonders how the band would fare releasing a 4 or 5 track EP of this nastier stuff. It doesn't matter to be honest because what they have done thus far on this 8 tracker is more than good enough but I would like to hear some new stuff for sure. This final 4 minute 20 second burst is a delight and you really don't need me to tell ya when it’s done to press the 'replay' button.

I like Criminal Brainstorm and would love to do more with them but alas the punters lack of curiosity and willingness to listen to new noise always makes things difficult. There are many ways to skin a manky cat and so a different approach to get the word out there will be taken - we have to try or we'll all end up as brain-dead cunts - not a good idea!

BLACK LIGHT MUTANTS - SELF TITLED

An apocalyptic nightmare here with the barren burnt out landscape trampled by an overpowering vibe of utter hardcore intensity that will once more create havoc. If hardcore isn't your thing then this is a real red alert number that will have you running for cover in utter terror of the harsh tones that this way come. With any specific sub-generic mode the main key is to tap in to certain traditions and procedures (however un-punk that may be) and meet certain levels of cacophonic criteria to please the numbers in the niche. You can however mix and match many styles (my preferred stance of awkwardness) but you will face a dissected audience and get pulled this way and that with perhaps little success - you know the score. Well, the BLM brigade seem to have picked their spot, so how well will they survive - let's look at the evidence shall we?

The billowing dust pile settles and out of the wilderness wander the band armed to their fuckin' rotten teeth with a seething number entitled 'I Wish'. The bass is automated, the overlord welcomes, the first riff is consuming and steady and the vocals are scorched and laden with youthful fury and dissatisfaction at the way things are turning out. An invitation to be there is given but no takers are had. The chorus stops, states and repeats, the 4 wired animal throbs on, guitars provide a caustic touch - the acoustic acid rains fall and my skin is singed eternal. A delight to feel heat of this magnitude and Black Light Mutants I bid thee welcome to Hell. The final explosion is gratifying and as the feedback dies we are immediately propelled forward into the machined industry of 'Makeup'. Engines rattle along, pistons fire hard, voltage levels reach critical - what is seen in the melodic mirror is horror - haunted and in disarray but the BLM operators create order out of chaos and so smash us in the face with a most decent fist of polluted noise. The energy laden work put in pays dividends and the hardcore output is insatiable and overwhelming. The clatter comes and goes in the nervous flickering of an abused eye and without respite we are winding up into the ghastly terror crawl intro of 'Walls'. Soaked through with a defiant message of be yourself, disobey the rules and break up your society this one aches with dragging self-hate and cancerous confusion and so gives a portrait of a soul caught up in something of a nihilistic nightmare. A shuddering shocker.

Acid computer moment - the skies crack...

'Love Yourself' clatters along with a Crassite sentiment and determined drive. An unstoppable force that yells its way to swift victory that is more dramatic due to the position of following the preceding laboured slog. Both tracks work and with a whisper from the crypt and trembling guitar we travel into the nasty incandescence of 'Fairy Lights' Something Insane is hinted at as elsewhere on this CD and that combination of old, new, diseased and shot through is what makes this riot of rhythm and disorder so fuckin' appealing. The band are trying to tear up the volume levels and the sonic limits and with moments as shown here they may well just do it. I feel impressed, I feel we have another band creating a solid dangerous debut and then...

we have...

The glorious aural crushing that is 'Complainix'. A big fuck gargantuan outburst this with the band having monster-sized multiple orgasms and spraying the blood filled spunk into each and every sonic arsehole. You will bleed when you hear this, you will beg to be penetrated even deeper and you will walk away wounded and genuinely bowled over by the awesome might of the racket. Hardcore lovers will accept they have a massive, massive moment to consider and this will undoubtedly be one of the best tracks I hear this year. From the dissecting riff, the initial scorching winds, the flesh torn vocals and the abdomen thumping bass lines this has everything and it makes its impact in dominating style. A true classic piece from the Underdog arena.

As a bonus you get an extra track, a narration spaceoid, futuristic, preach that goes on and on and on. Armageddon time and nothing more than an afterthought. Worth one listen and with relevant semi-cryptic messages the composite is well put together but...how many will listen over and over? The anarchic traits remind me of Negativeland - an underground outfit who had a classic outburst called 'Car Bomb' if I remember rightly. What these last ravings do exhibit though is a strong potential that anything is possible and anything can be expected...especially the unexpected!

So ignoring the latter bonus this is one hum-dinging release and one you should absolutely lap up. This band have many miles in their legs - can they take up the gauntlet and cover the foreseen distance - we can only wait and see.

SKA MADNESS - COMPILATION

The sub-title here is 'Another 20 reggae classics which inspired a generation' and so leaves you wondering if this will be a Ska CD at all. It does in fact lean towards the more traditional end of two tone and is nothing more than an 'influences' compilation and why the hell shouldn't it be? Some delicious classics on here have me jumping back many years and re-adjusting my lugs to something very relevant from yesteryear. The chilled out theme is prevalent throughout, the Jamaican switched off joy omnipresent too and the general inklings at a blossoming ska attack obvious. It is great to review something from a pool so different from the norm and so when requested I jumped at the chance. Some famous names here and here's hoping they do the business and my textual twaddlings can do them justice.

We commence with the classic drift of Desmond Dekker's 'Israelites' and from the opening heart warming vocals that do indeed 'Get up in the morning' this scrummy ditty pleases by the bucket load with the light and sunshine blessed hiccuppy vocals carrying the main can and during the briefest of chorus sections is joined by a bass heavy assistant who contrasts oh so well. This effort was initially released in 1968 where it topped the UK charts and hit the top ten in the US making Mr Dekker the first Jamaican to have a US hit - and with what better song could this feat be achieved? Dave and Ansell Collins follow with the sugar sweet lemon drop entitled 'Monkey Spanner'. The main assets of the song are the traditional vocals, the superb old-style ebony and ivories and the gently upstroked strings. Drums are sparse as are the lyrics and with a dripping tap effect this one is far from water torture but more like a welcome cool down moment. Fail to jig to this calypsotic, hypnotic tranquiliser and you must be mentally dead. Sheer class!

'Toots and the Maytals' next with a 'Pressure Drop' that tickles the senses into a glee ridden state via creamy yum yum repeat mode that has no pretensions, no crafty clever boy switching and certainly no hard driven persuasiveness. The skillage in the village comes from being in the zone and tapping into an inner melody many just can't locate. The Pressure has indeed Dropped but only in the stress levels dude! There isn't much change with the chirpiness involved within the 'Elizabethan Reggae' offered forth by Boris Gardiner. This singing bird in the verdant bush is a basic melody and continues the uncluttered theme of the entire CD with a happy go lucky approach. When life is heavy lighten up the load with this joyous bit of sonica and pay some respect to a tunemaster who has done his bit on the road during the 60's and beyond and has served his time as a solo artist and session musician, thus proving his own credentials.

Eric Donaldson comes next with the constipated flow of 'Cherry Oh Baby'. A real stuttering piece this that I can personally take or leave but recognise the fact that the winning aspects are the charming child-like yells for joy, the spacious laboured approach and the smiling solarised simplicity - each to their own I suppose and although not a preferred Fungalpunk snip this is still highly listenable. The Paragons pursue with a wibbling, wobbling intro that straightens out and proceeds into the serene tranquillity of 'The Tide Is High', Perhaps this song is best known as the cover by Blondie but it is always nice to remember where the roots lay and to taste a feel of yesteryear from where the original was borne. Yet another crew from Jamaica who performed most of their stuff in the heady sixties and this time with secure vocal harmonies and gentle upstroked rhythm. A quaint song indeed and having been originally released on Duke Reid's Treasure Isle label this one could well be enjoyed in such a remote Utopian location.

Guess what? Another Jamaican outfit this time its the turn of The Melodians, another band who had several hits on the aforementioned Dukes record label. This time more reggaefied gentleness is the key with a squelchy, comfortable feel one will doze along to. Again nothing technical but just a matter of placing each note in the right place and getting into the groove. The Jamaicans next (guess where they are from then) with the Gospelised intro of 'Ba Ba Boom Time'. A fresh number this with a serpentine feel that will entwine around your soul and have ye hypnotised in no time at all. A real cool customer of a song and one I am sure for the loved up couples who want one last slide across the much used dance floor. Sleazy!

The Paragons jump back up with a ramshackle B-movie sound entitled 'Wear You To The Ball'. Another slow coach of a number that promises to dress up that girl and take her to the said Ball. Saturated in innocence and old style radio flavours this one encourages memories of dusty roads, with the radiant orb beaming down and the fields laden with workers all yearning for the nights entertainment - romantic - why not! More upbeat next with the snake charming hop along 'Ali Baba' by the well versed and highly experienced John Holt. This dude played for The Paragons, released his first single at the age of sixteen and by the early 70's became one of reggaes biggest stars. Where he now resides is anyone's guess! The song here is semi-whispered and semi-sung against a typically careful instrumental approach that squeaks by rather than storms through. A lovely little piece this and one to niggle the frame of mind into a more optimistic outlook.

'Return Of Django' is a shuffle ghetto piece ideal for a conga-like jig with smiling faces all in a line just enjoying a glorious musical moment. I am quite happy to proclaim that The Upsetters fail miserably to live up to their name here and produce a choice chunk of instrumentalisation that stutters, screeches and sleekily struts - a veritable peacock! 'Skinhead Girl' walks in next with Symarip waddling along with more crooning calypsoid matter aching with vintage vibrations borne from innocence and unadulterated, unaffected acoustic arenas that seem somehow lost forever. The lack of glossy production finish is necessary and only creates a more tasteful tone to partake of. The same can be said of the next one by Tony Tribe who takes us away from the most famous cover version, that idled away like a pregnant cow unable to pass a runt of rhythm, back to this original that skips away and keeps the musical birthing process smooth. 'Red, Red Wine' is a classic and one really should check out this offering and make comparisons with the re-make and really assess which is better - the raw and unready or the produced and overly polished.

Time to 'Tighten Up' next with the Untouchables dipping in and boogie banging a beat that will get those feet working hard and the hips waggling like buggery. A jittery bug this one with emphasis high on harmonies and a coolio crystal cut that remains unflustered and of a repeat style that will stick in yer noggin'. Pat Kelley swings in with 'If It Don't Work Out', a song nicely layered, wholesome and full of realism and carefully caressed keys. The vocals are almost pleading and delivered with spiritual sincerity with the heart exposed and the emotion apparent - not a bad un' at all.

'Wonderful World, Beautiful People' by the renowned Jimmy Cliff is the most celebratory song thus far with a strong message to avoid fighting and fussing and get down to some good old friendly behaviour and selfless loving. Perhaps the most complex composite but in no way out of sync with the trend set and adding a different type of spice to the dish. 'Young Gifted And Black' is a particular favourite of mine with Bob And Marcia tinkling in, stating and cruising along on a fluffy carefree ocean of fragile delicacy and undulating buoyancy. This understated gem reached Number 5 in the UK charts in 1970 and surely was deserved of a spot a little higher - hey ho such is the populaces palate.

'Love Of The Common People' is another song many will know but mainly down to the release by ex-Q-Tip Paul Young and not the original artist Nicky Thomas. Both versions are decent enough but there are more textures here, more local dialect in the delivery and some great backing vocals that hint at something Gosepel-esque - a real treat you need to play over and over again. Losing Mr Thomas at the age of 41 was nothing less than a tragedy for the scene and lovers of soul-filled music. 'Black Pearl' by Horace Faith is another snippet straight from the gut and you can just envision this dude thoroughly absorbed in his output. Again quality female harmonies compliment, a plush comfort creates instant friendly appeal and the lack of any rage, spite, unease is a blessing. Is there any style of music so sinless and untainted?

'Wear You To The Ball' is a song reviewed earlier by The Paragons but this one is an enhanced version by John Holt (again) and U Roy. The song is intrinsically the same but seems more off the cuff, more improvisational, more natural. The overlain rap-esque vocals are hollow and add an interesting facet and so give an already decent song a new lease of life. Millie Small hops up next and gives us the sing-along delight christened 'Enoch Power'. A political number which saw Millicent 'Dolly May' Small lose her 'girl next door' image and show that she wasn't just a throwaway cutie. Starting in something Dvorak-esque mode this is a fairly jolly jaunt and has a good catchy slant that will attract immediate attention and so get a fair vote. The vocals are distinctly clear and although the latter half travels the same route a little too long it is worthy of its place on this quality release. The closure is a strong effort with The Pioneers asking you to 'Let Your Yeah Be Yeah'. A really choice closure and although a Jimmy Cliff cover it shouldn't detract from what a good sensation the song creates. This one adds a real swish in the CD's tail and leaves us on a sincere high note.

So 22 tracks, released together for a proper affordable price - excuses please? A little slice of history and some darn good tunes to relax with - this is music and music done bloody well - get your daily dosage and don't miss out!

THE JACKHAMMERS - GIVE EM' ENOUGH DOPE

Foul swill from the trough of punk rock garage trough with many a pig fuck bastard ready to feed through whiskered ever hungry maws. Sometimes one picks up a product, tastes and thinks - 'that's just too clean cut man'. Not here - many foul flavours await to be tossed around the mouth of the swine and I am betting that this will go down a fuckin' treat to the ones who like things under-produced, well oiled and best described as a slop with genuine fluidity. This Glaswegian outfit create their recipe, mix and spill and you'd be nothing less than a pedantic sow to criticise - Oink, Oink - let's get on with it shall we.

'Punk Rock Rules' throws the guitars low, smears the skins in sewerage and cloaks the vocals in composted smoke and thus we have a wonderfully unwashed opening. The bone jarring bass line that greets is apt and gives you a firm message of what is to follow. Guitar is high wired and drums are tinned out, vocals are snotted - the mix with the heavy bass still rumbling is very powerful indeed and with added volume really makes those inner organs become delightfully painful. The wires careen in parts and add that extra danger element and we open with glory. 'Used Rubber' has the definite Jackhammer rattle before cruising through a deeply grooved verse and chorus and becoming another sneering, leering snippet of rusty wheeled trashcan gunk. But what lovely gunk it is!

'Retard Masterplan' is irrepressible sonic sludge that flows with thick liquid urgency and goes straight into awaiting aural orifice whereupon it flows deeper and clogs the mind with heavy duty radioed recklessness that somehow hits all the right hotspots. The least tuneful so far, the briefest bomb blast and the most panic stricken - the band tackle the style well and deliver a rowdy pop punk onslaught full of 'have it' inflection. More nail gun stick work and then into the chaos that is the nastily christened 'The Worlds My Toilet'. 1 minute 30 seconds to drop the sonic trousers, curl down a foul acoustic turd and flee. The challenge is set and The Jackhammer jerks produced a spellbinding episode of oral evacuation that has a 100% sound saturation right up until the last ear-splitting fuck up of feedback. No messing here - well not with the noise anyway! Pure rectal rhythm baby – thrutch, thrutch!

More crap as 'Bags Of Dogshit' slams in and then races and disgraces with equal weight in double quick time and once again leaves a solid sound reverberating around the cracked crust of the cacophonic connoisseur. All is still highly screwed and we leave this brief tantrum in the same style has we met it. 'Flesh Gridlock' next and perhaps the most nauseous dollop of dinnage to hit your awaiting palate thus far. All starts with a merry chug with the melody verging on a sub-fairground carousel operated by a demented dude hell-bent on making the rebellious riders puke. It is when the wind down hits us that all toxins break loose and a pure messed up sequence rapes us ragged and we know the opening stretch of rhythm was nothing less than a grooming - bastards.

'You're All Dead' hits us with a malevolent chased down horror where the Zombies of Noise will not be denied and upon your meat they need to feed. A grim sound from airwaves long corroded and filled with the rotten remnants of guitar flesh gone bad. The chords are all broken and beaten, the chorus that tries to break free into a cleaner realm somewhat fails and this, unfortunately, is my least favoured track of the lot. No sooner has hope faded a little then a quick bass boom raises the levels of optimism once more and we are into the tuneful trash of 'Tourettes Lautrec'. Slinky one-line outbursts are chopped up with derailed string work and randomised shouts and as we cascade into the abandonment of the chorus we realise this is yet another sure fire clump of garbage garage. When the Jackhammers hit the zone they do it remarkably well and on this CD so far they are having a 99% success rate.

'Trust Me' begins with a telephone panted wankoid moment with the recipient at the end of the line preparing to be disgusted. What follows is a systematic grind that begs belief, begs your will and without remorse...takes it all! The orifice awaiting will be filled with sonic spunk of the nastiest order. The song tastes foul but works - such is the artistry of the JH joyriding machine. Next up a contrasting cut of madness entitled 'Can't Leave The House'. Swift, raw, sincerely agoraphobially tortured and as soon as the door opens it is slammed shut again. Cursed!

A sprint to the finish line I think - on yer marks...'Dead Braincells' clobbers along with still oodles of beef in the bollocks and kicks arse with a wired up groove, 'Gas Chamber' slogs it out on the ropes and is a gruelling grind that in such a small dose gets by but anything longer would be a disaster and 'Bingo Wings Breakout' switches from a moronic 'oh I give in' delivery to a 'fuck this and let's have a go' style - schizophrenic until the last and still falling to bits - consistent or what? A 13 second bout of madness and yes it's time to fuck right off.

So out of the dustbin, into the gutter, down the grid and out into the ocean of sonic effluence we go. This stinks, it is a rotten old romp, it seems to be dropping apart at the seams and...I think it is a fair old racket - many flavours and all that - you should know the score!

THE GUNTYS - PUNK ROCK DEBAUCHERY

This band played a recent SAS charity bash and left a somewhat sweet taste in my mucky mouth and as a bonus a CD was given to me and a review requested. I have a massive backlog at the mo and am tapping those keys like a titillated twat on heat especially when the standard of the underdog noise is of such standard as found here. In the 'live' pit these lads rocked and they back it up well on this dirty DIY CD that has no frills but oodles of swig and jig melody and pumping passion. Without further ado the curtain rises and I am gratified to give thee 'Punk Rock Debauchery'.

The title track builds itself up on heaving sonic steroids before slapping itself awake and beginning a bout of wide eyed hysteria. A pause and then the cymbals 4 tap us in to a real shanty shindig with a genuine hop in the strum. The mouth that comes forth can't wait to get on with things and the initial emotion spilled over is of a fondness and pride for the spiked times behind where glue, beer, anarchy and noise meant so much. The fact is though these things still matter and the latter facet is more than apparent as this song proves. A sharded inner section tinkles and toys and is assisted by some shadowglass hauntings and so one waits...and waits...and waits until...the re-surge is upon us and after a quick tumble we find ourselves enjoying a 100% irresistible noise. A fuckin' crackin' opening gambit and leading us with a swollen chest into the live and kicking 'Street Mosh'. A real head banging delight this with bass fully revved up and providing a nasty grind to the whole end mix. Something with whizzed energy is what we have with a tribal underscore that provides fodder for the 'fuck it and see' lovers. Another moment of patient deliberation and although the chorus is lighter in density than expected this is a good riotous romp invoking ditty when indeed it gets its arse in full gear.

'Dan Thomas' is a tale of a wonky eyed wretch who likes a good booze up, a good noise and a great deal of idiocy. A happy 'erbert song reflected in the upbeat zeal and with the humour found within the wordage. Remember children lancing boils with a compass from a geometry set isn't advisable. The ditty moves forward at a good pace and we once more come to a creeping moment that is nicely effective and one which ends with the sonic spew coming through the teeth and forcing the band to sprint on and sugar rush to the closure. Keep it going lads! 'Nanny State' starts with grim gravel sprayed all over the sonic surface before the labouring loons drop tools and dance like fuck. The eruption of pace is harsh and the tumultuous trip we are taken on is punked and unrelenting. A really forward piece of racketology with guitars rough, drums dragged into place and gob work unhygienic. 'Killing Me With A Spoon' is a more tuneful track and although not a piece of murderous cutlery criminology the vibe is sure to please the deviants of the ditty. The tale regards those shitty sheep serving crapholes where beer is cheap as well as the company and the intellect therein and is delivered via a pure sing-a-long sharp one you will not be able to resist. Unlike the gaffs concerned this song has a good atmosphere to it and will have many an inebriate joining in and keen to down a few more jars - can't fault it really.

'Tick Tick' is a more vicious piece with a big banging swing time bomb approach that bombards the gonads with grenade-like punches before teasing the todge with carefully positioned deliberate jabs. The attack is once more all out and the genital-based bruising is delightfully painful. The band deal with this two-pronged attack quite efficiently and yet again rise above the swirling scum and swim like real good un's. One of my favourites and the final slam out is sublime! 'Stag Night' is what you would expect, a boozers song! Almost a thirst-up football chant this one brings visions of the male hordes with arid throats headed to the local drinking establishment for one hell of a bender. The sup, slurp, bounce and burp inflection isn't lost and although not about the beautiful game (rather the dreaded wedded one - not by me though) the desire for drink is what rules this throughout (and that can't be faulted).

The closure is a bit of fun but a very pertinent point. We all hate those dirty bastards who let their pooches shit and piss all over the public walkways and leave us poor buggers to be the ones who put our foots in it (literally). A more complex intro with the initial tuneful tones making way for a regular march that states the shitty things just as they are. Again we have an easy number to swallow and this foot tapping episode will attract the attention of the ones who like a good riff with a comedic message. It may concern a load of shit but this one certainly isn't!

The Gunty's are a quality outfit and are one of the best 'live' underdog units I have seen for a fair while. This CD is proof that the band have more in reserve and I hope these dudes stick at things and chip away at the punk rock resilience. If you get the chance go see em' make sure you chase up a CD - in both instances you will not be disappointed.

BROCKER - OUT OF ORDER

Formed in 2004 and based in St Albans Brocker are another of those bands that make one wonder where these outfits hide away and why exposure is so slow within this scene that speaks of itself as being 'liberated' and 'encouraging'. In the madness of my musical meanderings I too find myself guilty of missing these boys but am so glad they recently played a SAS jaunt and came up fuckin' tip top trumps. The CD here was acquired at the said gig and many plays have been had. We have many influences thrown into the Brocker melting pot and here is my take on what I found to be brewing within.

'Getting Late To The Punk Rock Gig' could be a tentative step for a band at this stage in their journey but this is nothing of the sort. Slam, twang, double slam, loop - into the first verse with drums rousing the rabble, guitars equally keen for a tear up and bass trembling with anticipation. The vocals that follow are suited to the essence and with a definite sanguinity they beckon us on into further trouble. Switch arounds, technically on the cusp of being over elaborate this is no easy pick up and play episode of poppage and is piled high with intricacies that could well cause overload. The band offer a flavour that oozes youthful hunger and oodles of downright power bursts - take yer time, digest slowly and, just like me, you may find a really appetising song.

The next song is the one that caused quite a stir at the aforementioned SAS show and made people sit up and take due note. 'Gangster Ska' is a cultured piece building on cool dude bass and flicks of the fingers. Cymbals add quivered shadows and so a scene is set. The initial shout of 'Ska' drives the 4 wired weapon into fuzzed up hysteria and it weaves out a thread the others in the band can't fail to pick up on. A superb moment with drums adding stability and guitars soon upstroking the ditty to a more resolute and effective acoustic erection. The whoa's that follow have a chilled note, the ambience that accompanies has a hood'ed feel and the general gob work is wide boyed, hungry and of a sound quality. This is an irresistible tune and one you'll hear, savour and skip around to like a kangaroo with its goolies tied in a knot. The guitar tinkles echo a vibe not dissimilar to an Edgar Wallace theme tune and that always wins favour from me. Fuckin' class A output!

'Kadaver' is of the newest school thus far and like any good electroid eel is a pure bastard to grasp. Peeking forth before a commitment is made it is only when the drums two-thump and guitars strum with intent do we feel the song will make any progress. A shuffle and a roll and the first steady verse follows which in turn rises in temperature and escalates in overall busy bee activity. We progress and the band fall into their roles with ease and include some nice moments included a drum and string duel to absolutely relish. No resting on laurels and one can't help but applaud another solid track from a band I am growing quite fond of. The closure is entitled 'One Man Mosh Pit' and after an electro fuck screech, a madhouse guitar breakdown, some wound up releases of energy and added maniacal laughter a fast blast session blooms and pollinates with sweet, virile, infectious grains. The pace is harsh, the inflection less so and both aspects combine to vary the angles and flavour of this entire EP thus highlighting what this band have to offer.

And thus 4 tracks listened to, a 'live' viewing to call upon if need be and due care and attention given. The feeling is of a very sound band that can do it in the flesh and do it in the studio. I for one am very much impressed and am more than happy to prove the pedigree of the underdog by using this band as an example. Look we need this noise and we need these younger dudes leading the way - let's give Brocker the encouragement they desire and deserve - I for one am hopefully doing my little bit so why can't you?

THE DETOURS - IGNITE

A little snippet first from a Prescription PR Press Release - 'Formed in 2006, The Detours’ combination of energetic guitar riffs and soaring sing-a-long choruses has seen them amass a legion of loyal fans. The band have had the pleasure of sharing stages with many distinguished artists including Bury Tomorrow, Asking Alexandria, The Answer and Slaves To Gravity to name but a few. A slight re-jig of the primary line-up in 2010 saw the introduction of the very experienced vocalist Matt Littlefair. With his arrival, a maturity in the band’s song writing developed, and his cleaner vocal added new dimensions, possibilities and commercial appeal. 

Having appeared live on Channel 4’s ‘Orange Unsigned’ show, and beaten off over 10,000 other acts to win Live & Unsigned 2009, The Detours have unsurprisingly become renowned for their dynamic live shows'. Impressive hey - well Fungal holds no sway and will review from an objective stance - if this is shite I shall uncover it but if its good I shall give due praise - you know how I operate.

3 tracks it is then and the first of these is a nifty little number entitled 'One Last Chance'. Punctuating forth with strings compressed and glistening the first verse follows and hits one has being remarkably clear yet still retaining ample power. The rise into the reliable chorus is slightly held in check by a one line preparation but when the melodic phase hits us it is with a pleasing melody that, in truth, is over too quickly. We repeat the style and then take time with gentler moments that regain a certain foothold before rolling on to the final breath. Not bad and for me a song oozing confidence and ability - what next?

'Ignite' is sub-radioed piece that begins on smoked strings and dumbed down drums before breaking through and trampling one under foot. The groove is high with a sleazoid edge apparent and a furrowed focus obvious. The switch of styles between clouded verse work and aerated chorus cuts operates well and with a bit of flamboyant cock rock guitar work sneaking in you get another well played episode of clean and tidy dinnage that isn't necessarily my thing but is something I can easily appreciate. Something professional this way comes and if you like things without threat, with a fair old bit of beef and with some good tuneage then get a nibble of this.

'Free' is the closing piece and is the most fractured fuck of the triumvirate on show with the first minute really hesitant and uncertain as to which way to fly. The bursts of 'Free' release the acoustic animal from the cage and the band are all the better for it. More full blooded sanguinity comes and some neat unexpected beats and turns with the extra flavours included will all generate interest from many sonic circles I am sure. Far away from the gutter in which I pick up my noisy kicks this is quality and I hope I recognise the class found therein.

There you have it - 3 songs not of my type and yet 3 songs given the thumbs up. Am I interested in what The Detours do next? Why shouldn't I be? Its noise and although in no way punk it is done very well indeed and has that hidden zest so many, with more or less talent, lack. The route this band will take, if successful, will leave this old Myco music man way behind but good luck to them in their endeavours and on the evidence here the commercial doors should open and give these a piece of the pie that makes me puke but which the many want to glut on - each to their own!

SEGISMUNDO TOXICOMANO - UN BALA

Spanish punkology here that has essences straight from the football terrace. Having formed in 1997 the band have built quite a reputation enhanced by playing with big names and having earned the honour of winning the award for best local album in 1998 with their highly acclaimed self-titled release. Here, at the request of STP Records, I tackle the bands 2009 album and wonder what influences and textures lie within the weave. Having dabbled with quite a bit of European noise I notice that from certain countries certain flavours prevail more than others - so what do we have from the Spanish shores I ask?

'Frente Agnostico' builds slowly on methodical bassism and muttering guitar. Intensity increases with the riffage and then comes the unified opening gobbology that exchanges places with solo mouth work and is escorted all the way by crisp strings and hectic but well drilled drum labour. The relish within the vocalist’s style is reminiscent of many offerings from the European acoustic abyss and one must also compliment the exact production work that makes a lucid offering to easily assess. The music swings from the rafters on well-built sonic muscles and the opening approach is blessed as a good un'. 'Las Nochos Siguen Sabiendo A Sangre' is a complete tumult with the initial 4 wires warning of a feisty thrust to follow that never offers respite until the final strum punctuation. The guitar is pulsating electricity, the drums a breathless beat and the bass a sub-layer that fills each sonic cranny with rumbling rhythm. For a follow up to the initial dish of the opening track this an ideal desert and builds a nice taste upon the aural palate of the listener. Yummy!

Static mis-tuned and then 'A Punta' chants in before opening up and rocketing along with emergency levels set at urgent. Similar in strain once more the band come together and unify then peel away and set about contributing their individual part to the end mush. Plenty of power thrives within the mix, the wind-up to the finale is choice and with a last flourish we fall down with a skanked snippet. Sub-level guitar feeds in before the speakers are loaded more intently as 'Hot Como Ayer' offers what is the most thoughtful piece so far with a narrated aspect that is relevant today as much as it was yesterday. The drive isn't as forthright as the previous tuneage and so wins less favour from me but that is a personal preference and just part and parcel of the review routine. The money goes in the slot and the can of noise is opened and although the production values are sound I just don’t really fully settle with this one. I suspect the language barrier plays a bigger part here and so all I can say is decide for yourself. The chorus ain't bad though!

'Heroes' rises from the sleeping ocean bed of noise and creates small initial bubbles before shaking up the settled sands with a swirling serpentine shift. Once full swimming impetus is had I expect the band to end up creating a full on maelstrom of tuneage, especially after the opening speed burst. Instead we get a half decent effort that somehow loses its way in the depths of dinnage and so I come away not quite satisfied. An ok effort with the following 'Lobo Solitario' much more worthy of attention due to the flashlight flickering guitars, jungle tub thump of war laden drums and pummelling bassism. The band are alive during this one and breath fire with the unrelenting drive and focus. The duelling buzz saw guitars add further interest to a song full of fuel and vigour - its what I desire! Segueing in next is the delicious 38 second burst entitled 'Futbol'. In just over half a minute the band pack in a bounty of nervous energy and tuneful effect and this midway eruption is quite choice. Like a kick up the arse to ask of us 'Are we listening' - 'Yes we are' is the rock and ready response!

'Ultimo Asalto' is a chopped up chunk of mighty musical meat that goes for an approach that isn't in any rush to power surge. Easing forward I find the more spacious moments where vocals are seemingly all alone the most effective but as one progresses with the band and we hit the short solo section we realise the gentle upward curve is more effective than first given credit for and what we have is a creeping giant. 3 swift assessments next with 'Dame Mas' a sincere piece that retains a busy approach and has some good muso touches whereas 'Guerrilla' has a more direct drive, a deeper resonation and a simplistic approach thus winning greater initial favour. 'La Tormenta' has lighter tones but still the rushing intent remains, the clarity of the players sound and the unexpected turn-arounds frequent - not a bad trio at all.

4 to go and still with the language barrier impeding my assessment of the content I am free to carry on assessing the noise. 'Stupid' continues the set trend and has the fuzzed up guitars still rattling along. Drums this time are more regular in the main whilst the gob has a smidgen more sneer. I'm 50/50 with this one whereas the tight and terse 'Navarro' and 'Cabron' don't dawdle and drill home their ingredients. The former is a well played instrumental which makes a nice change with the latter effort a sing-a-long' piece that is lightly delivered and much more on the precipice of popped and crackled punk, thus hopefully drawing in listeners who have thus far felt somewhat excluded.

The closure shuffles hard before commencing with identifiable riffage. 'Humano' is a good final fling and has some good bop and bang moments with highly riffed up segments that are way too short. More terraced sub-chants are included, a lesser degree of unpredictability but still easily played with plenty of friskiness.

So that's me finished, another CD done and dusted and my thoughts go like this. In the main I have enjoyed it but 30% of the time I found myself switching off - and this is where the problem lies. The band are proficient and recognise and deliver darn good tunes but on this occasion do it with too much similarity. As per, I judge songs on their own merit and there are plenty of good ones here but as an album this is little too much of a good and similar thing. Sometimes this method works, here I feel it doesn't - just my view - talk about ending on a duff note - twang! A score out of 10 would be difficult and is something I don't usually do but to keep me on my toes - how’s about a 6.5!

THE VOX DOLOMITES - DEMO

From the ashes of several punk rock fires comes forth some singed phoenix-fuck up hybrids still yearning to make a point and make some noise. The Vox Dolomites ooze experience and although, at the time of writing, only have one gig under their belts as a collective unit, they have still made a solid impact within local circles. The ripples from that opening splash however are concentrically moving outwards and whether or not many of the idle headed noodles within the scene take note is anyone's guess - I suggest they will (if not forever damned they be).

The demo under the spotlight opens with a sub-funhouse jingle overlain with a skanked up shuffle and squeaked syntho relish. 'Horrorshow' sets out a busy effect and maintains it throughout which is essential with this hyped up style of punked and spunked two-tonia! The soundscape isn't saturated which could be deemed a mistake but somehow the band claw through, primarily down to eagerness and a new found hunger. There is certain rawness about the delivery but each instrumental piece is positioned with forethought and a knowing experience and so this tale of a shitty disco wins high favour from a Fungal nut very keen on things of this inventive ilk. The vocals have an incessant breathlessness, the 'na, na' inter-cuts are delicious and add an emotive feel with the bass weaving, wandering, and binding. The keys are polished, charmingly and hauntingly baroque whereas the guitars oppose and so, we have a general composition that is sweet - oh yes.

'Alone In Mexico' has a lighter feel and although a ska-based pulse throbs in the background the overall essence is of something more direct. The opening thrust lasts throughout the main verse work but the recipe offered is only truly completed when the extra seasoning of guitars peel away for the 2nd time and create an instrumental moment that leads us into an aerated chorus that has a pang in the tuneful chest one just can't shake off. This second snippet on what is a debut demo does more than just please, it paves the way for many options the band have at their disposal and that can only be a good thing for all concerned. 2 out of 2 - of course!

The gambling track entitled 'Losing Hands' comes next and one can be forgiven for expecting a slip and so the band missing out on a possible three card trick. Alas the band pull out the final ace and so complete what promised to be a winning hand in fine style. Every CD, no matter what length, needs a 'stick in the cerebral matter' moment and this one is exactly that. More clatter is added but only in small doses with a higher degree of saturation apparent throughout. The main key to this song though, like any classic, is the chorus. A superb join in moment that isn't rocket science but doesn't need to be when delivered with such desire, such belief - yeah a hat-trick for sure.

So initial spins gave a verdict of a good old 9 out of 10 and there is no reason at this stage (after many, many rotations) to change my mind. In fact I could easily raise the rating a couple of nought point something’s but hey what would the band have to aim for? The standard is set and this crew have to maintain it (which will be darn fuckin' hard) but that is how the cacophonic cookie crumbles. Get this, follow the band and see what transpires - it will be interesting if nothing else!

DICK VENOM & THE TERRORTONES-ROCK N ROLL VAMPIRE MAN

Nasty nob out psycho sonica here with a modicum of melody, a heap of horror and a shit load of theatrical grinding - brush up yer quiff, don your crepes and get ready to indulge in some toned up gothic gang-banging vampirism that will meet the needs of the ones already in the graveyard and will attract interest from the odd nosey ghoul on the outside. Without further ado - let's get bitten!

We open with the vulgar staccato stomp of 'Sticky Pants Trance', a ditty that hops about from acoustic shank to acoustic shank and seems filled with restless beans and active sonic ants. An itchy number that throws the listener and does need some adjusting to. Sticks tap and we go into the aggressive ramrod that echoes with rock 'n' roll rudeness stabilised by a hollowed out groove created by instruments given more than ample space and so allowing them to create a somewhat haunted style of sound. This B-movie mix is very much for an intended audience who enjoy a good dress up and mess up and will undoubtedly lap up the skeletal bones of a song donated here. Out of the three tracks offered forth this is the one I am least sure of but can still recognise where the crew are aiming at and the fact that they may just have it right for that particular audience. A 'not bad' from me but a bit more swing in the hips required. Talking of which...

'Rock 'n' Rollin Vampire Man' greets with opened drums that need guidance which is partially provided by a hesitant guitar twang. As vocals join in we still have the vacant husk of a song awaiting an injection of life. The eerie atmosphere is soon over-run by a real groovy ghoulie melody that grips the attention and makes the whole song work. From the tip-toed cautiousness to the confident rhythm rock the contrast is what is needed and we have the best of the trio for sure.

'Lilly And The Killers' closes this terrored triumvirate and does so with as much promise as given on the preceding track. The delivery is more relished, more theatrical and may it be said (without insult), more pantomimed. The corroded strings that open soon swing into a drive that is musically malevolent and will not accept refusal in any form. There is a hunger about this one and all players seem more activated which of course (when dealing with any band that has a good degree of talent) the outpouring thrives. Many a skeleton in yer cupboard should be rattling their dusted bones to this and if that ain't motivation enough for you to do the same then no matter what I write it will be pointless.

So yes - why not indulge in some venomous Dick and get your aural tunnel filled with various Terrortoned liquids. It may feel a trifle nasty, it may sound a little bit suspicious but the band have a niche to help fill and within there I reckon they will do quite nicely. You never can be certain of these things but I am sure this lot will have fun trying anyway - and why not?