Tag Archives: Mat Davies

Iron Maiden – The Book of Souls

Posted on by

book-of-souls-artwork

The arrival of a new Iron Maiden album is nearly always something to be celebrated. Probably the most consistently inventive and compelling heavy metal band of the past thirty years, the band’s new record, a double album effort, The Book of Souls (Parlophone/Sanctuary/BMG), is their 16th opus. For a band with such a celebrated history, it is a joy and delight to confirm that it stands resolute as one of the best things the band has produced. Ever.

Given the backdrop to the arrival of this record, notably lead vocalist Bruce Dickinson’s unexpected brush with cancer, one could be forgiven – and forgive the band – if you thought that, given the turmoil, something sub-par might turn up. Not a bit of it. Far from The Book of Souls being a “will this do?” contractual obligation effort, The Books of Souls sees the band in ridiculously fine fettle, delivering an album with heart and chutzpah in equal measure. It is a record of heft, of innovation and invention. It is an album to cheer from the rooftops.

The first two songs on the album are Dickinson only compositions and, perhaps more so than any Iron Maiden album even since his debut on 1982’s The Number of the Beast (EMI) his personality and musical talent positively radiates and dominates the record. ‘If Eternity Should Fail’ and ‘Speed of Light’ are both superb tracks, full of power and emotional range, substance and guile. On ‘The Great Unknown’ and ‘When the River Runs Deep’, the creative and intelligent interplay between Adrian Smith and Steve Harris is much in evidence. Harris’s role as a key driving force in Maiden has never been in doubt; Smith’s song writing is taught and focussed as ever, his musicianship breathtakingly accomplished. It’s a performance of valediction.

For an album that lasts the length of a movie but contains only eleven tracks it is perhaps inevitable that much of the focus on The Book of Souls will revolve around the album’s epic songs: ‘The Red and the Black’, ‘The Book of Souls’ and ‘Empire of the Clouds’.

‘The Red and the Black’ is a Harris-penned song  and his only solo effort on this album; however, when it is as powerful and inspiring as this, you need not worry. This is a magnificent composition, fourteen minutes of atmospheric, captivating metal that is so brilliant put together that you can only sit back and admire the artistry at work. Whether it’s the infectious wo-oh-ohs, the cheeky and cunning nods to ‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ on parts of the musical interludes, or the sheer bloody joy of it all, it scarcely matters. This is Maiden at their most epic, most versatile and most bellicose.

UK_maiden

Photo from www.ironmaiden.com

The album’s title track is similarly effortlessly brilliant. A continent-sized riff eases the listener into one of those epic, universe spanning classics that lets Bruce and his not inconsiderable lung power free. It’s familiar, alien, exotic, defiantly Maiden. The middle part sounds awfully like ‘Losfer Words’, the instrumental track off 1984’s Powerslave (EMI) but, as with the rest of the record, this sounds more like a band embracing their heritage rather than plundering it.

It’s the piano that initially knocks you sideways on the stunning coda that is ‘Empire of the Clouds’. Dickinson’s retelling of a British R101 Airship disaster of 1930 is, simply, majestic. This is historical narrative set to a Maiden soundtrack, passionate in its re telling the tale of human frailty and human heroism. This is progressive music at its very best: complex without indulgence, structured but not arch. Above all, it’s a song that for all the talk of it being eighteen minutes long, is actually something that would benefit from being longer. It’s an extraordinary way to end what is, let’s not be coy here, an extraordinary record.

The Book of Souls is everything that you hoped it would be and more. In this world of short attention spans, the announcement that Iron Maiden’s new album was going to be a proper double, weighing in at a hefty 92 mins felt like some statement of intent. Iron Maiden have never been ones to follow the vagaries of fashion and given their history and their collective sense of purpose they were deeply unlikely to start that kind of nonsense at this stage in their career.

An album that works on a number of levels – the strength of the songwriting, the collective and individual musicianship, the range and power of the entire album are all deeply impressive. This is a record about confronting mortality in an adult and mature way but it is no maudlin self-indulgence and is resolutely in favour of life and resolutely life-affirming.

The Book of Souls is the collective endeavour of a band still resolutely in love with music and still gracious and humble enough to want to share that with its audience. Happy and glorious, from epic start to bombastic end.

 

10/10

 

MAT DAVIES


Ghost – Meliora

Posted on by

810xURgfqrL._SL1500_

It is testimony to how far our favourite Scandinavian Satan botherers, Ghost, have entered the heavy metal consciousness that that much of the internet chatter regarding their latest album of curiously hummable tunes – the enigmatically titled Meloria (Spinefarm) –  is magnificently divisive. Meloria, apparently, is proof of another “masterpiece” or, by contrast, it’s proof that they are blowhards and charlatans of the highest order.

When did this happen? When did the release of a new album from a band seemingly force everyone into Camp A or Camp B- that bands are either geniuses of the highest order or they are all steaming piles of horse manure?

This curious one-upmanship of “my band is more amazing than yours” can only end in a depressing ever-decreasing circle of self righteous stupidity which also belie the facts – not every record released is a classic and not every record you don’t like emanated from the stable yard.

Whatever happened to having, as Geddy Lee once put it, an open mind and an open heart?

Having set this mindset firmly in place, Meloria can be righteously ticked off as a really good album; in parts, exceptionally so. This is the album where Ghost have consolidated the tricks and tropes that drew us into their strange vaudevillian universe to begin with and the album that will hold us there for some time more. It is a lot more focussed than its expansive predecessor, the often brilliant but occasionally uneven Infestissumam (Sonet/Loma Vista) and is much closer in tone and outlook to the band’s debut the brilliant and otherwordly Opus Eponymous (Rise Above).

Earlier this year, in what has now become part of the annual ritual underpinning the Ghost circus, the band replaced – for the second time- the band’s lead singer, Papa Emeritus II, with, yes, you’ve guessed it, Papa Emeritus III. His “younger brother”, apparently. Whether you give a monkeys about this sort of thing is very much a personal choice but the new vocals sound, well, like Ghost. Plus ca change, plus la meme chose.

Aesthetically, Meliora (roughly translated from the Latin as the “search for betterment”) has many 1970s rock influences – there’s a dash of Black Sabbath here, a nod to AC/DC there and it’s all imbued with that occult-lite that they have become renowned for (and which tends to get up the nose of those who take this sort of thing very seriously indeed). Where Infestissumam decided to go on artistic flights of fancy, Meliora is a much more direct affair and one’s response to it will depend on whether one regards classic song structures and tunes a hindrance. This writer doesn’t.

As a consequence, Meloria sees Ghost honing all their tricks into one accessible and often infectious package. The Hammer horror stylised intro to the crunchy guitars of ‘Spirit’ sets the tone well – the drumming sounds uncannily like Bon Jovi’s ‘Lay Your Hands on Me’ which may or may not be a compliment, depending on your world view. ‘From the Pittance to the Pit’ is a ridiculously hummable call and response tune that will be many people’s earworm for some months to come. ‘Cirice’, the lead off song for this album is an absolute corker of a riff with all the expected tropes firmly in place; the faux satanic undercurrents, the impending sense of doom, the inveterate twinkle in the eye.

Ghost, photo credit- Spinefarm Records

Ghost, photo credit- Spinefarm Records

Elsewhere, the enigmatic string led instrumental of ‘Spoksonat’ and its companion piece, the love letter to Satan of ‘He Is’ are both highly evocative, properly entertaining and ever so slightly spooky, which one suspects was entirely the point.

‘Mummy Dust’ brings the tempo and the direct aggression up a notch or two and ‘Majesty’ will have Angus Young cocking an inquisitive ear in search of the culprit who nicked that riff from his mid 80s period. ‘Devil Church’ is a playful if lightweight instrumental interlude which presages the album’s two strongest cuts – the moody heavy ‘Absolution’ and ‘Deus in Absentia’.

‘Absolution’ could easily have cropped up on Opus Eponymous, it’s all eerie and plaintive piano but with a chorus bigger than Donald Trump’s ego. ‘Deus in Absentia’ sounds like the distillation of all the tricks and lessons of Ghost to date – big chorus, epically styled structure, choir, rolling piano. I suspect that a portion of Beelzebub’s kitchen sink is in there as well. It is completely ridiculous and completely absurd. You will, naturally, love it.

It would be disingenuous to suggest that Meliora is a massive step forward on an artistic level; it patently isn’t. However, it is absolutely a record that has plenty of vim, vigour and occasional flourishes of inspiration. Meloria will not convince the naysayers but will doubtless build the Ghost congregation and, for that alone, we can all praise Papa.

Meloria is an aural pantomime for Edgar Allan Poe fans. And yes, PR guy, you can quote me on that.

 

8.0/10

 

MAT DAVIES


Year Of The Goat – The Unspeakable

Posted on by

Year-Of-The-Goat-The-Unspeakable-44379-1

In this album reviewing game, and it is a game, most new releases tend to fall into two distinct camps. Camp One is the camp of the major releases from established artists that everyone falls over themselves to get to hear and review first. Camp Two: everything else. The way one views the latter camp can depend on one’s penchant for the new, the unexpected and the downright unusual. As you might expect, Camp Two is sometimes filled with dross and unspeakably bad records from bands who really are quite awful people. Just kidding.

Now and again though, Camp Two throws up records that are so unexpected and so charming, that the artists in question are likely to be promoted, forthwith, to Camp One; Year of The Goat’s second album, The Unspeakable (Napalm) is one such case in point.

This second record from the industrious Swedes is a rich and diverse batch of songs that are both single-minded yet inclusive and progressive. From its studied and passionate opening epic song ‘All He Has Read’ through to the equally fastidious coda ‘Riders of Vultures’, The Unspeakable reveals itself to be a record of quiet confidence, inventive idiosyncrasies and knowing musicality.

Musically, the album takes its lead from those twin towers of doom and occult but The Unspeakable is imbued with plenty of progressive (and I don’t simply mean they write long songs, either) flourishes, the occasional drop of Gothic and a deep knowledge of NWOBHM song structures.

One can only stand back and admire the sheer chutzpah of a band that start a record with a thirteen minute epic but given the strength of ‘All He Has Read’, it is a gamble that pays off handsomely. ‘Pillars of the South’ has many of the tropes and aural colours you would expect from the increasingly crowded scene of occult rock: to these ears it sounds Mercyful Fate met Magnum on a storyteller’s night ( I am more than aware that you saw what I did there).

‘The Emma’s sense of drama is evocative and gripping, whilst the band’s admiration for the rock’s aesthetic is taken to its logical conclusion with the inclusion, quite literally, of more cowbell on ‘The Vermin’. A large slug of gothic wine pervades ‘The Wind’ with its eerie sense of time and place, whilst ‘Black Sunlight’ suggests an admiration for Mark Lanegan and his passion for the desolate, urban troubadour.

There are a lot of NWOBHM influences swirling about the musical cauldron but forget the heritage and consider the final product: here we have a veritable aural feast of musicality, clever influences, familiar tropes and lovely collective execution. It’s the sort of album that you unexpectedly find yourself spending a lot  of time with and thinking a lot about: these, of course, are very good things indeed.

 

7.0/10

 

MAT DAVIES


Soulfly – Archangel

Posted on by

Soulfly-archangel-2015

So, the facts: Archangel (Nuclear Blast) is Soulfly’s 10th album. It has 10 tracks of thrash based heaviness with occasional flourishes of groove metal. It has a lead off single called ‘We Sold Our Souls to Metal’ which is every bit as heavy and thunderous as you would expect from Max Cavalera. Right: to the review.

One of the golden rules that businesses talk about is expectation management. Make sure the customer understands what they are going to be getting and then deliver it for them. If you can, don’t just meet their expectations, exceed them and delight them. If this adage be true, and there is plenty of supporting evidence, then Max Cavalera is a very smart businessman indeed. Archangel sounds exactly like a Soulfly album and, as a consequence, one’s reaction to a new release from Brazil’s favourite heavy metal son largely depends on your view of the nine other Soulfly records that you can also pick up at your local heavy metal dealership.

This then, self evidently, is a good thing or a bad thing, dependent on that point of view. Cavalera’s position and importance in the development and progress of heavy metal as an art form is cemented; he doesn’t have anything left to prove, but Archangel seems to find Cavalera in particularly spiky form. Whatever your view, what is not in doubt is, this is 40 minutes of relentless heaviosity and brutality.

Archangel is probably closest in tone to Soulfly’s fifth record, the largely well received Dark Ages (Roadrunner) which, almost unbelievably, is now ten years old. Opening track ‘We Sold Our Souls to Metal’ could easily have found itself on a Cavalera Conspiracy record, such is its accessibility but the overwhelming feeling on Archangel is the return of the groove and just how bloody brutal it all is. The title track is a decent example of heavy metal thrash laden thunder but, equally, the pounding ‘Sodomites’ would serve just as well: both are bone crushingly heavy slabs of groove metal and, as any fule kno, this is a good thing.

Elsewhere, ‘Live Life Hard’ is a manic hardcore track with Matt Young of King Parrot picking up the vocal duties; it’s low rent fun but ultimately lightweight; of more considerable heft and resonance is ‘Titans’ which has echoes of mid period Anthrax running through it whilst Max wails like the proverbial banshee. ‘Bethlehem’s Blood’ is a highlight: four and a half minutes of bilious rage against organised religion and a bit of a horn section thrown in for good measure: it’s a dark composition and all the better for the musical diversions thrown into the thrashy soup.

If you like Soulfly, you are likely to embrace this record warmly; if you don’t, well there won’t be anything here to change your world view but you might just want to doff the cap for a single-mindedness and obstreperousness that shows no signs of waning anytime soon.

7.0/10

MAT DAVIES


Trailight – The Primitive Mountain

Posted on by

a2469205156_10

What are you supposed to do when you’ve got a love of Rush, progressive metal, Tool and all things prog? That’s right, you head off and make one of the most immersive and complete prog rock escapades that you are likely to hear this year. The musical talent in question here is Vancouver’s Omer Cordell, who, like many of his Canadian brethren, spent his formative years aping Neil Peart on his own drum kit, doubtless dreaming of emulating his teenage hero. A formative career in photography has now morphed into bringing his passion to life; the results, the ambitious ‘The Primitive Mountain’ (Independent/Bandcamp) are never less than interesting and, occasionally, absolutely terrific.

As can often be the case with prog, new records can be worn down by the sum total of their influences. Given prog fans ability to spot a minor chord change on one record and know that it’s previously appeared on a King Crimson b-side from 1969, it’s often a minor miracle that new records bring additional nuance and verve to the overloaded musical table. Trailight‘s debut The Primitive Mountain does that. And how.

Cordell has surrounded himself with some seriously talented musicians and whilst the phrase, ‘supergroup’ isn’t something that should be uttered in polite or serious company, there is some significant CV quality from the likes of former Annihilator vocalist Dave Padden and drummer Ryan Van Poederooyen who spends a lot of time with that other Vancouver based polymath, a certain Devin Townsend. This is the sort of group where one’s instinct would suggest that these guys know exactly what they are doing. Your instinct would be right.

There is a joy and a happiness to the songs on The Primitive Mountain that is infectious. From the Tool like strains of opening track ‘Open Doors’, down through the prog metal powerhouses of ‘We Are The Ocean’ and ‘Frail Human Form’, this is a record that revels in its inventiveness, positively lies back on its metaphoric chaise lounge, offering us new idea after new idea like an over enthusiastic confetti thrower at a wedding. The title track acts as a veritable tent pole for the whole album: reflective and ambitious, both of the personal life described therein and the musical soundtrack that has been created. Three minutes of introspection give way to second half that is determined, driven and resilient.

‘Passer By’s  melody and the harmony of ‘A Thousand Years’ are both songs of delicate loveliness whilst the acoustic strains of ‘Navarino’ will have the hairs on the back of your neck standing proudly on end. Closing track ‘Beyond the Rubicon’ is an absolute highlight, a brilliant distillation of the album’s themes and tenor, a soundtrack with a third party narrator that ruminates on man’s plundering of his environment which is by turns reflective, philosophical and plaintive.

There is a hoary old cliche of records being a bit of a “grower” which is often shorthand for a writer not paying enough attention to the record in the first place or changing their mind about a record’s quality because their mates now love it. Let’s be clear about this: The Primitive Mountain delivers immediately and then delivers even more upon repeated listens because it’s a record made with care and consideration. It’s a record made with love, for goodness sake. Sometimes you need to scratch that itch.

 

8.5/10

 

MAT DAVIES


Ecstatic Vision – Sonic Praise

Posted on by

a3352706445_16

There used to be an old gag doing the rounds of bars and clubs. It went a bit like this: “I see that Rollin’ Stones guitarist Keith Richards has joined the campaign against hard drug use. Don’t do drugs, says Keith. We can’t mate: you’ve done them all!” Mick Jagger’s partner in crime might have captured the public’s imagination for the debate on whether the drugs don’t work or not but Philadelphia’s Ecstatic Vision could run Mr. Richards a close second if their psychedelic and psychotropic opus, Sonic Praise (Relapse) is anything to go by.

Sonic Praise is both discombobulating and eerily familiar, often simultaneously. As heavy as Black Sabbath or Blue Cheer but allied with the same existential weirdness and trippiness of Hawkwind or the krautrock of Amon Duul ii, this five track EP is best played at night with the lights down very low, the red wine glass filled to the brim and the mind cleared of all daily grind so you can immerse yourself in its multi-layered, joyous cacophony.

There is an existential acid trip put to music on the opening track ‘Journey’ where lead vocalist Doug Sabolick doffs his proverbial cap to Lemmy Kilminster and his talented co-members conjure a playful, head nodding and head scratching wall of simply splendiferous noise. ‘Journey’ bleeds into ‘Astral Plane’ which, with its bongo solos opening suggests a hippier version of The Stones’ ‘Sympathy for the Devil’ before it veers off in a more druggy, hazy direction, metaphorically dousing us in gallons of patchouli oil, offering us copious hits from a doubtless gigantic bong and wondering, if this really is the end of the world, whether we can have a bit of a love in before we depart this mortal coil.

Well, something like that anyway.

At five minutes in length, ‘Don’t Kill the Vibe’ feels like an extended coda to the epic nature of his predecessor, a long encore of LSD influenced pleading for the party to never end; it’s a compelling invocation, hard to resist. The title track soons follows, its swirling rhythms and melodies playful and evocative; of times past, places yet to visit, replete with substances for bending the mind and body. It’s a bit of a percussion masterclass for drummer Jordan Crouse who manages to keep a sterling and passionate rhythm going in amongst the deep and often bewildering sounds conjured by his fellow musicians. ‘Cross the Divide’ brings matters to a suitably endearing and psychedelic close, an effective distillation of the themes and tones of the rest of the record: it’s hypnotic, quixotic and exotic. Try saying that after a couple of glasses of your favourite tipple.

One of the eternally heartwarming facets of the heavy metal community is its understanding of its own history and tropes. Whether knowingly atavistic or determinedly reverential, the shock of the new is often co-joined by a warm blanket of the old. Ecstatic Vision know their history, but this is history imbued with reverence and respect. Sonic Praise is delivered with panache, guile and inventiveness.

The drugs do work, after all.

 

8.0/10

 

MAT DAVIES


Lamb of God – VII: Sturm Und Drang

Posted on by

Lamb of God - VII Sturm und Drang - Artwork

About halfway through Lamb of God’s magnificent new album, Sturm Und Drang (Epic/Nuclear Blast) vocalist Randy Blythe screams into the microphone: “How the FUCK did you think this would end?!” It’s both a question and a statement of defiance, summing up five years that have been nothing less than challenging for this band.

You’ve all read about Mr Blythe’s trials and tribulations; I won’t waste space going into them yet again but surely there must have been points when the band must have wondered how it all might end – fearing that they might never make any record ever again. That they have returned and delivered an album this ferocious, this energised, this brilliant, is utterly remarkable and testimony to a sense of collective tenacity and drive that can only be admired.

Suffice to say, there is an air of valediction surrounding Sturm Und Drang. They are right to feel valediction too: this is a quite brilliant record, their most ferocious since As The Palaces Burn (Prosthetic/Epic) and, in all probability, the best thing they have ever done. Scratch that: there’s no “probability” at all – it’s their best record. Period.

There are so many things to get excited about: the song-writing has never been stronger and the musicianship a veritable showcase of individual and collective talent. Whether you opt for Chris Adler’s drumming, Mark Morton and Willie Adler’s astonishing gifts for killer riffs, John Campbell’s hypnotic, rumbling basslines or Blythe’s vocals (is there anyone who sounds more metal than him? That’s correct, there isn’t) it scarcely matters: on this record, the band haven’t just upped their game, they have decided to change it altogether.

From the scabrous and infectious opening of ‘Still Echoes’ which erupts like a line of aural hand grenades in your head, it is clear that Lamb of God aren’t content with throwing down the gauntlet, they are throwing down every gauntlet ever made. It is an instant classic, a song to cheer to the rafters and to howl along with in the circle pits. It is breathless and brilliant.

053015_1904_smaller

Lamb of God, photo credit – Travis Shinn

And so it continues: ‘Erase This’ pummels you into submission, a neck cracking riff allied to a chant along chorus line are terrific ingredients to blend together and the sonic cocktail they have conjured here is deeply intoxicating. It’s hardly a surprise that Blythe references the challenging times he has been through. On the blistering and belligerent ‘512’ (the cell number that Blythe occupied during his incarceration in the Czech Republic) we are treated to a deeply personal insight into the vocalist’s sense of outrage at the injustice he suffered; you get the sense that Blythe is straining every sinew as he spits out the lyrics with venomous bile. It’s an extraordinary display backed by a relentless band performance.

Lamb of God are not a band you’d readily associate with ballads but on ‘Overlord’, a song that has echoes of Alice in Chains, we see Blythe turn in a clean, nuanced and, ultimately, powerfully affecting performance. The song’s ambition is more than matched by the band’s ability to execute and it positively radiates.

It’s not just the massive riffs or the killer tunes that you warm to on Sturm Und Drang, although they are here in abundance: ‘Anthropoid’ and ‘Footprints’ are two further effortless examples in how to write killer heavy metal songs. What equally impresses on this record is the creativity and detail that has been taken. For example, when Deftones’ Chino Moreno makes a startling and very welcome appearance on the exquisite ‘Embers’ it sounds so right, so appropriate that you wonder why they hadn’t tried it before; similarly, The Dillinger Escape Plan’s Greg Puciato adds scope, nuance and texture to the album closer, ‘Torches’.

Sturm Und Drang takes all the emotions, frustrations and challenges of the band’s last five years and distills them into an album of relentless, authentic brilliance. It is everything you hoped this band could produce and more. Sturm Und Drang is the most exciting heavy metal album of the year by a country mile.

All Heavy Metal records should sound this good.

 

9.5/10

MAT DAVIES


War Waves – War Waves

Posted on by

11709636_1608736659403980_7245325933492140647_n

If art is a manifestation of the human spirit and the human heart, then I wouldn’t have liked to have gone through the emotional pain and heartache that War Waves lead singer and chief protagonist Marc Newby has been through. His latest artistic endeavour, following on from his previous outfit, Collisions, has been conceived as an attempt to win back the love of his life.

Working with Steve Mann at Backwater Records, a man who has been a longtime champion and supporter of bands from the Ipswich area, War Waves passionate and heartfelt approach to songwriting will appeal to the ears of listeners already won over by the likes of The Gaslight Anthem or Idlewild; listeners of a certain vintage will doubtless be able to wax lyrical over the more than occasional nod to Mr. Stephen Patrick Morrissey.

These are no bad things of course. There is a rawness and emotional heft to the songs that often startle as much as they reassure. Whether down to the colourful language in the lyrics- the dropping of the c-bomb once or twice raises the eyebrow- or the matter of fact candour, the net effect is immediate and dynamic. The production retains that sense of this record being recorded as live and that lack of tinkering adds to the sense of a man on a zealous, emotional mission.

The ordinariness of the songs settings – ‘My Friends Wedding’ and ‘Hockey Stick’ are good examples of this – and the universal messages within them remind one, thematically at least, of the kitchen sink dramas beloved of The Streets or Plan B or, even Jarvis Cocker at his most suburban. Newby’s drama is highly personal but his honesty and lack of self-serving sanctimony means you are drawn to his tale. The fact that he has a way with a tune doesn’t hurt either.

Newby pulls no punches and grants no quarter; fortunately there’s an absence of hubris as well which is all the more appealing given the self-satisfaction that often accompanies records that are about the state of a heart. War Waves have conjured a decent début album with plenty of ideas and flourishes that you will doubtless be filing very readily under: ones to watch.

 

7.0/10

 

MAT DAVIES


Jessica Lee Wilkes – Lone Wolf EP

Posted on by

DIRT-CD-0073_cover_1024x1024

For those of you with a forensic eye for detail, you’ll probably know that Jessica Lee Wilkes has spent the past few years plying her musical trade with JD Wilkes (her husband) and the Dirt Daubers. Wilkes’ drive and dynamism was more than partially responsible for turning the Dirt Daubers into a focussed hard rockin’ rock n roll band and this solo offering, five track EP on Free Dirt is a natural extension of that.

Standard 1950’s rock‘n’roll isn’t the sort of thing that regular readers of Ghost Cult are likely to have at the top of their most wanted lists for any calendar month but, for once, have a word and open your mind and ears.

Wilkes’ music is organic 1950s rock n roll; it’s the coming of age America but seen with modern 21st century lens. There are many who and try to pull this off with most end up sounding like pastiche. This works for two reasons: firstly, Wilkes is a compelling femme fatale (as well as a corking bass player) and second, surrounding yourself with a group of musicians who know exactly what they are doing backs off the risk. Wilkes has Jason Smay (JD McPherson) on drums, Kellie Everett (The Hooten Hallers) on saxophone and Eddie Angel (Los Straitjackets) on guitar. That, my friends, is quality.

Lone Wolf’s five tracks come and go in a twelve-minute flurry of brass parts, driven bass lines and Dick Dale inspired surf-guitar licks. It’s modern yet rooted in the roadside diners and dive bars of yesteryear. It’s the Saturday night dance of your parents or grandparents teenage dreams; it’s knowingly atavistic and delivered with love and insight and passion.

This is the soundtrack to the next Quentin Tarantino movie.

You read it here first, kids.

 

7.5/10

Jessica Lee Wilkes on Facebook

 

MAT DAVIES


The Nopes – Nectar of the Dogs EP

Posted on by

11226043_487394038083125_1021371793991510842_n

If your vision of California rock n roll begins and ends with lap dancers on the Sunset Strip, riding your steel motorcycle into the romantic sunset or worrying about dockside industrial relations, then California punk upstarts The Nopes are about to light a bomb under your preconceptions.

Nectar of the Dogs (admittedly, a decent play on words), out now via Magnetic Eye, is five songs of sonic terrorism it’s acidic, acerbic, scabrous punk rock which, if he is listening, Bob Mould should be getting on the phone to his lawyer about as it sounds like his old band, Husker Du. Wait: check that. It sounds exactly like Husker Du – from the layer upon layer of guitar distortion, some of it amp-led, some of it studio twiddling, this is college rock à la 1985 writ large. Or, as Bob might have it, large writ.

I hope he’s not that grumpy though. He needn’t be. This is an EP full of piss and vinegar, in the nicest possible way. Nectar of the Dogs is eight minutes (yes, you did read that correctly) of furious, life-affirming noise. From the opening bars of ‘Matinee at Market’ to the closer, ‘Jingle Berries’, this is the aural equivalent of falling downstairs drunk- bangs, crashes, wallops and a big shit-eating grin whilst it’s all happening.

If you care about this sort of thing, you might be interested to know that production comes from those guys who twiddled knobs for Deafheaven and their début album Sunbather (Deathwish, Inc.). Whether this matters or not, I couldn’t tell you. What I can tell you though is Nectar of the Dogs is a punk record that genuinely sounds punk. Amen to that.

 

7.0/10

The Nopes on Facebook

 

MAT DAVIES