>>Nostalgia For Infinity

I was contacted a few month’s ago by South Korean label Realize Records, who described themselves as covering punk, metal, rock, grunge, hardcore and more. If that sounds like a lot for one label to cover, it’s because the region doesn’t have the largest subcultural music scenes, so those bands that there are tend to work and play in a tight-knit community.

(This much is obvious if you’ve ever read the scene reports in zines like Maximum Rocknroll or any of the other larger zines, or indeed the smaller, more politicised ones who tend to be more internationalist in focus.)

Realize also tell me they cover artists from across Korea, Asia, Europe and Mexico, which is pretty far-reaching, with artists including Fatal Fear, Gwamegi, Velvet Coast, Hound, All I Have, Death I Am, Titikkoma, Abyss, Byblis, Ghaddark and others. I’d not heard of these bands before but figured I’d drop all the names in anyway, as it’s always cool to see labels from overseas getting some traction and eartime in other parts of the world!

Anyway, Realize have sent me a couple of EPs to review, from Hound and Velvet Coast respectively. Velvet Coast will follow next week; today’s review is Hound’s We Will Never Sleep, a five-track slab of metal.

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Although I’m still a long way from really understanding the way that psychology and geography are often linked in terms of the creative output of certain areas of the US, I still like to think I have a decent ability to guess where US bands playing certain styles of music hail from. In the case of The American Scene, with its thematic focus on distance as something that separates people, its bittersweet exploration of love lost, and its mid-pace melodic emo rock, I was convinced that the band must hail from somewhere in the American Midwest. But nope. I was wrong. They’re from California.

That I guessed wrong has no bearing on this review or record; I only wanted to mention it because geography, at least in terms of distance, seems so relevant to this record. And as far as lovelorn breakup records go it’s a solid example of the kind of rocky, oh-so-faintly tinged by the echo of emo, mid-paced pop-punk that might once have found a home on Drive Thru Records – think The Starting Line or Jimmy Eat World, the latter of whom seem a particular influence at times, both in some of the licks deployed by the band’s three guitarists and in some of the more extravagant vocal lines from singer Matthew Vincent.

For a break-up record it’s strangely warm and pleasant, though I suppose this is the musical equivalent of comfort movies and ice cream (if the sort who prefers to suffer in company) or nostalgic drinking and heavy thinking (if the sort who prefers to suffer alone). It’s nostalgic rather than angry, an album that essentially endeavours to personify the old adage that distance makes the heart grow fonder.

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From the first abrasive and buzzing chords and snarling female vocals of ‘Spit to See the Shame’ you know you’re on to something that’s at least a little bit special. And okay, sure, I’m tempted to make predictable references to Joan Jett’s songwriting attitude or the indie-rock riot grrl stylings of Sleater-Kinney - obvious, yes, but there’s an unmissable connection there.

But as you move on you’re wrong-footed by what follows; with ‘Throat the Foam’ Black Wine switch to male vocals with a compelling and plaintive edge to them, marrying that to a song that recalls the earnest punkish power-pop of Cheap Girls more than the confrontational proto-punk riffs of ‘Spit to See the Shame’. The ending feels a little limp in comparison to the memorable chorus vocal line, which is a shame, but as ‘End of Days’ kicks in things change up again. The song marries the aggressive verses with plenty of attitude to choruses that switch focus to something warmer and more melodic. It certainly helps that lyrics like ”Dedicated to the one I hate / And if I hate myself hard enough / Then your insults won’t mean that much” manage to capture timeless rock and roll character at the same time as not coming off like a washed-out carbon copy of something done a thousand times before.

Don’t get fooled, though, because this dichotomous approach is not the only trick up the sleeve of Summer of Indifference. » Read the rest of this entry «

Apparently Long Island’s Broadcaster formed in 2010 as “a ‘less business, more fun’ side-project devoted to playing a handful of 90s covers at local shows”, but found themselves taking off from there thanks to a broadly positive reception. It’s not hard to see why; their mid-pace melodic songwriting, liberally peppered with fat and throaty bass, jangly yet rough and ready distorted guitars and pleasantly drawled vocals are a compelling mix.

There’s a Jawbreaker-ish vibe here, to a point: Broadcaster are a more upbeat and fun band, eschewing the progressive edge that always characterised Jawbreaker’s efforts, but having a good time is a noble cause in itself and one that’s reflected in the good-time vibes put out in the four songs present on this EP. In fact, if you smushed Jawbreaker together with Everclear and stripped out the cathartic elements of those bands, you’d not be too far off Joyride, particularly with ‘Atlantic Sea’, which recalls the tide-lapping-at-the-shore rhythms of the latter’s old hit ‘Santa Monica’. That said, for me The Thermals 2009 offering Now We Can See may be a stronger reference point with its mid-pace stride and fine melodic hooks.

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After my ambivalence toward the slick melodic sounds of Half-Hearted Hero, it’s refreshing to be able to write about something with which I can whole-heartedly engage. Ladies and gentlemen, Direct Hit!

They’re a band I’ve written about a few times before, namely in the form of their splits with the adorable Mixtapes and the something-or-other Tit Patrol (who I also liked, but can now remember little of). With Domesplitter, which I think is their first full-length, Direct Hit! haven’t moved in a new direction, so my previous comments on what they do still pretty much stand. They rock hard and fast and they do the anthemic melodic punk thing well.

The question, then, is does their schtick work when spread over a full ten tracks? A secondary question is how the hell did I fail to notice before that pretty much all of their songs appear to be inspired by b-movie cheese? The respective answers are ‘yes’ and ‘because I am a fucking thicksicle’.

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New Bedford, Massachusset’s Half-Hearted Hero are described as influenced by A New Found Glory, Small Brown Bike, The Starting Line, NOFX, Living With Lions, Punchline and The Fullblast. Some of that I can see more than others; they’re somewhere between the bro-happy speed and whimsy of ANFG and the po-faced mid-pace melodic mastery of Small Brown Bike, and I’d say that a contemporary reference point might be Transit (reviewed here) or Handguns (reviewed here).

I didn’t get along hugely well with either Transit or Handguns; they fall into the category of bands who I feel do what they do well enough but I don’t find it personally resonant, and without that their competent, slick melodic punk rock sounds an awful lot like the many other competent, slick melodic punk rock bands out there. On the other hand I’m reminded of Polar Bear Club too, although Half-Hearted Hero rarely seem to take a moment to slow things down and unpack their songs, preferring instead to forge ahead full-tilt.

There’s something indefinable in the air here (or the water, ha ha do you get it), though, that makes me suspect I would’ve liked Half-Hearted Hero more when I was younger. This, I suspect, is down to their lyrics. Their songs often seem potentially interesting lyrically, but at the same time I have to admit that they tend to deploy fairly common imagery derived from lived experience but without overt hints as to meaning. The end result of that, with lyrics and images that you’ve come across so many times before, is that you end up with an impressionistic patchwork of half-remembered things rather than a cohesive sense of what a song is about. This is, in fairness, true of many bands.

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Folks, I do love a good split. And I’ll skip the usual preamble and tell you that this is a good split. You should listen to it. You should even consider buying it. (That is the thing where you do not find music via Blogspot, you terrible freeloader.)

It’s maybe a bit redundant to go ahead and actually review something that I’ve just told you you should go and buy, but indulge me. It’s getting late and I have an urgent need to go and drink some wine.

I’ve reviewed Banquets before. They were a band who I really rather liked but felt the need to hedge my praise with some criticisms about how I felt they could do better than they did. Well, since then I’ve actually listened to that EP at least a dozen more times, probably more, over the past… year, shit, has it really been that long? But yeah, I really dig it. Now they’re back with this split cassette and a full-length record (to be reviewed in that indefinable Nostalgia For Infinity ‘soon’ style).

Mayflower I’ve not come across before but they’re suitable bedfellows on the strength of the songs they’ve contributed here. More on them later.

I think one of the things I like most about Banquets, aside from the fact that they like to write songs about historical personalities as a sort of metaphor for whatever a song is actually about, is that they’re an irrepressibly upbeat band. They’re not a one-dimensional outfit by any means, but so many bands rocking this style of melodic punk rock tend to pursue a melancholic/nostalgic direction and it’s cool to find someone walking another path.

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Mmm, things are starting out pretty well here for Ballycastle’s Event Horses. Buckets of throaty vocals and fat, rocking riffs, all wrapped up in a thick and meaty sound. Plus the first thing you see when you pick up this record is some seriously slick artwork and design, with more character to it than a lot of what I get sent. Character trumps presentation, folks, but it’s best when you can manage both.

It’s a shame there’s only three tracks present because I’d really like to hear more from these guys. Their sound is more-ish and their hooks, well, you know, they drag you along with them like you’re dangling by one foot from the stirrups.

‘Dance With the Devil’ is the first tune that canters up, displaying its juicy riffs and a deceptively good, rasping vocal line. It’s a moment before you realise that as simple as the song is it’s really well-judged; I figured this out around the time I realised just how much flesh those hooks had torn loose. Okay, so it repeats itself a bit too much throughout – you get variations on those central licks and riffs but nothing that really shakes you out of that reliable, staid groove – but too much of a good thing isn’t a major problem when it’s come and gone in about three minutes. The evil power of rock ‘n roll laid bare, right there.

Similar tricks are on display in ‘Desperate Times’; it’s built around another solid groove but the riffs bounce and roll less, opting instead for drum-driven verses and power-chord-heavy 4/4 choruses with some wailing lead providing some tasty bits of dynamic distinction. This is pretty much the epitome of a middle song; good enough and it keeps you going but it’s what came before and comes after that matters more.

And, ah. Here I run into a wall. » Read the rest of this entry «

First impressions aren’t always the best basis for judgement.

Take the artwork to the right there. It’s going for a pretty stylised thing, and I’m not too sure what that thing actually is. Why not just use a photo? Why does it look like it’s from an amateurishly-inked comic, or possibly one of those bad 90s hip-hop cover art collections that get posted up on the internet for lulz?

Take the band’s name, Knuckle Up! Kinda says it all, huh: get ready for your arse to be kicked, or to kick your arse, or something. Generously, you might say that’s pretty macho, bro. Less generously you might dismiss it as thuggish. Or you might just note that it’s not exactly an outlandish attitude for a band that loves to mosh. For every dude who will fall over himself to tell you that really throwing down in the pit is all about respect and personal space there’s another dude who acts like he’s tooling up to hurt somebody. And, you know, neither is wrong. Nature of the scene.

But yeah, sometimes first impressions are accurate, because I’ve got to admit that Knuckle Up! just plain and simple aren’t a band for me. Once you get past those early impressions – assuming that, as with me, they’re off-putting rather than appealing – the music isn’t half bad, but nor does it really do much for me. My days in the pit are pretty much done with now, and most of my anger doesn’t come out through shouting and slamming, and I never could hardcore dance for shit anyhow.

Still, if you like to indulge in the cathartic, adrenaline-fuelled thrills of the pit you may well find something to like here. » Read the rest of this entry «

Heights come to us courtesy of the county of Hertfordshire, famous mostly for containing a variety of Home County-esque landmarks alongside an alarming quantity of my family. None of those, however, play their own brand of metal and hardcore with epic overtones, as a press release assures me Heights do.

Look, let’s get one thing straight to start with. Heights have a really bland name and they’ve titled their debut album something so generic it’s almost impressive; the cover, too, is nice in that damningly unmemorable way. But get past that. Names aren’t their strong point, music is.

There’s a pattern that’s set soon after they shoot out of the starting gate with ‘We Live Alone…’: a drawn out intro explodes into a meaty hardcore/metal fusion characterised by roaring gruffvox, buckets of tremolo guitar and squeals, mid-pace drums and a rhythm section that feels solid, dependable and absolutely integral. Towards the end they kick in some piano; that juxtaposition of aggression and delicacy can ring false, but here it works.

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