There’s something immensely satisfying about slamming your feet progressively on hard concrete, while listening to music that could melt the face of a room full of eight-year-old children. This is how I spent most of my time listening to the first full length from, Southsea hardcore mentalists, Attack! Vipers! Unfortunately I learnt, that without proper running shoes, I could seriously damage my shins. I put the athletic career on hold, but it seems sprint booties will have to go on the next shopping list, as the titans of UK hardcore have released a new record.

One of the greatest things about Deadweight Revival is that, within twenty seconds of listening, it’s clear this is not just another “hardcore” album. There are no cliché beat downs, as used by so many try hard bands trapped in old conventions. They seem terrified to even slightly move away from creating an integral ambience of melodic hardcore, which often comes across as sounding like a slightly better polished, more superior, technical rendition of Will Haven’s Carpe Diem. In fact, Deadweight Revival even puts the bands previous efforts to shame, with the vocal ability of singer Joe Watson pushing forward into a more mellifluous, yet still entirely brutal, timbre, putting him on a pedestal when compared to other vocalists of the genre.

Vocals are not the only thing Deadweight Revival does to push the hardcore genre to the next level. In terms of musicality, the record shows a much more intrinsic side to A!V!, with guitars that switch between nimble licks, beastly distorted chords and andante sections so seamlessly it makes the record almost impossible to put into the “hardcore” pigeon-hole. Sometimes it sounds like hardcore, other times it sounds like power metal and, occasionally, you get a part which would probably be very much at home on a fucking Sigur Ros release.

The band’s self proclaimed style of being “somewhere between The Suicide File and Envy” is hard to deny. The similarities are there but at the same time there’s so much much to the Vipers than just that. Deadweight Revival takes the hardcore musicality then adds a punk rock ethos and does this with aplomb. In doing so, it creates an energetic sound that UK hardcore had missed dearly since the departure of, Manchester’s finest, Fill the Void.

I could say Deadweight Revival was by the far the best UK hardcore album I’d heard in a long time, but I’d be lying. It’s the best I’ve heard…EVER. Attack! Vipers! have far surpassed expectations with this record, and if any band were to be at the forefront of reviving UK hardcore – a genre what could arguably be called a dying one – then these guys are sure to be it. This record proves that.

On The Impossible Past is the third album from The Menzingers, and their first on Epitaph Records. I was lucky enough to hear this record before most – when they took Leagues Apart, Dave and I from Philly to FEST 10 last year – but unfortunate enough to have to go without hearing it for the following three months.

Compared to previous efforts, On The Impossible Past is less in your face, and more in you head. The chorus of ‘Burn After Writing’ has been running through my head daily since I first I heard it. This is a more mature and accomplished record.

I honestly believe that there’s no filler songs, and no songs that are a little bit worse than others on this record. It’s thirteen tracks of absolute quality. The album flows so flawlessly that even at 45 minutes in total, you still find yourself going back to track one (‘Good Things’) and starting all over again.

The Menzingers sound all grown up. They’ve mastered catchy choruses, pounding rhythms, and everything else that was special about their back catalogue. Expect to see On The Impossible Past in many ‘Best of 2012′ lists come the end of the year.

5 stars out of 5, 11/10 and 3 golden globe nominations.

- Kieran Kelly

Folk music has always been about telling stories. Well, it used to be. Today anyone armed with an acoustic guitar is pigeon-holed as being ‘folk’ and, whilst there’s plenty of valid examples out there, there’s few that do the definition of folk music justice like Beans On Toast. Trying To Tell The Truth follows on from Beans’ previous two efforts, and it’s here that he’s managed to perfect his craft.

Whilst, his debut, Standing On A Chair was rough and ready, it had a lot of charm (a lot like the man himself). It’s these songs that endeared him and his music to the people. Last year saw the release of Writing On The Wall and whilst it was a better produced, more scaled back, effort, it lacked that little something that made the first batch of tracks so great. With this record, Beans has managed to split the difference – creating a polished collection of twelve, very British, folk songs. Just don’t go in expecting something all rose tinted glasses.

Granted, there’s a few on here that try to paint a perfect picture – ‘Peter Pan’s Playground’ says “Hi!” – but, for the most part, Trying To Tell The Truth is a really honest record. Not only that, but Beans manages to cover a range of topics that some would choose to ignore, including: buying new shoes, over population and blowjobs. Each song offers up something clever and comedic in equal measure, with very few dull moments. Despite this, my favourite track covers something a little more traditional. ‘My New Number One’ is a simple, catchy, love song about “Lizzie B” – presumably Beans’ other half – which everyone should be able to relate to.

Beans On Toast might not have the best voice in the world, or masses of technical skill, but his songs are honest and simple, and that’s what makes them great.

Bonafide - Something's Dripping © Black Lodge

Bar-room lyrics, check. Catchy, riff based songs, check. Long hair, acres of denim and a love of late nights and even later women, almost definitely. This is a list that, to some, may seem an imposing, clichéd inventory needed to write a stereotypical rock band comedy/mockumentary. But rock n roll isn’t anything complicated and this list has stood the test of time, like those who have adhered to it. And so do Bonafide, the latest champions of the down and dirty to come from Sweden’s Nordic shores.

When Sweden is mentioned, most here in the UK would automatically and rather imperialistically think of Volvo and, unfortunately, ABBA. So it is with great relief and pleasure that the latest in a long line of young pretenders to the blood stained, amp shaped throne of hard rock champions comes in the form of Bonafide. Having paid their dues all over Europe and a subsequent UK tour in December, Bonafide bring with them a back catalogue of proven song writing ability, excellent sound and a dedication to an art form that has seen a relative renaissance in the past half decade.

Their 2009 album Something’s Dripping, a wonderfully graphic and balls to the wall title, is a standout combination of a group who are plying their trade in what could be mildly described as a hostile environment. Indeed, it would seem that the fun and lavish rock and roll excesses of the past half century have been long forgotten since 2000 rolled around and the music industry became a place of factory (definitely not Factory Records) produced starlets hell bent on fifteen seconds of fame.

Thus with an album like Something’s Dripping, Bonafide and their contemporaries bring a much needed injection of light heartedness and relaxed throw back into a scene dominated by innocuous glitter and pre-fab. There is nothing more gut-bustingly wonderful than tracks titled like “A Shot of You,” “Butt You Up” and “Fill Your Head with Rock.” All of these songs incidentally are not only excellent hard rock but perfect examples of the musicianship, song writing and top tier production that Bonafide have behind them.

The lyrics, “You think you’re God almighty, like you own the show/ I’m gonna be there laughing at you, you’re Dirt Bound,” taken from the album’s opening track “Dirt Bound” more than exemplify this band’s intentions. Following the hard rock formula of simple riff, throaty vocals and an unrelenting percussion, “Dirt Bound” has the makings of crowd pleasing anthem but also carries with it the grandeur and statement of intent of the band and their sound as a whole.

This is a group of rockers, plain and simple, no frills, toe tapping blues-based music that feels refreshingly new and familiar all at once. The theme of us Vs them is concurrent throughout the whole album, Something’s Dripping’s tracks slipping seamlessly together, one high paced track after the other in a rapid, machine gun paced trip of eleven tracks designed as a protest and assault on anything else you’ve heard this year.

Rebellion is what rock music is all about and this is the finest form. There are no hidden messages, no complicated sub themes or parable like analogies to set fire to message boards across the Internet. You will not be able to play the album in concurrence with classic movies like The Wizard of Oz or Blade Runner because there is nothing needlessly complicated or self indulgently artistic and ambiguous about this music. It’s hard working, hard sounding, excellent rock and roll that everybody can enjoy.

With an array of recent bands trying their hand at this style of music, Airbourne, The Answer, The Treatment and Rival Sons to name four, it seems there is still a contingency of musicians out there willing to make music that echoes a golden age of recent memory. As the world continues to become progressively digital and the medium of music is more accessible, high hopes rest on Bonafide, and the others, to keep us rocking all night and partying every day.

Jonathan Whitelaw

The split record is something that touring bands do a lot, but they don’t usually do it two years after the tour has finished. It’s been a long road but, finally, the Calvinball/Apologies, I Have None/ONSIND split exists. Not only does it exist, but it’s brilliant. But what did you expect from three of the UK’s finest covering eachother’s songs?

These aren’t just your run of the mill covers either. Just because Calvinball are covering ONSIND on here, don’t expect something upbeat and acoustic. The same goes for for the other two bands as well, they’ve all reworked these songs and made them their own. Of course, they share a few similarities, but these are far from carbon copies of the originals. And even when they’re relatively unchanged – Apologies, I Have None’s rendition of ‘Brighter Lights’ comes to mind – there’s still something that sets them apart, making them feel fresh and, at the very least, intriguing to listen to. That’s exactly what I wanted from this.

This split is a collection of six fantastic songs, recorded by three brilliant bands. If you want to hear ‘Heterosexuality Is A Construct’ Calvinball style, the addition of trumpets to an Apologies, I Have None song, or a six minute take on an ONSIND track, you’ve come to the right place. If you love these songs, and these bands, like I do, you owe it to yourself to check out this record (and try and get the physical thing too!).

Stream a few tracks below, or buy the record here.

<a href=”http://specialistsubject.bandcamp.com/album/split-12″ mce_href=”http://specialistsubject.bandcamp.com/album/split-12″>Split 12&quot; by Calvinball / ONSIND / Apologies, I Have None</a>

In the opening track of this record, Childish Gambino (a.k.a. Donald Glover) raps about the hardships he faced growing up, how he was (and supposedly still is) an outsider – the name of the track in question is ‘Outside’ – a theme that is shared by the majority of the album. That’s all well and good, you’ve got me interested, now what’re you going to do? You’re going to throw in a bunch of ‘nerdy’ references in amongst a sea of ‘luxury rap’ cliches. Sigh.

In a word, Camp is ‘conflicted’ One minute Glover’s rapping about how “these black kids want something new…” and the next he’s saying “I love pussy, I love bitches, dude I should be running PETA”. So the wordplay is a little clever, but I want to know what’s supposed to be “new” about that? It’s the same, overhyped take on rap that makes me steer clear from the genre almost entirely.

It’s a shame because there are a few good tracks on here. ‘Fire Fly’ and ‘Kids (Keep Up)’ are my personal favourites. They’re two of the more mellow tracks on the album, and it’s these kinds of tracks I was more interested in. When the beats sped up, it was like Glover adopted another persona. In place of the heartfelt lyrics came an air of crassness and immaturity that turned me off right away. Not only that, but the majority of these up tempo instrumentals were pretty bad. Even if the lyrics had been good, many would have rendered the track unlistenable.

Overall this record feels like a missed opportunity. Having heard the opening of the album I thought I might have found that rarest of commodities, some new hip-hop that I actually liked. Unfortunately, that wasn’t to be and a few nerdy lyrics here and there weren’t enough to save Camp from feeling like every other rap album on the market. Well at least I’ve got Community to watch…wait, what?!

Florence+The Machine - Ceremonials © Island

2009 was year that Florence Welch will never forget. With a monumental and almost instantaneous rise from obscure indie pop vocalist to one of the biggest selling and popular artists of recent memory. With a string of awards and media praise including the prestigious BBC Introducing, respected cultural South Bank Show award, a BRIT award and MTV Music Video Award amongst her haulage for breakthrough album Lungs, Miss Welch and her band Florence + The Machine return with the hotly anticipated and always trialling follow up album Ceremonials.

There have been very few bands in recent memory that have stormed the mainstream music scene and had such a powerful influence across the complete spectrum of consumer appreciation and economic bankability. From tweener school kids wishing to seem more mature in their music taste to the young professional still gripping tightly to their aging days of youth. They are joined by the middle class suburbanites and beyond in their appreciation for Florence + The Machine’s alternative, soul infused indie rock sound that feels it should be performed in airy, 17^th century cathedrals than the glitzy, confetti strewn stages of the O2 arena.

So it is with a relative pleasure that the new album Ceremonials arrives on the shelves for the baying public’s ravenous consumption. Once more cantered as the focal point of the group and its commercial appeal, front woman Florence Welch lends her voice, that which is rather liberally described as “somewhere between rock and soul”, to an album that almost writes its own cheques, merely at its mention.

Launched with the preceding singles “What the Water Gave Me,” a techno funk, artistically indulgent anthem that, if popularity continues to escalate as it does, will no doubt be the festival anthem of next summer’s inevitable tour by the band. The second, of three, singles; “Shake it Out” returns Florence + The Machine to their grandeur and crowd mimicking anthem status they last experienced with their cover of Candi Staton and The Source’s “You’ve Got the Love.” More nightclub throbbing, drunken, happy memories sure to be made in the same vein as its immensely popular predecessor.

With additional tracks such as “Seven Devils,” “Spectrum,” and “Leave me Body,” Ceremonials stands as a substantial piece of work that is a fair reflection of the band and their music. Standing at twelve tracks long, twenty for the inevitable Deluxe edition which includes various demos and acoustic versions, fans and casual listeners alike will be more than pleased and satisfied.

However, this fact alone could well prove to be the final nail in the coffin of Florence + The Machine, the overused, clichéd term “More of the same” an all too fitting an epitaph. Where Lungs was embraced because of its relative originality and refreshingly bold, orchestral and musically intelligent driving force that is all too redundant in the popular music field. The album and songs spoke across the multigenerational, quasi spectrum of multiple listeners because of its word-a-mouth popularity and enjoyable music not heard for twenty years for some and not heard at all for others.

Ceremonials however feels more like a re-hash of the previous album, not so much a new piece of work but more Lungs.2. undeniably talented and blessed with one of the more unique, fabulous and hauntingly infatuating voices in pop, Florence Welch and the rest of the band, as they have become dubbed, quite literally by their own admission and band name, have produced an album here that stays safe.

And what is wrong with that? Well nothing, nothing at all. AC/DC have produced the same album, once again by the own admission, fifteen times since 1973 and are one of the wealthiest, most respected pioneers within their genre, if not music. So have countless other groups and artists, who is really to say there is any difference between “Dead or Alive” and “Young Gun” by Bon Jovi? It is a formula that works and all credit to be due for those who exploit it.

But with Florence + The Machine, there seems to be a rather acrid taste left in the listener’s mouth about the whole experience. Here was a group of talented, young musicians who were seemingly stumbled upon as a genuine hope for the future of genuinely good music who had importantly captured the imaginations of the wider public. Instead Ceremonials takes the safe, money in the bank option of sticking to the formulae that has allowed them the luxury of making the album so closely that the end product is nothing shy of the same material in a different sleeve.

Where those who are obvious inspirations to the band, see Annie Lennox and Kate Bush for starters, continually pushed the boundaries of their own images and styles whilst still retaining their fan base, Florence + The Machine have regressed. A pity but no great surprise and nothing that they should be ashamed of in the current climate of musical austerity.

Jonathan Whitelaw

This is Hell are a Long Island, NY based band who are stretching their burning, hell infused, black nail polished fingers across the states and globally having played gigs in the US and Canada as recently as October of this year. With a refreshingly upbeat and enthusiastic attitude, something that can sadly be a amiss in artists following this genre of music, the work ethic and effort of This is Hell can not be questioned.

The album itself, Black Mass, released via Rise Records, is the first since 2010’s Past Present is as furious and ear drum blasting as could ever be expected from a band and album title such as this. With competent guitar work from Rick Jiminez and his accompanying percussion section of Pieter van den Berg on bass and Mike Sciulara, the musical composition on tracks such as “Acid Rain”, “Black History” and the less than creative, every cliché in the book thrown in at once if that’s at all possible titles “Black Mass,” are fine examples of the musicians at their best. Vocals by Travis Reilly again are more than competent and is more than in keeping with the traditions of the past thrash masters of old, from James Hetfield to Joey Belladonna.

But there is something amiss as an overall sound. It is perhaps not fair to lay the blame at the foot of This is Hell as they are merely the catalyst for this thought provocation. There is something distinctly old fashioned and out of date about this type of music. Where as at the beginning of the 21^st century, when Nu Metal was at its peak, Green Day were on the cusp of selling out and it seemed like every youth the country over was skateboarding, wearing baggy jeans and Nirvana hoodies, as sad as it is to admit for certain circles of society, those days are long gone now.

And with their departure it seems that the market has vanished too. This of course is no great surprise, in the music industry, demand and popularity translate into pounds and dollars easier than “et tu Brute?” It is a results driven industry and it would seem that Thrash metal, hardcore crossover bands have missed the boat by about ten years.
This is not to say that there is not a scene available for those who are just coming into this music or those who remember the glory days and wish to relive their youth. There are plenty of bands, This is Hell being one of them, who still produce good music, albeit aimed at such a tight, close knit market it hardly seems to register on any big scale, even in the seemingly tireless world of endless social media. Is it fair that a band such as This is Hell have just over 12,000 likes on Facebook when “Saying ‘okay’ a million times just to get you parents to stop talking” has more than ten times that many. Maybe or maybe not but it is still the reality.
It would seem now that in the advent of pop music’s domination, bedroom DJs and producers, Thrash metal and all of its subsidiaries have been left behind in the dark, cold, 2000s with only their lengthening, greying hair and sharp edged guitars for company. But with a little enthusiasm and dedication to their cause, success and its varying degrees can still be found for bands like This is Hell and their kin.
Jonathan Whitelaw

Whilst most bands struggle with that ‘difficult second album’, with a debut like Born To Ruin, it was always going to be that much harder for Crazy Arm. Just how do you follow up one of the best records released in years? Union City Breath, that’s how.

Opening with a wave of guitar that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Mastodon record, I wondered what I might be in for, but It wasn’t long before the slow, heavy, distorted, riff gave way and the slight notion of doubt disappeared. It became clear the guys had started where they left off and, as the album progressed, the fast paced guitars, fantastic vocals, and relentless pounding of drums worked in unison to create a sound that was unmistakably Crazy Arm. Not only that, but they’ve managed to improve on it, introducing more instrumentation and a second vocalist in the form of Vicky Butterfield. Resting on their laurels is something this band just don’t do.

Having kicked off with all the intensity of one of their live shows, it looked like a case of whiplash might be on the cards for anyone who dared listen to the record. That wasn’t to be as, like its predecessor, Union City Breath doesn’t need to go at a hundred miles an hour to be intense. Sure, the frantic guitars and crashing of cymbals help, but the lyrics play as big a role in this record’s power as how hard the band play. How do they do that? Let’s just say, if you don’t like your music with a political agenda, you’re going to have to look elsewhere.

Attacks on right wing politics are a staple Union City Breath, but that’s not to say that the messages aren’t, for the most part, subtle. Like on Born To Ruin, the lyrics are fairly nuanced, with the majority of the band’s beliefs being expressed through clever use of metaphor. Though they’re not afraid of ruffling a few feathers either, and openly attack their opposition on a number of occasions. Though ‘The Right Wing Never Sleeps’ is one that sticks out  immediately, ‘Song Of Choice’ is where the message comes to the forefront. The slightly updated version of the Peggy Seeger original, makes mention of the British National Party (and leader Nick Griffin) and the English Defence League in this impassioned song against racism – “Nazi scumbags must never take command/the BNP will never get to rule my land” is a line that particularly stands out, and there’s no message clearer than that.

Union City Breath is passion-filled, politically-driven, and unlike anything I’ve heard out of the UK punk scene since their last outing. What these guys do is so different from the majority of bands out there, and not just on a lyrical level. There’s no band out there, to my knowledge, that can go from doing a fast-paced punk song, to a folk song and then combine the two genres seamlessly. That’s not to say that the band, or this album, is perfect. There were times when some of the stuff on here fell a little flat and the lyrics might not have been up to scratch (the opening of ‘Charnel House Blues’ in particular). Whilst it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, Union City Breath is one of the most interesting thought provoking albums of 2011, and one of my personal favourites.

Do you like driving? No hang on, do you like driving fast? Through dark, lipstickneon bathed streets in the middle of the night, crossing borders, zipping on diesel, cracking the fuckin’ windscreen with leathered nicotine greased kisses of shining chrome and polished steel? This is the mythology Greg Dulli’s Twilight Singers would like you to buy into, with their latest long player Dynamite Steps.

Shift a gear, pan the camera over to New Orleans, cross cut to Los Angeles, dissolve to a long shot of Las Vegas, Nevada, a big fuckin’ desert. Juliette Lewis and the bastard daughter of Perdita Durango dry grope to the pearlescent swoon of the lead petrol guitar, the Texan 4 Star napalm crack of the drum and Enron endorsed depth charged bass line all in monochrome clear closed up. Dulli emotes, the classic non singer who wants to be Otis, pailing in the shadow of Lanegan at times but at others soaring above him, picking at the stinking corpse of grunge.

The title track echoes Soul Survivor from Exile in the maximum riffage stakes. 43 minutes of blood kissed soul n high stakes raunch. Just buy the fucker.

A beautiful record.