Saturday, 24 March 2012

Ashes To Ashes

As you might be able to tell by now, the NWOBHM bands I dig the most are the ones who had obviously laid down solid roots in the 70's and, more often than not, simply injected an aggressive early 80's swagger into proceedings..  Them, or the long-standing but anonymous-till-then outfits whose time had eventually come around and were now cynically seen as worthy of consideration, due to being vaguely commercially viable courtesy of a tentative 'New Wave Of British Heavy Metal' affiliation..  So, with a foot firmly planted in both sides of my hypothetical divide, here's yet another case in point for your careful consideration..  Mansfield's seemingly pseudo-metal, but more like low-key majestic rock-warrior marauders: Limelight!  Whose roots can be traced all the way back to 1967 if you happen to give a shit..  Unsurprisingly, this particular record caught my eye immediately, from the revealing cover photo on, obviously offering enough coiffured clues to the eagle-eyed observer (not to mention one of the axe-master siblings mashing it up on a double neck)..  It's apparent from the off, that these fellas viewed themselves as the semi-logical bastard offspring of those pretentious and decadent decades..  There's no doubt left after an initial spin, that the additional fifteen years immersion in prog and hard rock had certainly left its mark on these crafty veterans..  Remarkably, the brothers Scrimshaw were actually aiming for a chart hit with this release..  No mean feat when you think about it really, technically accomplished as they were, the jams were kept rigorously reined in and commendably concise..  Ultimately renaming the 1984 re-release of their solitary self titled LP from '81, 'Ashes To Ashes' in a final futile attempt at gaining wider acceptance..  As you can probably guess, instead of the hoped-for adoration, our hapless trio found themselves the target of a great deal of gleeful derision..  Has the passing of time smoothed out their eccentric edges anew?  Only you can decide..

Friday, 23 March 2012


Here's Australia's nastiest bunch of deliberately antagonistic, scumbag degenerate punks: Rupture!  With their bad-taste-in-the-mouth tribute to the late, great gross-out outlaw scumfuc terrorist of rock 'n' roll:  the one and only GG Allin..  Delivering faithfully filthy covers of six classic 'n' catchy, 80's era GG tracks..  Originally issued by the Dutch freakos at No Fucking Labels as 'Gus Chamber & The Ruptured Wanksparks' back in 2001, this is the 2nd press (reductively re-christened, 'Wanksparks') from '05 with different artwork..  Not many bands then or now could've believably pulled off GG's (nudge, wink) nubbin-cocked nihilistic schtick with such realistic sounding results..  Luckily, these Aussie nutters had both the necessary conviction and the relevant convictions!  Recorded in an irreverently reverential fashion, aptly enough on the anniversary of Jesus Christ Allin's death back in 1996, on what sounds like an authentically rickety 4-track.  Rupture were committed to the aesthetics and advocacy of the lifestyle, no doubt about that..  In fact, head throat-shredder Gus went on to pay the highest tribute possible to GG a few months after this was released, by OD'ing in a phone-box or summat..  Oh well..  Feel the hate!

Friday, 9 March 2012

Blood Of The Sun

Calling all red-eyed wreckoids..  Feel free to unclench what's left of yer teeth and gradually release ya death-grip on dem rekkids!  It would seem that further doses of heavily boogified blooze have once again become available for general consumption after all..  That's handy!  To help prevent your melancholy turning morose, we've unearthed a fella 'ere who knows just how you feel, or so it would seem..  Please, allow him to put that strut back in your step..  Hey, you deserve it!  Right?  'Course ya do!  Anyways, without any further whiffs of cynical reservation, I give you: Leslie West!  Yes, the legendarily larger than life proto-Mountain man himself!  Now, some self-important and drearily ignorant hacks out there in the 'real world' (wherever that is), ever-desperate to prove their cutting-edge credentials, would have you believe that bands like Mountain were the absolute nadir of Rock Music's seemingly otherwise hallowed trajectory in the 70's..  But, (lucky for us) here we're able to swiftly dismiss such callow analysis and easily parry any and all calculatedly callous attacks from the mouths of blowhards with a quick 'n' easy three-word rebuff: 'Mississippi Queen', motherfucker!  But that singularly scorching piece of cowbell-heavy Rock History had yet to be molested forth out of the molten magma..  So, let's consider Leslie's solo album from 1969 then..  It seems the good Mr. West had something of a personal epiphany in the late 60's..  Finding his puny mind being blown clean out of his esteemed cranium and replaced with something altogether new (was it goo?) watching primo-era Cream, live, after necking a coupla tabs of industrial-strength blotter acid..  Ladies and gentlemen, I implore you..  Listen to Leslie lick his late-sixties mutton-chops!  Soak up all the burned out, bloozed-up boogie-loogie you can handle, before gently sinking into some tentatively tenderfooted balladeering..  After all, this is half of the band who would ultimately become the mighty Mountain, this is the band whose fourth gig was friggin' Woodstock!  And yes, this was also the first time Leslie and Felix got to indulge their propensity for a mutual fondle-fest of their respective (musical) instruments together etc..  Gadzooks!