Robyn Writes

Retisonic – Robots Fucking

Spawned from the ashes of several great purveyors of underground alternative rock including Bluetip, J Majesty and Garden Variety are Retisonic, who with latest release ‘Robots Fucking’, carry on the great underground American alt-rock tradition of making uncompromising and agitated music. Released on the legendary Ian MacKaye-founded Dischords Records, ‘Robots Fucking’ is the sound of three guys who have played in every dingy, crumbling toilet venue in the U.S but are still intent on creating complex sonic chaos while retaining a distinctly keen ear for a melody or two. A stark and stripped back aural delivery is instantly recognisable to the Washington D.C scene of the late 80’s/90’s, where all three members cut their teeth in various spheres of the scene. Thankfully, the three now middle aged members seem as disgruntled and generally pissed off as they were back in the day as singer Jason Farrell despairs at the state of American culture as well as his own life. Coupled with a general rough-around-the-edges production, this album could be straight out of Washington D.C circa 1992. Singer/guitarist Jason veers his guitar between driving power chords and jangly aspirations while the bass for the most part remains urgently pure punk. ‘Wait…LOOKOUT!’ and ‘Called to Say’ meld the melodic intuitions with fervent musicianship. Hardcore bleeds into ‘Necropolitan’, a song that is as uncompromising in the music as it is in the lyrics as it scathes American culture in much the same way as the original wave of alt-rock bands. Closer ‘Defined’ introduces minimalistic piano in a slow building melodically driven affair that brings the album to a dignified and surprisingly restrained close. ‘Robots Fucking’ is as raw as it is bleak, and despite the odd additional instrument it remains simply three guys thrashing away with undeniable urgency. If you can’t get enough of the noise that erupted out of the D.C scene twenty or so years ago then ‘Robots Fucking’ is your next fix.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!

We Are Lost Boys – Life [EP]

Brit rock seems to be going through a revival of sorts at the moment.  What with bands such as Lower Than Atlantis taking over the airwaves and Twin Atlantic packing out cavernous halls, things are looking up for the formerly beleaguered scene which many naysayers previously mourned and declared extinct.  We Are Lost Boys fit well into the scene, with new E.P- Life, they create a kind of arena-sized hook-heavy Brit rock with more melodies than you can shake a stick at and a social conscious that despairs at modern Britain’s inner turmoil.  The first thing that hits you is the monstrous production which is polished and waxed to perfection and sounds more like a band who are headlining festivals rather than one who are still peddling the UK’s demoralizing toilet circuit.  Lyrics deal with the state of UK culture or the lack of herein, channelling the thoughts of a confused young man in an equally confusing and incomprehensible society.  Unfortunately, the lyrics lack any real bite or wit, relying more on simple uninspiring phrases of discontent such as in ‘Don’t Care’ and the rather dreary Generation X refrain of “I don’t care.”  Elsewhere, “What Now?” is smothered in gloom and minor chords, relying on subtle guitar and almost ethereal backing vocals to create the most restrained yet emotionally hard-hitting song on the E.P.  Despite the overt melodic emphasis throughout Life there is enough of a grungey disposition to ward off any outright pop palpitations.  Nevertheless, latest single ‘The Way Of The World’ seems to have been written for the radio, coming across like Hundred Reasons playing through The Smashing Pumpkin’s amps, boasting a stadium sized central riff and infectious melodic intuitions.  Vocals soar throughout with singer Danny utilizing his versatile pair of lungs to maximum effect and refusing to be buried by the weight of the music.  There’s no doubt that We Are Lost Boys have potential.  They already have the riffs and the hooks.  But what they don’t have are truly memorable songs, songs that you can imagine screaming back at the band along with several thousand others in a muddy field in Reading.  Yet, seeing as this is the band’s second ever release this can be forgiven.  Life is a genuinely brilliant starting point, but their best songs are yet to be written.

4 out of 5 high fives!

Pilot To Gunner – Guilty, Guilty

Pilot To Gunner are hardly the most prevalent band, its been eight long years since they last produced an L.P- 2004’s Get Saved.  One theory for what they have been doing in that time is routinely injecting themselves with homemade shots of adrenaline mixed with Ian MacKye’s sweat whilst laboriously dissecting every aspect of songmanship to create the perfect juxtaposition between visceral aural attack and  bare emotional tenderness.

 

With their latest record Guilty Guilty, Pilot To Gunner have melded together the best parts of several genres.  They encompass everything that was great about post punk – cold spiky abrasiveness whilst at the same time showcasing an indie-inspired grasp on melodic intuitions, with each fighting for prevalence.  Beneath the surface there lingers a post-hardcore desire to blow off steam in the most complex, and often, the most indirect way possible.  This band is as likely to whip you into an arm-flailing frenzy as it is to claw its way into your chest cavity and pull at your heartstrings with a stealthy dose of emo-inspired subtle sensitivity.

 

Opener ‘L.A.’ is a stomping little punk number that grabs attention with its catchy chorus and crunchy powerchords which are sliced apart by the lead guitar’s piercing twang.  Indications of the brilliance of this record are quick to appear with the sumptuous instrumental break on ‘High Command’ sounding like a post hardcore carnival, bongos pound in a kind of nihilistic celebration as a groove-laden bass gets the booty’s shaking before the anthemic chorus that has a distinct whiff of Make Do And Mend about it.  ‘Execution Stylist’ is easily the most direct and pissed off song on the record; a relentlessly driving piece of music that builds in intensity and pace but thankfully manages to end before any band members suffer any serious haemorrhages. ‘If We Make It Back East’s’ painfully simple 3 note minimalistic coda shows the extent of the bands lean toward post-punk’s stark sterility, whilst a hung-spoken, half-sung vocal keeps things low key but no less engrossing. Meanwhile, the riff that opens ‘All The Lights’ is straight up Fugazi if their only concern was to get the kids a-jumpin’ and a-moshin’.  ‘Cardiac Event Planner’ uses angelic female backing vocals- a brilliant touch and one that helps define the most sublime song on the album thanks in turn to some beautifully crafted production courtesy of J Robbins of Jawbreaker fame who’s influence is all over this album as well as many of Pilot To Gunner’s heroes and peers.  What’s more, he is the perfect choice to meld together the bands old school throwbacks and twinklings of modern influence.  The last half of the album shines a light on subtlety rather than outright aggression.  Evidently they aren’t just a band focused on creating an uncompromising catharsis and ridding themselves of their demons by relentlessly screaming into the mic whilst furiously strumming at a guitar splattered in fresh specks of blood.  Xylophone tinklings on ‘Let’s Do This Again’ are another example of the subtle incorporation of outside instruments, in this instance they permeate the high end with their shrill beauty in wonderful juxtaposition to the anger of the chorus.  The electronic drum intro on ‘Son of the Downstate’ sounds like a totally different band a gives a quick glimpse of the group’s contemporary viability, not just their slightly more prominent revivalist tendencies.

 

Although this is a record with a serious yearning for times past, there is clear modern day awareness and an acceptance that the music Pilot To Gunner holds so dear is, after all, twenty-or-so years old.  By carrying on the tradition of experimentation that their heroes in bands such as Fugazi were so focused upon, adding dashes of modern influence here and there and approaching it with such hunger and discontent, Pilot To Gunner has created a vital record.  It manages to sound fresh and electrifying.  It cuts like a razorblade, lyrically and aurally and sticks resolutely inside your head.

 

If you ever happen to encounter anyone who needs a bit of education in the 90’s underground sound (and spirit), don’t give them Fugazi’s Repeater or Quicksand’s Slip, give them Guilty, Guilty.  For these eleven songs encompass the forward thinking nature of the genre, always opposed to being a watered down commodity and yet always open to experimentation and the incorporation of new sounds whilst creating songs that hit hard and leave you begging for more.   

5 out of 5 high fives!

Milhouse – Thrillhouse [EP]

Self coined “nerd punks” Milhouse arrive with a brand new curious four track E.P – Thrillhouse. Hailing from Sydney, the Australian pop punk three piece are relative newbies on the scene. Intelligent and quirky, the E.P is a thoroughly enjoyable listen and the mark of a band who have already found their niche in a genre chock full of clones and bands with the imaginative capacity of a puddle. Musically, they are really nothing more than a sum of their influences – relying on tried and tested techniques, chord progressions and dynamics that channel Into It. Over It and Australian pop punks Blueline Medic. Simple, stuttering guitar work remains tight to the accomplished drums. However, it is the vocals and to a greater extent, the lyrics, that make these four songs flourish. Joyous vocal harmonies courtesy of the rhythm section lift the music into a wondrous new dimension, layering their otherwise more one-dimensional sound with sumptuous melodic hooks. The one word song titles such as ‘Cereal’ and ‘Laundry’ may be a desperate attempt at a metaphor or allegory; or, they simply denote what each song is about. A song on the subject of cereal doesn’t sound like a very inviting or revealing prospect but there is a flair and wit to the lyrics that is instantly recognisable and engaging. The song may be about a relatively bland food product but the lyrics deal with the singer’s observation of the correlation between the eating of said food and social interaction. ‘Laundry’ can be perceived as one big metaphor about relationships or on the other hand, a fast little pop punk song concerning “spin cycles” and other laundry related dilemmas. ‘Monday’ deals with the tribulations of – you guessed it – Monday, going to back to the life of work and drudgery after a few days of fun. Yet, the song possesses a decidedly Weezer-inspired chorus the gives the greatest inkling of the band’s melodic capabilities. All in all a great little record of lyrically enticing pop punk with a glaring melodic emphasis.

3.5 out of 5 high fives!

Like Bats – Midwest Nothing

Like Bats are the type of band you’d want playing in your basement, screaming their lungs out about unrequited love and living in a shit-hole town whilst your inebriated friends plus rough looking random drunk dudes do the same. Emerging from America’s Midwest, an area the band obviously possesses much disdain for, Like Bats play a certain brand of gritty pop/punk that is very similar to umpteen other bands but very few are as earnest, engrossing or indeed noisy as these three lads.

Midwest Nothing packs some serious 80’s throwbacks that instantly conjure similar sentiments of such bands as The Replacements- breakneck and very angsty punk. ‘Sad Stories About Sad People’ explodes out of the blocks and one can imagine the throat gurgling punk sending specks of phlegm hurling at the audience with every word whilst the crowd dodges the odd broken splintered drumstick. As the album progresses, increasing amounts of Jawbreaker influence seeps into the music- adding some serious old-skool emo vibes in both dynamics and melodic expression. Standout track ‘Dry Heave’ begins in rather subdued fashion with lead singer Mike applying his raspy vocals and “fuck you whatever” lyrics to a simple four chord riff until the whole band erupts in angst ridden furore that descends into a delicious little fiddley emo guitar interlude before the four chords return to seal the deal. ‘This Haunted Life’ keeps things pessimistic with self-deprecating and somewhat overly familiar lyrics of emotional torment (“Waiting for someone to take the pain away/ Someone to break my heart” etc). But that’s the whole point of emo-tinged pop punk, right? This album really shines through though, when the band stop trying to play as loud and as fast and as “fuck you” as they can and permit themselves to let their musical abilities and their yet-to-be-realised ear for dynamics convey their emotions. The intro of final track ‘The Last Catholic In America’ is a prime example of this, slow building and melodically inclined guitar work over some restrained drums and simple bass lines, proving that sometimes it’s the subtleties within the music that carry the most impact. This album is definitely not perfect (whatever ‘perfect’ is) and definitely not original but it is definitely bloody good. A must listen for those who like their punk heartfelt, depressing and smothered in angst.

4 out of 5 high fives!