Robyn Writes

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!

The Rise Of The Pre-Order Bundle

I love stuff. Things. Merchandise. Tat. When Bring Me The Horizon decided to make dick shaped silly bands available on their last tour, I was one of the first to the merch desk, cash in hand, close to wailing ‘Fine sir, my life would be enriched with the purchase of overpriced elastic bands that I’ll never open and ultimately leave in a drawer somewhere!’. When My Passion released a delightfully lurid, gold plastic mac for their golden tour, I too decided that I’d spiral into a pit of depression should I not dress myself in a massive metallic bin bag. But my money-scattering doesn’t end with novelty rubbish.

I go to a lot of gigs, I binge, I feel guilty, but then I want more.  It began innocently enough. When I was twelve, I somehow persuaded my mother to take me halfway across the country to see Meatloaf. Naturally, I wanted to get a t-shirt to commemorate the gig, to show my friends how much I loved that chubby warbler (hey, I doubt your first ‘proper gig’ was much cooler). Stupidly and relentlessly, I carried on with this perceived necessity for merchandise well into my teenage years and beyond. As I left home for the first time, I found that I could travel, live out my dream of following a whole tour and see so many bands that I’d wanted to for years. I went mad, travelled everywhere and bought everything. Then it happened. I came home, bought my new life back with me and unpacked it. Have you ever seen a family stage a drug intervention? Seen a mother hold up a small bag of something white and powdery and ask why? Well switch that bag for over one hundred and twenty t-shirts and you’ve got a pretty good idea of the situation. While I’m cold turkey on shirts, I still regularly splash out on pre-orders. Oh merchandise, I just can’t quit you.

When many bands now announce the release date of their new album/EP/single/bowel movement, they also announce the various options by which to pre-order it. We’re no longer offered a CD, the music itself, no! We’re offered the DVD (some of which can be rather good), the commemorative t-shirt, the flag, the belt buckle, the bottle opener, the pencil sharpener and the lenticular poster. Will we ever use them? Of course not. When was the last time you thought ‘What I really need in my life is a commemorative jam jar for the B side of a dodgy single release’. It’s the exclusivity that drags our cursor over to the PayPal button, the threat of missing out on one of fifty. The very idea that we’d miss out on the album with commemorative baseball cap fills us with fear. Our enjoyment of the release will be severely dampened should we not shell out another £15 for things we don’t really want. I for one was sure that I wouldn’t be fully appreciating the full experience of Polar’s Iron Lungs if I didn’t buy the commemorative print. And I certainly wouldn’t enjoy Cradle of Filth’s Darkly, Darkly Venus Aversa without the art prints and the uninspiring t-shirt.  In short, add ‘limited’ to the end of any old thing and you’ve pretty much guaranteed yourself a sale.  Add a countdown to how many are left and you’ve got even more.

It’s hard to figure out which invented the beast of the bundle; the label or the musician. Musicians are more often than not, ‘starving artist’ types, so any means of capitalising on their product is sure to be embraced. But moreso nowadays, even small, unsigned bands are offering their own ‘bundles’ and limited releases. All of which is neither here nor there, but the whole focus of many bands, both established and otherwise, has shifted considerably. Firstly, take My Passion. Opposed to establishing a small merchandise section to their online presence, they formed ‘My Passion Fashion’; a standalone merchandise website that at one time held around twenty t-shirt designs. In the end, following the end of all Inside This Machine promotion, the dust began to settle and My Passion Fashion crumbled. On the other end of the spectrum, there’s the times when non-official band merchandise becomes available; the plectrum or the setlist of the online world. Every now and again, the opportunity arises to own something from a video or from an artist’s personal collection, and this is where prices begin to skyrocket.

All of us at TwoBeatsOff are big fans of Kickstarter-esque self-funding/fan-funding options, but when the options go beyond pledging to buy the CD or offering a small financial boost to an artist, lines begin to blur. Take Yashin’s largely fan-funded We Created A Monster. Through Pledgemusic, fans were able to preorder the CD, get their name in the album sleeve or even attend a meet and greet- all for a price. But many options were beyond self indulgent; fans were able to buy t-shirts worn by the vocalists for sums approaching three figures. This is both frightening both in terms of future trends and of sheer money-grabbing behaviour, especially when you’re aware of the young and impressionable ages of many of your fans. Bring able to own a piece of your favourite artist’s world is, for want of a better term, fan crack. With more bands picking up on this financial power, the distance and power balance between fan and artist may birth a further problematic and destructive relationship.

I Am Giant – The Horrifying Truth

I Am Giant have been making quite the name for themselves. The London four-piece have played with Slash, featured the legendary Tony Hawk and Kelly Slater in their videos, made appearances at the Viper Room and have amassed a huge fan base in the process. They’ve extensively toured over in Australia and New Zealand. And they haven’t even released a debut album in their own country yet. The Horrifying Truth comes out on the 8th October in the UK and proves itself to be worthy of that hype the band have been generating.

If there’s any word that can describe this album, it’s big. Opening track and lead single, “Purple Heart”, is defining proof of that. A massive chorus, enormous hooks and some powerful vocals make it a track to be reckoned with and the stuff that’ll fill stadiums. “The Escape Artist” and “Electric Throne” manage the same thing, but instead play on some clever lyrics and some Lostprophets style instrumental sections. Although not as hard hitting as Lostprophets can be, I Am Giant have managed to construct an album full of huge, radio-friendly tunes that will catapult them higher than they might have imagined.

In some respects, this is great. Tracks like “Living The Crash” and “Neon Sunrise” are lots of fun, very singable and instantly captivating. The latter has the best opening riff on the whole album and Ed Martin’s falsetto creeps into the chorus nicely. Lyrically, the album riffs off of themes of mortality and growing up and moving on, but in a mature and engaging way. If The Horrifying Truth is laden with radio hits, then this is surely a plus point – thought provoking and meaningful songs win out over fickle love songs any day. However, in other respects, it means that the album lacks some variety. The problem with aiming for big hits is that it means sticking to a tried and tested formula. That’s not to say that there’s no experimentation at all, and on a select couple of tracks, I Am Giant shine as songwriters. “Nightvision” is truly beautiful, as is “Black Hole Of My Heart”. Both tracks are slower, with some great atmospheric effects echoing through, and spectacular drumming from Shelton Woolright keeps them grounded. But then again, there’s also some fairly pointless instrumental tracks dotted about towards the latter half of the album that don’t really achieve much apart from losing the momentum that they’ve managed to gain already.

On the whole though, I Am Giant have created an epic. Already winning the hearts of fans worldwide, let’s see them conquer the UK next week.

4 out of 5 high fives!

Skeleton Key – Gravity Is The Enemy

After multiple line-up changes, seven years since their last EP and a decade since their last abum, it must have looked as though as a second album was never going to happen for Skeleton Key. In fact the band, with a newly revamped line-up, took to an online crowdfunding website in order to finance the production on this album. With Slaves to Gravity, it seems as though it was worth all of the time and effort.

Lead singer Erik Sanko descried his vision on the band’s website saying: “I wanted it to sound like the film score to a freight train flying off the tracks, but a freight train that was filled with flowers.” If this seems like an oddly metaphorical way of describing something, then so will the majority of the lyrics on Gravity Is The Enemy.

What Skeleton Key creates is a mesmerising yet eerie sound, which will undoubtedly get stuck in your head. One thing that stands out to the goth/emo inside is how the entire album wouldn’t sound out of place if it was used as the soundtrack to a Tim Burton film. That eerie generally isn’t created by the subject matter of the songs alone. The raspy voice of Erik Sanko certainly adds to the mood Skeleton Key creates. As well as showing the power of his voice, at times it sounds like he’s whispering gothic lullabies. The unconventional sound is also emphasised by the odd percussion of Benjamin Clapp who plays alongside drummer Bob Vaccarelli. It sounds as though Benjamin is hitting pots, pans and any junk he can find; but instead of making the album sound unorganised, it adds superbly to the atmosphere being created.

The album opens with “Gravity Is The Enemy”, which brings in funk-esque bass lines and broken guitar riffs. The whole album has a consistent sound, powering from one raw song to the next. There’s a nice change of pace in the middle of the album, with “I’ll Walk You to the Door” & “The Mowing Devil”. The former takes the creepy sound to a new level, with Benjamin clattering away at his scraps and junk being the only accompaniment to Sanko’s distinctive voice, crowning about an unrequited love. The latter sounds even stranger than you would already expect from Skeleton Key. The banging of junk fills the background as whole band seems to break out in chain gang chants, until the noise subsides leaving only Sanko and a piano – frankly it’s creepy as hell.

A personal highlight from the album is the eleventh track: “Machine Screw”. The verses might sound like a lot of everything else on the album, but the chorus is infectious! It brings back the funky bass lines but delivers them with catchy riffs and a prominent drum beat while Sanko showcases more of his vocal range than anywhere else on the record.
If forced to criticise any point, maybe the final song is a little repetitive. It builds up to a hell of a crescendo of noise and static at the end, but you have to listen to the same verse for four or five minutes before you get there. But otherwise, Gravity Is The Enemy is a masterpiece.

4.5 out of 5 high fives!

The Bastard Sons – Bones [EP]

The Bastard Sons are an interesting bunch. Formed in 2011, the York rockers are difficult to place. Their debut EP, Bones, is really a testament to that as they combine elements of blues, metal and hardcore in order to get the party well and truly on its way. It would be easy to compare them to Every Time I Die or Fight Paris, but The Bastard Sons have a more distinctly British feel to them and craft tunes that are far tighter than the latter, in more ways than one…

Hot Town starts with a bone chilling chant that quickly descends into a hellishly delightful bluesy riff. Throughout the EP, JJ’s vocals are stellar – swapping easily from hardcore screams to pure rock and roll glory, but on Hot Town, they’re so unexpected in contrast to the music and it completely shatters any expectations that you might have. This leads the way for some excellent breakdowns that make a stark contrast to the rest of the track. Make no mistake, for all the fun twiddly guitar bits from Ollie and Alex, they know how to throw down and a combination of different styles of playing make for a ridiculous amount of fun all the way through. Soul Fur Coat takes it in that opposite direction, playing up to the metal influences far more with a solo to die for. Some frantic, but tuneful riffage and plenty of bass swagger marks it out at one of the best tracks on the release. However, that honour is reserved for final track Salem’s Rot. Combining a classic rock feel with some almost Bullet For My Valentine-esque balls, it really should belong on the Supernatural soundtrack. Clocking in at five minutes of pure groove-laden rock, the chant of “We throw ourselves in shallow graves” comes back again at the end, and putting the EP on repeat results in a perfect cycle.

While there is nothing distinctly bad about Bones, it does start to feel too familiar in the middle of the EP. In Case Of Emergency and Therapists Get All The Girls are still good fun, but it gets difficult to distinguish between the two. Nevertheless, Bones is still an excellent debut and if The Bastard Sons are this polished and this fearless so early on, then any future release is bound to be spectacular. And in the meantime, you’ve got the perfect party starter.

3.5 out of 5 high fives!