Choose life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big telly. Choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electric tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol and dental care. Choose fixed-interest mortgage payments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching bags. Choose a three piece suite on hire purchase in a range of fucking materials. Select DIY and asking yourself who the fuck you are on a Sunday morning. Select sitting on that couch, scowling at soul-destroying mind-numbing game shows, stuffing your mouth with fucking rubbish food. Select to waste away at the end of it all, pissing away your final few in some sad hovel, nothing but an embarrassment to the self-centred, fucked-up little brats you brought into the world to take your place. Select your future. Select life. But why in the world would I want to do something like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose something else. And the why? There is no why. Who needs why?

GLASGOW KISS, "Down In Flames", is like gettin' yer heid bashed in the head with a bottle and kissed again by the same cunt who bashed it in there. No genre box for this one, no thanks to HALESTORM, no thanks to NIGHTWISH, no thanks to all their bollocks. This is no longer nice symphonic trash, this is riffs crawl oot the amp like septic in the pipes, Charlotte's screamin' voice like an angel got booted oot heaven for smokin' tabs in the loos. Daniel playing like he's got his guitars set alight, Sveinung slicing strings like he's flaying a rat, John Erik's bass thudding like the neighbour banging on yer door at 5am bawlin' ye still owe him fags, Frode on drums banging harder than the polis when they eventually kick the door in. The whole of them frightens ye like a bad trip ye cannae get yerself oot of, only ye dinnae want tae.

It ain't classy stadium effluvia, it's dirty, dripping, teeth-rattlin' metal still smolderin', wee pools of loveliness concealed in the muck. A chorus'll carry ye along, aye, then deposit ye belly-first once again in the sewer with the verse. That's the dance: highs that scorch yer lungs, lows that shake the bone.

Charlotte’s the one that fucks wi’ ye most -- she’ll croon ye soft, then suddenly she’s bitin’ chunks oot yer ear. One minute ye’re floatin’ in daylight, next minute ye’re choking in midnight smoke. Ye cannae trust her, and that’s exactly why ye cannae turn her aff.

This album’s postcards fae the abyss: wee moments of joy scribbled on the back of broken glass. They recorded it across random holes, clubs, anywhere they could plug in, stitched it together wi’ spit, sweat, and maybe a wee bit o’ blood. And it works -- it’s jagged, it’s cracked, but it’s alive, pumpin’ like a vein wi’ fresh gear.

When it's done ye're shakin', tryin' tae work oot what the fuck occurred. And ye'll dae it again, 'cos ye haven't got a choice. That's addiction. That's GLASGOW KISS.

Rating: 9 oot o' 10 Glasgow Kisses. Spare the last yin for the walk hame.

Translations (Scottish → English):
Cunt = Person (derogatory/familiar depending on context)
Tabs = Cigarettes
Fags = Also cigarettes. Words: Matt Denny.

"Down In Flames" is released December 12th, via ECLIPSE RECORDS

The new VICIOUS RUMOURS offering has struck me in the same way as that one night in Tunbridge Wells, where I Woke up in a stranger’s bed, wearing one sock and a scratch on my neck I couldn’t explain. I didn’t plan it. I don’t even think I enjoyed it. But it had me grinning like an idiot the whole drive home, bruises and all. But, I digress...

For forty-six years they’ve been out there, dragging their gear from stage to stage, sweating on the faithful, building the kind of stamina you don’t get from going easy. You hear it in the opening minutes and it felt as if I still had that cheeky finger in my prison wallet from THAT night.

Geoff Thorpe’s guitar playing makes every riff feels like it’s got one hand on your hip, steering you somewhere you’ve never been. The new guy, Chalice has a voice that, by the time you realize what’s happening, you’re in it, and you’re not leaving.

Denver Cooper, that bastard could out play Beelzebub’s cock. The solos burn hot, curl into the air, and hang there long enough to make you squirm. The rhythm section Larry Howe and Robin Utbult keep things as tight as gnats vajayjay.

“Bloodbath” doesn’t waste time. It’s a slap, a bite, and a laugh in your face all at once. “Dogs Of War” is pure midnight mischief — the kind of track you put on when you know you’re not going to sleep until the sun’s up. “Crack The Sky In Half” is the song that convinces you to stay the night, even though you know you’ll regret it.

“The Devil's Asylum” is the moment right before you cross the line. You can still turn around, but you won’t. Every note’s a shove in the small of your back, daring you to step over.

They recorded this whole thing in a few weeks, and it’s got that fresh, dangerous heat of something that hasn’t cooled down yet and has no safe words.

If you’ve ever found yourself in the middle of something filthy and thought, oh God, I shouldn’t be here, but stayed anyway, you’re going to like this album.

​This album is worthy of going full on D.V.D.A. [Editor: Matt, I had to Google that and have questions...]

Words: Matt Denny.

Death rattles aren't practiced this close to the actual thing. KALAMITY KILLS' self-titled reprimands its own arrival. Veins push against skin, teeth grind, it flails across broken stone, like a revenant too arrogant to perish before the gates of the cemetery. Its coming is dark. Beauty is absent, no comforting aroma of perspiration, but rather the unmistakable odour of rot. This is an involuntary reaction to your own death, and knowing our final destination is eternally dust.

"Anthem" is stripped bare less as a song and more as the closing grip of strangulation. Luzier's drums are crushing, like dirt on a coffin; each strike a second you can't get away from. The album is a procession of anguish. "Dearest Enemy (Pressure)" is venomous to the point of choking rather than strangled. "Dark Secrets" seeps into your core, gorging on grief which no shepherd can brush away. Guitars go awry, their shrieks falling into white sound. "Burn" rages like a funeral pyre, and the GPS matter-of-factly tells you to remain in the fire, since rescue is not possible, and rerouting is not an option.

"What's On Your Mind? (Pure Energy)" sheds the shallow smile to expose gnarled teeth. Kiarely Castillo warbles in zombie-like cadaverous voices, distorting nostalgia into something feral and unyielding, with memory rotting like rusty highway signs buried under a shroud of obscurity.

"Hellfire Honey" wields irony as dagger in the teeth, slaying belief and defying altars, brick by rotted brick. "Sinners Welcome" continues to drive the nails of the coffin deeper, until there are nothing but splinters.

"I Still Believe" emerged from a superficial grave, plodding under an indifferent sky. [Editor: My bias towards 'The Lost Boys' dictates that this song slaps. TIM CAPELLO! you sexy saxophone wielding warrior of wank-banks!] The final "Amen" breathes like a dying star, and silently devours everything. The GPS utters the self-evident truth

Kalamity Kills haven’t merely produced an album, it’s a voice defiantly screaming into the void, fully aware the void won’t respond. It leaves deliberate scars, deep reminders of our own insignificance. By the end, you’re left tasting eternity's bitter flavour: small, inconsequential, and already forgotten.

Final Score: 8/10. Not by fault, there aren't many that are worth mentioning, but because numbers don't mean anything, like mileposts on an endless desert. Words: Matt Denny.

"On May 1st...I thought that was IT...I was at PEACE with this being my last show. But little did I know...when I got into that room with the guys, everything changed. It wasn't just about saying goodbye; it was about being reborn with music. And, we had two rehearsals, and the show...and from the moment we started playing music together, I realised this was just the BEGINNING. How to disappear, and never be found? That's a great question...let's find out..." - NIKKI SMASH

The very first aspect that draws your attention when you experience "The Art Of Disconnect" is not the music itself, but rather the overwhelming presence of the crime scene surrounding it. This scene is as unyielding and raw as a live performance can possibly become. You find yourself confronted with a stage marked by bootleg stains, suggesting a chaotic past, with the lighting intentionally dimmed to levels reminiscent of those found in an interrogation room, creating a chilling atmosphere.
The band's name looms in the air like an unsettling admonishment, echoing the title of a missing persons alert for Madeline McCann: HOW TO DISAPPEAR AND NEVER BE FOUND. It's absolutely crucial to understand that this is beyond a mere confession; rather, it works as a highly powerful testimonial that counts.
Listening to this live album is like flipping through case files past midnight, every song another recorded interview, another blacked-out paragraph, another witness who claims to have seen but can't quite get it right.
It commences with a composition entitled "Enthusiasm And Fumes", which possesses an energy and presence that could almost be mistaken for an alibi—it's subdued, assured, and has an aura that seems almost rehearsed. The lines on guitar charge forward, reminiscent of suspect testimony that can't quite be trusted, while vocals envelop you in a way reminiscent of how a cloud of cigarette smoke suffuses a room when you have that uncomfortable sensation that the detective is openly lying through his teeth. By the point that the band runs through the song "Blueprint For A Breakdown", a malevolent chill has permeated.
Within the context of their creative world, the theme of disappearance manifests itself as both a profound tragedy and a grotesquely twisted form of artistic expression. And that's where The Art Of Disconnect's brilliant trick lies: it's not a concert that you listen to; rather, it plays out like a procedural thriller. You don't applaud between numbers in appreciation but painstakingly keep notes in the margins of your mind, circling particular words and phrases that could potentially have a deeper relationship.
With this novel event, the audience become the jury while the band become suspects. And then there are the songs, the evidence in this complex trial. Some numbers clearly have a guilty appearance while some could provide a reprieve; but both of these remain bathed in an insurmountable level of doubt and uncertainty.
By the closer “Deadhead”, you realise the title was never about stagecraft at all. It was a manifesto. To disappear and never be found isn’t just the band’s name, it’s their verdict.
If NIKKI SMASH hadn't been intercepted in the act of making his audio or video recording of his last crime, then he most likely would have gone completely out of sight and would have never been discovered or found again.

When the gavel finally came down, the number written on the record was 8.5 out of 10. Not justice. Not closure. Just a verdict that feels temporary, like any good mystery, one that's infuriating in all the right, terrible ways. Words: Matt Denny.

"The Art Of Disconnect" Is Available Digitally October 24th. Physical Pre-Orders Open Now.

Well tickle my prostate and light the fuse, "Some Kind of Alchemy" isn’t just a reunion. Sure, if your idea of reunion involves chainsaws and parole violations; OTHERWISE didn't come back, they came back with a crowbar and a grin that'd make a mortician nervous..

I’m not here to hold your dainty little hands mouth breathers, or wax poetic about "Emotional journeys" and all that daytime TV horseshit. I’m not your therapist, and I certainly won’t explain the emotional depth of this music as if it’s some college dissertation.

This EP was fermented in a Nevada back alley with blood, sweat, bourbon, and a dash of righteous indignation. If you want subtlety? Go read a Hallmark card. This is six songs of gasoline and a match. And it's got me strutting around in circles, throwing confetti and middle fingers.

"Some Kind of Alchemy" starts off with an intro that gives you that greasy, bone-deep chill, like you just walked into a war-zone wearing a clown nose. It's raw, it's sharp, and it smells of napalm and cheap aftershave.

They've dragged original drummer Dave McMahan back into the fold like a long-lost cousin from the wrong side of the apocalypse, and it shows. There's this primal stomp to the whole EP, or just a biker gang doing tribal rituals behind a strip mall. You choose

The choruses are big enough to swallow a tour bus. Adrian Patrick belts every word like it might be his last breath before the gas ignites. And his brother Ryan’s guitar is the sound of desert ghosts whispering through the amps. If you’re still blinking,  congratulations, you’re probably not devoid of breath just yet.

Speaking of alchemy, this thing is a transmutation. It's pain into power. Trauma into triumph. A pair of Vegas-born brothers who’ve been chewed up by the industry and spit back out with gold records and gritted teeth, now digging their heels into the dirt and screaming, “Try again, motherfucker!”

If you want something slick, polished, or safe, go find a STEREOPHONICS CD and cry into your pumpkin latte. But if you're looking for blood-soaked riffs, battle-scarred vocals, and a band that’ll grind your bones into confetti, Some Kind of Alchemy is the sermon you’ve been waiting on.

This is family-hating, cop-baiting, drive-faster music and it sounds just like your ex lighting a cigarette off your burning house.

​Score: 8/10 Barbequed road kills not so fresh off of Route 95... Words: Matt Denny.

"It Can’t Rain All The Time" (especially in Scotland) is a title wrapped in an enigma,  trapped in a rumour and sealed by a whisper.

SILVER DOLLAR ROOM haven’t made an easy listen. They’ve built a shrine out of damp stone and broken glass, then dared you to kneel on it. Every track hurts, and that’s the point. This isn’t comfort—it’s a reminder that the rain never really stops. Subjects such as male suicide, destructive relationships, class divide, addiction, poverty, wealth, and greed make this a record that’s lyrically jarring but delivered in RADIOHEAD, SMASHING PUMPKINS, MANIC STREET PREACHERS, and STONE TEMPLE PILOTS type fuzz.

At the heart of the album is "Monsters". This track tackles the harsh reality of the Rochdale Scandal in which calling schoolgirls liars was easier than doing actual police work.

John Keenan’s tearing his throat raw spitting venom at the filth who let Rochdale burn. Every riff’s another brick lobbed through their office windows, every drum hit’s another skull cracked against the kerb. FUCK THEIR EXCUSES, FUCK THEIR FAKE APOLOGIES!. It’s a boot in the teeth of authority, screaming YOU KNEW, AND YOU DID FUCK ALL!
You don’t listen to this album, you survive it. You crawl from underneath it bruised, bleeding, but laughing because at least someone’s still got the balls to scream while the rest of the world nods off. SILVER DOLLAR ROOM aren’t here to be liked, they’re here to haunt you. "It Can’t Rain All The Time" is the sound of the storm breaking your windows in, and if you’re not soaked and shivering by the end, you weren’t listening.

Score: [7.5] — Louder than the lies, but not yet loud enough to bury them... Words: Matt Denny.

The album "It Can't Rain All The Time" is released independently on September 13th

Gather round, you perfumed bastards and flea-bitten mongrels. The Rock n Roll throne’s groaning under me, and I’ve still got spit left to fling.

Beth Blade is back like a punch in the face with broken glass in your mouth and her mascara smeared into last week’s hangover. She is a force of nature on this album. Ms. Blade roars, wails, purrs, struts and often within eight bars. She has the sort of voice that makes you either fall hopelessly in love or sprain something in sympathy. The band behind her are tighter than a nuns chuff, sharper than broken glass and you get the impression they could bash out an anthem blindfolded in the middle of a motorway and still have time to pick up milk on the way home.

"Vintage Rebel x Trauma Bond" is essentially at its core, two albums sharing a flat. One of them smokes cigars, wears leather trousers and insists on telling you about how the 1970s were better, and the other spends evenings staring into the mirror wondering if the mirror’s staring back. Together they make an oddly compelling couple, though not the sort you’d invite to dinner unless you’ve already hidden the best glassware.

​The “Vintage Rebel” portion honour's rock history with its heavy nods to KISS, THIN LIZZY and Y&T. This is six songs of brisk, swaggering rock and roll. “Never Let Go” opens the proceedings with shoulders squared and boots firmly stomped, before handing you over to “You Only Love Me When You’re Drunk”, which is, incidentally, the sort of title that makes you think someone’s been reading my fan mail. “Down The Front” has the cheerful energy of a pub lock-in gone on two hours too long, while “A Rock N Roll Romance” drags in GORILLA RIOT’s Arjun Bhishma, who sounds as though he’s arrived halfway through the party and promptly started rearranging the CD collection into the Cyrillic alphabet.

​Then, after a brief intermission (Presumably for Wild Turkey, tears, or both), we stumble into the other half of the house: “Trauma Bond” explodes and explores emotional struggle, giving depth and contrast. “Colour Of Our Bones” has the kind of weight that makes you want to sit down, preferably somewhere padded, and “Dysmorphia” does that clever trick of sounding simultaneously furious and fragile, .The we have “You Never Screamed?” I did, but I don't think anyone heard, and “Eclipse” ends things by pulling the curtains shut with both hands.

Some critics will say it’s uneven, two personalities stitched into one body. I say that’s the fucking point. Who says Rock n Roll needs symmetry to be interesting? Great Rock and Roll needs wobble and unpredictability, otherwise, it’s just a particularly loud operetta.

Beth Blade & The Beautiful Disasters - "Vintage Rebel x Trauma Bond" Is released independently on September 9th 

Score: 7 Abby Normal brains out of Twelvty. Words: Matt Denny.

Like many music fans, I was extremely excited when Adam Gontier rejoined THREE DAYS GRACE. That excitement waned some when I realized that they hadn't lost their other singer, one Matt Walst. Then the first single dropped, and that excitement gathered some steam again; that track was titled "Mayday" and was released on November 22, 2024. It had all of the hallmarks of classic Three Days Grace, and Adam sounded fantastic on it. 

Now mind you, I loved their "One-X" album, it helped get me through a messy divorce in 2008. I still believe that it's their best effort, with the exception of “Riot”, that song, despite its massive popularity, just never sat right with me. Anyway, it's not like I wasn't coming from a place where I wasn't a fan of their music. I even saw them in 2008 at a Krockathon here in Northern New York State, and though they weren't the headliner, they made every other band look like trash with their energetic performance and stage presence. The headliner was the most boring band that I've ever seen live, SEETHER, who barely moved away from their mics for their entire set … which is lame as hell.

I was excited to hear "Alienation", but even as I listen to it and write these words, I find myself paying more attention to the writing of this review. Normally, the music will distract me from the writing, so the fact that it's not isn't a good sign for what could have been an incredible comeback album. 

I'm 7 tracks in, and even the 3 decent tracks (“In Waves”, “Mayday”, “Alienation”) aren't anything overly special, and, for the sake of transparency, this is where I gave up on things. I hit stop on my player, and have zero expectations that I will ever listen to the rest of it. 

The problem with bands of this nature, or of all genres if I'm being honest, is that they stick to the formula that they've used for years. I personally feel that is just the nature of the music business, they go by the “If it ain't broke, don't fix it”, (METALLICA is a prime example of what I'm speaking on). Well, that's a phrase that shouldn't be in the vocabulary of any musician. We, the music fans across the globe, want you to step outside of your comfort zone, be daring and invent new sounds, tones, etc. 

In closing, and much to my own surprise, I wasn't into this record, but fans of the formulaic style of Three Days Grace will most likely enjoy the hell out of it. But for me, this album is the musical equivalent of elevator music, if the elevator was stuck between floors, and all the buttons were labelled 'meh'.

I just want more from the bands that I listen to, like excitement and pushing the envelope … much like my current hero has done on his new album, "Idols". That man is named YUNGBLUD, and he broke the box he was in on prior albums, though he wasn't stale in any way whatsoever, he just wanted to push his own boundaries. In other words, be a Yungblud by challenging yourselves and your fans, which I direct to all bands who get stuck in a creative formula.

Rating: 2/10, I'd give it less, but I still have hopes for this band's future... Words: Tom Hanno.

This is a review that I'm surprised to be writing. It's also where you're gonna' see me do the rare negative review, as I don't usually write about things that I'm not excited about. 

HELLOWEEN is an ok group, but like most Power Metal bands, it falls flat for me; their new album, "Giants And Monsters" (Out on August 29th, 2025), is no exception. You see, the problem with these types of bands is that I'm bored by the fifth track, and with this new Helloween album, I was bored by the THIRD track. Don't get me wrong, they're very good at what they do, and their long-time fans will be very pleased with this record … which is great, that's the beauty of music, it hits each and every one of us differently, as each and every one of us is different from the person next to us.

The first track is called “Giants On The Run”, and during its nearly 6 and a half minutes you will find things that will bring to mind modern era JUDAS PRIEST, a bit of the only King that matters, KING DIAMOND, but even this, the one song I liked, is more of a miss than it is a hit. Realistically, it would be a much better song if they shaved a minute and twenty seconds off its runtime.

Track 2, “Savior Of The World”, is where my attention began to wander. As Lars Ulrich would say, it sounds stock, which isn't in any way a compliment. Thankfully it's about 2 minutes shorter than its predecessor, but even that can't save it from being completely unremarkable.

I have to admit, though I did make it through the full record, track three, “A Little Is A Little Too Much", is where I stopped on subsequent listens. I mean, literally shut the album off before the one minute mark. My attention was everywhere but on the music, making this an utter failure in terms of quality and bringing in new fans.

With fifteen gold records, six platinum records and over TEN MILLION records sold, there's plenty of proof that Helloween is a talented group, but "Giants And Monsters" is a lacklustre effort. It just does nothing for me, but as I said earlier, long-time fans of Helloween will enjoy this album, and I hope that I am among the few that don't find it appealing.

Score: 2 Mouldy Prop Pumpkins Off Of A John Carpenter Haddonfield Set, Out Of 10.

Words: Tom Hanno.

By the gods of thunder and circuitry, I have found it. A land uncharted. A kingdom carved from distortion and fire. They call it "Re-Evolution". The natives go by the name DEVILSKIN, and I believe I’ve stumbled upon their magnum opus. This is not a recording; this is a living, breathing beast built from anguish, muscle, and melody.

My first encounter sounded primal and exacting, it surged through me like a blood oath. No preamble. No mercy. It felt as if I had stepped barefoot into a ritual I couldn’t comprehend. Jennie Skulander’s voice summoned gods I do not know by name. She doesn’t sing; she conjures. From delicate echoes to banshee wails, she maps the terrain of pain and triumph without a compass.

The terrain shifted and a sandstorm of riffs and percussion, scorching and relentless. I ducked for cover and found none. The album continues like an oasis, but even its waters shimmered with unrest. I began to understand, this album is built on contrast. Rage and grace live in twin towers here, each echoing the other’s scream.

Themes emerge of grief, addiction, phobia, decay. They’re not presented as artifacts to be examined. They’re alive, stitched into every note. DEVILSKIN aren’t storytellers. They are the storm and the wreckage, the ghost and the grave. Somehow, this doesn’t collapse under its own weight. It rises. "Re-Evolution" does not wallow in despair, it devours it, digests it, and builds something stronger from its bones.

The instrumentation is staggering. Paul Martin’s bass feels tectonic, shifting the very ground beneath this strange new world. Nic’s drumming isn’t just rhythm, it’s language. As for Nail, his guitar doesn’t merely shred. It paints. Cinematic, chaotic, sacred.

The production by Dave Rhodes is not a studio trick. It’s cartography. Every drum hit, every breath of feedback, every gasp in the silence, it all feels placed with ritualistic intent. The landscape is dense, yet navigable. Foreign, but familiar in that way danger sometimes is.

I came expecting metal. I found "Re-Evolution". A culture. A movement. An awakening.
If you dare tread here, tread carefully. There is no safe passage. Only fire, truth, and the most glorious noise I’ve ever survived.

Score: 9 / 10 – "Machete in Hand, Shirt Long Torn Off" - Words: Matt Denny

They said not to listen. They said it would trigger episodes. They said, “That music isn’t for you.” But they don’t know what’s in my head. They don’t know, her.
 
I heard the first track "Regeneration" through the crack in the wall. The orderly dropped his little radio. I watched him bleed from the ears, just a trickle, but he didn’t notice. I noticed. I always notice.
 
Then the forest came. Not real trees, just noise wrapped in leaves. Wires swinging from the sky. "Into the Wilderness", yes, I know that place. Been there. Lost a toe to it. Still hear it walking behind me when the lights buzz. The song plays, and I remember what it felt like to forget my name.
 
"What’s In The Box?" Don't ask that. Never ask that. It’s teeth. It’s always teeth. Psychoberrie told me herself. She leaned in close, almost too close, singing like she’d carved the lyrics into the walls of her cell with a spoon. Not a pretty voice. But necessary. "Macabaret". This one made me laugh. Not funny ha-ha. The other kind. The kind they give you more pills for. My bed floated. The drain in the corner started clapping. I had visitors in my mirror, mouthing things they won’t write down.
 
"Blood Is The New Black" gave me nosebleeds. I smelled burnt perfume and the ends of dreams that never made it to morning. It left handprints on the inside of my skull. "At The Window" didn’t scare me. I’m never scared. I make others scared. This one, however, understood me. It spoke my name. I leaned against the glass and watched the others scream. I was calm. I knew she’d come for me soon.
 
And the rest? "I Spit On Your Grave", "Darkest Desire", "Amoeba Of Madness", played, moments. Stuff you forget until it’s too late. Like the smell of bleach. Or how the floor feels when it’s covered in feathers. Or fingers. There are three interludes. I counted them. Three. Same as the locks on my door. Coincidence? You think so? Then you haven’t been paying attention.
 
This is a message. A coded one. Smuggled in under the disguise of noise. Psychoberrie is trying to reach us. She’s been inside longer than anyone. She’s mapped the place. She knows the holes in the walls.
 
I give it thirteen out of thirteen. No decimals. Decimals lie. - Words: Matt Denny

Every now and again, a band will come along and even if not outright revolutionise the industry, will flip it upside its head. They make such an impact, that people have no choice than to sit up and take notice. It doesn’t matter what genre they fall under; that’s an afterthought. What matters is the connection they create with their audience, how they break the status quo, and how that band ascends from being A band, to being THE band. There are plenty of examples of such boundary pushers over the decades...even if we stick to the UK for the sake of this write-up. 

Whether it’s THE BEATLES or BLACK SABBATH, either super-popularising the idea of rock ‘n’ roll or the latter creating heavy metal out of it...whether it’s SEX PISTOLS or SPICE GIRLS, bringing unashamed, gritty, socio-political realism to punk or bringing “Girl Power” to the forefront of pop music...the UK, despite its small size, has always punched above its weight. This isn’t about chart success and streams, this is about artists who despite everything, became icons. These artists stood for something. Alright sure the Spice Girls were manufactured, but the reason they were was valid, and by fuck did it work. “Girl Power” wasn’t just a gimmick...if you enjoyed a “Brat Summer” last year with CHARLI XCX, well you can thank Baby Spice and co for that inspiration. People forget.  

But what happens when over the years, sounds, influences and ideas have blended beyond genre boundaries? What happens when the genre gene pool has become a metaphorical punch bowl, where you can add in whatever you want to create something unique, or even undeniable? It might not be to everyone's preferred tastes, but a lot of people are going to drink it. That’s where today’s band comes in; SLEEP TOKEN.  

Formed in London in 2016, the anonymous masked and cloaked outfit, fronted by Vessel, (A characterised ideology) released a couple of EPs before originally being picked up by Spinefarm Records, and have gone from strength to strength, to strength. In just a decade give or take, this alternative ensemble has sold out tours, gotten to number one in the UK album charts and have just recently headlined the Saturday of Download festival. That’s no mean feat let me tell you. KORN headlined the Sunday for the first time in their career this year, and they’ve been around since 1994! So, what’s the hype around this new cult of Sleep Token? Well, we’re about to attempt to find out...in theory, in practice and maybe even in vain. Nevertheless, now aligned with RCA Records for album number 4, this, is “Even In Arcadia”... 

The album, on face value at least sort of follows up thematically from 2023’s “Take Me Back To Eden”, as Arcadia itself refers to ancient Greece, and its own area of natural, peaceful beauty; simplicity, contentment and harmony. Vessel is clearly looking to write, and perform in order to channel himself, for a sense of purity and togetherness from not only his own sense of self preservation and worth, but his audience wanting a safe space too. He’s an incredibly poignant lyricist, so let’s get into that.  

Opening track “Look Into Windward” laments of an inner turmoil; facing the struggles or challenges of success, creation and identity. Instead of sailing with the wind, which let's admit outright, the band very much are in terms of success, Vessel see’s things differently. He’s sailing INTO the wind, pushing against the flow, any sense of natural order and fighting an uphill battle. From the very first verse we get a sense of tired tribalism. “Will you listen, just as my form starts to fission, losing this war of attrition just as I drift away”. Vessel is growing, evolving and wants to drive the art forward, and this could be interpreted as a frustrated acknowledgement of the division they create between fans of alternative music. They can’t escape an endless, thick air of negative criticism surrounding them from certain demographics. 

Lines like “I’ve got eyelids heavy enough to break diamonds” highlight Vessel's tiredness of it all, while the hypnotic, almost mystic repetition of the line “Will you halt this eclipse in me?” is the pained cry of an artist just looking to bare his soul, and not be overwhelmed and overshadowed by cynical and sardonic gatekeeping. All this is delivered with a wonderfully lulling, poetic often orchestral timbre, balanced by a fleeting bombardment of heavy riffs and percussion, really hammering home the metaphor of sailing against the wind. Potentially. A lengthy but lovely opener. 

The title track, “Even In Arcadia” starts off with the gentle tickling of a xylophone, almost like a windchime; quaint and peaceful, before this genuinely beautiful, flowing piano instrumentation wraps itself around your ear drums like a comforter. Vessel’s vocals here perfectly match the emotion of the track, softly crooned with a subtle vibrato, allowing an essence of vulnerability, as he sings of uncertainties in life. A deeply personal and private track of penance, but as the Gods sharpen their blades, he knows he still has wrongs to right and, there’s a powerful feeling of inner conflict and readiness for the battles that still lay ahead. As the track escalates, the added violins provide stunning orchestral accompaniment to an already opulent track, and it’s simply sublime. In places there’s an air of CELLDWELLER here at its most atmospheric and cinematic, and it’s easily an album highlight. 

Promotional singles like “Caramel” celebrate the unity and togetherness Sleep Token have amassed in their incredibly devout fanbase. Vessel is asking here for everyone who understands and appreciates, to follow...to literally stick to them like caramel. It’s going to be a messy journey, there will be obstacles, there will be hardship, but the key is unity. Lines like “Right foot in the roses, left foot on a landmine” highlight the almost trepidation felt, juggling success and criticism, just as “Wear me out like Prada, devil in my detail” showcase the cut-throat trend-based, fashionable aspects of the music industry, and how they face it head on. The personal battles don’t stop there either, as we have lyrics like “Can I get a mirror side-stage? Looking sideways at my own visage, getting worse, every time they try to shout my real name just to get a rise from me”. People are too obsessed with the who and the why...and they ignore the what and the when. What’s important here, is you have a band producing quality music, with a real deep connection with the fans, and many people want to dissect instead of digest, and play sleuth instead of living in the moment.  

Depth of song writing isn’t the main issue with Sleep Token thought...it’s their approach to music in general. As an alternative band, they’ve picked up momentum within the pages of say, Metal Hammer and Kerrang! etc, but because they aren’t primarily a metal band, or a rock band, they generate a lot of heat, especially in social media comment sections and posts. Sure, they are pigeonholed within such categories because of the fact they do utilise some truly crushing metalcore instrumental breakdowns and fills, but it’s part of a bigger picture. They incorporate a plethora of inspirations from acoustics, to orchestral, to contemporary pop, to indie, to hip-hop, to jazz, trap and R&B... they aren’t afraid to mix it up, bolder than the vast majority, and it works. 

​The issue Sleep Token have, is that, I believe, they’ve fallen into a trap of being the modern equivalent of Nu-Metal. Think about when LIMP BIZKIT became huge, Fred Durst was rapping over down tuned guitars and heavy tracks, bridging genre gaps. Really pissing metal fans off, because they became HUGE. LINKIN PARK did the same on albeit a more serious note, but the combination worked, and the sales of “Hybrid Theory” speak for themselves. Times have changed, styles and tastes have changed, but what Sleep Token are doing is blending genres, just like those aforementioned bands, and doing fucking well by doing so, because they write good songs, and people are relating. Old school metal fans don't like that, too many years of headbanging and warm cans of Red Stripe to be cognitive of evolution. How dare bands that don't fit into their idea of whatever the fuck they think is correct succeed. The absolute audacity! 

I’m not saying this as a new fan, there are elements to this that I am personally not a fan of, for transparency, but I respect the fuck out of Vessel and the band for doing what they are doing, the way they want to do it. Ignore the mystique of the masked personas and the cult-like charms they invoke, that’s been done to death let’s be honest. What matters is this lot have captured something special in the way they write and incorporate multiple influences, to mould this honestly captivating narrative in song. Time will tell how long they can keep the masks on, how the industry will affect their integrity and how far they can truly go within this gimmick and concept, but for the mean time, let’s simply appreciate Sleep Token for what they are. Young, talented songwriters and performers who are on top of their game. Black Sabbath just bowed out in spectacular style in Birmingham...and like it or not, Vessel may very well be the new Prince Of Darkness. These aren’t to be slept on. [8] 

As I’ve stated plenty of times before, back in the early 2000’s, we were in the height of the Nu-Metal era. All of the freshest bands were peddling in down tuned guitars; combining elements of alternative rock and metal, with rap and hip-hop, and traces of the tail end of grunge, and while the likes of LIMP BIZKIT and LINKIN PARK were riding high with chart success and platinum albums, there was always going to be a place, for good old-fashioned rock ‘n’ roll. It’s at the very core of what we enjoy under many guises today, as rock ‘n’ roll will never truly die. By that I mean, it’s like CARRY ON films, they’re dated as fuck but, they’re fondly remembered for what they were. Nowadays we have an ever so slightly over-saturated market for modern classic rock bands but, that’s a whole different kettle of fish, and we aren’t talking about when rivers meet in the kitchen... 

Today, we celebrate another anniversary, as twenty years ago, Suffolk based spandex enthusiasts THE DARKNESS unleashed their debut album; “Permission To Land”. Permission was granted too, as they spent four weeks holding onto the coveted UK No.1 Album spot in the official charts, selling over a million copies, fending off the likes of IRON MAIDEN and DAVID BOWIE. It won them Brit Awards and made them rock ‘n’ rolls newest stars. Now, in 2023, let’s look back and shine another light on The Darkness, as we check out their new four-disk anniversary set and grant them “Permission To Land...Again”. 

Disk one kicks off with the original album plus a couple of demos, and we’re greeted with a little folklore a la “Black Shuck”. An East Anglian death omen, a devil dog of sorts, it supposedly terrorised church folk, but here it’s all very tongue-in-cheek. We’re treated to some ascending riff and drum work, very bluesy and gritty, before we’re met with front-man Justin Hawkins, and his unique and impressively high vocal range. He jovially sings of how this demon dog don’t give a fuck, as they swagger through a high energy hard rock number, with wailing guitars and a simplistic AC/DC-esque intensity. It’s a fun opener and caught many by surprise. 

Next up we have our first solid album highlight, by the brief bombardment of lead single “Get Your Hands Off My Woman”. The rolling intro of gradually built bass and cymbals, leading into a flurry of intense glam rock, with some insanely high-pitched vocal screeches. It’s got light punk rock qualities in its attitude and fuzzy production, coupled with the frenetic solo, but it’s an undeniably entertaining piece of rock. This certainly caught people's attention in the February of 2003.  

To say the album was top heavy, would be a fair assessment, as the following three tracks were also singles, and they certainly wanted to make an impression. “Growing On Me” is a twisted tale of relationship uncertainty; jumbled emotions and confusion, treating love almost like a fungus. Who’s really growing on who? Justin here is incredibly juxtaposed in what he wants, or feels, but there is definitely something there. Dan Hawkins is once again allowed to let rip on a guitar solo and this is just a band in full swing. 

Speaking of full swing, we have the bands piece de resistance... “I Believe In A Thing Called Love”. A 21st century anthem, it’s undeniably their biggest song, and the track that put them on the map. From the music video battling space aliens, to the catchy, sing-along harmonies where EVERYONE tried to reach those high notes and failed miserably. It’s got clap-along qualities and riffs not seen since the likes of QUEEN and it’s just splendid. Arguably overplayed at rock clubs and alternative DJ nights, but it’s still a fantastic, light-hearted rock number. 

The albums strongest track though, debatably, is “Love Is Only A Feeling”. The gentle nature of this sweet, emotive rock ballad is simply stunning. The guitars and overall tone ooze a mature sense of longing and heartache, and the Spanish guitars, with subtle keys merely add a level of romanticism. And that solo too! This is played with passion and a sense of honesty rarely found in rock bands. This is from the heart and it’s wonderful. 

The remaining half of the album is fine, but as previously stated it has been front-loaded. “Friday Night” has some jovial lyrics about ping-pong, badminton and gymnastics, it’s a quirky song about being nerds at school, but meeting at a dance hall and reconnecting. It’s sweet in its delivery but emphasises naïve, youthful romance. It’s like, “Friday I’m Love” by THE CURE in a catsuit and far less Goth. “Holding My Own” closes the album with another ballad, and as touching as it is, can’t compete with our previous efforts. 

The demos consist of unreleased tracks like “Out Of My Hands” and “Nothings Gonna Stop Us”, which are fine ballads and energetic numbers respectively, while “Black Shuck” gets the Vincent Price homage with a creepy intro a la “Thriller”. “I Believe In A Thing Called Love” has the elements in place but it’s slower, with more synth underlay, and is a far cry from the finished song. A couple of tracks to check out but, the band picked all of the right singles to be fair. With the added production quality of course. I believe in a thing called studio engineering.  

The following review that you’re about to read, came about purely by chance, as, the band and album in question were not even on my radar, let alone my infinite list of shit to listen to. No, today’s review can be credited to Nikki Smash, who I write content for over at RIFF YARD MEDIA. Courtesy of ONE EYED TOAD RECORDS, SaN PR forwarded Nikki the upcoming debut album from Hertfordshire based metal outfit RAZE, entitled “Pyrography”, scheduled for release on July 28th, and he himself gave it the review for the RYM website. (Check that out here). 

So, you may be wondering where I come into it? Nikki has a brilliant mind and is a very smart dude when it comes to the music industry, but review writing isn’t something he does a great deal of, and so he asked me for my opinion on his review, because he felt he may have been a bit too harsh, or, blunt? You’re probably thinking, then why the fuck did he ask me of all people? Good question, but I read it over, and it was a very well put together, professionally critical piece of reviewing, that had no issues with its content whatsoever.  

He was worrying about nothing essentially. I always say if you genuinely think something, commit it to pen, no point in watering down integrity. This is where I then said, casually, it could have been worse, I could have reviewed it! We laughed, then it dawned on me that, I have a blog of my own, which brings us to the here and now. So, with that being said; if Nikki thought HE was being harsh, well, someone hold my beer damnit. New question; will this Raze to the occasion and impress me, or is this pyro going to go up like the Grenfell Tower; a poorly planned tragedy? Let’s find out... 

We open with “Maple”, but don’t expect bacon and pancakes, this ain’t no breakfast of champions. We get a deep, brooding guitar led opening with light cymbal's littering the background, before a more surging dose of melodic metal sweeps through, and it’s promising. The clean vocals have a very delicate baritone, before Louis Dunham takes off with a soaring chorus section. The ALTER BRIDGE and TREMONTI influences plain to see, and it's going well...before the growling. As it happens, the band threw LAMB OF GOD down as an influence too, so naturally the best thing to do is combine everything, and squeal like a rabid pig over parts of a generally decent song, ruining the ever-loving fuck out of it. It doesn’t fit, it does neither the track or Louis any favours, and is delivered with about as much grace as a coat hanger abortion.  

Follow up track “Better Off Alone” starts off harnessing more of a core heavy metal style, channelling further influences like MACHINE HEAD, but it also has an air of PANTERA to it in places. The heavier, guttural vocals do feel more at home here, as the instrumentation is more befitting of such a brutal approach; it isn’t jarring in any way, and the cleaner notes compliment the growls much better here. An admittedly sluggish, plodding riff carries the bulk of the track, and the guitar solo is sadly lost in a barrage of audible throat cancer, while drummer Ethan Morter smashes his plates like a bull in a China shop. Way overlayered here and it’s another potential highlight spoiled. 

Next up we have their most recent single “Roachman”, and this could be considered an album highlight. When they focus on clean melody, and incorporate their Southern-tinged hard rock, they actually have something decent going, as individually it is clear they are all incredibly competent performers and musicians, all of the potential is there, but there seems to be this need for everyone to be in the limelight, and these tracks at some point or another feel clustered and congested. Again, guttural vocals not necessary here, bringing the track down, and this one simply feels like two different tracks trying to work at once. Oh, and we HAVE to mention the video. Part live performance footage from their local town hall with all eleventeen people in attendance, part stop-motion claymation footage. Remember when CKY had that video for “Inhuman Creation Station” that was all stop-motion, that Bam directed? Yeah, this isn’t that. This is more like, Morph from “SMart”, but Mark Speight sculpted him AFTER he hung himself... 

The rest of the album finds itself in a bit of a pattern creatively. “C. Exigua” contains some quality guitar work and a pleasant solo, while “...Again” takes things too far, over-delivering on the fret-wankery, almost trying too hard. “Mellow Breeze” utilises some more crooned vocals for a slight change of pace but it’s quite anti-climactic, while “W.B.C.” again is very heavily layered in production. There is a lot going on here and we find another track blended in a messy, convoluted headache. Closing track “Blue Sky Vengeance” does have some enjoyable, funky bass lines that stand out because you can actually hear them here, but that’s about it for that. 

As stated, as musicians, these lads can very obviously play, and they are more than technically proficient. Yes, it’s their debut album, yes, they want all the bells and whistles and yes, they have the potential to deliver some genuinely strong material in the probably near future, but they need to rein it in a little and understand less can be more. A lot of the time they don’t allow each other room to breathe, and the result is an often time needlessly noisy album. “Pyrography” sounds like a combination of pyromania and pornography...which I guess they think is hot by some means of a burning passion? It’s more like gonorrhea if you ask me; treatable but best not to have it in the first place...[4] 

It’s weird, right? We’re at the arse end of 2022, and Covid still crops up in the conversation regarding bands plans and ideas. Typically, you’d find that bands were a bit lost, because tours were cancelled, so they’d push some extra exclusive merch to compensate, or …they’d work on a cheeky EP to tide fans over, or even just jump straight into writing their next album. But oh no, not LORDI...

The Finnish Eurovision favourites decided fuck it; following 2020’s “Killection”, they weren’t going to get to work on the next album, or even a double-album, no, that’s too uninspired; unoriginal and quite frankly boring. The band decided to work on a concept BOX-SET, of SEVEN consecutive new and original albums,  between 2021-2022 under the banner of “Lordiversity”.  

A modern, retroactive time-capsule, it spans multiple genres, eras and sounds, spanning decades, covering the growth and evolution in fashionable rock ’n’ roll, but with that beastly, Lordi twist. The question is; can a bunch of pantomime shock rockers pull off such a feat? Let’s find out, as we plough through these 78 tracks, wishing they could have settled for an EP... 

The series starts off with “Skelectric Dinosaur” and we find ourselves back in the late 1970’s, where rock music was at that initial turning point. That transition between the more innocent, formative rock ‘n’ roll, swing and more blues influenced styles, to what we now refer to separately as classic rock.  It opens up with “SCG Minus 7: The Arrival” and with its church organs, haunting wails and children's giggles, telling you that “Monsters are coming” …it’s quite the creepy introduction. This however leads us into disappointment, as we’re greeted with first track proper; “Day Off Of The Devil”.  

Musically absolutely fine for the style they are going for, imagine, KANSAS, or, ALICE COOPER or even BLUE OYSTER CULT, they’ve nailed that classic guitar tone and recording quality, credit to them, and it’s a decent, chilled out rock track, however the intro promised something a lot more sinister. The question is, how DOES the devil spend his days off? Is he there with a bowl of Coco Pops, sat on the couch in his pyjamas watching Disney+ on a Saturday morning? Who knows.... who cares...not me.  

“Starsign Spitfire” has a very slow, plodding pace to it, while it does have some decent backing vocal harmonies elevating the chorus. “The Tragedy Of Annie Mae” has a very DEEP PURPLE-esque bass-line fuelling the track and it rumbles along nicely. We do eventually finish album one off with “...And Beyond The Isle Was Mary”, and we get a quaint, piano-filled piece with rainy sound effects, resulting in a gentle closing number.  They nailed the sound of the era and have delivered well here overall; it’s not a bad start. 

Next up we have the album “Superflytrap” and we transition rather quickly from the origins of rock and early metal, into the bright lights of the discotheque. The intro piece, “SCG Minus 6: Delightful Pop-Ins" is totes cringe babes, with the porn parody content. Some bimbo taking in the pizza guy, and the pool guy, like some seedy classic blue-movie plot-segue, until the monster breaks in and there’s screaming and terror, and it’s all a bit shit. I pray Asylum don’t read this; their movies are bad enough as it is... 

The actual opening tracks “Macho Freak” and “Believe Me” are a bit better. It’s not always easy to recreate that nostalgic disco/club vibe musically with it coming out authentic, but credit to a band like Lordi, they’ve managed it. The funk-fuelled synths, alongside the twangy guitars, in this day and age remind me of DEREK BISHOP if you’re interested in modern disco, and to be fair, the band, despite their appearance, don’t sound cheesy doing this. “Bella From Hell” capitalises on some genuinely soulful backing vocals, while “Cast Out From Heaven” tries to be a genuine ballad, and, let's be honest, the vocals do NOT suit this approach. This is too jarring.  

Where do we go from here?  Album number three; “The Masterbeast From The Moon”, and we enter prog-rock territory. Inspired by the likes of PINK FLOYD etc, it’s a more ambitious piece but do a band like Lordi have the ability to pull this off? Let’s get one thing straight here, no... the answer is no. “Moonbeast” utilises an almost GHOST-like character instrumentally but that’s genuinely as good as it gets. The praise ends here. “Hurricane Of The Slain” highlights this point as, the piano rich, orchestrally led strings of the track are gorgeous, but the clash with the gruff vocals absolutely ruins things. It’s all well and good trying new things musically, but when the vocals are so often stagnant, it has a detrimental effect on the entire project. “Church Of The Succubus” at over 11 minutes fits better in the whole prog-rock aesthetic, but even that can’t save this record.  

What do we have next? “Abusement Park”, and I can’t lie to you, I do love a play on words; this title tickles me. It reminds me of JOHNNY KNOXVILLE in the film “Action Point”, but I digress. The title track absolutely reeks of classic heavy metal with the pacing, the key transitions, the style of percussion, it’s got a semi-MOTORHEAD vibe to it as well as the likes of W.A.S.P., almost power-metal in places, and it’s very up-tempo and energetic. It can be a bit cheesy with some incredibly cliched names like “Ghost Train” and “Rollercoaster”, but it’s to be expected. “Carousel” has some wonderfully emotive, smooth, sensual guitar playing that reek of the 80’s, while “Pinball Machine” harbours this strong AC/DC, or, JUDAS PRIEST level of vocal screeching.  

“Nasty, Wild & Naughty” harbours all of that overdone rock ’n’ roll sleaze lyrically, despite being a catchy piece of rock with all of the cowbell, before “Merry Blah Blah Blah” comes out of the blue as a Christmas single. The bells and choirs are there, the Santa references are there... but do you know what is also there? Me, making Ebeneezer Scrooge feel uncomfortable with my lack of festive spirit. Pull a cracker, the joke will be this song, I promise. I mean, WHY?! 

Next up we have “Humanimals” and we’ve reached our more, BON JOVI and AOR inspired tracks, and it shows. Opening track proper “Borderline” has a real, I guess, bon-jovial vibe to it (I’m sorry) with its light, up-beat synths and almost hushed percussion. The chorus houses some smoother gang vocals and its honestly quite the pleasant little track instrumentally. “Victims Of The Romance” utilises a more guitar driven approach in comparison but it reeks of that, all-too parodied hair-metal era. If you choose to picture Lordi with mullets in spandex, well, that challenging wank is on YOU my friend. “The Bullet Bites Back” stands out with its genuinely sleek guitar tones, and especially it’s solo, before we revisit “Like A Bee To The Honey”. A decent piece (Written by KISS) but, two years old, and practically becoming filler at this point.  

Our penultimate album, “Abracadaver” leans further into the emergence of what we now fondly refer to as modern metal, with that transitional period, from the mid to late 1980’s into the 1990’s. Ignoring the now tedious intro bit, we dive into “Devilium”, and we’re met with a bombardment of riffs, old-school thrash metal aesthetics and vocals that could make onions cry. The title-track isn’t much better truth be told. You CAN hear “Big-4” elements but the track does eventually descend into utter fret-wankery. “Beast Of Both Worlds” is arguably as good as it gets on this one, with it’s very SLAYER-esque chugging riff-work and rhythmic snarls. Done well enough but, beyond dated. 

Finally, then, and oh how glad I am knowing this (Excited for this one? Hell no, I’m just glad this is over with), we round things up with “Spooky Sextravaganza Spectacular” and that name alone reeks of ROB ZOMBIE. “Demon Supreme” utilises darker synths and a semi-industrial aesthetic to give the ol' Dragula a right good rear ending. It’s a touch repetitive but it’s got an energy to it and reminds me of POWERMAN 5000 in ways. “Lizzard Of Oz” houses more chugging riffs, with a strong electronic core sound, something which a more industrial metal unit might partake-in.  

“Skull And Bones (The Danger Zone)” repeats this seemingly Rob Zombie inspired instrumental direction, with it sounding aesthetically very similar. “Shake The Baby Silent” is top quality parenting advice it has to be said, Mr. Lordi collecting his dad of the year award over here, well done. Skip the bottle feed, jump straight to infanticide. It took seven albums but we do actually get our first actual stand-out highlight in the form of “Terror Extra-Terrestrial”. The intro spoils it a little bit, with its E.T parody segue, but we get a frankly quirky piece of synth-driven hard rock, and it’s honestly rather catchy. We ultimately finish up very ironically however, with the track “Anticlimax”...and I’m not even going to make any jokes here, the audio speaks for itself. After seven albums, completing this seventy-eight-track endurance test has to be rewarded in some aspect surely? Not in the slightest. 

Lordi tried something different here; they have to applauded for their creative ambition, that’s without question. What DOES need to be questioned though, is why the hell they couldn’t do seven concept EP’s instead of seven full bloody albums? They could have very easily cherry-picked specific highlights, and made a far more digestible, and more importantly, enjoyable listening experience. Seventy-eight tracks, allows for far, far too much filler, and truth be told, fodder. They managed to occasionally hit certain spots musically, and instrumentally to diversify these albums into their genre’s, which is the entire point OF “Lordiversity” as a concept, but vocally they just aren’t capable of really delivering; it’s very one-dimensional for the most part, and that grates over time.

In summary... Monstrous? Check. Mediocre? Also check. If concept albums are your thing, love anthologies and collecting box-sets, or simply are a die-hard Lordi fan, you'll likely enjoy this for what it is. If you specifically like a certain style or genre, feel free to sift through your own preferences accordingly, you MIGHT get something out of it, but, as a complete package, this is at a level of grandiosity Lordi really shouldn't be dabbling in. For me? This review is finally over...give me a hard rock hallelujah! [4]

Allow me to preface the following review, with an outpouring of regret, grief, more regret, bewilderment and, a little bit more regret, through a literary veil of self-therapy. There was absolutely zero reason, obligating me to conduct the following review, but, at the same time, there was absolutely EVERY reason that I couldn’t NOT do this review. This is the review equivalent of Hogan v Warrior at WrestleMania VI, but with more baby oil...let me set the stage. 

You know by now that, while I am perfectly capable of writing a decent, or at the very least, serious review, whether here or over on ALL ABOUT THE ROCK, I get my kicks out of the more, unusual and questionable releases available to me. I can point my finger at the likes of, KIM PETRAS, or, going back to COREY FELDMAN; I like a challenge, but this is the sort of thing that can break a man. This can Brokeback Mountain the fuck out of a man...this is “Ram Ranch” by GRANT MACDONALD, and I blame young Charlie Bryant for this 1 hour and 7 minutes of audio torture. Even the inmates at Guantanamo Bay would feel sorry for me here, but, fuck it...saddle up, we’re going in (Dry)… 

Firstly, who IS Grant Macdonald? Little is known about this alleged Canadian, other than that he might be Canadian, and his name might be Grant Macdonald...he’s like the BANKSY of homoerotic cowboy rock. The album we’re tackling today originally came out in 2012, so, aside from being a rare case of retrospective reviewing from me, we’ve had a decade to process, and at times, begrudgingly accept “Ram Ranch”. It’s been used as pro-LGBTQ+ content in protests and rallies, and over its existence it became a running meme and an ongoing source of absurdity. To this day Grant has apparently released SIX HUNDRED variants of “Ram Ranch”, which is frankly both impressive and alarming. Dude has a passion, what can I say? With that said, the only way is down, as we process this piece of... art? 

The album opens up with the title track, and, we initially have a dose of rather subdued heavy metal instrumentation, with all of the riffs, licks and kick drums. I say subdued because it’s practically background noise. On a production level, it’s like a demo in terms of audio quality, but the capability is there, that in itself is promising...but it’s the vocal content that draws attention here.  

Allow me to set the tone lyrically; “18 naked cowboys in the showers at Ram Ranch, big hard throbbing cocks wanting to be sucked, 18 naked cowboys wanting to be fucked? Cowboys in the showers at Ram Ranch on their knees wanting to suck cowboy cocks; Ram Ranch really rocks!”. This is the primary content of the track from start to finish, and it’s the absurdity of this that, at first, makes it mildly amusing and, quite distressing simultaneously. The worst bit? The spoken-word over metal sounds like, CHILLS, arguably THE WORST YouTube narrator in the history of the internet, got a record deal. The repetition and looping of track one IS painful, sure, but we have 11 tracks left. Even my Jack Daniel’s needs a Jack Daniel’s... 
 
Second track “Plowboy” has such a reverberated overlay of vocal samples, it becomes an absolute trippy mess from the moment it starts, with some, moog-esque synths, setting the tone for some almost 70’s porn rock sleaze. It’s the kind of thing to make your eye twitch, which one all depends on you and your tastes, I’m not here to discriminate. 

Next up we have, “Cowboys Fucking Cowboys” and, you remember when KID ROCK was like, “I wanna’ be a Cowboy baby!”? Yeah, we’re going to shatter his dreams right now. The gentle acoustics here could easily, EASILY be used for a more serious, affectionate country ballad, but there’s so much lyrical cowboy fucking here, riding butthole’s deep...it’s like...you know when ROGER ALAN WADE did “If You’re Gonna’ Be Dumb” for JACKASS, but instead of a montage of stunts, it was gay porn...that about sums it up. 
 
“Prince Harry” returns abruptly to that riff-heavy metal musicality, and it’s a wonder how the ever-loving fuck he got away with this one. I don’t know if this would be art, slander, or character assassination, but telling him to ride those big hard ram ranch cowboy cocks, bouncy, bouncy up and down, up and down, drink that cum, ram another cock up your royal bum? I don’t even know where the line is legally with this. I think of Harry now, in 2022, but this was ten years ago, ok Harry was still 28 at the time, but Christ. This is worse than that time he wore that Nazi costume to a party and made the front page. Who would have thought THAT could be topped? 

Next up, I feel personally attacked, as we have “Suck That Cock Gavin”, and, no. Firstly I’m not even joking, that’s that track name! I’m barely here to listen to the album, I’m certainly not signing up for that. I recently reviewed VR SEX and not even they were that immersive, calm the fuck down Grant! Or at least buy me dinner first!? I’ll take the salad, hold the ram ranch dressing please... 

“Big Hard Cowboy Cock” sounds like, generic mid 90’s WCW music, excluding the lyrics, obviously, Ted Turner wouldn’t tolerate that. Imagine like, the Nitro Girls were gay cheerleaders? Disco Inferno and Alex Wright would have much better careers. ” Hard Horsecock” implies that we’re entering the world of bestiality here now, and I don’t even know what I can get away with. We’ve all heard the phrase ‘hung like a horse’, but this is sung like a cunt. “12 Inch Cock” has industrialised metal elements but it’s more like, queer factory than FEAR FACTORY, while “Stable Boy” houses a more urbanised gangsta-rap / hip-hop aesthetic, but it drops more soap than it does bars. 

Ultimately, whoever Grant Macdonald is...he’s committed. Or at least he should be. Credit to him, I can barely think of the words to sum this up. Not since AC/DC has an artist produced so much content with so little substance. Sure, he’s able to mix it up musically, utilising rock and metal, country and Americana, as well as hip-hop, so he’s technically actually better than AC/DC, but lyrically and vocally, I’m assuming it’s something you have to be in-on, or, ‘get’.

Ideal for reaction videos, or making friends and family question you when they hear you play it on Spotify, but, at over an hour long, it’s not a fun album in the slightest, and once the initial shock wears off, and you’ve done the whole “Wtf?” head shake, it very quickly becomes monotonous and boring. Let’s be honest, there’s only so much hard throbbing cowboy cock you can take, y’know? No? Ok then... [0]

OK so Summertime is upon us, or, is at least around the corner...perhaps. It’s hard to tell in Wales sometimes to be honest, seriously; it’s Wales, not ‘whales’, we don’t require this much water so regularly so can you please stop raining? I jest it’s been pretty decent recently, and that is quite possibly because I’ve been privately praying to today’s band; CVLT OV THE SVN. No, I haven’t had a stroke, that’s how it’s presented (Obviously it’s Cult Of The Sun) and I will say right now that they are personally, one of my favourite discoveries in recent memory. 

Hailing from Finland, because of course they do...all my favourite bands do...it’s a project shrouded in a sense of mystique and intrigue, as the ensemble wishes to explore the darkness with a sense of macabre, theatrical flair on their debut album “We Are The Dragon”. Released on NAPALM RECORDS, let's see just how these darkest of stars can brighten up your summer playlists. 

​The album appropriately kicks off with the title track and we’re met with a surprisingly up-beat, jovial guitar tone...this is a lot more melodic than expected but there are zero complaints with that. I had a similar experience with GHOST’s debut album; expecting some brutally dark doom metal but getting some kind of deeper, BLUE OYSTER CULT type effort. Seriously the song structure here revels in its simplicity but it’s an effective hook, which is in turn countered by the sinister, snarling vocals. Honestly, it's like the DANHAUSEN of rock songs; very nice...very evil. It meanders pleasantly enough and gets the album underway in an interesting and unexpected manner, but it’s all good. 

Follow up track “My Venom” takes things down an admittedly darker path...the initially twangy guitar leads into some seriously atmospheric, intense instrumentation, before we blend elements of thrashy punk with chilling alt-rock. We soon realise that the vocals here don’t necessarily have a lot of range or depth, as we find ourselves sticking fast to a husky, raspy delivery. While it would be fine to chastise the lack of diversity, the style is effective enough to carry the tracks, and it gives them and in turn this entire album, it’s character. 

Having established the general approach for the record, we can easily appreciate that from here on it just goes from strength to strength, with several notable highlights. “Luna In The Sky Forever” in ways reminds me of the aforementioned Ghost with its catchy electronic-tinged bassline and simple, synth-laden groove. “Don’t Be Tender Love Me Cruel” has a slower, more methodical pace that allows emphasis on the emotive guitar tones, which, coupled with the self-depreciative lyrical drawl, creates a sultry, almost masochistic offering. 

If it’s up-tempo you want then this bunch of cvlts have you covered too, as album highlight “Twilight” luckily has absolutely nothing to do with Stephanie Meyer. Nary a sparkling vampire in sight, we get a fantastically infectious dose of punk-tinged hard rock with more hooks than Leatherface’s lady-pantry. At its core, the up-tempo bass riff and simplistic chugging could be mistaken for something by, RISE AGAINST or BAD RELIGION, before the darker characteristics kick in. This is a great track. “Hellbound” keeps things nice and intense with some initially pummelling percussion and another dose of deeply self-depreciating lyrics... ”My mind is an endless well of negative thoughts...in its prime; shows me no remorse”. Relatable fam. “Whore Of Babylon” is then equally relatable (Can I get a H’oooohhhhhhhh Yeahhh from all my fellow sluts? I’m kidding...I’m KIDDING!) but the blackened metal flurry can’t help but raise more than a few horns. 

In terms of alternative music, Cvlt Ov The Svn have seemingly cherry picked some quality influences stylistically for this debut. There’s a sprinkle of black metal and gothic imagery, there’s a brilliantly fun, punk-esque hard rock quality to a lot of the instrumentation, there are almost doom inspired atmospherics and it’s all wrapped up with an almost pop music production quality, and it works perfectly! These Finns have dropped what is personally, a contender for the album of the year in my eyes and ears...believe me, I am a dragon too, and I’ve got one on my flag to fucking prove it! [9]​

Stonehenge... Göbekli Tepe... Dot Cotton; all ancient wonders steeped in rich cultural history, going back centuries, even millennia. Or, you could just say; old as fuck. Naturally you may be wondering where I’m going with THIS segue... am I about to veer off into some, Neolithically geographical Ted Talk? Am I about to roast June Brown for pretending to run a laundrette into her 90’s knowing damn well the next spin cycle might outlive her? I jest...and I exaggerate.  

Today we’re going to be taking a fresh look at a Welsh band by the name of RECLUSE. You see, I’ve known front-man Britt several years now, and that’s where the intro to this review came from. He messaged me recently asking how things were, and that he’d like to get my thoughts on the band's newest album, seeing as I’d been part of their journey since their debut...he said that I felt at least a small part in their continued story, which to be honest was quite sweet.  

I do indeed remember championing their debut album “Crooked Heart”, but when I went to back-read my thoughts on it here for references, I realised that it actually pre-dates this entire blog! My first GTGC blog post was in 2014, yet I was playing Recluse on my old radio show back in 2011/2012! In the words of Mike Bracken; “Christ I’m Old!”. With that said, let's roll back the years and dust off the cobwebs as we check out “Lay Your Darkness Down With Me”... 

We open up with the track “Stomah”, and like any normal person, I found myself Googling the word to get some context as to what the track could mean conceptually, but the results drew more blanks than the infertile department of your local sperm bank. Naturally I ask Britt what the story was, and the reply? It’s a spelling mistake from Kurt Cobain’s journal, talking about his debilitating stomach cramps, that has nothing to do with the actual songs content itself. For fuck's sake Britt. I digress...the track itself is a fine slab of fuzzy guitar and bass that pushes and enhances his rough and ready vocals; combining the early 90’s grunge aesthetic with more stoner rock and sludge elements, and it’s a fine opener. 

Follow up track “You Get Out Alone” retains this approach with the deeper, rumbling bass complimenting the higher vocal notes. This more powerful, prominent vocal performance gives the track a far more positive energy, almost channelling the likes of SOUNDGARDEN for example, really coming to life towards the tracks climax. Album highlight “Throat” then takes things back down a notch, returning to their more stoner rock influences and there are moments here that could easily befit a QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE setlist. It’s got a solid groove and the distortion and muffling on the guitars again adds ample character; not to be mistaken for lack of production quality or recording cost-cutting...this gives the track a raw, visceral sound that works wonderfully for their stylistic delivery. This wouldn’t sound anywhere near as good too crisp or overly produced.  

“The Quiet Hours” by contrast slows things right down, to more of that sludge-heavy style for a truly moody, brooding piece of alternative rock, that wouldn’t be out of place on the soundtrack to “The Crow”, and is every as bit as enjoyable as the aforementioned, despite coming from opposite ends of the spectrum in terms of delivery. That’s just one half of the album mind you...as Recluse also indulge in several spots of prog inspired writing. “Werewolves” disappoints slightly as I was expecting some bestial savagery to rip through my speakers and maul me with an intense flurry of riffs and percussion, but it’s drawn-out instrumental intro somehow manages to bridge the likes of DEFTONES with the earliest of CKY days, before some very subdued vocals bring the expectations down even further. 

The main issues here however, come from two tracks taking up nearly thirty minutes of the album's hour and three-minute run time...and how they drag. “Olympus” being the longest of the tracks here initially starts off interestingly enough, like it’s about to veer off into some bluesy country-rock, but soon descends into an extended piece of everything we’ve heard prior, and like its name suggests, is a mountain to listen to if you're lacking in the old attention department. Closing track “Le Rose Hotel” then isn’t AS long but is arguably the weakest track on the record. Another needlessly long instrumental intro makes you wonder if they were given a target of how long the albums run-time needed to be, as this is literally nothing but pointless filler at this point. We’re over eight minutes in actually and I’ve not heard a single word...remind me to never stay here, I don’t care what offers I’m presented with on Booking.com! 

Ultimately, Recluse have proven again that when they put their mind to it, they provide some of the finest modern era grunge going, keeping those sounds of the early to mid-nineties very much alive. They’ve shown growth over their three-album career to date and continue to expand their sound, though while the lengthy prog-inspired cuts aren’t for this particular reviewer, there’s definitely an audience for it and it’s a solid recording nevertheless. [6] 

What is there to say about 2020, that hasn't already been said? Within these reviews over the past nine months I've light-heartedly made reference to issues like Covid-19 and such, but let's not detract from the seriousness of the whole situation. As a calendar year, 2020 was one of the most difficult, frustrating, upsetting and confusing in recent history, and this isn't strictly down to Coronavirus...this time last year we were on the brink of World War 3! Politics has been a shambles, social injustice has been rife, the divide in both community spirit and the classes seemingly continues to grow, and generally speaking, the world is a complete mess. Luckily we've had music to keep us going, if not to keep us sane, and for that at least I am grateful. The images above showcase my personal highlights of 2020, grouped in categories covering pop, metal, EP's and general favourites, and it shows that, despite the state of the world, music flourishes. Music and the arts are SO important, as many of us learned during national lockdown, and we need to appreciate the people who dedicated their lives to creating that art SO much, because times like these prove we'd be lost without them. 

I mean, just looking at the cover art above, it's been as diverse a year as any. MILEY CYRUS embraced her inner rocker on her new album, having collaborated with the likes of BILLY IDOL and JOAN JETT. Groups like STEPS made an unexpected comeback showing they've still got it in an ever changing pop industry, as did MELANIE C. From a metal standpoint, PARADISE LOST prove they just get better with age, as they not only released one of the albums of their career, they also found themselves in the UK Top 40! Imagine that! Goth metal on Radio 1! It gives hope to newer acts like SOUTH OF SALEM who delivered a truly stunning debut album, and certify themselves as ones to watch for sure. There have also been plenty of superb EP's released over the past twelve months...especially VV. Ville Valo surprised everyone with his 3-track EP and HIM fans rejoiced at the new material, I for one certainly cannot wait to hear more from him. CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS put emphasis on the art as their whole EP was turned into one big choreographed music video which was impressive, while I personally made some brilliant discoveries in the form of LUCIA & THE BEST BOYS and JACKIE. 

Finally then, my official albums of the year, and I was spoiled for choice to be fair. THE BIRTHDAY MASSACRE always deliver, they never release a bad album and I'm looking forward to catching up with Chibi on the rescheduled tour dates. MARILYN MANSON dropped his best album in years much to my delight, having found his last couple a little bit boring (Sorry Mazza!), GREY DAZE tugged at the heartstrings with a touching tribute to the late Chester Bennington, releasing unheard material from his pre-LINKIN PARK days, reminding us all how much we'll miss such a talented, brilliant human being. NINJA SEX PARTY on the other hand proved they remain one of the funniest groups around with their bonkers writing style, comedic lyricism and story-telling and wholesome attitude. Yes, 2020 has been a bit of a mess to say the least, but we've still got music, and as fans of that music, we've still got one another, and as a community, we need to hold on to that. With that said, below, is my official GTGC Spotify playlist of 2020, with 40 hand-picked tracks spanning the above records, and it is dedicated to my very good friend Scot 'JD' Rees, who is sadly no longer with us in body, but will forever be with us in heart and spirit. Whether he had a Jack & Coke in his hand, or his guitar, he was always laughing at something, and his energy for enjoyment was infectious. I will miss you Scot, and this compilation is for you. X

The end of the calendar year; a period of time this reviewer looks forward to annually. Not because of Christmas and the time-off work (Although the time-off is wonderful) and not because of the festive indulgence, because let’s face it I don’t need an excuse to drink, but because of the annual Winter Goth Getaway.  You may be thinking, what the hell is that? Is there some sort of alternative event that’s slipped under my radar?  

No... it’s basically myself and a group of friends, getting together every Winter, for a select live music adventure. Last year we hit London for the one-off UK date by THE 69 EYES, as well as hitting Bristol for the RXPTRS X-Mas bash...while in previous years we’ve been up and down the country to catch HIM, CKY and FIELDS OF THE NEPHILIM. It’s become a tradition and a whole lotta fun...that was until Covid ruined everything. This year, my friends and I didn’t get to go to any special Winter gigs, meet awesome new people and get ludicrously drunk, resulting in Christmas this year being a little less black...and I won't stand for that. We need some Goth damnit! And I may just have a solution. 

​Cast your mind back to 2017, and I reviewed an interesting band by the name of FLOVER. The Italian/Russian project comprising of Fabio and Kolya respectively, had released their debut album “Dark & Sweet”, and you’ll remember I made sure to point out that they more than borrowed a lot of sound and substance from the aforementioned HIM, even going as far as naming their sound “Sweet Rock” in homage to “Love Metal”. While I jested that, imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery but identity theft is a crime, it was impossible to not appreciate their sound and style in the absence of a recently separated HIM. 2020, the bonkers year that it’s been, finds them releasing their follow-up album “Songs Of Our Broken Hearts”. Let's check it out and salvage whatever goth we can... 

​The album opens up with “Secret Romance” ...it’s a bit like Secret Santa, but you already know what it is...HIM. The sultry piano-led dose of rock easily lends itself to the earlier demo-days of “Razorblade Romance”, especially with the underlying, faint synths sounding like they’ve been inspired by “Too Happy To Be Alive”, coupled with the guitar tone and key changes...this is certainly pink era HIM, and a decent start as a result. At this point we may as well start playing Heartagram Bingo...but instead of numbers we’ll be looking for riffs, song structures, vocal harmonies and parodies. Eyes down folks, we’re playing for a full house... 

“Love Beyond Death” starts with some heavier guitar work initially and it’s quite “Venus Doom”, but the chorus melodies soon kick in and it sounds more akin to something taken out of the “Screamworks...” sessions. The chugging riff is balanced nicely with the more delicate piano and the vocal crooning, and it all blends well truth be told. The albums first real highlight comes courtesy of “Love’s Scarecrow” which for all intents and purposes is a pretty straightforward track; simple structure and decent chorus hooks, but it comes to life with an impressive albeit brief solo and the track has this wonderfully energetic, climactic crescendo. 

“The Kiss Of Death” is clearly a take on “Kiss Of Dawn” not only from a titular standpoint, but even in vocal tone and sonic structure...it only slightly differs in tempo and even the wailing, scratchy guitar solo mirrors Linde’s playing on “Venus Doom”...there’s a couple for your bingo card! Speaking of...”Stay With You”...for a moment I honestly thought I’d skipped an album and started playing HIM’s cover of THE RAMONES “Poison Heart”! That opening riff is practically the same! They’re parodying other bands covers of other bands now, we’re getting too deep here, this is some inception type shit. It’s going to get to a point where riffs and musicianship aren’t enough...I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them does an Ed Gein and wears Ville Valo’s skin. I jest, of course. “Lost Souls” takes our mind off this with another simple yet effective chorus hook, even though the pre-chorus more than teases hints of “Dying Song” in delivery, but it’s an enjoyable track, before the title track goes all “When Love And Death Embrace” ...and this once again sums up our listen. 

While I can sit here and scoff at the obvious likenesses to our favourite infernal majesties, and joke about plagiarism, in HIM’s absence, Flover do a great job of keeping that bittersweet sound of romantic melancholy alive. Sure, Ville Valo did surprise everyone this year with a three-track EP, teasing more work to come at some point, but all of that is very minimal and secretive. If you lack the patience for that, Flover offer a more than adequate substitute for Valo himself, and I’m sure you can find it in the depths of your blackest heartagram to appreciate the appreciation they have for the band we all love. After all, these ARE songs for our broken hearts. [7]