She looks like the person who slept at Comic Con and woke up in a bondage shop, and her new album "Encores" is even more bizarre. Imagine classical music shoved headfirst into a shredder of industrial depravity.

She's fast, yes, but it's speed with a dash of fear added. There is art in her fingers, she'd probably be able to restring a violin balancing scalpels, but the result is this blur wherein Paganini's spirit is chuckling or suing. Half the time I'm not even certain if I'm astonished or just sick.

Thirty songs. Thirty-six minutes. "Encores" is not an album in the traditional sense. It's a seizure. This is...for whatever reason...THE GREAT KAT...

"Paganini’s Caprice No. 9": She murders Paganini so fast, he skipped rolling in his grave and went straight to pole-dancing on it. "Sarasate’s Malaguena": A Spanish dance, now performed by someone who sounds like they’ve never even danced socially. Or had friends.

"Leather Britches Guitar": This sounds more like pleather pants rubbing up against one another as someone cries in a Hot Topic dressing room and less like leather britches. "Santa Lucia Guitar": What is more cliché for the tearful Italian serenade than a woman crying over the violin as if screaming for help from the back of a speeding car.

"Cumberland Gap Guitar": – A folk tune. And nothing captures the spirit of Appalachian mountain folk like a Juilliard grad in fishnets screaming at ghosts. "Pizzazz": The only thing this track pizzazzes is my migraine.

"Paganini’s Caprice No. 14":  At this point, Kat isn’t covering Paganini, she’s just speed-dating his corpse. "Pizzicato by Delibes": Delibes wrote this to sound light and cheerful. Kat plays it like she's auditioning for the slasher film with a busted lawnmower.

"Joplin's The Entertainer": Consider a stripper emerging to this, but she trips immediately, breaks her teeth, and keeps dancing. "Minute Waltz": Chopin wrote it to be performed in a minute. Kat finishes it before you can say, "This was a mistake."

"Shredssissimo":  Not a word, not a style, but a cry for help. "Nessun Dorma": Puccini's master aria of victory. Kat brings it down to the whine of a dying microwave.

"Dixie": She dares to play "Dixie." Considering this album already has enough sins against humanity. "The Flight of the Bumblebee": – Rimsky-Korsakov gave us buzzing chaos. Kat gives us a wasp sting inside your ear canal.

"Blue Danube Waltz": Strauss wanted waltzing elegance. Kat delivers the soundtrack to a drunk uncle vomiting into a wedding cake. "Caprice No. 24": Paganini’s most famous piece. Kat treats it like an ex-boyfriend she found on Tinder: fast, messy, and ultimately regrettable.

By the end, I wasn’t clapping “Encore". I was calling the emergency services.

Score: Paganini’s ghost just called. He wants his dignity back. Words: Matt Denny.

LIVING COLOUR’s guitar virtuoso VERNON REID launches his fourth solo album "Hoodoo Telemetry". [Editor: Cold open much!] This record feels less like an album and more of a public execution of anyone foolish enough to think they can play guitar. I put it on, and suddenly every clumsy note I’ve ever hit comes rushing back, mocking me, so I launched my guitar at the wall.

"Door Of No Return" sets the tone immediately. There’s no warm-up, no mercy. Vernon cuts straight into the strings, leaving scorch marks across the air. He isn’t playing; he’s dismantling, and MY guitar is now dismantled courtesy of the wall.

Then comes "The Haunting". The title is too neat, but the music earns it. The track breathes in smoke and exhales fire. Every note carries memory and menace. I can’t turn it off, though it makes me want to set fire to my own, now fully shattered guitar and walk away.

"Bronx Paradox" is chaos held together by sheer willpower. Brass stabs, glitching rhythms, guitars carving through the mess, it shouldn’t work, but he bends it into shape. Meanwhile, I’m stuck wrestling an instrument that refuses to obey me.

By "Black Fathom Five", the bitterness has taken over. It’s heavy, drowning and it’s smothering. Vernon yet again absorbs his guitar until you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. I’ve never managed anything close.

"Hoodoo Telemetry" doesn’t offer comfort or answers. It just offers a mirror, and for me, that reflection is ugly and shows an obsession with a craft I can’t master, sharpened by the sound of someone who already has.

There’s no point giving it a number. This isn’t a scorecard. It’s a reminder that Vernon Reid is untouchable. I’m still staring at the embers of my own guitar in the fire.

Vernon has stated that this album’s "Like a piece of my all-over-the-place mind". That’s one fucked up mind and a stupidly talented one at that. 

Words: Matt Denny. 

This is a proper archive. Not like that CD of “Ambient rave classics” someone posted through my letterbox last week with a note that said “Listen or die". This is the real stuff. Canon. Fibreglass glory. "Made In Japan" is reissued in a way that respects municipal codes and the spiritual hygiene of live rock documentation. Five compact discs. Ten vinyl's. A Blu-ray. It’s what we used to call in the parish council a SIGNIFICANT UNDERTAKING.

They've got EVERYTHING. Osaka. Tokyo. Gillan yelping like a dog who's just been shown a gas bill. Blackmore noodling with the same face I’ve seen on regional bus drivers stuck in fourth gear. The whole band is just GOING AT IT, in a manner that would be considered inappropriate in a school gymnasium.

I haven’t seen such attention to detail since I catalogued the ceremonial spoons of the Pennine Tent Revival. They’ve included edits from Germany AND Mexico. International versions. Like "Eurovision", but with proper trousers.

Steven Wilson’s done the remixing. I don’t know the man, but I imagine him as the sort of person who alphabetises his dental records. And thank God he does. Every crash of the cymbals now feels like an official letter. Every organ swell is logged. If I close my eyes, I can almost smell the parquet flooring of the Budokan. I can see the usherette, probably cold.

And it's LOUD. Not your modern, shapeless “Festival” loud. No. This is 1972 loud. The kind of volume that would have required planning permission and a laminated safety sheet. The songs are long, often with no clear exit strategy. “Space Truckin’" goes on for weeks. I lost track of time. At one point I believed I was in a multi-story car park in Nagoya with a very cross Ritchie Blackmore handing out felt tipped pens.

There are liner notes. Roger Glover says it felt magical. That’s as emotional as he gets. Jon Lord doesn’t say anything as he’s dead, but his Hammond still haunts the air like a disgruntled former mayor.

This isn’t a “Deluxe Edition". It’s a CORRECTIVE. A historical artefact retrieved from the embers of improper archiving. Finally—after decades of partial data and sonic guesswork—we can say with absolute confidence what DEEP PURPLE sounded like in Japan. And it’s all above board.

Highly recommended for fans of rock, audit trails, and responsible live sound engineering.

Score: 8 Richie Blackmores - 0 Yngwie Malmsteens - [Editor: Sounds like a pre-season football score!] 

Words: Matt Denny.

Good day and hello, fellow music fanatics! Today we will be talking about the solo debut from MARK ACEVES, who those of you in the know will recognize as the bringer of the low end thunder for the heavy rock juggernaut known as ZED. What you may not know is that Mark is a man of many talents, as he is a multi-instrumentalist, a fantastic singer, and one hell of a songwriter. Mark; as the Bandcamp description says,

“...Breaks free and steps into the spotlight with his solo debut "Magnum Dopus" "— a loud, unfiltered testament to loss, love, rebellion, and refusing to go quietly.
Written fast and raw between January and April 2025, "Magnum Dopus" captures the energy of a life lived with fists clenched and heart wide open.”

Following the death of Zed's drummer, Sean Boyles, the band went into a hiatus as they grieved his loss. Mark was extremely close to Sean, both personally and as musicians, so this album can be seen as his tribute to him, while also honouring the important people in his life. I believe that this pushed him to create something special, because that's precisely what "Magnum Dopus" is. 

I asked Mark to supply his thoughts on what he accomplished, and he was kind enough to share this with us …

“This album is really close to my heart because at its core it's both about the people I love, and it's about themes and ideas that are things I believe in. Things that I've had to put into practice to make it through to the next day at different points in my life. I use this album to honour my father and friend/drummer Sean Boyles who both passed away within a year of each other. I use this album to tell my wife how much I love her, and to give my kids some words of wisdom and love for when I'm no longer here to tell them. And then I use this album to remind myself that when the chips are down, and I'm on the floor, bloodied and beaten by life's punches, that I still need to get back up and fucking keep fighting. Even if I fail, I will know I did everything I could to rise above and keep putting one foot in front of the other. And I hope others can get that same inspiration from it.”

So let's talk about a few of the highlights on this album FULL of highlights. 

“Still Ain't Dead” contains the lyric, “You're not gonna live it until the day that you start” which is one of the most powerful messages on this album. Not only for the way it's worded and sung, but also because it also reeks of the positive nature that permeates the entire album. It's blunt in nature, but it's also an absolute truth that we all, as humans, must realize before it's too late. 

“Just Your Disguise” is probably the most catchy of all of the tracks on "Magnum Dopus", especially the chorus. Plus, Mark's bass tone is absolutely massive, and captures the sound and vibe of this album perfectly … gritty and raw, but perfectly so!!!

“Daisies” sounds as if Kurt Cobain wrote it, as it has the overall vibe that NIRVANA's Insecticide album does … which, as a side note, is my preferred Nirvana album. It's bouncy and memorable, like all of the great songs of the past 50 years. 

The last track, “For My Children”, is also the most emotional, as it was written for his children. The lyrics spell out his hopes and dreams for them, as well letting them know how much he loves them. I've watched Mark post about his kids for several years now, and he's one hell of a Dad, those kids are super lucky to have him. 

There's not a single song on here that feels phoned in, which, in my opinion, is because of the importance of the reasons behind this album existing in the first place. There's zero filler to be found, each and every sound that you will hear is precisely what is needed to make each song great. 

One of the coolest aspects of "Magnum Dopus" is that it feels REAL. I think that is due in part to the DIY approach that Mark took, as well as his performances and the overall tone of the record when taken as a whole; some of this is from the excellent mix, which Mark was also responsible for. So head to Bandcamp, or wherever you listen to music, and give this album a bit of your listening time. You will not be disappointed in doing so!!! [8]

Words: Tom Hanno

I've been spinning the new HIGHER POWER record "There's Love In This World If You Want It" for a couple of days now and I'm proper conflicted about it. I should slag it off because that’s what I do when something pokes at the bit of me I’ve spent years trying to shut up. But, the fucker keeps crawling under my skin like an old regret I can't scratch out. Probably because I'm drawn to anything that matches my state of decay.

Even the title makes me want to bin it off. All that hope and optimism, makes me sick. But then "Two Doors Down" comes crashing in with those mental breakdowns and I'm reminded why I fell for this lot in the first place. They seem to have taken all that genre-hopping madness from their early days and mashed every genre button like a bored kid at a self-checkout, but somehow kept one muddy boot planted in the mosh pit.. Of course I'd gravitate toward something that sounds like it's falling apart.

The fact they kept everything in-house this time round shows. No fancy producer trying to polish the rough edges. Just Louis Hardy back on guitar duties, apparently he dug through forty shite demos to salvage these half-dead riffs and bits of broken magic. Some of these tracks apparently date back to 2018 when they were touring with VEIN.FM. It’s mad to think they've been sitting on these ideas for years, just left them to stew amongst some warm cider fermenting in the glovebox of a dead car you can’t be arsed to scrap. Bit like me really, aging badly in the corner.

"All The Rage" is the one that proper gets me. It started life as trip-hop apparently, which sounds about as appealing as a wet weekend in Blackpool, but what they've done with it is almost as if Dave Grohl’s been up for three nights straight and decided to scream into a Dictaphone. It's the kind of track that makes you want to air guitar in your bedroom mirror whilst simultaneously hating yourself for enjoying something so shamelessly uplifting. Though to be fair, I hate myself for most things these days.

"Lunar Tuesday" hits different though. There’s loose chords and solos that give you that neck-prickle you pretend not to notice - it's like they've captured that feeling of being half-cut on a Tuesday afternoon, watching the world go by and not giving a toss about anything. There's something almost poetic about watching a car crash in slow-motion whilst Thom Yorke is sobbing through the stereo and you’re just sat there, with your dick in your hand, watching it unfold.

Then there's "Better" drifting along as if it's never been ghosted or gaslit a day in its life. It makes me want to volley some hooded youths just for looking smug. All that carefree wonderment when the rest of us are stuck in dead-end jobs and deteriorating relationships. But that's the thing about Higher Power - they make you feel stuff even when you're actively trying not to. Which is annoying when you've perfected the art of feeling nothing.

"Count The Miles" is where they let the beast off the leash properly. It's clawing at the walls like it's late for something violent. The sort of track that makes you want to run through walls or at least briefly consider jogging, then remember your knees are shite and you’d rather die in bed than in Lycra.

The closing track "My Sweet Surrender" is where they really take the piss though. All those heavenly strings and euphoric atmospheres - like they want you to believe the universe isn't just a massive wind-up. The crescendo builds and builds until you're practically levitating off your grotty sofa, and for a moment you forget that most days are just disappointment and overpriced meal deals. Then you remember you're still you, sat in your pants at 3pm on a Wednesday.

What really does me in, is how mental it all gets - up one minute, down the next, but not in a showing-off way. More like mood swings set to music. You're getting your head kicked in by crushing breakdowns one second, next thing you know you're floating about on some cloud of sound. It's like they've got the same emotional problems as the rest of us, only they can actually play instruments instead of just complaining about everything.

Higher Power have made something that's both familiar and completely off its head. It's what happens when a band stops caring about what people think and just makes noise that stinks of their own blood. Apparently, there’s love in this world—if you’re daft or drunk enough to go looking. Most of us either too proud to ask or too knackered to try. Personally, I’d fumble it anyway, then blame the universe for being a cunt.

This album grabs you whether you like it or not. Even when you're convinced, you're not worth grabbing.
 
ALBUM SCORE - 7 Worlds Destroyed By Galactus; Hungry For Love (And Sustenance) Out Of 10

Released June 27th 2025 (Out Now Digitally) Via NUCLEAR BLAST RECORDS. 

Words: Matt Denny