Andrew Danso

This is Superhot Records first punt, and it’s convincing. While it’s far too early to see if the label will pigeonhole a niche, Stubb are certainly a worthy selection in dirt-rock quality. This is an album harking back to those vintage pubs and clubs dedicated to the sounds of Sabbath and Hendrix, drenched in the wails of bluesy feedback and its evergreen psychedelia.

The self-titled, ‘Stubb’, is a quaint exercise in imperfection, embodied by a vintage recording. It feels as if you’re in a grimy, smoke filled room with the trio, as they spontaneously jam through the uppers and downers of 70s rock, brightened by their psychedelic and explosive choruses.

This is a fairly brisk and messy affair that’s made fun in its reminiscence for the simple sounding old school, and thankfully, the record has been put together without copying guitar tabs of Osbourne infused rock - Stubb’s own stamp on the material pays homage to the oldies instead of blindly ripping them off. Track, “Scale The Mountain” bobbles along its driven choruses before bubbling up into a widescreen, spectacular Wylde-like chorus, while “Hard Hearted Woman” is close to a disorientated “Voodoo Child” that slows deliriously down into a drunken blues lull. “Galloping Horses” is Stubb at their most aggressive, and notably most captivating; structurally, it sticks out like a sore thumb, and unlike that of the 70s period pieces which came before it, this is the one tune they’ll reside an identity in. It’s a powerful, stompy finish to the album. Edgy and angsty in its blues chugging, yet suitable for a headbang to the pace of Kyuss.

Stubb aren’t a band to wreck with your soul. Sure, they do trip themselves up every now and then, but there’s enough standout material on playback to make the crumples worth your effort. They’ll definitely provide the oldies dancing around the perch with a good time, while sounding modern enough for newcomers alike, to jump on their bandwagon.

8/10 http://www.superhotrecords.com/

Emoticon kicks off from the Plymouth quartets last effort in similar territory, but on a greater scale, with bigger production values to boot. Definitions by their very definition tend to shut down debate, yet defining Daggers Drawn at the drop of a penny, is something worth debating.

Indeed, they pull in many directions, (combining progressive, technical, grunge, stoner rock), which help give the EP a lot of style and thankfully, not at the expense of substance. Yep, you can actually feel their disdain, opposed to a band chucking a few genres side by side; inevitably we could tag this ‘Gojira with added Alice and Chains’ or ‘Kyuss with added Machine Head’ but swimming for attractive buzzwords discredits any sort of identity for Daggers Drawn, who on the merits of their current material, are strong enough to sit beside the big guns.

The proof is usually in the pudding, and if you flick on opening cruncher, “Pariah Among The Lepers”, the transition through genres feels weightless, packing the desired punch through its steady execution. There’s a good amount of adrenaline to be burnt through second number “Midas In Reverse”, before it halts to open up with the colour of vocal harmony, while the technical and heavier “Emoticon” and “World of Lies” will grip those looking to kick the hinges off a door – we’d advise you to wear boots if that’s the case.

8/10 (Metal Mayhem UK)

The king of 50s melodrama, director Douglas Sirk, famously remarked about the cheesy nature of his flicks, that ‘there is a very short distance between high art and trash’. There’s something very relevant about the quote and CROMs “Of Love and Death”. The record is embedded in a gloomy type of melodrama, with huge passionate lyrics, ‘I will end my life tonight’, ‘I know my dreams are full of emptiness’ and ‘All I want is to be free’ - which is fine with a pacing of varied thematic material in between, but as a consistent rattle of the soul, one adapts far too quickly as each track ticks along. How can drama be hysterical, if it is constantly hysterical? “Of Love and Death” suffers from displaying just the one emotion, which becomes weightless amongst its very reasonable, proggy extensions.

6/10 Powerplay #139

‘The modern Black Sabbath’. Allegedly these comparisons have been made, based on 9 Chambers music. This kind of nostalgic referencing can be likened to period dramas popping up on the television, which are meant for a pocketed audience, loathed in the longing of a post-modern world – which to this critic seems terribly boring. Things are OK when they change, not when the stay the same. There’s no ‘real’ rock and roll. ‘Real’ rock and roll is reborn every time this same hyperbole is produced on a press release. So being honest, what's making 9 Chambers so engrossingly poignant: the material here is a great guff of well crafted, well made, hard rock, which is born out of their past, regurgitating successful rock artists, Alice Cooper, Black Sabbath and ACDC.

The individual members of 9 Chambers aren’t necessarily new to the block. Co-creators, Greg Hampton and Ed Mundell used to play with Alice Cooper, and Monster Magnet respectively - thus it’s no surprise to hear such a crisp and well-balanced production. Between the searing harmonies on “Majick Number” or the drama of chorus on “Know Your Enemy” this is material that’s being pulled off with an age of expertise. These noisy veterans have grown well, and kick back their brand of rock with a sense of instinct, which is very hard to unearth inside of the darker corners of our rockworld.

7/10 Powerplay #139

A big speech laden in orchestral sound, that’s tagged as some battle cry before the music crescendos, and… we’re off! This is the kind of power-metal only made commercial through its traditional setting; as to the naked ear, it’s a load of Scandinavian metal riffs with the sounds of violin strings on top, a synthesised accordion mixed in, and theatrical vocal work to guide it all. Turisas then, aren’t necessarily judged on what they produce, but about putting up frontier for it all. The face-paint, the booze on-stage, the otherworldly costumes, the daft haircuts; this was a show about spectacle rather than sound, and in its skittish way, it worked.

This was mostly part of the tour promoting their recent release “Stand Up And Fight” which in its simplicity won over the crowd for a rootsy headbang, in the kind of child-like nostalgia power and Viking metal holds it foot in. Opening with “The Great Escape” kept heads thwacking right through to the more technical “Five Hundred And One”, with the show eclipsing in fan favourite “Battle Metal”.

Turisas won’t hang around the memory banks for musical nuances, but for sheer stage presence - front man, Mathias Nygard (or the aptly named Warlord Nygard) is a man possessed, with and without his body paint.

7/10 Powerplay #139

Be baffled, and glimpse into “No Man Is An Island’s” press release notes, ‘Conceptual, progressive, art-rock’. It all reads brainy and sophisticated, but the literal translation from disc to paper, is that this is a simplistic metal album, bolstered by a carefully planned production, which warrants at least ten gold stars. Why does this matter? Because a pretentious claim often seeks to cover up insecurity. This is big sounding metal – and it’s all the better for it, outside of Dean’s awry, artsy claims.

Yes, there is much to applaud here: the huge, effective stage entrance on track “God Help Me”; the aggressive wall-of-sound which characterised Pantera, whacks with overwhelming impact on track “Do I Care”; and the personality inside of the late Exodus sounding “Reptillian Girl” has the ability to move you into a jive – subtle? We think not.

Ultimately, the records fabric is what reeks havoc with it achieving a certain amount of greatness. Dean has written the entire album with his vocal taking centre stage, but his voice lacks the power of variation to carry the kind of drama he can wave through his talented guitar playing, rendering much of the fifty-five minutes precariously flat.

“No Man Is An Island” is an exhausted effort because of its one-manned perspective; although valiant, Dean hasn’t explored enough thematically to make this into what should be, more than an accomplished effort.

7/10 Powerplay #139

It’s a prodigy, droves flocked in over two hundred people, went to cheer on the Devin Townsend Project, who are wrapped in the kind of zaniness, charisma and gimmick which Mark Zuckerberg could never get away with. This show wasn’t about the fifty nerds at the front, waving Ziltoid dolls in the air, this was a carefully plotted metal show, with less of the baldy middle-aged bloke behind “Ghost”, and more of the angry boy in front of “Deconstruction”.

A common theme spanning through, in particular, Irish folk gigs is the idea of playing something airy and ambient through the PA before the lights go up, to not only set a kind of laid back mood in the room, but to emphasise the effect of jiving when it eventually gets going. Townsend implores a similar psychology, except while the roadies are setting up, a ‘radio’ ‘Ziltoid 5.3’ gets going, playing stuff like Aqua’s “Barbie Girl” and Beyonce. Not only did it work in getting the crowd full of laughter in anticlimax, but it also served to misdirect them, so that when he eventually chugged into “ZTO”, it looked like their face had hit the wall.

It’s hard not to notice a lot of his older productions sounding enhanced live, and it’s a worthy cosmetic touch. Reproducing “Seventh Wave”, “Deep Peace” and “Bad Devil” they had much greater guile live, than their usual habitat on CD. Two tracks ripped from Deconstruction were played, “Stand” and “Juular” which served to pulverise the crowd, and the double encore finish got quite a few laughs in its irony – he twice told the audience to ‘shut up’ while playing through “Heaven Send” off “Ki”, which got this snotty nosed critic teetering, and completely on his side.

8/10 Powerplay #139