Los Chicos is a femhodet rock’n'roll machine picking up of the best ingredients from The Cramps, The Fleshtones, The Lust-O-Rama and Willy B Review. Season so with a dash of new wave ala Wreckless Eric and a hint of Bo Diddley and Chuck Berry, so do all that this Spanish band sucks nourishment from a deep dish with exquisite ingredients.
With two guitarists pumps garagerockete riffs and biting solos both against and with each other, tough rhythm section and a distinctive throat singer on top, stock Los Chicos garage rock’n'roll-fest from beginning to end.
Moreover, they lasted up with nice songs could just as easily have been written and recorded 45 years ago as in 2013. “In The Age of Stupidity” is Los Chicos’ fifth album and is sure to spin regularly in my living room for a long time.
It’s one of my regular rants, but the 21st Century really does suffer from a dearth of good, original R’n’B (no, not Rhianna, rhythm and blues you fools). I mean, the trad rockabilly circuit has got the classic rock n roll sounds covered, but where’s a boy supposed to go when he’s finished with Ray Charles and wants something with a bit more teeth?
Early next month of February will Cookin ‘Up A Party, the band’s second LP, owner of one of the most savagely funny direct a server has been enjoying of late. Their concerts become parties where spilling tons of primitive rock’n'roll, soul and rhythm’n'blues with Chuck Berry, Link Wray, Bo Diddley, Screaming Jay Hawkins … in the spotlight. I’m referring to that little Tower of Babel that is King Salami & The Cumberland Three … a Jamaican, Seb King Salami … a Frenchman, Eric Baconstrip … a Japanese Kamikaze UT … Vincent, a Spanish … Chuchi Sobrasada and a Welshman … Pepe Ronnie, make the combo more charcutero circuit.
After recent vinyl indispensable and yet, “We sound acoustic but we look like shit. Live in Radio 3 “(Dirty Water Recrods / FOLC Records), now bring us fifth largest disk (not more, who are still children). “In the Age of Stupidty” (Dirty Water Records) shows them stupid and oblivious as ever. Repeat Mike Mariconda (Raunch Hands, The Devil Dogs) in controls with the sole intention of recreating the raw sound of the direct normal. In less than half an hour a dozen varied picnicking and fun topics that start with the contagious and ideal home “Hear It Again” which sounds like a shot. Beastie Boys still madly in the history of “War Or Party” after passing through the soul to The Bellrays of “You Sold Me”. They are like children in “Age of Stupidity”, country-punk that improves the Supersuckers. Leading plethoric face B (of course there are beautiful vinyl version) with “A Miracle Working” and scorch with their guitars in “Colored Caves”. They give the pure rock’n'roll Ramones in “Sportsman’s Paradise” and blow themselves to bonzo in folk fighting to Woody Guthrie “Fire In Our Soul”. Eventually mock up of John Lee Hooker and George Thorogood & The Destroyers in “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer, One Wine” (again kalimotxero ingredient). For all other accompanying them stupid or Javi Guille Fumestones Government. And other more hardened even as they Josele Santiago enemies or Hendrik Rover The DelTonos. If flashy to another moron like Beck, he considers his favorite Spanish band! And as these young children will not have head and embark on another world tour. You can get the vinyl or read in concerts and other www.folcrecords.com and www.dirtywaterrecords.co.uk But do not get infected by their congenital stupidity and unconsciousness.
“The world is a mess, a ball of confusion, so we’re here today to offer a solution. Get drunk!” So sing Los Chicos on their new record, ‘In The Age Of Stupidity’ and yes, sounds about right.
They’re back! Following on from their previous outing, We Sound Amazing But We Look Like Shit, Madrid’s finest garage-rock drunkards have crafted yet another album that perfectly encapsulates their riotous live shows of careering and caterwauling chaos. From the opening riff of ‘Hear It Again’, these five misfits tear through half an hour of expertly crafted party garage rock. Always petering on the edge of collapse, yet held together by a tighter-than-a-gnat’s-ass rhythm section and attack of guitars from what is surely rock n roll’s only identical twin team of axe wielders, the record barely stops to take breath.
Thee Gravemen are a garage rockabilly duo of two expatriate Englishmen who found themselves calling Sweden home, Sir Lee Tea handles guitar and vocal duties whilst Devilish Daz is the funky drummer. These two gentlemen have a pedigree rooted firmly in the proud British tradition of playing insanely awesome rock and roll, they got together a couple years back to play a Johnny Cash Tribute show and decided to roll with it, Anydamnway, let’s get to the review!
English (from Google):
Rock and brass … Hmm … it can be heavy and indigestible. But when it is perfectly executed, personally, I agree 100%, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot as Thumper rabbit.
With its name extension, the combo of Oxford does not go unnoticed and, led by Sir Bald Diddley its leader (aka Hipbone Slim), we propose an album shaped cocktail of ska, blue beat, rock’n roll, swing and so on … what to put fire on the dance floor and shake their heads to the most embittered.
Playing like a schizophrenic battle of the bands within the insatiable creativity of one man ably aided by his equally skilled and hungry cohorts, Hipbone Slim vs. Sir Bald is simply one thrilling treat to let loose all those inhibitions to. The album is a forty track double CD release bursting with unadulterated goodness and mastery from the King of UK rock n roll, Sir Bald Diddley. A man with more musical alter-egos than hairs on his head, Sir Bald has created some of the most essential sounds in modern rock n roll, songs which could easily have graced and driven forward the times of their influences whilst standing as fresh and vibrant leaders of today.
Two CDs, four bands, one common denominator: Sir Bald Diddley. Or is it Hipbone Slim? There’s a severe case of spilt personality going down over these 40 tracks and it’s prime stuff for lovers of the garage/surf/beat/exotic rock genres.
It’s a feast without a McCrappy Meal in sight and there’s almost too much to swallow in one sitting. Sir Bald/Hipbone has a voice once described as “Ricky Nelson gone very wrong”. It’s hard to top that but does “Dion on a dextroamphetamine run” go close? I think Sir Bald/Hipbone could sing the phone book backwards and still sound tolerable, but I like my vocalists with character.
I first came across MFC Chicken playing in a dank pit in London last year, the place was hot, I was drunk and it sounded like I’d wandered into the Spanish Castle Ballroom in Seattle. They play the kind of loud, greasy, sax-driven white boy R&B that was heard in halls all over the northwest of America in the early 60’s.
I knew it would only be a matter of time before somebody scooped them up for a record..
Dirty Water got there first and ordered a platterful of deep-fried northwest raunch with a side of souped-up intros. The album opener “Chicken, Baby, Chicken” begins as it means to go on.. ‘One chicken, two chicken, one chicken, two chicken, three chicken, four chicken..’ Who needs meaningful lyrics when you’ve got Col. Spencer wailing on sax?
The whole album reeks like a Holloway Rd chicken shack of the sounds the godfathers of grind, The Sonics, would have cut their teeth on.. from the nutty instro of “Wild Safari” to the straight up Fabulous Wailers buzz “Royal We”. That’s not to say it’s derivative, MFC definitely have their own spin on it, the whole album is filled with the kind of raw humour that would make Chuck Berry blush.
There’s not much else I can say about this record other than that I fucking love it and you are going to love it too.
One million stars.