Dirty Water Records

Taking Music Backwards Into Tomorrow

Fungal Punk: The Kneejerk Reactions "The Indestructible Sounds Of ..."

Lo-fi rock and roll freakoid innocence here delivered with a mustard vigour and retro polished accuracy, The Kneejerk Reactions do what they want to do and do it most excellently (so I am told). This CD was received via the Dirty Water machine and duly spun to buggery before putting digit to board - excuse me for being so swift with the intro, much to do, many songs to plough through, here is the main meat of the matter.

'Houdini' is the first escapee from the dangling blanket of silence and comes across as a pecking number that will not be deterred as it drives its key assisted pulsations to the core of your soul with magnetic fervour and chomping spirit. Pushing and gushing in equal measure with a good pronunciation of the skins and cymbals, a go-go instrumental groove down and a butt shaking incessancy this is the early alarm call we music vultures duly need to catch the early carcass. 'Want You To Love Me' is an hypnotising serpent that coils slowly around its chosen victim and uses nothing more than repeat beat throbs and ever swirling melodic mesmerism all spruced down in 60's acoustic attire and sonic string vest sparsity. A flickering sliver of flecked footage from yesteryear styled with precision so as to seduce the modern day listener and self appointed critic - watch yer step dear reviewer - this is an incognito pearl disguised as a roughened stone - crafty bastards.

'It's A Jungle Out There' is an utterly cavernous flea-infested creepy ghoul that feeds on your B-Movie desires and itches with clued in nouse that captures superb sub-generic trappings aplenty. A keyed in warning is delivered with an alley cat sagacity that sidles into your cerebral gunk with casual confidence. This is one tuned in Tom that purrs its presence with assured belief and a slightly unsettling intent, do not ignore the sly undertones that ensnare. 'Mover And Shaker' is tight trousered crotch thrusting desire with a semi lo-fi accent and a pure machine-like grind that resonates with an earth shaking power and unstoppable zest which we should bloody well appreciate. The instrumental cutlets exude a roasted relish and singe the pubic peripheries that have not been tucked tightly in - oh those burning follicles dude. Another lifting peach followed by 'Batgirl, I Love You' a staggering production that opens with a strum sequence I just can't grasp a comparison for (even though I can taste it on the tip of my tongue) - the pulse is obvious, what the buggery is this sought for song called. Never mind, back to the offering in question with the opening strut becoming an advanced stride of well honed shirtless DIY professionalism (spot the oxymoron) that ploughs forward with precise homage paid and equally accurate routines achieved. The vocals are clear but kept sweetly boned and the backdrop of sound is held in shadowy realms rather than chucked forth into garish pits liable to mar the end ambience. Another convincing sliver of Kneejerk induced noise!

Next up and 'If I Had My Way' is a song that has a stop and strum sub-current that merges with the more liquidised upper flow. The tinned garaged start tries to throw a detracting curve but the band are soon back on their set track with another tidy toon to shuffle along with. Remarkably fresh and breezed along with rustling integrity and insightful retrofied knowledge that makes this a solid bout of yesteryear joy transported to today's mix and match pit. The quality goes on and on....

'Give In To Temptation' slaps hard, pukes up another golden oldie intro before chicken strutting its fancy feathered arse around the psychedelic dance floor where go-go chicks gyrate and acidhead artisans search for sweet sonic solace. The fizzed vigour, the foaming key exaltations, the salivating gob work - we are propelled into a black and white world only enhanced by the flashing haloed lights that are etched in suggestive tints and so keep things magnetic - one you can’t take your lugs away from, dig that digit induced solo section man. 'Pounding' is generously crisped, gratifyingly basic and fruited up with a hound dog mode that circles around the listeners feet before jumping up on their lap and demanding further, up close attention. Fast tail wags are given in between episodes of tin can alley string assaults and ebony and ivory electrocutions. The band are thoroughly immersed during this schizophrenic expulsion and keep the nervous on the edge of their piss-soaked seats (excitable devils they be - ooh me bladder).

Horrorfied shimmers this way come as volatile bone rattles and graveyard jigs, with an added essence of Edgar Wallace TV cuts and voodoo laden hexes, are musically delivered through highly chilled digits. 'Volatile' is a captivating instrumental loaded with lightning flash/ghost train crash intentions. Skeletal fingertips tickle the spine, fleshless faces manically screech, dead eyed zombies get up and rot and reel to this freaky life-giving number - join in the fun folks, let down your defences, get terrorised. 'Out Of Reach' next and rumbling rhythm is had via quaked guitars that jar the neurones and duly judder out a response. We maintain a spookified style, we have more of a nagging persistence here and of course the vocals savour the situation and bring a pushing persuasion to involve the audience. However, no matter how much I enjoy this effort that previous vocal free offering is my pick of the two, just so fuckin' tasty it be. The curtain comes down to the finishing rapturous escapism known as 'Habanero', a decent enough ditty with all the bands trimmings blowing in a self-made gale. The lashings of hunger tones, the splashings of spirited gusto and the clashings of all metallic elements make this a confident exclamation mark and send us into the silence with thoughts only set to hit the darn repeat button.

I like this lot, the CD transcends several genres and the main mix of garage and horror is choice. The whole collection is grilled with retro homage and played with such invigorating effort as to convince this crusted old cacophoneer - go on, get reacting to the kneejerk offerings and let yer privates get well and truly bruised.

Dirty Water Records London