Fungal Punk: The Sons of Bido Lito "Avalanche"
Yippee - just a two tracker to review and sent my way via Dirty Water Records - in fact double yippee! Here we have a crew from the sunny wastelands of Sunderland and a unit that bask in influences of the sixties and regenerate things with a slightly meaner, unsettling and perverse psychedelic approach. It is a strange avenue to explorer and my task is to simply expose what is in store for you the listener and to give a personal verdict and how things are viewed. I use the word 'simply' rather foolishly here and slap my wrist for under-rating an arduous, thankless task that goes on and on...and on (I would have it no other way).
Side A and 'Avalanche' - a steel wire twang, twisting with repeat beat screws. Escort comes via pecked skins, radiofied sub-cranked gobbage. Thermals rise due to a slight increase in tempo and seeming tautness. An aroma of the unhinged is at ones heels, a delectable cracked dish of jumping bean elements is ready to overspill. My maw is agape, expectation levels ascend. Semi-pastiche hints are glimpsed, patchwork potential slightly uncovered, the crux of the melodic matter seems to be in my grasp. Snaking away the full style is elusive though and as textures slightly metamorph I rely on the incessant pulse to maintain my intrigue. When the song is done I feel I have been hit by a multi-coloured express train - one that in the main is instrumentalised and of limited lyrical content. I am knocked into no man's land and I don't like it one bit. Was the song a success or a fleeting failure - I replay over and over and still am confounded - ...fuck...it!
Flip and '12 Commandments' is a crepuscular water ripple, a cool illustration of glistening tranquillity set amid a scenery of slow swaying buoyancy residing on gently lapping wavelets of confidence. The bass has Noir-esque bleakness, the drums are a stabilising semi-splash of reaffirming tenderness and the most fitting utterances are nurtured, extremely apt and in conjunction with a very relaxed theme. The sinuous shimmer of all components and the rousing flawless fluidity is totally mesmeric and wonderfully easing. Strains of outback sun stroke appear, the evening undercurrent grows with each rotation and those keyed out, tripped out zeniths that so crucially invade are just supreme emotive extras to drown in. A simply divine track and noting that the running time is at 6 minutes 36 seconds that is a real complement for a lover of short, sharp punk rock shockers.
Two songs, two verdicts - undecided and convinced. That is how the river runs at times, never a straight path but full on meandering uncertainties and unpredictable rushes and gushes. Yet again I have a band on my lap that have my nose twitching and where they go from here is somewhere I would undoubtedly be interested in.