Dirty Water Records

Taking Music Backwards Into Tomorrow

Fungal Punk: The Scaners "The Scaners"

From Lyon, France we have The Scaners who swoop in via unidentified airwaves and bring to the table a Triple-X-Century sound that comes from dimensions disturbed and only traversed by the most hardy, experimental and idiotic sonic souls. The band, I suspect, are under surreptitious investigation from authorities on high, are destined to be 'watched' via a governmental microscope that will make sure the planetary invasions are kept in check. Somehow I suspect the band have other ideas? Here we have 12 tracks to get through, I best get me rear in gear:-

'Abduction' is an oddity, a real dubious piece of dinnage that begins on a spiralling tension before communicating its essence our way on a sharp but numbing laser beam of heavy shadings. The intensity drills, has greatest effect when played with added volume, man it is a painful probing into the cranial realms. I can see the electro-fusions taking place, the inner gunk popping in reaction to this cacophonic catalyst - that doesn't make it a good thing though. I reserve judgement here, I need to delve deeper and see what develops and where this initial read-out fits into the great sonic scheme. Second up and a quick fly-past soaring through the stratosphere and known as 'Spacecraft'. The band find their hook, go at it without deviation from the course set and although keeping with the thematics I find this one too tame and simple for its own good and am wondering if The Scaners are going to miss a star-striking trick here - I skip on, trying to avoid asteroids of negativity.

'I Don't Want To Go' ripples in, hollers from craters of consternation and synth-shoots forth with turbo-flowing mania that sees the band still stick to a loop-to-loop routine but this time bringing greater textures into the fray and so leaving a little more work for the listener to do. From free-flowing to judder jerks and all done within the bands own set vacuum many nosey gits will be eager to penetrate - take yer time ye acoustic explorers, let the vibes grow! 'Checkpoint Planet' is a sonic satellite that takes up a smooth orbit and moves with a gravitational pull I am utterly convinced by. The mid-paced synthoid saturation, the snatching juiciness of the verse and the ensnaring gist of the chorus hook is perfect. A full-on space age delivery this with all components at a compatible level and hitting the interstellar hotspots with exactitude. For me a sci-fi escapist high - my rocket fizzes and my lower planets collide - all with joy, all with something akin to perversion.

4 quickies - 'The Dries' starts with increasing blue light urgency, the inter-galactic police are here to take away you culpable doubts and send you into hyper-drive with feelings of innocence and get-away joy at the helm. This is a surging song, speeding with zeal, a screwdriving spiral of sound that keeps recurring and forces one to perpetually spin without affect or underhand dabbling - nifty. 'Enjoy Your Flight' is a short song, has a lovely undulation beneath the scorched wire mush of pulsar pumpings that are really now interfering with the cranial synapses and getting one all aglow. I am becoming more absorbed here and despite this being a fleeting moment it really is a joy to aurally behold. I remove my space-helmet, take a shit in it and join The Scaners on the dance floor - fuck it! 'No Place In Space' is a stodgy number that forces its way through a cloying black hole and only just comes out the other side. A dumb-down, acceptant sound almost feeling abandoned and without hope. I find this one taxing on the nerves, a bit too subdued and sobered but it is a change in tack and one that adds that contrast factor I harp on about - I shall say no more. 'We Want To Talk To Your Leader' is a great sparkling hepped up gallop that goes into cruise control, makes initial contact with the eavesdropping species and sends over the soundwaves a repetitive push of zested music all given impetus by the slap happy stick work and unstoppable keyed tremulations. Easy man, easy – I shall say no more!

The back 4 and 'Video Tape' skin jumps in, hop-frogs over the membranes before developing itself into one steady fruit-laden cruise of thrusting insistence. There are no plasma bursts, no shockwaves and certainly no gravity defying moments but this short snippet is fresh, breathes clear acoustic oxygen and, takes little effort to enjoy. Sometimes we all need something simple - this is such an example. 'Flying Fuck' reverbs with ping-pong head spite over and over again before cutting through the milky way of your mesmerised mind and firing stun-bolts of electro repetition right into your already shaking nerve-centre. This is a harsh delight, a perverse pleasure that take us into a space war of shattering dimensions - I am happy to be mown down in the melee. 'Modern Fissure' is a choked number that sees the vocals lose impact and get submerged in the constant keyed and controlled mush of musical intensity. It is a very condensed and aggravating number and it is one of my least favoured. We finalise this futurised journey across boundaries rarely traversed on the chugging vehicle called 'Levitation Train 2077', another overcrowded number that flashes with a multitude of 'off-the-spectrum' colours and ultimately takes one into a place of rest and respite away from this magical wonderland of time-travelling madness. The band let it all hang loose here, throw things together off the cuff and spiro-splash the soundscape with a Scaner-induced madness - is this a good thing? At such a late juncture I am happy to leave it up to you to decide.

I remove my space-boots, shake off the moon-dust and duly consider what has transpired. It has been an interesting journey, sometimes with the inner core energised, sometimes with a flat-line sinking that has left my guts unturned. Having said this, the band have many avenues to explore and can only go on to blow minds, excite sci-fi soniceers and perhaps push themselves to outer-reaches even they didn't know existed. Whatever happens, I shall be hopefullybe in the know and passing on the gen, tis what I try and do don’t ya know!

Dirty Water Records London