One of the great things about bands who are capable of whipping up such a fantastic sonic storm as this is that the lack of ease with which they neatly categorised means that you can have fun inventing genres and outrageous labels for them. I mean, listen to any Inca Babies track, anything with Harry Stafford at the helm really, and you come up with genres like Voodoo Swamp Rock, Urban Shamanic Blues, Mancunian Psychoboogie and Apocalyptic Punk, none of which means anything, in particular, all of which are wonderfully apt, the very definition of deep and meaningless. And such are the limitations of genres and labels.
This latest release from the newly reconvened and wonderfully re-energised Inca Babies is a return visit to a mid-eighties fan favourite that has been polished up and dusted down into a snarling, attitude-riddled, swaggering punk salvo. Not that it was particularly mild-mannered and respectable back in the day. It struts and sways, cutting a swathe through the alternative musical landscape, out punking punk, out rocking rock and showing metal bands up for the boasting bombastic that they are. It’s all about the groove man…this grooves like a bastard.
It comes as a taster, tester and teaser for the soon to follow Swamp Street Soul, the bands’ first album in 7 years and along with the previous single Walk In The Park indicates one hell of an album is on its way in a week or so’s time.
[…] if the familiar sounds of the singles, the scuzzy and raw-edged Crawling Garage Gasoline and the Lou Reed-esque Walk In The Park are here to help ease us in, they also underline the fact […]