Not wanting to shoot my literary load right off the bat, that’s a grim sounding mixed metaphor if ever there was one, but this might be the most perfect slice of punked out, sleazy garage rock ’n’roll I have heard in a long time. But then it was always going to tick quite a few boxes. The Bombers themselves have a family tree which links the past glories of the likes of Gunfire Dance and TV Eye with the continuing story of The Godfathers and sonically they blend the Gun Club’s punkabilly sonic salvos with low slung warped blues and the raucousness of the British proto-punk of The Pink Fairies and Deviants with similarly caustic grooves of their American cousin’s The Stooges.
But it isn’t just about the weight and raw textures of the music, beneath those white-noise guitars and thunderous backbeats are some honest and infectious rock ’n’ roll melodies, straight down the line, prowling beasts of songs that remind us that sometimes its not what you play it’s the way that you play it. Any musician worth there salt could learn the musical parts of this record but it takes musicians who have surfed underground and alternative waves for half a lifetime to make music this swaggering, this attitude ridden, this dark and edgy.
Relentless is a snarling, clattering tribal rock urge that The Damned would have chewed their collective arms off for, Gnarly is just that, wandering the sonic burial grounds and dark tribal rockabilly urges of the aforementioned Gun Club and there is even room for a brutal and brooding revisit to Green On Red’s Hair of The Dog.
Like I said at the start perfect. Raw, chaotic, grinding, jagged, howling, primal, squalling. Doesn’t that sound like perfection to you?