Tonosalata
09-11-2004, 23:21
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Rise Of The Eagles
I Could Be An Angle
When I Hear You Call My Name
Migrate Migraine
Puppy Dog Snails
The Dancing Girls
The Fool
I Rejection
Drunk On The Blood
Mister Mental
Freud's Black Muck
Temple Music
The Men Of The Way Of The Stuff
8a kanw paste sta egglezika epidi vrika kati pou ekfrazei kalitera afta pou 8elw na pw k de exei plaka na ta klevw :P
Welcome to their warped world.
The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster are a law unto themselves. Their blend of psychobilly, tribal drums and punk rock – all wrapped up in a Hammer Horror sensibility – sets them miles apart from the introspective, navel-gazing, feathercut lighters-in-the-air balladeering of the plod rock that seemed to dominate the summer. For if The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster understand anything, it’s that pure visceral thrills – underpinned by distortion, volume and a large side order of menace – are the very essence of what makes rock’n’roll so damn exciting.
Whilst their debut album ‘Horse of the Dog’ was a brutal, short, sharp shock, ‘Royal Society’ is a major step forward musically without losing everything that made them great in the first place. Yes, they’re still the clown princes of British music but equally they’re a thrilling, cartoon rock ‘n’ roll band in the best traditions of the Ramones or the Cramps.
Throughout this record McKnight's voice veers somewhere between Nick Cave and Vic Reeves' club singer.
Sleazy, unhinged, creepy and comical they may be, but this album also proves that there’s much more to the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. Above all they rock like bastards and ‘Royal Society’ doesn’t contain a dull moment
http://www.eightiesmatchbox.com/newsite
Rise Of The Eagles
I Could Be An Angle
When I Hear You Call My Name
Migrate Migraine
Puppy Dog Snails
The Dancing Girls
The Fool
I Rejection
Drunk On The Blood
Mister Mental
Freud's Black Muck
Temple Music
The Men Of The Way Of The Stuff
8a kanw paste sta egglezika epidi vrika kati pou ekfrazei kalitera afta pou 8elw na pw k de exei plaka na ta klevw :P
Welcome to their warped world.
The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster are a law unto themselves. Their blend of psychobilly, tribal drums and punk rock – all wrapped up in a Hammer Horror sensibility – sets them miles apart from the introspective, navel-gazing, feathercut lighters-in-the-air balladeering of the plod rock that seemed to dominate the summer. For if The Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster understand anything, it’s that pure visceral thrills – underpinned by distortion, volume and a large side order of menace – are the very essence of what makes rock’n’roll so damn exciting.
Whilst their debut album ‘Horse of the Dog’ was a brutal, short, sharp shock, ‘Royal Society’ is a major step forward musically without losing everything that made them great in the first place. Yes, they’re still the clown princes of British music but equally they’re a thrilling, cartoon rock ‘n’ roll band in the best traditions of the Ramones or the Cramps.
Throughout this record McKnight's voice veers somewhere between Nick Cave and Vic Reeves' club singer.
Sleazy, unhinged, creepy and comical they may be, but this album also proves that there’s much more to the Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster. Above all they rock like bastards and ‘Royal Society’ doesn’t contain a dull moment
http://www.eightiesmatchbox.com/newsite