Black Wire to Common Ground

MARTYR PRIVATES been plying their trade for sometime now and have perfected their muscular take on space-rock and all things J. Spaceman. They look deep inside past their guts and intestines and see what some may call soul. Wrought on tried and tested melodies and rock solid musicianship. They have released their 7” debut on Bon Voyage records and if you had listened to it you’d know it was one banger after another. I dare you, no double dare you to fuck with Native Son’s lead riff. I know, I’ve tried and let’s just say no one likes having a pretzel for a penis. On top of this they have more whole slew of songs not built on no mangrove swamp, nay, they cleverly decided on the same unfuckable foundations found on the 7”. I dunno about you but I don’t mind Pink Floyd’s first two records, Roger Waters eat a dick, set the controls for the heart of the sun and see this band.

SEWERS been sweating up North perfecting their own brand of sleaaaze. This limping mutant has gone through several line-up changes to be one of the most promising scum-lickers in all of QLD. Now that is an endorsement. Sewers continues the established OZ tradition of ugly thumping noise but adheres to no rulebook. This isn’t paint by numbers exercise, it combines the snark of the Fall and the Country Teasers for maximum insult. They plan to spend a few nights at the spindle, piecing together some LTD ED. tour tapes for you the fans. So make sure your present to nab yourself a slice of history.

You know what fucking stinks? 99.999% of garage rock in 2012. The Black Lips and pals are to blame, making out, sporting mustaches before you could even grow one. Fortunately NEWCASTLE is enough of stinking hole to gestate new ideas within a tired genre genre genre. That’s right they’ve hiked it down to Sydney to play some nugged out tunes. Are they referrin’ to a crusty kernal of shit or more likely some sweet sweet weed receptor frying brains? I don’t know either but I like both explanations behind what is essentially every dumb-assed street press writers stumbling block? So tell me about your name? NO, get fucked it isn’t important. Cum listen to dumb ramones covers whilst wearing those dumber hypno-glasses and you’ll fall under their spell. You’ll be jumping around like an asshole, having fun. When’s the last time anyone in Sydney had some of that???

Have you seen the classic horro film, Poltergeist? NO? Well you should really do something about that and while you’re at it put on the unofficial soundtrack by GHASTLY SPATS. Shit gets real on account of the SPECTRE, floating everywhere and dead people are waking up. SINGer of GSpats, Lincoln Brown and his merry ghouls be the one’s pushing up the coffins. I’ve seen this band a coupla times and there is a perfect mix of song, noise, melody, dissonance. It’s damn obvious there’s ghouls lurking pulling the strings because they shouldn’t be as good as there. And if that izn’t a fuck you to all you try-hards then I don’t know, I just don’t know.

WHAT I hate about babies is exactly what I like about Snotty Babies. Fuck, kids seriously. They fucking whine, shit themselves ask dumb fucking questions like ‘Why?’ to fucking everything, they don’t know anything and they also vomit and piss all over the place. Have I done a semi-respectable job describing these girls? I dunno but on the 1-2 puunchy track John Belushi they execute exactly what I described. Their inept but they got songs, is that a guitar solo I hear on another track? IMPOSSIBLE. Think this iz their first show. You’d be wise to make more than effort if you don’t wanna get defecated on.”