I think music benefits from a sense of fun, especially when it’s otherwise dark or morbid. Maybe DEATH BAG agrees? Their kinda deathrock, kinda psychobilly style benefits from danceability and larger-than-life vocals. Generally, the record is a goth-y bag of lower register tunes at a steady but driving pace and with a little mangled, weird guitar sprinkled throughout. Pair with your favorite monster flick or thunderstorm.
Mr. Briggs and his HEATERS specialize in a familiar blend of lager-drenched Antipodean rock’n’roll in the lineage of the SAINTS. Nine lamentations of dead-end desperation and the search for temporary release set to wave after wave of layered, chiming guitar, punctuated by semi-buried keyboard and horns. I bet their raw, muscular riffage goes down real well in the sweaty function room of a suburban bowls club.
Beer-soaked from Brighton’s shores, TOP LEFT CLUB deals out pop-inflected pub punk rock. This brings me back to the all-ages club of my pimply punk rock teens. The songs are what you would expect, with a tinge of retro-ish Farfisa synth touches. Kind of EPOXIES meets “take your pick of early ’90s Lookout!”—fun for a few cuts, but probably not an album’s worth. I would’ve happily shoulder-tapped a Night Train and seen them live, however.
