Album Review: POWER – Electric Glitter Boogie

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Raw Power. You heard of it? You know it. You know it well. It’s rusty, filthy, tetanus-coated, tinnitus-inducing noise. It’s primal, decadent muck that razes the ground it lays upon, inflicting wounds upon all, drilling itself into a bloody corpse. It’s pornographic, indulgent, deliriously basic music driven to its most dangerous extreme.

After releasing “Slimy’s Chains” earlier this year, Power proved that they were disciples of the raw. A stripped ‘n’ thrashed scourge, determined to squeeze the innocence out of an individual’s skull. This was a song that filled you with terror and excitement at the same time, a charismatic source of wicked rock ‘n’ roll. It made me more enthusiastic for a forthcoming album than any other record this year. It got to a point where I had to ask friends to go into Repressed to ask when they thought the Power record would be arriving, because I thought I had pissed off Nic too much with my clockwork questions.

The arrival of ‘Electric Glitter Boogie’ as a fully fledged album has made me want to blow my brains out, because I don’t think there will be another band in 2015 that will provide such an exhilarating take on rock ‘n’ roll. This album will fucking kill you. This album will turn you insane. It will pick at your brains like the Overlook Hotel, but with all the subtlety removed. There are no creepy twins, there is only the constant tidal wave of blood. Every song on this album is an exhausting experience, a battle cry of deplorability, the best fucking thing you’ve ever heard in your goddamn life.

How are Power so good? How could some fucking band from fucking Melbourne be this incredible? It’s because they’re committed, refusing to provide anything less than the most slovenly, mouth-foaming, carnivorous take on raw power since The Stooges. Take the title track, or the album finale, “Power” – the way those vocals are wrangled, screamed into that microphone, there’s an effect there that stays with you long after the cackles have subsided. You’ve just heard an expression so un-diluted by the usual bullshit that pervades rock music that it comes as a shock, albeit an addicting one that murders competitors.

My hands shake as I push the needle back to the beginning of the album, over and over and over again, a manic habit that borders on delirium. I need this album to rattle my brain into an asylum. I want to hear that sneer and that bludgeoning ringing in my ears even when I sleep. Power have created a terrifying, blackened masterpiece that not only bores through to what makes rock music so great but grovels at its feet of it, a slave to a master. This album isn’t just raw, or primitive, or intimidating, it’s all of the above, and more. It’s a painful bombardment of dilated pupil riffs that brand itself into the skin tissue. If you are any sort of fan of music, you will chain this album to your chest, and bury yourself with it.



New: Dribble – Lovers 7″


Dribble have been around since Jesus was slapping five with the dinosaurs. But this is their first 7″, after a few cassettes released fucking ages ago. Three songs. That’s all we get. If I could pull off the Clay Davis “Shiiiieeet”, I would. But when it comes to Dribble, three songs is enough to tide the rising rioting inhibitions. The people demand more material, more STUFF…but this 7″ will do, because it is a godsend nonetheless. .

The “Lovers” EP is like a concept record, except it doesn’t suck. They are love songs for the fucked up, the first two being caricatures of  the genre, deliriously snarling pop music (Madonna if she owned The Saints’ “(I’m) Stranded” 7″). The final  track – a 180 degree turn on the theme, with daggers of self-loathing pointed inwards. This EP is for the lovers – but more of the Thelma & Louise/Romeo & Juliet/Sid & Nancy variety.

Beginning with the best punk single ever, “Girl Of My Dreams” is like if Razar’s snot and fierce ugliness collided with the stomping sleaze of The Birthday Party and Lubricated Goat. This song isn’t played so much as thrown at the listener, a brutal punch of lust, tetanus-coated guitars plunging into squall delivered at Millennium Falcon speeds. This is the only punk song that you will ever need, ever.

However, if you grow curious, you’re just a regular old curious cat, then flip the record and engage with some Pandora’s Box activity – five minutes of all the evils in the world will come flying right out at ya. “High St Girl” pulses with lip-chewing anxiety, a Travis Bickle-esque pining set the acidic punk. “Cowboy” finishes the most thrilling eight minutes of your life with a song streaked with bile, a car wreck of a track that blazes down a highway, before a tree jumps up in the road, and all that’s left is flaming wreckage…a cowboy in the Mad Max sense of the word, rather than the John Wayne definition.

Dribble are anti-heroes who have made the most dissonant collection of punk music in a long time. This EP is just pure malice, impossible noise that plays with desperation and predator instinct equally. 10 out of fucking 10.

Buy it here, buy it here, buy it here.

New: Tyrannamen – I Can’t Read

From the bowels of Melbourne is a band that have finally figured out how to put Redd Kross (‘Born Innocent-era), Jon Spencer Blues Explosion and Dead Moon together. The answer, of course, is a big fucking riff and enough charisma to choke out Jon Hamm. “I Can’t Read” is magnetic a slice of lovesick rock and roll that slides in more comfortably with the “sick” than the “love”.

Released on the only label in the world worth caring about (Cool Death Records), this “Tyrannamen” song is a warbling troubadour snarl, jaw-unhinging belters with a scab-peeling solo that’d make Ron Asheton giggle in his grave.

New: Power – Slimy’s Chains

There’s only one rule, man, and that you gotta be cool to be cool. And there’s nothing cooler than Cool Death Records. They’ve got the best punk roster going round, a bonafide bulletproof list of the best bands to shred a stage. Amongst the ranks are Dribble, Soma Coma, Gutter Gods, Leather Lickers and Velvet Whip. But it’s Power that really punches through vital organs and emerges through your back with a bloody spleen in hand. And as they rightfully fucking should: this band is incredible. In. Fucking. Credible. Better than Netflix. Better than 4/20. Better than a Best of Gary Busey compilation.

Power are a supreme force, a blinding hail of guitar that ricochets around your skull like a ball trapped in a possessed pinball machine. It’s The Stooges meets Thomas Jefferson Slave Apartments meets Golden Pelicans, riffs blazing a trail of fiery punk attitude that suckles at a demon’s teet. The howls implemented here are cackles ripped from a forgotten time, and the pounding fury of “Slimy’s Chains” is both biblical and terrifying.

New Punk: Red Red Krovvy + Satanic Rockers + Moonboat + Meter Men + POWER + Dribble

I really wanted to title this New Noise, because the bands on here are ready to blow out your fucking eardrums. But then I’d be naming it after a Refused song, and I kinda didn’t want to do that.

Red Red Krovvy – Real Life

This is about as short and sharp as they come. It’s like X-Rey Spex if they turned into the Hulk, just broad shoulders bulldozing everything in its path. This song is pure fire, ready to burn down your fucking brain from the inside out. The bellows on here are staunch and terrifying. If you have loose bowels, shit now.

Red Red Krovvy play at The Valve Bar in Broadyway tonight! With Housewives, Sweat Tongue, and Meat Tray.

Satanic Rockers – Death Sentence

Fucking hell, this shit is like having your skull shoved into a running treadmill that’s compromised of gravel. This is noisy, bludgeoning death music, like being choked out by Chrome. Like Ghastly Spats, the noises produced on here are pure B-Grade horror, the darkest thing to have been released in Australia in a long time. The vocals are dripping with foreshadowings of destruction.

Moonboat – Spirit Panther

Who even knows where to begin on this one? On one hand, there’s hellfire being spewed like volcanic diarrhea, like “Hellpipes” and “Greybomber”. Then later down the album, these very strange, almost indie-rock pieces rock up, but they’re sprawling works. ‘Spirit Panther’ is interesting, and it constantly evolves, like chucking cheat codes into Pokemon. Basically, Moonboat are Australia’s Deafheaven.

Meter Men – Severed Relations

If you haven’t already, get yourself nice and bloody familiar with Helta Skelta Records. Fuck me, this stuff is so immediate and bloodthirsty, it makes me sweat under my armpits. It’s like having the Gutter Gods become even more brutally skin-peeling. Lo-fi recording, mind-crushing drums, and buzzsaw guitars that sound like they could fell the Amazon, Meter Man are fucking insane.

POWER – Puppy

Holy shit, POWER are amazing! They blast through with this early Replcaments-esque rock star posturing, but it’s flayed alive by the furiosity of the riffs and crashing noise. This is 80’s speed metal funnelled into a pub rock atmosphere. If Radio Birdman had been introduced to Slayer, something like this could have existed before now. Let’s just count ourselves lucky that POWER exist in this present universe.

Dribble – Girl of My Dreams

Another one from the amazing Cool Death Records, it’s new stuff from Melbourne gutter punks Dribble. Possessing a lot of the same bratty, punishing snot that propelled Circle Pit, Drown Under and Ausmuteants, Dribble power through this 3 minute thrill injection, splintering ears with all sorts of heart-in-your-throat guitar wailing, settling down for a second, and then exploding back into chaos. Fuck, this is insane.

New: Dribble-High St Girl

There is nothing more contagious than malaria hitchin’ a ride with tuberculosis. The second most contagious thing is a chorus from Dribble that’s been shredded with overblown guitar and a thudding bass line that chugs harder than a coal train with a drinking problem. That chorus of ‘Yoooour my HIIIIIIIGH/ st-st-st-street girl’ though, combined with a flamethrower guitar solo that ashes everything in earshot, is what the Powder Monkeys’ wet dreams were made out of.