Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
Bristol’s thundering alt-rocking trio Krooked Tongue have just delivered their second EP entitled ‘Deathproof’. The successor to last year’s debut EP ‘No Vacancy Hotel’ this release represents a wholesale upscaling in terms of a maturity of capture and despatch.
The frenetic nature of their live show shines through with burning marksmanship. Their centrifugal nature emits forth the precision rock of such luminaries as Muse and Radiohead in one hand whilst, in the other, delivering the channelled angst of the likes of Nirvana and Pearl Jam.
Introduced to me last year by fellow Bristolian outfit Mother Vulture this trio immediately appealed to me with their fresh take on the rock genre; at once stormy seas and brooding airs that somehow manage to becalm the soul.
Previously released as singles ‘Velociraptor’ and ‘Lupines’ most capably provide the tasty filling between the hi-kinetic of new tracks ‘Backseat Therapy’ and title track ‘Deathproof’. This is the 21st century transmitted with scorching guitaring courtesy of Dan Smith atop Oli Rainsford’s pugilistic bass groove which is neatly complemented by swaggering percussive rhythms delivered at the eye of the hurricane by Harry Pritchard. An overall energy and fury that is channelled via the infectious lyrics belted out by Oli.
Championed by the likes of Ones to Watch, Loudwire, Louder Than War, Sirius XM and BBC Introducing Bristol Krooked Tongue have lain down a marker with this stirring release and are firmly ensconced within the “Ones to watch” category going forwards.
The obsidian crepuscular nature of this EP’s opener ‘Backseat Therapy’ derived from a taxi ride in which frontman Oli ended up, in his words, “being a life coach for the journey and reassured him [the cab driver] that he was a nice bloke, and he was doing a good job.”
The lean, galvanised tones of live favourite ‘Velociraptor’ bounces along in an aesthetically appealing fun-filled manner with a rhythm redolent of Rocket From The Crypt fused together with the fuzziness of Franz Ferdinand. It’s odd and off the wall but it works so well and before long it sinks its incisors into you without the realisation you’ve been taken under by its overriding powered face-melting riffage.
Appropriately melancholically howling at the fullness of the moon ‘Lupines’ is a brooding predatory presence that stalks the night airs richly deserving of its much-lauded status. Closing number ‘Deathproof’ is described by Oli as possessing “that ‘grand finale’ energy.” Scaling the rungs, it ascends throughout exiting with a shimmering crescendo, an ending befitting of the richness of a near quarter of an hour of Bristolian hi-kicking goodness.
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