I don’t know why it is, but almost every time someone falls short of describing a rock’n’roll band they resort to saying “they sound a bit like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.” It’s like the musical equivalent to saying “it tastes like chicken.” The people making these claims have probably never listened to an entire album by the band – this outfit has such a unique flavour that there are no bands that could stand up to such a comparison.

The Californian trio go out of their way to prove it with their latest album Specter at the Feast.

To fans of their earlier work: You will not be disappointed. Their bass-work is as fat and throbbing as you’re used to. The guitar tones continue to be crisp and crunchy. The drums are still low and pounding and force the songs in like a king tide.

One of the more rewarding aspects of the album is that, even through all that mess and power, the songs still vibrate with a particular resonance that few other bands can achieve. “Lullaby” is virtually meditative.

With “Hate The Taste” they find the perfect combination of thumping drums and classic rock riffs to create something distinctively Black Rebel Motorcycle Club.

Peter Hayes’ vocals reach new heights in “Teenage Disease” when he shrieks “I’d rather die!” with more venom and malice than he’s ever recorded before.

The album really explodes later on with the aural assault “Sell It” which is ferocious, relentless and just plain old mean.

For those that haven’t yet given this band a proper chance, go out and buy yourself a dozen copies of this album. One to keep in your car, one to keep in your living room, and the rest to forcibly shove down the gullets of the next ten people you hear comparing Black Rebel Motorcycle Club to any other band on the market. (Vagrant)

  

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