scary cherry and the bang bangs

Apologies due on this one, I’ll admit we’ve been having so much fun with it that we actually forgot to scribble up a review thus far. Scary Cherry and the Bang Bangs – name familiar – ought to be because we mentioned this lot to much admiration pouring affection and love on a quite kooky cut we featured way back in our Halloween special by the name of ‘cut off your head’ – in short a wildly goofy cute slab of evil Shirley Temple-isms impishly cooking up disturbing deeds to a sepia cooled backdrop of a 30’s styled monochrome vintage replete with kazoo’s and devilishly crackled to sound like it was pressed on old school slabs of 78rpm shellac. Those thinking one trick ponies, think again. For now arrives your full on belching and bawling twisted tantrum howling horror phonic rock-a-rama in the guise of the speaker kicking 12 track assault that is ‘girl’. a concept album of sorts impishly peeled from the as were playfully evil point of view of a little girl all studded and tattooed into a frantic and frenetic punked out party pack. Between these grooves oozes sleaze, seduction and savagery – often on the same track (as on the ferociously feral pout of ‘don’t wanna’) all prime packed a bleached in an ear candy shredding paint bombing action painting of glam, metal, punk, power pop (the surging prodding purr of the rupturing harmony honeyed ‘face’) and 50’s bubblegum pop shadings. Reference wise elements of L7, Babes in Toyland and even Hole lurk with ill intent running wild in pack formations alongside the Runaways (notably the sexually purring ’Girl’ acutely cooed in a smoking cool swagger that bites), Scarling and Zombina and the Skeletones. Mixing seduction with scare theatre, it’d be trite to dismiss them as Rocky Horrors outcasts for these glammed out horror punks swim and snarl in the kind of dark sleaze fest that was once the sole lair of the black halos. Between the floor thumping Quatro licks of ‘glitter’ and the shadowy psychosis of the subtly glittered psych of ‘crazy Jane’ these dandies belch scar leaving riffs that bite whilst boasting more hooks than a butchers deep freeze. Of course the aforementioned infectiously crooked ‘cut off your head’ leers patiently waiting to play sitting alongside the teen-generate scowl of ‘STFU’ – which in case you were wondering is txt retort for ‘shut the fuck up’ while the rabidly excitable ‘Anita 69’ is just an all out arse kicking shakedown that’s only put in the shade by the candy kissed cranium caning panic attacking‘tracked down’ which arrives all acutely psychotically adorned to sound as though its been cooked up on a back burner left to simmer in the recesses of Tim Burton’s fractured macabre mind.


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