New review of "All Mind In The Cat House" by Repo Man on Live Music Scene.
Local bunch Repo Man enjoy delivering a barrage of raucous ruckus.
The Bristol-based four-piece imbue noise-rock with psych, pop and punk
aromas, creating a sound that sounds like a distorted Swans, Sonic Youth
or The Fall. There's a fondness for grinding guitars against the
clatter of percussive thwacks – it's most definitely noisy – though
there are also calmer moments, where vocalist Bojak delivers barbed
passages of sprechgesang and performance poetry. They're not going to be
to everyone's taste, but for those who are partial to a spot of volume
and/or distortion should definitely look closer.
Repo Man’s debut record, 'All Mind In The Cat House', comprises
eight tracks. It's experimental music – 'Dog Loose In The Woods' is an
elegantly messy vortex of sampled vox, serrated math-rock axes and
polyrhythmic drums – but they often sweeten their avante-garde facet
with moments of poppier glory; opener 'Idle Temperament' is home to a
jaunty salsa rhythm and glimmering fretwork behind Bojak's vitriolic
sermon. There's a fine line struck between proggy flailings and simpler
fare to engage with; this first offering can be difficult at times, but
you'll find moments to savour scattered liberally throughout.
The record isn't for the faint of heart. It's repeatedly and
brutally in-your-face, and those seeking festival sing-alongs will find
it a tad tricky to keep up with the stream-of-consciousness speeches
they deliver. Dancing is a no-go. You can thrash and wail and holler and
writhe, but dancing is difficult – rhythms drop in and out and waver in
non-standard time signature. There's free-jazz saxophone, portions of
(what sounds like) improvisation and an acerbic flurry of narrative, the
meanings of which are tough to decipher, but which sound like social
commentary.
'Oh Cecil' burbles with bass riffs and an unnerving Dr.
Frank-N-Furter feverishness from Bojak. The foursome build suspense,
altering minimalist portions subtly and lobbing black metal interludes
into the fray; for the most part, it's led by a hypnotic motorik.
'Throwing Kinskis' employs warped funk bass to underpin the frantic
spiel – it's got a mid-'90s Red Hot Chilli Peppers thing going on (back
when Dave Navarro forced a heavy element into their affairs).
'Endangered Agenda' is Bob Dylan on PCP; rapidfire John Cooper
Clarke-ishness and dislocated harmonica blend with a vague folk guitar
twang.
If you like your noise-rock gristly, enjoy this prime cut. It's
bloody, raw and visceral; 'Fred Vent' notably talks of “umbilical
transit” and a “placenta enema.” You can guarantee Repo Man are a
spectacle live. If you're not a fan of the style, Repo Man will do very
little to change your mind – if fact, they might just reaffirm
preconceptions you've got – but for those that are fans of The Birthday
Party or Ornette Coleman, step right up, because this is an album packed
with excitement, energy and fascinating titbits.
