ears are bleeding. It is not a totally unpleasant feeling, at least it's warm.
As all patrons who favour a dalliance with back door shenanigans would testify,
a little discomfort can lead to more than a hint of enjoyment....
The romantically monikered SCUTTY NEIGHBOURS were shot like lightning bolts from the horny hot-bed of heavy metal heroes that is Bakewell, a leafy market village that harbours a dark secret. A darkness that could lead to a terrifying future. As we speak theologists, archaeologists, Norwegian black metallers and curious housewives are flocking en masse to the town as internet rumours spread like wildfire that Bakewell is, in fact, home to the seven gates of hell.
'Noise Police' was recorded at Rock Farm - Metal Maisonette was double booked - and will knock the shit out of you like a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick. The title track rides like Andy Ruffell over a grumbling bass line that is lower than Kenny Baker's arse. Signature tune 'Scutty Neighbours' is, in the poetry of Udo Dirkschneider, as fast as a shark. 'Thunder & Lightning' is meatier than Jeffrey Dahmer's refridgerator and unleashes the fury with some severe guitar heroics that make Yngwie J Malmsteen seem like a Swedish buffoon........oh. If you think that a song called 'Disease Ridden Corpse' is just another middle of the road keyboard driven soft rock paean to unrequited love, you are wrong. It is a gang vocal lead anthem that is the perfect companion piece to a chick flick - if that flick happens to be Nekromantik. 'Take Her To Cleaveland' slimes out of the speakers to the sound of drums being hit by Thor's hammer, before whiplashing into the nearest the band get to a love song - the "gut you like a fish" lyric kinda gives it away. 'Dirty Apples' swoops like Satan's buzzard with talons of steel and a beak forged from the helmets of a thousand fallen vikings. And then they are gone - like metal ninja.
Barring a recommencement of the age of miracles, the greatest success that this band can hope for is angry sex with overweight rock chicks a few swigs away from snakebite-induced comas. I get the feeling that the band would be more than pleased with that outcome, and I just L.U.V. a happy ending.
by Gaz E.
Visit the Scutty Neighbours Website