Written by Gaz E
Wednesday, 05 August 2009 11:24
My illicit affair with Scutty Neighbours began in February 2008 when their ‘Noise Police’ CD fell into my yellow and black striped inbox like a lump of ice dumped from an airplane toilet. To say that it brightened my day immensely would be a great understatement. My next collision with these trashy terrors was at the Hard Rock Festival in December of the same year – seeing several members of the band going fucking mental at the front minus their shirts showed me that this is a band with a hole in its heart, a hole filled with a true love of all things METAL.
‘DE45’ arrived at ÜBER RÖCK HQ with an awesome embroidered Scutty Neighbours patch included in the package. If this magical merch was intended as some kind of bribe then they needn’t have bothered – the disc that punched its way out of the case and creepy crawled into my stereo pretty much rules! The noisy fuckers of the last record who seemed happy to just offend have been replaced by a gang of noisy fuckers who now have the songs to back up the offensive material. The attitude is true garage rock but cursed with an obsession with full-on metal and thrash. The songs hurtle towards you like a runaway muscle car, which may not be that surprising when you realise that one of them is actually a putrid paean to the 1975 cult movie Death Race 2000. The song hangs heavily in the speakers like the movie’s star David Carradine hangs in hotel closets. I paid £15 to meet David Carradine a few years ago and the fucker never said one word to me, so I’m allowed to type things like that…
Every band needs an anthem and Scutty Neighbours now have one in the form of ‘Indie Cunts’ – this song, with its “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” refrain, is a fists-in-the-air, devil-horns-a-flying modern classic. The only song I’ve heard in recent history to contain lyrics about “Sprayed up hair and ball tight jeans” and still be awesomely essential. This song should be on every jukebox in every student union bar in the country. While the title track is a torch burning gang of locals hunting down fashionable outsiders (“This is a place to die not live in”) wrapped up in a postcode, ‘Lock In’ is a hilarious assault on Dungeons & Dragons loving fuckwits. Throw in nods to ZZ Top and…erm….Adolf Hitler and you have the grubbiest, noisiest, trashiest eight tracks of hard rock horror to ever crawl from the womb of Bakewell, Derbyshire. Rusty Chaos & Co should have statues erected there. Near the off licence.
Scutty Neighbours have grown up. With a mental age now in double figures, the band have produced a record that sounds like a million screaming orgasms……with studs.