|
Stig: the only two I know are a motoring prat from Top Gear and a groovy little Roald Dahl urchin who lived in a rubbish dump (Stig Of The Dump). But that's my problem.
This Stig thankfully are not ones to indulge in such a spot of navel-gazing. Not for them the quiet introspection of 'words softly spoken'. No, for Stig are resolutely and thankfully Northern, which brings a certain �clarity' to their expression. You can't really argue with a manifesto of, "Mini Trumpet 'n Fuzzy irregular guitars 'n Dirty Hawaiian slide �n big phat mashed up beats 'n bass 'n Theremins 'n Decks 'n shitty little box's that make noises 'n Cornets 'n shouting �n basically all manner of behavioural problems leading to musically dysfunctional & highly addictive fixes of Stig Noise". And yes, a spade is a digging instrument...
Conjuring up the ghosts of Brummie rap act Pop Will Eat Itself, The Macc Lads and a barrel-rolling squiff-tastic cacophony of manic music thrills. These rural ambient noise terrorists weld electro beats, with a Ska-trumpet-burner, skew-wiff rhythms, musical oompah and gleeful helter skelter mayhem into an engaging and spine-shuddering mess. Can't really see them duetting with Shayne Ward somehow - but maybe Chico...
The Moves rattles along like a milk-cart with nitro injections splashing its milky goodness, yoghurty badness and musical orange juice into one disgusting groove that shouldn't work, but oddly does. A Piss Artist's Trick is typical of the pick'n'mix approach to styles blasting along on a flamenco rhythm of trumpet and a drum machine with Tourette's fades gently out on a flamenco guitar.
Brimming with bitter comedy and self-loathing in equal measures, the lyrics spit forth like jigsaw pieces, sometimes making sense, sometimes just tricksy soundbitings. It doesn't really matter when the music driving behind them is mutating like nuclear waste or sonic meltdown of the past 100 years of music. You can get lost in the trainspotterism's of styles plundered here but it's a lot more blood-pumpingly valid than freezing your ass off on a branchline platform.
Mexican Outburst does exactly what it says on the tin as mariachi horns slug it out over military drums, and turntablism gone askew. Smoky, scary and definitely leaves an impression that something sonic has occurred that you wanna revisit.
Dirty, uneasy, angular electric bouncing beats and murky guitars have a scarper about like a toddler after an all-day session on Sunny Delight in the ensuing cartoon whirlwind somewhere between Aphex Twin, DJ Scotch Egg and Mudhoney. Try for a glorious ear spring-clean, though not for the faint of heart.
Comments
|
 |
| 
more