This is Eight Rounds Rapid's third album and is a great onrush of Estuary rock and roll that befits this band from Southend.
As you'd expect form a band with as much of a live reputation as they have that it sounds like most of the album was written with the intention of being played on tour all over the place. I hope they do get to tour this album, as I'm sure these songs would only enhance the bands already great reputation.
Right from the opening ticking clock intro to You Wait it's clear that as ever Eight Rounds Rapid are as full on machine gun delivery as usual and yes they want you to trust them and then you'll get what you want.
And what you want is the rampaging guitars and driving drums of Passive Aggressive that's up for a ruck like they want to be the kings of Westcliff as they accuse you of being radio rental and the guitars refuse to let up, in the same way a persistent debt collector chases them for what they owe, if they're not careful someone will break their legs.
Love Don't is a nasal whine of insistence that Love Don't know their names, yes they really aren't lovable rogues more like hateful estuary boot boys of the sort that used to hang around outside Peter Pan's Playground waiting for some kid to beat the crap outta for not showing them respect they haven't earnt.
Letter has a dark bass line intro leading you into a dark tale of what's in that letter they write to you, this is full of menace and despair as they claim they want to make things better, but you know by the way it's said they will just as easily crush you as they break any promises they make and allow you to think you can move on.
Future Estate sounds like they think they could go posh and move to Chafford Hundred as they talk about the sort of housing schemes that are meant to enrich the lives of the poor people moved onto them before they become the sink estates of the future.
Black Tide sees them standing in the mud a couple of hundred yards from the actual beach in Sarfend at low tide, dreaming of finding a gold coin in that mud while out trying to find enough cockles and winkles for a decent snack, to the sounds of deeply threatening estuary rock.
Tricks isn't about the young ladies that worked the dads, at Peter Pans playground, but more about guitarist Simon Johnson asking his dad Wilko for some advice, yes it does sound a lot like the sort of tune I used to hear Wilko play at the Sir George Robey or The Standard in the wilderness years.
Retro Band sounds a lot like Corporal Machine & The Bombers and is just as sarcastic a look at how some people want to stay stuck in some past era and not move on like they obviously have and haven't.
Eating has a sparseness to it like you only eat three or four things at most and are on a very limited diet that only those persistent drums can cure.
Onesie is all about taking a selfie in your Onesie and they make it sound like a dangerous and possibly perverted thing to be doing as the brass blows all over the place.
Mirror almost sounds like it could be a Mirrors song as they tell another dark tale of being up to no good again and what you might need that mirror for.
Ageing Athlete is about an old athlete preparing for battle once more probably by seeing if they can run from Southend Pier to Leigh On Sea or not, as they might get waylaid in a pub along the way it's a distorted ending in the way that it should be to a fine taut and slightly dangerous album that really needs to be heard played extremely loudly live in a sweaty club.
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