Aside from the sheer ferocity and relentless ack-ack drive of their raw, seething punk rock, the fact in-your-face rock testifiers BUZZKILL actually hail from Leeds is something of a smack around the kipper. After all, aside from the mean and magnificent Scaramanga Six, no-one that your reviewer has previously discovered in the West Yorks hinterland is operating with the sort of manic intensity once displayed by the likes of Rocket From The Crypt.
Indeed, just the venomous, balls-to-the-wall crunch of the snake-eyed opener "Once A Liar" is enough to mark Buzzkill out as a much more sinister presence in the current rock jungle. They are pushed to the max by Matt Colmer's whiplash chords and throat-scouring vocals, while rhythm section Carl Glover (bass ) and Charlie Batten (drums) pile on and pulverise and unlikely horn section Matt Perrot (sax) and Ben Whittington (trumpet) gamely punctuate as and when they can rise above the melee.
It makes a thrilling, if relentlessly challenging ride too. The aptly-titled "Driven By Loss" is seethingly fast, furious and controlled. It straddles punk and rock'n'roll and gets its' bollocks caught on the barbed wire of broken relationships and general hopelessness in the process. Whether you can take the all-too-real fatalism of Colmer's Hank Rollins-style delivery is a moot point and if you find the "My War"-esque lyrical overload (e.g : "No regrets? No fucking chance/ Sick to teeth of feeling so pathetic" - "City Of Mice") overwhelming you may struggle. This is NOT a good-time record and has none of the occasional RFTC cartoon-y bits for good measure, so be warned.
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However, in terms of sheer, adrenaline-soaked aggression and cranked to the nth-degree punk excitement, "Driven By Loss" takes some beating. Much of it ("Broken Picture", "The Devil's Eyes") is fast, frenetic and exhilaratingly breakneck, though occasionally - the damning, vicious "In My Head" , the scum-dominating-the-streets snaphshot of "Same City, Different City" - they slow it down (marginally) to let a little stale air in to breathe. Mostly, though, there's no let up and when they leave you with the, er, anthemic delights of the title track (sample chorus: "Fuck you, my sweetness!") they show themselves to be the old romantics we all imagined, armed with flowers, Milk Tray and a welcoming 6" gold blade in their back pockets.
So don't bother seeking out "Driven By Loss" if you need succour and aural comfort and joy. However, if you're in town for essential, oblivion-bound rock'roll with the emphasis on glorious nihilism, then step right up. Self-laceration has rarely sounded so engaging.
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