Sophomore album from LA exhilarators Starcrawler is one great big body of goose-bumped attraction as muscle-y they peel back the sleazed grime of the Hollywood Boulevard to reveal a plastered slab of thrash lustre.
Like dipping your tongue into a bag of powdered fizz only to subsequently tear the sides with greedy impatience- hissing raw releases straight into the atmosphere and staining your fringed trousers in an un-filtered display of instant chaos, Devour You (via Rough Trade Records) is thirteen tracks of unhinged thrill that time and time again will make you want to start a band.
Swelling as a bruise which, theoretically may have formed in 70’s era rock ‘n’ roll yet exteriorly has only now decided to resurge it’s bloody might, age is but a mere acknowledgment of existence as slickly the four-piece capture teenage toughness and turn it into something even more all-consuming.
Don’t however come searchin’ for churned out nostalgia with this one. Devour You is untainted scabby twang sweat for the new-age. Vocalist Arrow de Wilde takes badass to a whole new level of ‘I’m too scared to watch but also really can’t look away’ punk-ed paralysis. Opening taunter Lizzy is a playground for the marvellously mis-fitted cool kids whilst Bet My Brains carries so much power-chorded clamour it’s as if even the dirt underneath guitarist Henri Cash’s fingernails oozes anarchist authority. Drawing inspiration from “the underground village of people who live in the sewers of the L.A. River” – de Wilde, you can run and you can hide from all the pitch-black adapting’s of the world outside our comfort zones but with Starcrawler it’s probably best you do neither. Instead, take a walk on the wild side and bask within your unease.
Perhaps un-surprisingly, squatting amongst all the bloody gear is a band whose gift of the un-glam is so brutally brilliant that not even all the ‘Toy Teenager’s’, penniless pockets and drummed un-subtleties can tarnish it’s gloriously gut sexy deadliness. Clocking off with the delicate venom dripping duet that is Call Me A Baby– a nightmarish soother with a wobbling chorus sung by what seems like clown children (just in case you weren’t already terrified), this is a beast that with attentive indulgence will only get fatter and furiously fatter.
You’d better just shut up and listen.