Monsoon Bassoon : King of evil, The
[B]'The King Of Evil'[/B] is their third single, and it rocks like a giraffe in a big, uh, rocking chair.
now. Other people, meanwhile, lock themselves in dingy little rooms and get on with reinventing.
The Monsoon Bassoon are such a group. Slightly hamstrung by more than a few things, notably the fact that they don't live in Glasgow, they aren't on Digital Hardcore, they look like Club Dog roadies, they are completely and utterly skint and they have the lumpiest band name since Frottage Bunion, the fivesome nevertheless persist in making the most amazing alternative music.
'The King Of Evil' is their third single, and it rocks like
a giraffe in a big, uh, rocking chair. 'Tis a mercifully thin line between [a]T'Pau[/a] in a blender and pure sonic terror, but The Monsoon Bassoon care not for the niceties of life, which allows them to toy with bendy guitars and pretend to be a bunch of loon-faced hippies before bursting forth with the most gorgeous, grotesque, explosive outbursts of noise witnessed since the madder bits of 'Come On Die Young' came round and ruined our woofers.
Key words? Psychotic. Lunging. Lithe. Panthers in the back garden.
Hair-raising, in every sense of the word.
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