As a lifelong music fan, whose existence has been punctuated by trips to record shops in search of the rare and the wonderful, I have never lost that sense of excitement that comes when I find something wholly new (or, in this case, when it is kindly sent to me for review). It’s a sense that has the ability to send me hurtling back to my teenage years, where money was tight, and every trip to a record shop involved a painstaking amount of choice, given the knowledge that whatever I bought was going to be my new album for the month at the very least.
Released via New Heavy Sounds, Love & Rage is the new album from Shooting Daggers, a band who have completely passed me by. It hit the player yesterday, having sat unassumingly on the pile for a few weeks, and then stayed there on solid rotation.
It. Is. Fucking. Awesome. And it’s taken over a day to write this damned introduction, because the only way I can think to express the sheer excitement each and every track elicits, is to sit with a sheet of A3, drawing purple lightning bolts while the house burns down around me. It’s a white hot, alt-punk wipe-out that dispatches 9 tracks in just 22-minutes, with every single one sending enough adrenaline coursing through the veins to keep you sat bolt upright late into the night, resisting the urge (but only just) to scream the lyrics out of the window in an effort to enlighten the neighbourhood as to the album’s charms.
Love & Rage kicks off with Dare, a sub-two minute blast that hooks you instantly. Brilliantly produced, it’s got depth and power to spare and, with Sal and Bea trading massed vocals over a snarling punk backdrop, the band combine the raw power of the Sex Pistols and Rancid with the alt rock edge of early Hole and Bikini Kill. It’s Bea who has the chance to shine on Not My Rival, the throbbing bass set against Raquel’s tribal beat, while Sal shoots feedback like crooked lightening. It’s a scything, blazing assault on the senses delivered with unerring precision and imbued with a hook that will have you screaming “break the cycle” along with the band as the track builds to its climax. In contrast, the dirty haze of Smug emerges from a hazy, alt-rock intro before digging into the stabbing riffs that Helmet used to make their stock in trade. With its harmony vocals and deft rhythmic shifts, it’s a masterclass in dynamics, delivered with palpable intensity and providing the album with some light to the punk shade exhibited elsewhere. Risking a mass cardiac arrest amidst their audience, Shooting Daggers unload Wipe Out next – a tough-as-fuck punk blast with bonus cowbell, a chorus to die for, and a throat-ripping vocal. The first side closes with a moment of sublime beauty – the eerie A Guilty Conscience Needs An Accuser – which drifts into territory formerly inhabited by Linoleum, all dreamy feedback and heavy echo.
The second side opens with Tunnel Vision, a bristling track led by a taut beat, possessed of a chorus worthy of Live Through This, and an attitude that’s all its own. From there, the album hurtles past with increasingly devastating speed. Bad Seeds is an unstoppable rampage that lodges inside your brain, even as it batters your skull. Then there’s the title track, which nods to early Pixies, with its skronky alt rock chord progressions, trailing feedback, and quiet-loud dynamics. The band have one last surprise left as Bea takes to the piano to lead the gossamer-fine beauty of Caves / Outro. Few bands would have the courage to end so vibrant an album with so vulnerable a moment, and it speaks volumes to the passion the band have for the album that they were willing to put so much of themselves into its creation.
Over the course of this review, I have really tried to give a snapshot of Shooting Daggers’ brilliance. Short of writing some sort of code that gives the reader an electric shock, I’m not sure it’s possible to succeed, but hopefully it’s clear that I love, love, love this album. There’s not one wasted moment across its 22-minute run time. Instead, it does what all great punk albums should do – combining raw power with surprising emotional depth. I deliberately avoided looking the band up in advance of the review, because it really feels like Love & Rage says absolutely everything that needs to be said – it’s basically flawless, and it demands your attention. 10/10
