www.ukmusicsearch.co.uk

'Thumpermonkey are a band all about those lurching off kilter time changes, colossal chugging riffs and screeching vocal screams. Obviously, you'll find the odd Fantomas or System of a Down album in this band's record collections. NOT THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES does all the above with an air of dark menace and a twinkle of near insanity in its eye - guitar riffs splinter off into unusual new directions and the lead singer veers violently between raging tasmanian devil and innocent choirboy, screaming something about Argentina and lepers along the way. They may have forgotten to include a tune amidst all the chaos, but Thumpermonkey get by by managing to confuse and scare you shitless simultaneously - an arresting and in-your-face debut, NOT THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES is explosive stuff.'

www.toxicpete.co.uk

'...Now hold on a minute!! What's goin' on? As Thumpermonkey storm through 'Not The Motorcycle Diaries' I'm left feeling both drained and excited.

'Not The Motorcycle Diaries' is a toxic concoction of rock, speed metal and God knows what else that lifts the hairs on the back of the neck as it tears down the walls and lifts the roof. Angry, aggressive riffs punctuate the vocal line as this gutsy trio weave their individualistic magic. Thumpermonkey rock, of that there's no doubt. So what's new? Well, Thumpermonkey are actually melodic rocksters. They drop superb harmonies into the roaring melee when you're least (if ever) expecting them. They lay down some massive work throughout this very tasty release; angry sounding staccato metal vocals that suddenly melt away to release breathtakingly juxtaposed soft rock voices - heavy runs and riffs that give way to melodic choral keyboards - a sort of heaven meets hell with unexpected results.

'Not The Motorcycle Diaries' is a big song with a big character - ballsy yet harmonious - gutsy and rewarding. A great and unpredictable piece of work to test the senses and work up an appetite for more. Excellent!...'

Subba-Cultcha
(Chris Bell - 20 Aug 2006).

If I wrote for a certain other weekly music magazine that begins with the letter ‘N’ and has a penchant for making ridiculously pretentious analogies to describe bands in their reviews pages, then I’d probably say something along the lines of, ‘Imagine David Bowie and Mike Patton in a padded cell in Gotham City Asylum for the Criminally Insane, swinging chainsaws and angle grinders at the nurses as Frank Zappa attempts to lobotomise them with a rusty spoon whilst wearing a t-shirt reading “Dead Girls Don’t Say No” – however, I write for SubbaCultcha, and thus, am above holding such overblown sentiments. But imagine it anyway – Rob Zombie should direct the movie I think.

The London three-piece definitely get an A-Star in being weird, so hats off to them for that, and their sound lies somewhere smack bang in the middle of prog-rock, psychadelia and metal, and at their best are evocative of Zappa, Mike Patton, and at other times with the dark rumblings of early Sonic Youth. At their worst, they sound like a very average grunge band, the type of which never makes it beyond the pub circuit. Standout track ‘Memory Fat’ has a gorgeously theatrical comparability to System of a Down with a Bowie-esque vocal, although it has to be said, treads a very thin line between theatrical and overblown – one wrong move and they could end up being Muse, and another one of those is the last thing anyone needs right now.

What the world needs now is a bit more acid-tinged, challenging music that makes your parents squirm in their seats – and if Thumpermonkey carry on in this vein, then that’s exactly what we have on our hands.

UKMusicsearch
April 2006

Thumpermonkey are an unusual band judging by debut album, CHAP WITH WINGS, FIVE ROUNDS RAPID; a schizophrenic and all over the place record.

Take opening track WHEN THIS RECORD IS PLAYED ON MARS HUMANITY WILL HAVE ASCENDED TO THE GODHEAD, a darkly subdued affair that blends gospel, trip hop and pitch black gothic atmospherics and a song that leads directly into the emo strains of TZITZIMIME, all raging guitars and Jimmy Eats World meets System Of A Down like wackiness.

NOT THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES is all about lurching off kilter time changes, colossal chugging riffs and screeching vocal screams; doing all the above with an air of dark menace and a twinkle of near insanity in its eye - guitar riffs splinter off into unusual new directions and the lead singer veers violently between raging tasmanian devil and innocent choirboy, screaming something about Argentina and lepers along the way. They may have forgotten to include a tune amidst all the chaos, but Thumpermonkey get by by managing to confuse and scare you shitless simultaneously arresting and in-your-face, NOT THE MOTORCYCLE DIARIES is explosive stuff. Obviously, you'll find the odd Fantomas or System of a Down album in this bands record collections.

A LOVING MOTHER sounds like the Human League jamming with Tool in a maximum security mental asylum, twisted, dark and scary stuff whilst DOUGHBOY is a soft caress of warm guitar lines and hushed drum patters that takes its cue from the post-rock cannon of Mogwai and Explosions In The Sky. MEMORY FAT sounds as if its been constructed from the dying static of an ancient home computer, bleeps and squelches laying under the violent vocal gymnastics and lurching drum patterns, MELISSA LEAVES THE WRONG KIND OF AUDIT TRAIL, a more subdued and soft affair; delicate guitar shimmers and crooning vocals pushed to the fore. Final track, MY DEBT TO SCIENTOLOGY is a tender neo-classical piano piece that leaves a pretty if a little sinister and disturbing final impression.

CHAP WITH WINGS, FIVE ROUNDS RAPID is an unusual and darkly menacing record, an album that like it or not manages to leave a lasting impression and a sinister aftertaste. Managing to get under your skin on this record, Thumpermonkey have delivered an album well worth investigating.

Opposition T
April 2006

Contrast the name of the band, the album and the song titles and you’d be forgiven for feeling confused. But hold on to your handles, wait til you hear the thing!

Initial track "When This Record is Played on Mars, Humanity Will Have Ascended to the Godhead" is over before you’ve read the title. It features a slow electronic beat, washed with vocal harmonies and synth squeaks and burbles. Interesting start, then.

Next move, "Tzizimime" reminds me of Peter Hammill and is none the worse for it. Diversity follows: "Not the Motorcycle Diaries" is shoutier Grant Lee Buffalo; "A Loving Mother" begins its journey with a tirade from Bedlam, meets up with Rolf’s Stylophone, and gets finally mugged and strangled by someone’s guitar strings… which leads neatly into the plaintive, lush chords of "Doughboy", a track culminating in a lot of bashing a la early Black Sabbath. Is the title a tribute to Ozzy?

"Don’t Wake Me" - great harmonies and prominent bass; "Memory Fat" - David Bowie meets Napalm Death (really! – very English); "Melissa Leaves the Wrong Kind of Audit Trail" should be avoided by anyone with a hangover or an aversion to revved engines. The final track "My Debt to Scientology" features a delicate piano figure that wouldn’t be out of place on a late night jazz station, a soundtrack for wandering the dripping halls of a Bladerunner apartment block.

"Sounds like a bunch of fuckin’ loons dickin’ about" says a passing woman. "Yay!" says I: "Yay for the fuckin’ loons!" Obscure, and not a little deranged; a startling sonic collage, musically accomplished, and in a little decoupage box that they pasted up all on their own. Well worth buying.

Author: Rescendant

[Ed's note: "Decoupage" is decorating a surface by lacquering over cut-outs - it says so in my dictionary. References to other bands include Melvins, Adam and the Ants and 10cc, sounds good to me

www.burnyourears.de
March 2006

Bands like Thumpermonkey Lives! fascinate me. Yet, they also present me with the problem of just how to best describe their sound. No drawer will have it, and I can’t seem to find any suitable names for reference purpose either. One thing is certain: their music fits somewhere in between alternative rock and independent noise.

American webzine colleagues have taken to compare these Brits’ weird musical output in “Chap with the Wings, Five Rounds Rapid” to Frank Zappa, but that’s where I have to pass as I don’t know much about Zappa. It rather makes me think of experimental bands such as Mars Volta, since Thumpermonkey Lives! equally work with way-out sounds, eruptive sections interspersed with wonderful harmonies. Harsh, at times progressive eruptions on the guitar meet a melancholic lyrical world of sound (similar to the sound of Sonic Youth), outright fits of rage and anger are contrasted with beautiful singing, noisy instrumental thunderstorms dominate and are juxtaposed with very gentle sounds. In addition, there are catchy lyrics and refrains.

The entire album moves between two extremes, but surprisingly manages to retain a homogeneity, which means it’s far less difficult, in fact it’s a joy to listen to and digest it - unlike compilations like, for example, Fantomas, which are, by and large, just hard work. Thumpermonkey Lives! are also hard work, but in a considerably less arduous fashion - contradictory though this may sound.

Best get a picture yourself and try out the song “Not the Motorcycle Diaries”, available on the band‘s homepage. This might seem like a ‘harmless’ and accessible title, yet the title alone tells us something about the idiosyncrasies of this trio, which, needless to say, when it comes to the lyrics, equally works in rather cryptic ways.

So, there’s lots to discover and fathom here, which is really why this album is so fascinating. I for one am just going to press the ‘play’ button now to continue my journey, working my way through the album, layer by layer, until I get to the core of it… Wish me luck!

(Thanks to Bettina Weichert for the translation from German)

www.indielaunchpad.com
Monday, February 27, 2006

'...bloody strange title, even stranger music. Well that was my first impression anyway, and after a few listens, that is my lasting impression. For anyone still missing the God of weirdness, Frank Zappa, this should help alleviate those pangs of loss. As well as the Zappa's influences, there's also some heavy David Allen/Gong overtones, which means this album is seriously out here. Cup of tea anyone? For all the weirdness that this album has to offer, there is still an extremely tight sound buried beneath. In fact there's some seriously good musicianship sprinkled liberally throughout this album...I can imagine this is a band that's unbelievable to go see live, as a lot of bands of this ilk are. I shall keep my ear to the ground as this is a band out of the ordinary worth keeping an eye on.

Conclusion: If you're not in an altered state of consciousness before listening to this album, you will be after you've listened it. Who ever said music was dull, should take their head out of the sand and give this a spin...'

www.unpeeled.co.uk
Feb 2006 Issue & Website.

The last person to really make a career out being both so wonderful and outright fucking weird was one Frank Zappa. The world has, alas, moved on since then and unless I revive the college day plan of spiking the water system with acid it’s hard to see this gorgeousness gracing a chart near you. However, if we’ve learnt nothing from Thatcher, which I hope we haven’t, the trickle down effect may apply to popular culture. By which I mean that some corporate whores may exposed and positively contimated with the glam out on a limb metallic grind and whimsy of the Bowie off the leash thing called “Tzitzimime” or the early morning call to the psycho ward that is “A Loving Mother” where tootling toy trumpets duke it out with feedback, lumbering basses, massed screaming, floated gothic choirs and more time changes than are strictly required. Yeah, it’s a fair cop, Thumpermonkey live in the experimental rack of the world record shoppe, but only because they make odd connections between largely familiar forms. You are very welcome to sample the stunning drawl and effects of “Memory Fat” if you doubt me.

www.u-magazine.com
Feb 22, 2006

This is a fantastic album, well constructed and recorded, with much depth. Most of the time it’s scary good, sometimes it’s just plain scary.

As is the case with most eclectic albums of this ilk, I suspect there is not a lot here for the casual listener, which is perhaps the albums Achilles heal. There is an enormous variance across the album so listening to only one or two songs fails to give the listener a proper gestalt of the talent going on here, and most of it has a technical complexity that I would imagine is lost on even the most astute listener giving songs a single pass.

That being said, while I do appreciate simple well executed music, rarely does it have the “legs” of a more challenging, complicated work that can be enjoyed for a much longer period of time, as ones tastes meander over different aspects of a particular album. A good album allows room for growth, and I believe that can safely be said about this music.

While hard to compare with any other existing music, for those that beg for a comparison, I think the closest I could place it would be as a contemporary of Tomahawk, which is Mike Patton's current project (which if you like Thumpermonkey, is also a band I suspect you would enjoy for it’s off kilter rhythms, twisted lyrical content, and brutally heavy music, intertwined with delicate lines and occasional electronica.)

Let’s talk about more specifically about the 9 tracks on the album.

Kicking off things is the ethereal sounds of Whenthisrecordisplayedonmarsmankindwillhaveascendedtothegodhead. With a vocal line reminiscent of a choir (albeit a gonzo choir, singing about spinning bowties), and synthy backing tracks, it is an odd start to an odd album. A taste of things to come indeed.

Next up is Tzizimime, which is my pick for sleeper hit on the album. I was not so enthused at first, but as time has progressed, this is the track on the album that I find in my head when I am away from a set of headphones or speakers (although I suspect I am only in phase 2, of many phases to come).

It should also be added that this is perhaps some of the albums finest Bass work, however, it is the only track on the album that I have issues with the guitar tone, as I personally think there is too much room-bleed or ‘verb on the guitar part at the beginning which makes it sound of lesser quality than the rest of the album, although, as stated, this is a purely subjective judgement and guitar everywhere else is superb. Crushing when it needs to be, but also full of dynamic range as required, including some glassy-nice clean tones as well.

This is followed by Not the Motorcycle Diaries, a very strong track, possibly “the single” if one had to be chosen. This track showcases the best overall guitar on the album throughout across a single song. I was immediately taken by this song, and proved a good jumping off point for the rest of the album for me.

After this comes A Loving Mother, which is perhaps the most disturbing song I’ve ever heard in recent years. I almost wish I never heard it. The Bass tone on this is fantastic, and the song is well assembled, although perhaps exists as a cautionary tale of what happens when too much time is spent in Pro-Tools. Chilling to the bone.

Following this nightmare comes the track Doughboy, which is instrumental, and surprisingly restrained. It starts quiet and slow, and eventually gets heavier and heavier. I must say, on initial listening I half expected the song to break into some Kill ‘Em All-esque choppage, and part of me still wants that, but part of me also is glad that it doesn’t, as frankly, it’s been done. This track is also featured as the soundtrack to a short (and disturbing) movie that plays off the CD when it is stuck in a laptop. Something to do with an unhealthy obsession with Avril Lavigne…I don’t know…it’s all so confusing. But in a good way.

Don’t Wake Me follows this, and this is the only track on the album so far that I have yet to appreciate. It will come. Give it time.

Memory Fat, is a track that I heard a while ago and also was immediately accessible to me. It was a first favourite that I could not stop listening to. Nothing coy or weakling about this song at all, and is yet another track in which the vocal range of Michael Woodman shines through. He is able to go from falsetto, to well articulated, to guttural scream within a single phrase, and pulls of all three styles better than many singers are able to do any single one. Also, the line “Come On! Rub some Creatine on my Gums” just gets me thinking. What the devil ARE then talking about? I love that. The best art should provoke questions.

Also, the tracks vocals refer again to the character “Doughboy”, with the song also containing a momentary refrain to a riff from the song of the same name, providing cohesion across the tracks that are every bit as themed as Green Day’s American Idiot.

Melissa Leaves the Wrong Kind of Audit Trail gets my vote for both best song title ever, and my favourite overall track on the album. This track clocks in at just over 6 minutes, as such, is not for the uninitiated, but shows strong overall performances both instrumentally and vocally. The guitar line in 7/4 running from about 1 minute in to about 2:30 is something that I find I am striving to learn to play myself (always a good sign) and the song also descends into a very cool noise-core interlude, which is done in a refreshing way, such that it’s not just a rip-off of Sonic Youth, but has some fresh ideas going on, utilizing several techniques to create the wall of sound that ensues. Even more refreshingly this decent into chaos is brought back together, cued subtly by the percussionist and resolves with a very strong musical epilogue.

Closing the album on a subdued note, much as it starts, is the track My Debt to Scientology, which is a haunting piece played solo on Piano. An odd bookend to what was a strange, eclectic album.

Throughout the whole album, the percussion holds all this music together, and while strictly speaking I think I maybe hear perhaps 3 points that sound like there is a beat that drags behind, (and maybe it’s not the drums, but other instruments…AND maybe it’s intentional). Frankly, any percussionist that can keep up with weirdo song structures such those featured on this album deserves some kind of medal. Someone give this man a hug.

All in all, fantastic. I am truly a new fan. I am listening to it every chance I get, and attempting to convert others. Quite the sailor’s choice indeed.

6.8 out of 7.4