Zingers - S/T
Frais de port calculés à la caisse.
Taking an anti punk stance to another level, The Zingers assume something like the position of martini swilling, sauna dwelling, sand wedging, debonair types who are big wheels in the pork belly market. The truth is, the band was formed in 2010 above a falafel kitchen and next to a meat slinging bawdy house. When the band finally found stability, made up of ex members of Pathetic Human, Flesh World, Insurgents and Chrome Dome, the next three years were littered with colourful public appearances. Most notable for a sharp but cheap dress sense, The Zingers set out to confuse the masses with a series of awkward but intimidating confrontations, contorting visual and audio aspects into a jagged world of disproportion and a wry sense of wit nobody is really meant to relate to. Lets make one thing clear, The Zingers are not a joke band. The point was to reverse every punk stereotype and counter the pissweak idea of writing ‚Äúdumb music‚Äù and lack of progression that seemed to dominate punk at the time. Influenced initially by the savage satire and suave of Geza X And The Mommymen, Black Randy And The Metrosquad and Fear to name a few, The Zingers looked far outside the square to take their music elsewhere. Crazed syncopated drumming, annoying guitar turned up to 11, hard driving bass and crude throat peeling vocals create an artificial world only they may populate. Combined with some extra instrumental licks (skinny slapping vibraphone a clear highlight) create a perturbing yet sophisticated concoction. The LP was recorded in 2011 and mixed over long arduous sessions. Sadly, they fell victim to their own concept, creating inner friction over creative control and ceasing the morph into a jazz fusion act that would bring hot fun back to the music industry. Twisted, aloof, unashamedly offensive, cocky, grandiloquent and downright zany, let Randy Richard, Swastika Sweatman, Wild Western and Chingford take you moonlighting through the cactus fields. The long awaited LP by The Zingers comes at you with a clang.