The Computers \u2013 This Is The Computers (album, One Little Indian).<\/p>\n
Some bands have names that match how they sound. For example, it\u2019s wholly appropriate that seemingly endless variations of clich\u00e9 laden, tepid interpretations of second-hand rock\u2019n\u2019roll tropes should emanate from a group with a Christmas cracker pun name like U2. Conversely, think of Mot\u00f6rhead and you can feel<\/em> the sulphate trammelling along Lemmy\u2019s septum. However, The Computers simply don\u2019t sound like their nomenclature. This is visceral <\/em>rock\u2019n\u2019roll, motherfucker \u2013 not the antiseptic whirring of motherboards.<\/p>\n It\u2019s not that \u2018The Computers\u2019 is a bad <\/em>name; it\u2019s just a little off-kilter. Ideally, they\u2019d be called something more metaphorically concrete, like \u2018Grindfrenzy\u2019, or \u2018The Impalers\u2019. It\u2019s possible, of course, that there\u2019s an irony that has gone whizzing over my head here, but there\u2019s nothing ambiguous about the Exeter quartet\u2019s blistering debut album This Is The Computers <\/em>(notice how I didn\u2019t get bogged down in the whole singular\/plural title issue, the same way I went all OCD over their name. We\u2019re having a good time, right?)<\/p>\n Broadly speaking, the 11 tracks fall into one of two categories \u2013 there\u2019s a kind of melodic hardcore, which sees turbo-charged Ramonics topped by Nic\u2019s larynx shredding vocals and infused with more hooks than a room full of lunatic clerics, and then there\u2019s some of the nastiest, most sinuous interpretations of the whole Bo Diddley\/Chuck Berry canon of Ur-r\u2019n\u2019r tropes that I have ever heard. The former are good, whereas the latter are too good.<\/p>\n The disc clocks in at just under 25 minutes. Which is a good thing: Rock\u2019n\u2019roll should<\/em> be in a hurry. No time to be 21, baby. \u2018Where Do I Fit In\u2019 hammers the pedal down hard from the get-go \u2013 hitting you like a Drano hotshot and sounding every bit as disenfranchised as it oughta. \u2018Lovers Lovers Lovers\u2019 sounds a bit like Rocket From The Crypt on crystal meth \u2013 which is no great surprise given that RFTC\u2019s John Reis handled the production. However, the Computers have their own groove, one that is by degrees economic, choppy and pounding, teetering nicely on the edge of chaos, complete self-immolation held at bay by twin towers of melody and lyrical wit. While \u2018Blood Is Thicker\u2019 fits this template totally, \u2018Hot Damocles\u2019 opens with a shitfit before lock stepping into a kind of Birthday Party-Gone-No-Wave gumbo, and \u2018Cinco de Mayo\u2019 takes us outside, hands us some automatic ordinance and sends us on a driving hardcore death trip.<\/p>\n This Is The Computers <\/em>becomes truly special as \u2018Rhythm Revue\u2019 thunders in. This is high-octane rock\u2019n\u2019roll that feeds Little Richard into an atom smasher, snaffles down the resultant sweet goo, and then shags poor ol\u2019 Miss Molly senseless. For those of us who need to keep an eye on their cholesterol, single cut \u2018Group Identity\u2019 drops the pace back down below terminal velocity for a spot of hook-infused, coruscating, turbopunk. This respite is but temporary, \u2018I\u2019ve Got What It Takes\u2019 sees steamhammer rhythms diced into digestible nuggets of toothsome punk\u2019n\u2019roll, and just as the lyrics promise, the track is enough \u2018to make a good girl lose her mind\u2019.<\/p>\n After the circle-pit inducing moshery of \u2018Yeah Yeah Yeah But\u2019 is gracefully adorned by layers of hammer-on twinkle, the nasty, churning blues of \u2018The Queen In 3D\u2019 refracts a v\u00e9rit\u00e9<\/em> through a shit smeared lens. It\u2019s just the way they walk. The mighty \u2018Music Is Dead\u2019 brings the album home by blanching the corpse of popular culture with a ballroom blitzing napalm drop. The apocalypse sounds great.<\/p>\n