Bangers – Bird

UK punk outfit Bangers have gained a tremendous amount of steam from their reputation on the road and a steady stream of EPs and splits.  The grumbling punkers seem to be surpassing like minded countrymen like The Arteries and The Cut Ups in longevity and ambition in just a short while.  Nowhere is that clearer than with their third full length, Bird.  Built on bass heavy, gravelly grooves and lyrics that are pretty darn entertaining, Bird introduces a new level of polish and intention to the Cornwall trio.

Without compromising Bangers’ sweaty, boozed up nature, Bird comes across as a really focused and dark party record.  “Mannequin” boasts one of the most descriptively unexpected scenarios of coming square up against the devil upon returning home late at night (“the biggest man I’ve ever seen, he was an old cornish sailor”).  The band roars off the rails with the runaway sprint of vintage Leatherface, elevated by the vocal abrasion and unease of Roo Pescod.  Pescod’s coarse, sloppy edge runs rampant in more midtempo, swaggering songs like “I Don’t Think I’ll Ever Be Clean Again” and “The Trousers Of Time.”  When singing against the cleaner backdrop, the effect bumps closely between throat-born tatters and a slight meandering and nasally pitch. 

As Bird runs its course, choruses often turn into punk rock jam sessions born of simple repeated phrases injected with jangly, harsh landing riffs.  “I’m so tired of trying to be someone else” rambles the band line after line during the majority of “Stressful Festival,” belting each line as if it were their last.  Bangers flex a certain blunt ‘muscle’ throughout Bird, highlighted in rougher, anger-fuelled tunes like “Fleshlings” and “Vibrate” – not to confuse Bangers as meatheads, they’re just overwhelmingly passionate in the best of ways.

Bangers are thick in the midst of some serious career momentum.   When Dude Trips dropped five years back, it was but a fleeting distraction in a deep talent pool.  Three albums later and we find ourselves hotly anticipating and enthusiastically receiving Bird.  That’s the mark of not just earning a bright future, but making good on a budding reputation.  Bird is simple, straightforward and sufficiently gruff punk-rock played the way we like it.