Brass Knuckle Evangelists
No Sin No Soul
Self-Released

There are places all over the world where people much cooler than me — people who accessorize with ascots and fedoras instead of a beard — are having a Devil approved good time. They’re sippin’ bourbon and throwin’ dice in smoky rooms filled with ebony beauties and slick-grinned denizens. New York’s Brass Knuckle Evangelists play rooms just like these every night of their life, whether they’ve actually got a gig or not, and their woozy rock ‘n blooze is the midnight match for mischief’s fantastic fire. No Sin No Soul, the band’s debut five-song EP, oozes organ-fried righteousness and pulpit bravado, but the preachy Memphis soul of “Good Time (Ain’t No Crime),” “You’re The Devil,” “Work Me,” and “Up All Nite” are infused with a greasy, burnin’ rubber punch, no coincidence given the band’s sleaze rock roots (ex-members of Joker Five Speed). The EP’s final selection, a cover of Don Nix’s “Goin’ Down,” offers a gritty, city take on the well-traveled song also covered by such legends as Jeff Beck, Deep Purple, Stevie Ray Vaughn, Joe Satriani, and Gov’t Mule. No Sin No Soul ought to put an ultra-shine on your alligator shoes, especially if you’re into Beasts of Bourbon, The BellRays, The Booze, Chinatown, Diamond Dogs, The Dirtbombs, Izzy Stradlin’, or The Jim Jones Revue. I hope New York City is big enough for two goddamn savvy bands because Brass Knuckle Evangelists are giving The Compulsions some funky company.

Listen to “Good Time (Ain’t No Crime)” from No Sin No Soul!

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Elks
Destined for the Sun
Tee Pee

You know the kind of bat-shit fury Kvelertak stirred up last year when they jammed everyone’s radar with their maniacal Norwegian death punk? Well, this year’s ‘Holy-fuck-these-guys-are-my-new-favourite-band!’ band is Elks. The Brooklyn quartet light up the skies with their six-song debut, Destined for the Sun, a cosmic metal racket that shamelessly picks off select parts of a great handful of heavy music genres with a precision laser guiding system manned by a drunk galactic warrior. Those righteously ragged parts are then collected and fused into one 22-minute static mess of ballsy glory, the mere sound of which will fill you with the same excitement you felt when you first heard The Number of the Beast or Reign in Blood or Blues for the Red Sun or Remission. From their northern-inspired, horned mammal moniker to their spacey, void-voyaging concept, Elks are nothing if not a beard’s wet dream, and the fact that they hail from the same place that currently boasts the spawning rights to Children, Weird Owl, and Bad Dream puts ‘em in elite company. A company, mind you, these young riff-wielding upstarts ought to own outright very soon. It’s okay to lose your mind, friends. I am and so is everyone else.

Listen to Destined for the Sun right here!

Lecherous Gaze
Lecherous Gaze
Tee Pee

Fresh off their split with Danava and Earthless (review here), Oakland’s Lecherous Gaze take a less-than-fresh approach in re-releasing their 2010 four-song EP, Audio Testament, as a self-titled Tee Pee debut. A re-release usually means better production and mixing, but, much to the band’s credit, there’s not too much evidence of that found here because these songs still sound like they were recorded in a room full of tin garbage cans and shag carpeting. Lecherous Gaze contains the kind of kick-out-the-jams fuzz n’ roll that could only be made by flophouse orphans who spent their wasted youth picking scabs, bumming cigarettes, flipping through muscle car magazines and the thick-bushed pages of Playboys from the early 70s, and listening to AC/DC, The Ramones, MC5, and Thin Lizzy records. Of course, that’s probably due in large part to the fact that singer Lakis Panagiotopulos blows into the mic like Joey Ramone or Phil Lynott with dying batteries, and that the groovy punk rock riffs on “Phaze,” “Sold,” and “R’n'R Lust” are so raw, sweaty, and delicious you can practically taste ‘em (the ones on “Graveyard” are so bluesy you can practically feel ‘em), but then what good is an electric cock sandwich if it’s not smothered in classic righteous sauce, huh? The whole thing is damn downright dirty and four songs just isn’t enough. I want more and you will too.

Listen to “Phaze” from Lecherous Gaze!