There was a time when a certain band named Nirvana proved that you didn’t need to spend every spare second of your life in your bedroom working out each note that Metallica struck on their discography to become rock gods. All that was required was a pair of hands and a dose of angst. Now years on since grunge’s heyday, the next generation are ready and willing to pile walls of distortion and an angry sneer back into the spotlight.
So arrive Dinosaur Pile-Up, a band that has the hype machine frothing at the mouth. Unlike debut single My Rock n Roll in which they actually cared about things like dynamics, Traynor is a full on release of pent up aggression. From beginning to end, your ears are pounded by unapologetic, grating guitars. In an age where bands are all trying to get an alternative and intelligent edge, it’s a wave of refreshment. I’ve no idea what they’re singing about, but it’s probably not a thesis on Plato’s republic, and thank goodness. These guys are a necessary two fingers to any band who think they’re more intelligent than they are; so keep piling it up Dinosaurs, and we’ll carry on loving it.
Review by Gordon Bruce
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