Eighties Matchbox B-Line Disaster - Royal Society

So what exactly would manifest if, say, Nick Cave and Iggy
Pop joined together in perfectly nasty rock and roll whoopee? I think the end
product would be a little rock and roll devil child known as The Eighties
Matchbox B-Line Disaster. Their place and purpose on this earth is a nasty path
walked with a dashingly sinister grin. Start with a delectable serving of
twisted bedtime narratives peppered with inspiration from the likes of Brothers
Grimm and other gothic ne’er-do-wells, throw in a dash of thrash and slash
manic lunacy and you’ve got the album Royal Society. These fellows aren’t trying
to be bad, they simply exist on the toxic ingredient with which they were
conceived and that’s what makes them so incredibly legit.

The album seems to be split like some two-headed serpent slithering
up through the bowels of Hades. The first half; crunched and jingly tales of
caution and madness dipped in a witch’s brew of devil’s hymns. But where ‘The
Dancing Girls’ creeps to an unsettling close ‘The Fool’ takes over and a second
personality takes hold, grinding the psychobilly fanatics of The Cramps through
a thrash metal coalition of country fried western and the best of British garage
rock. “Give me your heart cuz I feel like the tin man!” Lux Interior would be
proud. The songwriting gives the impression these lads put pen to paper in some
thick wooded cabin listening to the darkest of Black Sabbath’s catalogue. The
songs ‘Puppy Dog Snails’ and ‘Drunk on the Blood’ come to mind with their demented
chorus recalling some of the most impish of medieval folklore.

It’s an experience that leaves me fascinated by music’s
versatility and potential. It’s hard to describe in words the atomic force
behind the mad preacher vocals riding the guitar like a ghostrider tearing
straight out of hell. It’s a soundtrack for that long infernal drive through
Death Valley on a summer day. Pop it in and fly like a bat straight outta hell!
My hands have been nailed to this album for more than a year and the zest hasn’t
worn. It’s time tested and just as exhilarating. Find it somewhere, get it
imported, it’s a tough one to find but very worth the search. It’ll put faith
back into the void of great rock and roll acts.