Words by Elvis Thirlwell
Dawning bold and grisly from Manchester’s cultural quarters, four-piece Pyncher stake their claim for cachet in the post-punk universe with debut EP ‘Chew’.
Cupping in its hands the errant possibility of a young rock ‘n’ roll band poised at a tender, formative moment, ‘Chew’ pulses with effervescing energies, buzzing and expectant, to be moulded (we hope) into new and greater shapes beyond. It’s a set that bristles with moodiness like a grey-washed sky; forget the sun-snogged heat waves that have been frying your skins of late- say Pyncher - and take a dingy plunge toward a blackened basement that’s crisping in body heat and ear-piercing PA.
Croaking, slow-dribbling opener ‘Frogs and Tomatoes’ betrays such vampiric motives - it’s snaking lines tread with caution - grimly; ghoulishly - then unlock their jaws for the kill. “Now I’m just another fuck with a wife and kids!” wails vocalist Sam Blakely before splattering the peripheries with Joe Meek-esque mock screams and wails.
This whimsical, angsty, horror, mixed with a slithering Josh Homme riffage, define Pyncher’s purpose. Second track, and debut single ‘Dirty Feet’, remains their most bracing statement yet. Naked in its rockified rawness, its lead guitar bucks heavy as a lead weight; you can almost smell the sweat-beads flecking from the mosh and onto the wound strings. Feel this attitude too the brain-pounding stumble of title-track ‘Chew’, or the much-misleading closer ‘Slow Down’, which raises rhythms and heart-rates in strict opposition to its hawking “SLOW DOWN!” pleas.
Written during Pyncher’s first two years as a band, ‘Chew’ does everything a debut like this needs to do: capsule this precious point in a band’s development; fire-breathe with excitement.
Listen to Pyncher's 'Chew' here
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