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Bands should be musical worlds in their own right, experiences that take you away from reality and into a world of their own making. Bands should be gangs living outside of normality, fugitives from the law of averages, outsiders and dream weavers. After all, who wants to see a load of people who look like middle managers at a large insurance company trying to convince us that they are imbued with the spirit of rock and roll? David Bowie had it right: We need music delivered by aliens and outlaws, cracked actors and hot tramps, night crawlers and moonage daydream believers, young dudes and scary monsters. And sometimes you want your music brought to you courtesy of a bona fide freak show, and in those moments, you need to call on Carniwhore.
In their latest single, “Tyrannosaur,” you can hear the madness seeping from every pore of the song. It might be foot-on-the-monitor rock and roll, all snarling riffs and brutal backbeats, but it is the music of the deranged, for the deranged, full of madness and menace, edge and energy. It is shamanistic and primal, dark, dangerous and delicious.
“Tyrannosaur” sounds like the singalong finale at the last party before the world’s end, one last fist-in-the-air anthem before the Titanic goes down or the planet splits asunder. It is raw and raucous rock and roll of a type that you don’t encounter that much any more. More is the pity.
This is the sound of the musical lunatics taking over the sonic asylum. And I, for one, can’t wait to see what happens.
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