Sounding like a long-lost band from the early 2000s, The Mags could easily have been found rubbing shoulders with the likes of The Strokes or The White Stripes, back in the day, exhibiting the same brash reaffirmation of the electric guitar, the celebration of groove and grind, and that perfect marriage of rock and roll muscle and indie melody.
Now, back from their sonic sojourn in New York City soaking up vibes and walking in the footsteps of the great and good, they have returned to their Liverpool home and released their debut album. And so, with the spirit of two of the greatest music cities in the world running through their DNA… This Is The Mags.
Eleven tracks of riotous riffs and energetic, swaggering rock and roll. “When I Get Home” kicks things off in fine style with a thunderous drum tattoo, staccato riffs, and singalong vocals. “The River Styx” is bass-led and runs on one of the most infectious riffs you will have heard this year, one that is brilliantly simple and simply brilliant. And ironically, “Violence is King” is a lullaby-infused ballad, proving that they are as adept with the delicate, acoustic serenade as they are with the foot-on-the-monitor, fist-in-the-air, rabble-rouser.
And, if “My Girl My Heartache” isn’t topping the lists of single of the year, music needs to take a long, hard look at itself. An eleventh-hour winner if ever there was one.
Okay, there is a touch of the past here, more than a touch, but this is no nostalgia fest, no plundering of the past, no pastiche of what has gone before. This is a band with eyes fixed on where they are taking their music; it’s just that they also have a strong recall of where it has been.
Facebook
Twitter
Instagram
Spotify
