CASS | CD | DL
Glasgow garage-rock band Dragged Up set their own bar high on their crunching trash punk debut mini album.
On their debut mini-album, Glasgow’s Dragged Up bring a reverb-soaked garage rock art-school noise that at times recalls Patti Smith and The Slits, slithering through sparse guitars and spoken word. Opening song, Neighbourhood Watch, slowly draws up the curtain, a slinking menace awakening within a smoke-filled dusk as night crawls in. It hisses and curls the tongue around the tales they tell.
They ramp up the trash on songs like Return Of Dafthead and Heavy Chevy Malibu, the fuzz raging from beneath and the deadpan vocals ride over the top like a stoned L7. Elsewhere, such as on Happy Birthday, Glen and Phyllis, they spread their a forlorn story out a over hypnotic backdrop. The tale draws you in, hanging on each word, intently scawled yet presented as bare facts of life. They hit a groove on the final track, Voodoo Tabard, a dose of classic driving rhythm and roll that is still pinned down by the no-doubt black-clad vocalists. It’s like a classic CBGBs proto-punk sound transplanted to the rain-drenched Scottish streets.
Dragged Up’s debut mini-album is a great dose of garage trash that should sit alongside bands like Destination Lonely and other bands on the Voodoo Rhythm roster. There’s a just about restrained chaos that builds from within and surfaces in waves. A great set of trashy garage proto-punk tunes.
Words by Nathan Whittle. Find his Louder Than War archive here.