It's an all-out ready to attack assault on the ears; listen with caution. Soft by no means, although we suspect that Sheffield-based bluesy-rock duo Drenge tuck their tender moments away, but don't expect to see any make an appearance on their debut self-titled album, one that has the ability to set politicians in a stir. Made up of brothers, Rory and Eoin Loveless the majority of their debut offering feels much like a fumble in the dark, yet they hit all the right places and walk out triumphant.
It's difficult to compare Drenge to other artists (not that we'd want to), simply because they exist in a league of their own. However, signed to the same record label as the likes of: Alt-J, Local Natives and The Temper Trap it would be easy for them to switch to the melodious makings of their label mates, however one look at the duo hailing from Castleton tells us this was never going to happen; they rip up anything and everything in their path, which is why it's not hard to see how they've made their way to the tip of everyone's tongues, in such a short space of time.
Flirting with sounds beyond their years, Nothing drifts into a direction reminiscent of Arctic Monkeys' 2007 bonus track Matador but Alex Turner is nowhere in sight and they twist it completely into their own. Current single, Face Like A Skull thunders into view with a snarling vocal and keeps listeners in Drenge's heavy-handed grip with ferocious riffs running like an undercurrent throughout the track.
Opening number People In Love Make Me Feel Yuck begins with a deeply unapologetic air, one that foreshadows how the rest of the album will play out. We're enchained from the first crash of the cymbals to the minute the jarring vocals fade out; it's the audio equivalent of watching a car crash, much like that of Boris Johnson at last year's Olympics when he infamously got stuck on a zip-wire - you don't want to watch, but you can't not. Previous hit Bloodsports still proves as popular. It's no frills attached breakneck rock'n'roll. Guitars buzz and blister frenetically in a manner that has riffs spilling out of your speaker here, and vocals landing there.
The piss-taking duo shrug nonchalantly in response to the influence of America on I Don't Want to Make Love to You. It's nothing special but the integral drumbeat saves it from drowning in a bluesy blur. Gun Crazy was born simply to be an anthem for moshing to. For anything else, it doesn't hold the same appeal. Whilst, Eoin Loveless greets us with a rasping vocal on I Want to Break You in Half that unsettles and weirdly thrills.
Closing proceedings with Fuckabout, it becomes evident that that's all they ever really wanted to do; becoming a huge success was the making of them and saved them from a life of blandness, although listening to tunes like these suggests that greatness was always in the brothers, and they were destined for it - even if they didn't yet know it themselves. The lyrics claim they "waste every single day" but with their new found fame there's no time for lying around idly; there's a second album to be made and only these boys know how.
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