Tag Archives: Royal Southern Brotherhood

Royal Southern Brotherhood, The Royal Gospel. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10

Your perceptions should be challenged daily, what you think you know, what you believe to be sacrosanct, should be questioned and subjected to scrutiny every minute of every passing day; it is the only way to hold on to your wits and your confidence in the unassuming and the courageous.

Royal Southern Brotherhood, Don’t Look Back. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

Looking back can play havoc on the mind, the peace and solitude ruined by reflection and deliberate thought on where you might have gone wrong. The angst of knowing that whilst you were right the pain it may have caused others gnawing at your breast and all the while the chasing of the tick that followed tock a constant reminder that the new beginning you have carved out for yourself is one that easily could become the same boggy rut.

The Royal Southern Brotherhood, Heartsoulblood. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

No limits, that’s all you can ever truly hope for in life. To be able to live with the knowledge that all that you have done is all that you could physically do; that there was no quarter given, no hidden page left unread and sequel available as every possible plot point and character development had been written in to the life story. Records and music is like that also, except that where the blood sweat and tears of one album runs deep into the furthest recess of the heart, there is always room for more of the same, or even a deviation from the artistic norm, of a second “difficult” album.

Royal Southern Brotherhood, Live In Germany. Album Review.

Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *

There are expectations that have to be met when listening to a live album. The first is that the sound recreated on a stage, possibly many hundreds of miles from wherever you are fortunate enough to actually listen to the gig, has to be able to make the imagination run riot, to revel in the flow and thrust of the guitar, to feel the sweat run down your neck in anticipation and to envisage the person infront of you in the audience nervously sweating along with you. The taste of the gig has to be captured just right, else it is lost and abandoned like an errant Victorian child left at the Poor House.