Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * * *
Simon Thacker it seems can not only make an enigma shine brighter than it could be imagined in the furthest reaches of an audience’s hopes and dreams but he can do it with such style that no matter what genre of music you find yourself most drawn too, he will have you believing in the art of classical Folk with the added bonus of Roma, Polish and the mysticism blend of the table as if it one of the finest undiscovered joys possible.
The smile of Howard Kendall had entranced him
and the dogged determination of Alan Ball
had always stuck in the mind of this
good son of Goodison as he took his seat
or stood withstanding the noise of the Kop
on alternate Saturdays,
from the days of childhood,
through pouring rain of success
and the desert years of despair, he was faithful,
always sucking on the toffee,
cheering on days of Imre Varadi and the hours
between cup and league, his home painted blue
Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8.5/10
We are all animals in our own farmyard; we might not like thinking about the fate of the horse, why the pigs are lording it over us or at what point the farmer was allowed to take retirement, yet still we go on, still we place our faith in the feed and the illusion. It takes art to give life meaning, everything else can just be the sound of sharpening knives and it takes real vitality and animation to alert all considered that these could be the Last Days At The Farm.
I never had flu till I had turned 45,
not true flu, I had woken early one morning
whilst I was back packing through rural Normandy
with my head resting in a
dirty storm formed puddle
and I know I probably looked awful for about a week
and the thoughts of unfulfilled dreams
of making peace in my time across the Channel
brought to a premature and early end.
Now every week I seem to be fighting back infection,
the assault on the body, the throat, the eyes,
Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * *
The heart rejoices when it hears of a collection of souls achieving a singular aim, a goal far greater than they might have ever believed possible, such is life now that all the glory, all the praise seems heaped upon the younger members of society when the ones who have seen the action, who have lived through the raging wind and the autumn clouds deserve the same applause, that when anyone puts something together with passion, all should be seen as equal under the heavens.
A Blue balloon,
attached to fraying string, the sky
the limit
in its desire to see
the world for what it truly is,
held only by childish fingers,
white with tightness,
grim determination upon the glowing face;
like that balloon
I yearn to look down
upon
the shit storm
we have created
and I will pull away from the fingers that bind me
and sail into the sky
before
I inevitably
Pop.
Ian D. Hall 2016
Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 9/10
When the meat on the bone is overflowing with juices, it is hard not to stop yourself from drooling at the prospect of taking a huge bite out of the offering laid out before you; it is the taste that lingers, that catches in the back of the throat and slays anything pretender to the French metal crown in a dog fight to the finish.
Heavy Metal has always had its rebellious side but for a band to immerse itself even deeper into the realms of the genre is unexpected and dripping with cool, especially when it is done with the absolute sincerity of spirit that Stillborn Slave provide in their exceptional 7 Ways To Die.
Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 8/10
To have the air and stance of the disconnected whilst all the time being totally immersed in the flow of the music is to know that no matter what, you are not alone; the feeling of space around you is such that it is not filled with detachment and separation but the whispers, the rage of being embroiled in the mesh, the web and in Wolve’s Lazare there is, thankfully, no way out.
Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating * * * * *
There are just too many roads in which we are being pushed, urged to have an opinion, prodded by seemingly self appointed social dictators who cannot wait to prove us wrong or that what we do in life is somehow unacceptable to them; those roads may not always a steady footpath, there may occasionally be the stumbling blocks, the cordoned off pavements where weeds and dangerous insects reside but those roads are there to provide you with the means to say I will Change My Game and be utterly magnificent.
Even dishevelled, even in the dog hairs
I find myself covered in, I keep up appearances,
no tie round my neck, will not die by the noose,
no shirt, starched, small black hairs
weaved in and out of the thread, small pin pricks,
unseen but there all over my skin, scatter cushioned,
just pins, not needles, tattoos aside,
I have never felt the need for such barbaric squander,
yet my head is permanently a mess,
I am sinking
further each time, the jack boots in the country stir