Die Shellsuit, Die!

An Alternative Music Magazine

The Fucking Cunts Still Treat Us Like Pricks

Bilge Pump

Slightly less controversial than it’s Flux of Pink Indians namesake, the mighty Bilge Pump continue to righteously smite all before them.

Not many are noticing, though, which is the very definition of a crying shame and may have influenced the title of this EP. Anyway, if you know the ’Pump (and if you care about music AT ALL then you cocking well should) you’ll be aware of their magnificent tight-but-loose whiplash mix of punk, jazz, rock and Mark E. Smith knows what else. This EP is an exceptional no exception.

You may also be aware of how the trio’s face / brain pummelling live experience has yet to transfer to CD. There always seems to be a bit of distance between the listener and the music, if you get me. This may be part of some backlash against the over-compressed, everything-louder, must-be-heard-above-the-flatlining-listener’s-mind approach of modern popular music production. A fair target. I, myself, dunno. It might be my winter-dulled hearing or a sign that new monitors are needed. Whatever the reason, it’s the only type-crit negative I have for this diskette. Really, the ’Pump show, once again, that they have more riffs, thoughts and thumps in a four-song EP than 99% of bands manage in their entire so-called careers.

Listen: www.myspace.com/bilgepump